I have a soft spot for fashion that looks like it may have one day been someone’s sofa. This can include items of clothing, handbags, or shoes. Basically, if it could have just as easily been the fabric destined for an armchair or victorian draperies, I’m sold (Seriously, those Von Trapp’s had it right). I love brocades and tapestry and heavy, luscious fabrics. There’s just something about the weight of them that speaks to bygone eras…
I think we all have a different recipe for what makes a dream sweet. Perhaps in your world, it’s Antonio Banderas fanning you with palm fronds while whispering sweet nothings, or swimming through towers of gold coins, Scrooge McDuck style (though that always looked rather painful to me…). But my sweetest dreams usually involve being out with my Mr. and my pup, happening upon the most perfect blooms, wearing the most perfect 1950’s border print dress…
I’ve done a fair bit of traveling in my life, and have lived in some weird and wonderful places. From the bright lights of Boston all the way to a tiny fishing village in New Zealand, back to sunny San Diego and then across to peaceful Perth. And although I would never call myself a City Girl, because I love the outdoors too much, there is just something about the pace of a bustling metropolis that feels so invigorating.
There was this rather whacky song I loved when I was a kid – “The Purple People Eater” – which was really popular in the late 50’s. It basically sings the tale of a one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater who has a grand plan to come to earth and start a rock & roll band (go with me here – it all made sense a the time). Now, I was never clear whether he was purple and ate people, or if he selectively chomped purple people exclusively, but it was a rather cheerful song despite the supposed grape-tinted carnage.
There are a LOT of reasons why I love vintage. The stories the garments come with, the attention to detail, the one-of-a-kind nature. But few things get my heart beating quicker than a glance at the INSIDE of a vintage garment. Back in the day, so much care went into every aspect of making a vintage dress – each seam, each stitch – and care even went to imagining the future woman who would wear her. The adjustments she might want to make. Because fashion was once about longevity.
My love of the hea knows no bounds. I’ve always had a lifelong passion for the ocean and all of it’s undersea inhabitants – I think I announced when I was 5 that I was going to be an ichthyologist who studies sharks (no really, I’m serious). So, it’s no surprise I’m amassing quite the collection of vintage novelty seaside prints. I pretty much can’t resist them (case in point here). Every time I find one it unleashes a new wave of childhood joy.
You know how the story goes: Your eyes lock across a crowded room. Your heartbeat quickens, your palms get sweaty, you lose all power of speech. You had read about this feeling before but never experienced it yourself. And suddenly there it is. Your heart swells and moonlight floods your soul. You see the universe and all of it’s possibilities and realize this is the moment when your life will never be the same. And I’m not talking about boy-meets-girl. I’m talking about girl-meets-dress.
I’ve always got my eye on companies that make quality vintage-inspired frocks. I’ve seen Chi Chi London dresses popping up on several of my favorites sites – like Modcloth and ASOS – but had never taken the plunge and purchased one. They’ve always been on my mind, though, because they’re usually the most sumptuous looking frocks of shimmery lace and full skirts. When I saw this stunner pop up on the glorious Miss Amy May’s Instagram, I knew I found the dress that would be my inaugural purchase: The Cassandra Dress. here is something about navy that is inherently appealing. She…
Hello friends! The holidays are nearly upon us (Scary, I know. How did that happen?) But, that means that this is the time of year my mind starts to turn towards fancy frocks: Holiday parties, glasses of champagne bubbling over, and counting down the end of the year with a bang. Basically, there’s not enough glitter and tulle in the world.
There’s this thought puzzle known as Schrödinger’s cat. It’s based around a ridiculously complex quantum physics paradox, but the basic idea is that, if a cat were in a sealed box with a vial of poison, there is a point of unknown, at which the cat is simultaneously alive and dead, yet neither dead nor alive. When you look into the box, clearly it’s one or the other. But there’s always that moment before you know, where hope remains both alive and dead until that box is opened.