My plan to write about the experience of shopping at
Crying Weasel Vintage
— the 2025 Best of Arkansas winner in the vintage clothing, hip clothing and women’s clothing categories — was foolproof.
Rather than address the fact that I myself was perhaps in need of a wardrobe glow-up, I intended to be a fly on the wall for someone else’s. And I’d plucked the perfect person for the job: a plain-dressing, newly single friend on a fitness journey who, despite his relatively drab sense of fashion, was feeling more comfortable than ever in his body. Miraculously, he said “yes.” But then he dropped out at the last minute due to factors out of his control, leaving me model-less.
After asking around the office and discovering — big surprise — that no one wanted to volunteer as tribute for an assignment freighted with the underlying implication that I thought they could use a fresh look, I took a good gander in the mirror.
My relationship to sartorial hipness is a muddled one. Of course I’d like to sport cooler clothes than I do, but it’s hard work to stay afloat in the river of relevance. I frequently opt for comfort and convenience, holding onto deteriorating items of clothing for much longer than I should. Sometimes, I can almost convince myself that I don’t even
have
a body. Plus, there’s a certain appeal to giving off the impression that what I wear is an afterthought. Paradoxically and frustratingly, however, that’s probably proof that I actually
do
care about how I’m perceived. Maybe a me-focused trip to Crying Weasel wasn’t such a bad idea.
Despite all of my handwringing, Russellville native Alex Flanders, the 36-year-old proprietor of
Crying Weasel
, is a champ at styling, both in the sense that she knows how to put together a mean ensemble and also that she’s got a great bedside manner.
“My favorite thing is whenever someone comes in and they’re open to me giving suggestions because vintage can be really hard,” Flanders said. “You gotta try stuff on, you know? Some things look way different on the hanger than they do on a person. So when people let me play around and they’re open to me handing them stuff in the dressing room and then they love it — or they’re like, ‘Wow, I didn’t know that this could be worn together’ — that’s a really cool feeling.”
From the moment I stepped into her shop — founded as a pop-up business in 2017 and now housed in a cozy unit below Control Records in Hillcrest — I felt A-OK, charmed by Flanders’ cheeriness, the store’s soft-color aesthetic and a ’90s-heavy VHS collection in the back corner that includes hits like “Sleepless in Seattle,” “Jerry Maguire” and “Pretty Woman.”
Having texted my measurements to Flanders in advance, she had some pieces set aside for me. The first outfit — “slouchy sophisticated,” as she called it — paired a quaintly serious T-shirt commemorating the sinking of the Titanic with a flowy pair of pinstripe slacks. Once she requested that I tuck in the tee, I was sold. Something about the marriage of relaxed and formal works for me.
“I love this thing that’s happening in men’s fashion where there’s really billowy pleated trousers with a little T-shirt or a casual look instead of making it a zoot suit or something,” Flanders said.
The road to outfit two was a bit more winding. The first two pairs of pants Flanders suggested wouldn’t quite button over my stomach, but before I could dwell for too long on my belly-based insecurities, she presented me with some loose-fitting jeans that slipped right on. Then, when the jeans took on an unintended goofiness with the top she had in mind, she pivoted without a second thought to a sporty blue windbreaker. At last, the look was complete, immediately calling to mind the Gallagher brothers from Oasis.
“You’re like a London street bloke from the ’90s,” Flanders remarked. I felt stylish and ridiculous in equal measure.
Given that the torments of Arkansas summer are coming for us all, it seemed only natural that my final fit be suited for the water.
“This one is like total bro, dude, but also like cowabunga,” Flanders said. “Sponsored by Busch Light.”
Pastel swim trunks with a fashionably short inseam? Very cool. A thin, barely buttoned button-up with the sleeves rolled up? Not bad. A gold chain to flirt with the tuft of chest hair I usually try to hide? Well, I gave it a shot.
Imagining new versions of yourself isn’t always easy. Body image is a conundrum not even Crying Weasel can solve. But there’s a chance that a visit to the store might help you take some baby steps toward corporeal confidence.
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