ObieVintage Sells Clothing Out of Their Apartment (and why you should care)

by Sebastian Cruz, Staff Writer

Illustration by Molly Posey

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The establishment of ObieVintage was introduced to me early in the semester. 

The introductory Grape meeting was a barrel of laughs to be had, only, my mind was stuck on what Features editor Max Newman pointed out to us as (not verbatim): “some student selling clothing out of their dorm.” Like the good brain-fried gumshoe I was, the novelty of this situation delighted me. I am almost unfathomably curious about student-led enterprises, independent of collegiate handholding/encouragement; people who do it for the love of the game, etc. And for a quick buck, it can’t take that much to siphon a multitude of students who want to grow their styles and feel like they actually look good.

Instead, Leo is interested in something much more fundamental.

Leo (pronounced LAY-oh) and I agreed to a 12:15 meeting for them to give me an introduction into their operation. On a wonderful early-autumn morning, I asked them if it were possible for them to show me the site itself, where all the magic happens, etc., and Leo directed me toward a Main Street apartment, sandwiched between the downtown staples of Blue Rooster to its right and the Feve to its left. All of a sudden, the enterprise in my mind got flipped on its head; is this person a realer deal than I had anticipated? A much-coveted off-campus place all to oneself marks a sort of high status.

I am almost always fastidiously early. My arrival five minutes before betrays perhaps a journalistic insecurity, like the interviewee will look down upon the wannabe reporter for not being properly prompt. Then, out from the narrow corridor that leads up to the storefront, a coily-haired mane pokes out to search for me. Leo then fully emerges, donning a black Chicago Bulls cap. They blink at me through wide and personable eyeglasses. They apologized almost immediately; they had been napping since getting out of their nine o’clock class.

What truly enlightened me to Leo’s modus operandi is their humility. They rail against resellers and price-gougers. They acknowledge how even this operation is not quite what they want to continue doing; they are working on creating their own clothing. They pay their dues to the Black and Brown communities of New York City for influencing not only their style but the disparate styles of today’s youth. They wish to collaborate with the broader Oberlin populace, to breed creativity, and to fundraise, fight for what is right, in spite of their opportunistic position. And above all else, they want clothing to be a vector of community, of sharing and engaging with the styles of others. Or else what’s the point?

Tell me about the origins of this enterprise. 

Well, originally it started as a coping mechanism when I was up in Vermont, 'cause I didn't know anybody, so I just bought my feelings at their stores. And then I amassed a mountain of clothing, a lot of which wasn't that good. So then I donated a lot of it and then started buying up and like, looking for the stuff that I liked. That helped me discover my personal style. Then I kept talking about how I'm gonna start selling clothing. I really try to do a lot of bundles and deals. Because my primary goal is accessibility of fashion at Oberlin and influencing Oberlin style—which I don't really know about influencing—but more giving people the access that they've wanted.

You said that you wanted to influence Oberlin’s style. Are you confident enough to become that kind of resource?

I don't even know if I’m necessarily influencing Oberlin’s style yet. Just 'cause a lot of it comes from the nineties, like Black and Brown cultures from Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, that culture and that style. A lot of my inspiration comes from there. So, I don't know that it's necessarily influenced Oberlin’s style, but it's giving people the access that they wanted to the styles they feel best represent themselves.

Would you say that you have a circumscribed style? 

I would say it's like developing. Right now I would say it’s streetwear with my own personal flavor on it. A lot of people call streetwear ‘Y2K,’ and it pisses me off, 'cause it's erasing the history behind all of it. 

You seem to be very conscious of the styles you’re pulling from. What does it mean for you to be a steward of these aesthetics?

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I'm Venezuelan, but I grew up in Ohio, so I was like one of four Latin people at my high school. There's a lot of community to be found within streetwear because it is a predominantly Black and Brown fashion subculture. And this is not an indictment on anybody, but the people that really like punk stuff, they will view street wear as consumerist, or childish. But really that's your own personal biases creeping into fashion. I'm not looking at them and going, yeah, that's consumerist. No. That's how someone feels most comfortable expressing themselves. [Laughs] Sorry, where was I going with that?

Black and Brown culture?

“Oh yeah. I also really love the music that came out of and still comes out of New York, specifically like nineties, early two thousands. Jay-Z, Nas, I love Nas. The nineties in general holds a special place in my heart. I think it’s partially because the political attitudes in the music at that time really reflect how I feel. And then it sort of got commodified.”

Have you encountered any significant roadblocks so far?

No, actually, everybody's been pretty supportive. I seem to be the most critical about ObieVintage! [Laughs]

In your world, would you want someone else to run ObieVintage?

When I graduate, I do want to find somebody who would be willing to buy my entire stock and then start it on their own. But I think the thing is finding somebody who would continue selling at prices better than market prices. I don't have to worry about labor costs or covering rent for a storefront or anything like that, so my prices are better than most of the places in Cleveland. Ideally, I would want it to be more decentralized. I would really like to involve some of the Oberlin jewelry makers. I don't know if I want to do it on consignment or I just buy from them and then sell for the same price. But I wanna sort of build it into the community, so that I'm able to be less selling clothing and more a way for local artists to sell their clothing and their jewelry. That's probably like a couple months out.

What’s the immediate future, then?

My end goal with this is to make and sell my own clothing that I design and sew myself. Reselling is an unethical business practice, so I have to do whatever I can to approach it ethically. And that means working with SFP or YDSA. I don't want to just have an excess to sell at fundraisers. I tip heavy now because it's like I am a small business in Oberlin. I have to engage with other small businesses ethically because I have the ability to. That's part of my plan. Same with the costuming stuff and the fundraisers. And maybe a party here and there, but I still have to figure that out.

Is there anything you want readers to take away from all of this?

I guess just live true to yourself. We've probably only got like 20 years left and, what, you're gonna spend most of it performing? I could sit in this interview and say all the shit that I said, and then go back and price-gouge the fuck out of everything, and list everything on Depop for market price, and sell it that way. There's a lot of performance at Oberlin, and I think that radical honesty and introspection are important. There's an ebb and a flow and I can't just ebb. I dunno. Live your truth and accept that you're flawed, 'cause then you can work to be less flawed.