Finding Community in Vintage Threads

Before any human can greet me at The Felt Fanatic in Salem, Massachusetts, a small dog barks at my ankles and a voice apologizes from a back room.

“It’s okay!” I respond, bending down to let the dog sniff my open palm. “I love dogs. I have six back home.”

I step into the store and see hangers full of signed vintage jerseys on the wall to my right, and a bomber jacket with the “spoked B” hangs high on a wall among other coats just out of reach. Every available surface is covered with memorabilia. Circular racks of T-shirts fill the space, illuminated by fluorescent overhead lights. The front desk showcases a display case crammed with vintage trading cards, most of them featuring Boston sports legends.

Two side rooms are packed with sports-related fashion of every kind: hoodies, T-shirts, more jerseys. Bold graphics and simple prints. Pennants are pinned to the walls. As someone who grew up thousands of miles away, many of them don’t mean much to me, but the loud lettering and the novelty of a triangular piece of fabric stand out. The dog continues barking at me.

This store is what I want my closet to look like. Sports clothes are my statement pieces now, and as I transition into adulthood, my wardrobe reflects that shift. I find myself collecting more and more business casual staples — clothes I can wear to cover the Boston University hockey games I report on.

Hockey has completely taken over my life.

I left my hometown of Anchorage, Alaska, the moment I could. I moved across the country to attend BU almost four years ago, but not because of its storied hockey program.

At first, it wasn’t easy. Freshman year was lonely. I struggled to connect with anyone, and the large lecture halls didn’t offer much sense of community. The hockey team’s national recognition was just background noise.

Things began to change when I joined the sports section of the student newspaper during my sophomore year. I grew up watching baseball and football, but knew almost nothing about soccer or basketball. Yet every weekend, I wrote something, and with each article, I gained confidence. I bonded with my editors and fellow writers at weekly meetings, and a year later, I became an editor myself.

I vaguely knew about BU’s hockey team when I got here, and it wasn’t until I became part of the hockey writing team that I was hooked on the sport. Once I understood the game, there was no turning back.

One person truly pulled me into the world of hockey: Jeremy Swayman, the goaltender for the Boston Bruins. Like me, he’s from Anchorage and moved to New England for college. He’s become the best representation Alaska could ask for with the platform he has. He’s personable, an avid hiker, and a talented goalie. Having someone connect with in hockey made all the difference. For me, the people in sports have always been more interesting than the games themselves.

Earlier this year, I named my kitten after one of Swayman’s teammates and former BU Terrier, Charlie McAvoy. She’s even Bruins-colored, with her silky black coat and mischievous golden eyes.

The voice that apologized earlier  — Zach Goodman, the owner of The Felt Fanatic  — emerges from behind the front desk. I know exactly what I’m looking for: something Bruins-related.

“There’s a bunch of jerseys there,” he says, pointing to a nearby rack, “and then there’s crewnecks on the wall in that room.”

I already own a Swayman jersey — the first one I ever bought — but I don’t need another. Instead, I gravitate toward the rack of crewnecks in the side room.

One piece stands out immediately: a simple black crew neck with a spoked B on the front and a bear’s head on the side. “Bruins Alumni” is stitched underneath it.

I ask Zach about it, and he’s not sure where it came from. He picked it up at an estate sale, so it probably belonged to a former hockey player.

That sells it for me. The sweater feels like a piece of Boston history.

At the register, Zach and I talk about the store, New England sports culture, and the tight-knit nature of card trade shows. The dog, still following me, has stopped barking, but he’s ready to go off if I step the wrong way.

Social anxiety has often made it difficult for me to connect with people, but sports have always offered common ground. This Bruins sweater will be a conversation starter when I leave Boston for Chicago in a few months, where I’ll attend Northwestern’s sports journalism master’s program. It will give me an excuse to talk about BU, Jeremy Swayman, and everything that’s shaped me during my time here.

Boston is where I learned how to find community. I found it at The Felt Fanatic, with my student newspaper, and in every hockey arena. I will carry those lessons with me to Chicago in the fall.

Sports have given me a way to connect with people, so I welcome them to keep taking over my life.