Kelly McLeod is always on the lookout.

Dressed like June Carter dropped into a John Hughes movie, she eyes a small, silver owl necklace adorning the Espresso Royale cashier handing her a latte. McLeod's curiosity and enthusiasm are obvious. Complimenting the barista on her find, she invites her back to her store, The Getup, where, she assures, more vintage necklaces like that one can be found. The owl is barely visible, but McLeod picks it out like a long-lost friend in a crowded room. To call her an expert would be an understatement.

It’s this genuine love for pursuing and preserving the past that makes McLeod the ideal vintage clothing store owner. Her store, The Getup, located just north of Liberty on State Street in Ann Arbor, is home to constantly revolving racks of lost and found clothing from as far back as the Great Depression. In its mere six years of existence, the store has quickly become a hotspot for students and locals alike, attracting a following that rivals that of stores five times its age.

“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the same 50 people I see every day,” McLeod said. “It’s like a Cinderella story, you gotta like it and it’s gotta fit … there are so many individuals in Ann Arbor, and bringing them something that’s really gonna turn them on is a lot of fun.”

Since its start in February 2004, in the cramped attic above its current location, The Getup has evolved into a bustling storefront packed to the walls with Dust Bowl-era prom dresses, rock tees from the ’70s (Styx, Jefferson Starship and Peter Frampton tour shirts line the rafters), a kitschy Elvis painting and shelves (and shelves) of old cowboy boots. It’s like walking into a time machine that got trapped somewhere between a Norman Rockwell painting and a Hunter S. Thompson peyote daydream. Looking around is like a history lesson, and it’s hypnotizing.

“There really is this moment, this energy in the clothes,” she said. “Everything in here has to have personality, beauty or a story.”

With a quick glance around the store it’s hard to disagree. Between the racks of old Western shirts, leather Members Only jackets and Golden Era Hollywood dresses, it’s tough to imagine McLeod’s collection having anything boring to say. But with such storied clothing, she contends, comes a certain sense of obligation.

“When somebody prior to me owning (their clothing) has cared for it for more than fifty years, I feel there’s this responsibility,” she said. “It’s like preserving Americana.”

McLeod’s tireless obsession with maintaining an old, weird America has been with her as long as she can remember. From collecting old aprons at age 12 to delving into troves of vintage clothing to avoid the designer wasteland of the malls in her later teen years, McLeod’s distinctly American collection reflects decades of changes in fashion and pop culture.

“I love history, I love old Hollywood movies, and I love music,” she said. “Everything that I’ve ever been drawn to, style has been a big part of it.”

With all the vinyl on repeat at the back of the store (I’ve heard Nazareth, Hank Williams and The Yes Album), it’s clear how fervently McLeod believes music and fashion work in tandem to re-create a particular aesthetic. You just know that if she puts on that Stardrive record from behind the counter, a space-rock outfit is sure to fall into your lap.

With a small staff of equally youthful and impassioned fashionistas keeping the store at bay, McLeod spends most of her time outside the store searching for new additions to her ever-changing collection, often traveling all over the country. As it turns out, finding most of what’s in the store is a lot harder than one might imagine.

“It’s a lot of footwork. Almost every morning I’m at an estate sale or I’m at someone’s home or I’m at an auction.