When I was younger I was obsessed with candy buttons. You know what I mean – the dots of candy stuck to the long strip of paper, in a stream of rainbow colors. You would systematically go row by row, peeling them off with your teeth and convincing yourself they had different flavors. In truth, they basically amounted to little more than sugar and cornstarch, and you always ended up eating more of the paper than the actual candy…
Although I am an equal opportunity 1950’s huntress, there are a few things in particular that make me weak in the knees. Uber full skirts. Border prints. Appliqué. But, I cannot deny that vintage trompe l’oeil (or prints that deceive the eye) steal my heart every time. 2D prints designed to look like ribbons or ruffles and bows – I will literally start salivating. I knew I loved this style of artistry before I even knew it had a name. I have been lucky enough to slowly add trompe l’oeil prints to my collection over the years (case in point…
If you haven’t already guessed it, I have pretty strong feelings about my personal style. I know what I like and what I don’t like, and generally go with what makes me happy. I actually prefer to shop alone – spending as long or as little time in a shop as I like, never looking for an outside opinion on whether or not something suits me. It took awhile for me to get comfortable in my shopping skin. So, you can imagine my feelings when it comes to someone else shopping for me…
There is something so crisp and fresh and zesty about summer. The downside is, the humidity makes my hair do one thing and one thing only: lie straight and flat. Like a seal coming out of the water, it falls in sheets around my face. As a now-mature 30-something-year-old woman, I have decided to stop fighting City Hall and embrace the state my hair prefers to be. For the next few months, I predict fewer curls will grace these cyber pages. But, I’ve chosen to pick my battles and appreciate that my hair is its own independent woman. Cause when…
In many ways, I feel that vintage carries with it stories of the past. A bit of the woman who wore her before me. Like a friend who has known you your entire life, there are secrets in every swath of fabric, every stitch of leather. And as I reach for a particular piece on a particular day, I feel as though I’m reaching for that woman. Taking her hand and letting her know that I remember her. That I carry her in my daily life and have become part of the story.
I’ve always been a bit of a bookworm. Ever since I was a kid, I couldn’t get enough books to read and would devour them in a few hours. It was something to help me keep up with my ever-buzzing mind or my place to escape to when the bullying got to be too tough. There were pages full of adventure. A world beyond my own. When I got older and would travel, my backpack would be laden with at least 5+ books by the time I got home, as I’d need to scoop up a new one in every…
I was feeling pretty bolstered by my last sewing project and almost immediately jumped to the next. Given I have about 50 things in my head at any one time I want to create, plus an overflowing tailoring pile, the time I have never quite meets the time I need for sewing. However, after kicking the Imposter Syndrome squarely in the eye with my Garden of Eden dress, I didn’t stop to doubt myself and simply plunged on ahead.
In truth, I’ve always been the kind of person who likes the hustle and bustle. Although I relish my alone time, I have to admit I love the buzz of a busy restaurant or walking around a city thriving with energy. And I’m so much more productive when I have 12 things to do – when there’s just one task on my To Do list, there’s too much room for procrastination.
I think we can all fall victim to a bit of Imposter Syndrome – you know, where despite your talent and skill, you feel that you really don’t know anything. And that it’s just a matter of time before your secret is revealed and you’re outed as a fraud. I think I’ve been internalizing this Imposter Syndrome with my sewing – despite the number of projects I’ve accomplished, I’ve always chalked it up to luck or the help that I’ve had along the way…
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about living in Wilmington, April is alllll about the rain. This town was definitely paying attention during that whole “April showers bring May flowers” lecture in school, and they embrace it to the full extent of the weather. And while the sky is falling and the yard slowly becomes sodden, I stare and sigh in contempt, waiting for the sun to peak through the clouds once again. Rain is not a friend to the vintage…