I’ve been known to chase my fair share of rabbits into Vintage Wonderland. Despite the resolutions every so often that I’m cutting back on vintage purchases or enforcing a spending ban (I swear I mean them at the time), pieces like these will swan across my retinas and suddenly I’m completely powerless. I mean, the perfect border print dress? A vintage wicker novelty handbag shaped like a BUNNY? Show me the rabbit hole and wish me luck – I fall every time.
As much as I’ve always loved quirky novelty prints, from atomic to kittens and everything in between, there’s no replacing the fundamentals. And every so often, a gal needs the perfect floral print. And when it comes to florals for me, the more feminine the better. Enter this Petal blue floral swing dress…
After every trip I ever go on, I always end up on the couch with a raging cold. As this was one of my most ambitious trips to date – with 5 weeks of travel across 12 flights, 5 cities, 2 coasts, and an exhilarating but exhausting mix of work and play – it’s no surprise I was rendered incapacitated. I arrived home and promptly collapsed. My body was DONE with me and, to show her rage at what I put her through, promptly robbed me of my voice and demanded antibiotics.
One of the greatest things in my life is being able to watch my niece grow up – granted, much of this observing has to be done from afar via FaceTime, but every time I get to spend time with her I’m in awe of the person she is becoming. The amazing person she already is. My second greatest thing is probably the fact that, for every dress I make myself, I can make her a miniature version and marvel in the unending cuteness.
I come from a long line of lead-footed women. What I mean to say is that speedy driving runs in my blood. I learned to drive on the streets of Boston, where people don’t mess around. Where speed limits are merely suggestions and using your blinker is a sign of fear. So, after moving to Perth 5 years ago I really had to acclimate to an entirely different driving culture. One of politeness, of obeying traffic laws. Where people merrily let you merge and if you edge so much as 5km over the speed limit, you can be just as sure…
There is something about a springtime vintage floral print that can bring a bit of sunshine into the dreariest of days. As if the minute you slip it over your head, the sun perks up and pushes her way through the clouds just to get a glimpse. And it doesn’t matter how many I own, the minute I spy another I am powerless to resist. I just love to love them.
Nothing makes me happier than discovering new shops carrying vintage or vintage-inspired dresses. It’s like uncovering a hidden treasure trove that, for that moment, only I get to know about. And then, of course I get so excited I immediately need to share it with all of you!
There’s a certain time of day referred to as “The Children’s Hour”, which is that moment just between the end of day and the start of night. It’s origin’s were in a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, published in 1860, where just before sunset was described as “A pause in the day’s occupations.” Though the poem is essentially about a father and his children, there was always something so melancholy to me about it. As if we can stop time before darkness falls. As if we can spot our long gone innocence in that moment, before we have to go and…
We can all get a bit misty-eyed about the past. It only takes a flavor or the smell of a familiar cologne to bring me right back to a certain moment and, more specifically, a certain feeling. What is it about a particular song that comes on the radio, where suddenly I’m back in my dorm room, cramming for finals, ramen noodles at the ready? And it can hit you when you least expect it – walking through a crowded restaurant and a familiar song begins to play, and you’re powerless to stop the movie reel of memories, that take on that all-too-familiar rosey…