It’s that time of year again! Every year, I try to charge forth into my wardrobe and clear out things that I haven’t worn in awhile. Particularly with vintage, I always feel it’s been entrusted to me for a period of time, only to be passed on to the next woman who will be a part of her story.
You know how some clothing items are simply practical? You buy them for specific purposes – like gardening clothes or what you wear to the gym. Trainers for running or a business suit for work. Utilitarian and an important part of any wardrobe. And then there are other kinds of clothes. The ones of whimsy and sass. Of color and exuberance. And those dresses are pure fairy tale…
On more than one occasion, I have committed flowercide. Okay, it’s been more than 12 occasions. I don’t know what it is, but gardening just doesn’t reside in my veins. And I always start out with the best of intentions. A few weeks ago, Mr. Dressed and I went out and selected some lovely flowering plants to speckle our garden and front patio. Pinks and purples and creams. It was a flowering paradise. For about 2 weeks. I’m sad to say that this week our porch looks like a horticulture crime scene.
Okay, I’m going to level with you. Occasionally, pants happen. Now, before you think that the fabric of the universe has started to unravel or I’ve been possessed by some trouser-wearing demon, those days are few and far between. They are usually reserved for things like moving house, field work, and traveling. Or if it’s a Dark Day (in which case, best to just walk on by). But, there is one other event that I rarely ever speak of: and it’s when a pair of trousers is just too darn cute to pass up.
The passage of time is a funny thing. Before I had this blog, I wasn’t quite as aware of it as I am now, with a daily chronicle of events and outfits to flip through. Even more jarring can be how quickly time seems to jump between things, taking a moment from new to part of the past very quickly. The other day, I caught myself telling someone we had just moved here from Australia, forgetting that we have actually been here over 8 months. I guess we have to start saying we live here now, letting AUS be a part…
My family has been a huge fan of the blog ever since its inception. In addition to generally being supportive of my latest endeavor (I swear I could say I wanted to start collecting lampshades and they would cheer and start sending me cool lampshades). But, I think it was also important because they got to see a glimpse into my daily life. Particularly when I was living abroad, we would keep up with the Big Stuff: promotions, milestones, heartbreak. But, it’s the little minutiae of our days that would get lost in the miles. The blog let them see my…
If you are a lady who happens to like getting frocked up regularly, you get very used to a lot of comments. Sideways glances, questionable stares. Quizzical looks wondering why you aren’t wearing jeans and a t-shirt like the rest of the crowd. Did I not get the memo that it was bad form to look like you were trying too hard? As it happens, I did get that memo. But, I soon realized that there are a lot worse things that I could do than try.
You are all very well aware of my love for novelty handbags. The cuter and more ornate the better. So, it’s no surprise that I instantly fell in love with Vendula London when I reviewed their Chocolatier Grab Bag last year. I get more excited every season to see their latest releases, as they are definitely a company with no shortage of ideas. The instant this Circus Box Bag came across my retinas, I was ready to run away with the circus…
This past weekend I did something I haven’t done in months: I painted my nails. I realize this seems like a very mundane thing to most people; but for me painting my nails has always been the purest form of indulgence. Because when you work in a profession like mine, you are quite literally getting your hands dirty in one shark or another, or clattering away on the keys of a computer for hours on end. Thanks to these occupational hazards, it’s unlikely that a manicure will ever last very long. But somehow it never matters. It doesn’t matter if it looks…
Every month, I like to put together a regular Lust List of the beauties around the web I’ve seen and swooned over. I’m not crazy enough to imagine they will all make their way into my closet. I just like to dream… and I like to share them, because if they can’t be in my closet, at least they might be scooped up by one of my readers! But, every so often, when I’ve seen a certain one of my Lust List dresses has sold (and isn’t on her way to me) I must admit I feel a pang of sadness.