There is something sincerely magical about crossing the threshold into Spring. I suddenly find a new bounce in my step, an extra twirl in my skirt. The scent of the air is somehow better, and the birds chirp merrily as I make my way towards the end of the semester. And for whatever reason, that extra bit of sun shines a new perspective on things, reminding me of the many things I have to be grateful for.
When most people style an outfit, they probably start with the base: The dress. The skirt. The cigarette pant. They build from the foundation and find shoes and accessories to match. Now, while I’ve been known to be inspired by a dress a time or two, more often than not, I start with the perfect handbag…
I’ve always had a bit of a “Life Imitating Art” fascination, especially when it comes to fashion. I don’t know why, but I will forever be enamored with handbags that look like storefronts, or necklaces that look like rhinestone bagels, and shoes designed to mimic cake. Be it edible or not, I can’t get enough of a comestible lifestyle.
Have you ever had an idea that, when thinking about it in retrospect, you realize if you had known then what you know now, you never would have started it? (the wave skirt comes to mind…) That’s a long winded way of saying my latest sewing project started as a sketch that seemed very doable, and yet took more hours and more steps than should ever be humanly possible.
When I was little, one of the biggest treats was getting to visit my Mimere (our name for grandmother). She called it our “bonding time” and always made me feel so special. The pantry was always stocked with my favorite cereal (Cinnamon Toast Crunch – dubbed a “sugar cereal” and therefore forbidden in my house), let me watch Pretty Woman (though put a pillow over my face during the rude bits), and would stroke my hair until I fell asleep.
I don’t know what it is about summer, but I swear the months conspire to move at different speeds. I always seem to glide lazily through June, sipping mules from copper mugs and meeting friends for outdoor BBQs. July is always on a mission, moving forward with a blink-and-I’ll-miss-it ferocity, and August barely even seems to exist, her eyes already on autumn and the start of a new school year.
I’m an 80’s baby, which was all about color and exuberance and some seriously poor fashion choices. There is something about stone washed jeans and puff paint that makes me both nostalgic and horrified at the same time. And I must admit I was definitely one who gleefully joined the splatter paint phase, unapologetically adorning my clothes, my version of “art”, and even my bedroom walls with color.
There are certain kinds of fabric that just call to you. As someone who is all about the clash of geometrics and florals, with a particular penchant for border prints, it should come as no surprise that Gertie’s latest Hopscotch Gingham in cotton sateen would steal my heart. The tricky part: which color to choose??
I find inspiration for my skirts from all kinds of places. As many of you know, this often comes from the vintage stylings of Juli Lynne Charlot and Marjorie Montgomery. Or from dresses I never quite got my hands on. Dresses that in their original form would fit my pinkie toe (if we were lucky). But, every so often, I get a crazy, whimsical idea. And I just run with it. Or oink with it, as the case may be…
I know for most of us, 2021 was a bit of a dumpster fire. It can be a relief when that calendar flips to the next year, feeling as if we are shaking off all that’s happened and moving forward, refreshed into a new year’s renaissance. But, even as I took that step forward, I did so with some trepidation for what 2022 might bring. After all, they say you should stay with the devil you know…