When I was young, I remember very vividly the dresses that were saved for a special occasion. The dresses that lay tucked towards the back of the wardrobe, to brought out on holidays, when the day took on a certain reverence. My favorites were always my Easter dresses. Usually some combination of velvet and tulle, those dresses really epitomized the concept of Sunday Best.
Given the amount of traveling I’ve done in my life, I realized I’ve spent nearly a decade in the Southern Hemisphere. The majority of my time has been in Australia and New Zealand, and while they are both thankfully English speaking countries, I swear they need to come complete with a translation guide. My recent trip to New Zealand this past week had me reaching into the recesses of my brain for the kiwi colloquialisms I once knew so well, even though it had been nearly a decade since I’d lived there.
I have finally returned from my travels around Middle Earth! It was an absolutely amazing trip and I’m brimming over with the things we saw and the places we visited. As fun as traveling is though, it’s always nice to come home and see our furry dudes and hug the entirety of my closet like an old friend. It’s also nice to get back to a regular blogging schedule again, which I was surprised by how much I missed.
A few weeks back, I clicked my Dorothy heels twice and hit the town for a Girl’s Night at Soda Sun Lounge. One of our friends is moving to the East Coast and it would potentially be the last time we could all get together before the move. Let me tell you, my friends are Very. Busy. Women. It took us three months to find a night when we were all in the country or not otherwise engaged. Luckily, my friends are also very organized and the night was locked into the diary back in April. We are nothing if not…
This past weekend, we traveled eastward to the most beautiful Araluen Botanical Gardens to celebrate two of our gorgeous friends getting married. Their wedding actually took place in Scotland, with the reception back in Perth. The invitation said that the bride and groom would be decked out in their highland finery, and asked that we come as Lords and Ladys, Pirates and Faeries. Naturally, I opted for Wood Nymph…
Like most shoe lovers, I have a tendency to wear my shoes into the ground. As you’ve probably noticed, I own…well, let’s just say several pairs of shoes. I’d say more than average, but not yet reaching Imelda Marcos status. Despite the shoe boxes piled around my boudoir, however, I still have a difficult time parting with any of them after they’ve been well-loved and am a big fan of repairing instead of replacing. As such, I’ve worn a path to the trusted cobbler near work and can often be seen pacing back and forth outside the shoe surgery ward, anxiously waiting…
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the concept of a Normal Day. How I usually pay little attention to life’s unremarkable moments and live through them impatiently, always on the lookout for those punctuated with excitement. Fidgeting and drumming my fingers until something happens to make the day noteworthy. But, I’ve come to realize that, although many of us despair the normal day due to a need for constant entertainment, beauty exists in their simplicity, only to become apparent once that normalcy shifts. Where we want nothing more than that time before the earthquake, where we were so blissfully unaware of the…
Sometimes, for no reason at all other than it’s Tuesday, Mr Dressed Aesthetic and I will get all dressed up and go out to dinner. And he is well used to the fact that every time he sees me, my skirt will have somehow gotten pouffier. When we went out to Atrium awhile back and I donned this ensemble, I stayed true to form. Seriously, I need to watch myself in crowded restaurants so the frothy layers of tulle don’t knock things off tables…
Life is short. BUY THE SHOES. It’s no secret that I love shoes. I have a relationship with my shoes, to the point where they cheer me up when I’m having a bad day and can just as easily bring me to the depths of despair. They listen to my woes, coddle my feet when they need coddling, and occasionally attack my tootsies with a torrent of blisters not known this side up of purgatory. But I always forgive them, so deep is our love for each other.
I am a frequent visitor of vintage stores (shocker, I know). I love the hunt, the feeling of discovery. My husband says I have a sixth sense and can sniff out the perfect dress in a sea of nice-but-not quite-right. I flip through the colorful racks with practiced precision, my eye towards the next great undiscovered beauty. And I’ve also come to notice an interesting phenomenon about the way I shop.