30 years old... Imagine that. Thirty years ago another little girl was wearing that exact same shirt. Running around a park, gleefully jumping on roundabouts, pummeling down slides and climbing on swings, wearing that same shirt.
I obviously don't remember wearing that shirt. Or have I seen it in any photographs either. But my mum informs me that I used to wear it. She has saved a few chosen items from my and my brothers childhood, and now my daughter is wearing them. There are the tartan dungarees, worn a bit thin on the knees, and the little blue socks my brother used to wear.
I love this little shirt - it is cute and summery, and something light and comfortable for her to wear. And best of all, it is proper vintage, and a proper memory from a time long gone. It is strange to think that once (a long time ago) I was this small and doing the same kind of things my daughter is doing now. Running around, care-free, waving hello to everyone walking past us and chasing after other children.
I do wonder if it might last another thirty years for the next generation of our little family?
Have you found any treasures like this from your parents stashes?