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…
So, my mom has become quite the vintage huntress of late. She’s one of my biggest blogging cheerleaders and has been out and about, finding treasures that I might like to include in posts (I do nothing to dissuade her, as you’ve probably guessed). So, you can imagine my excitement when an Easter parcel appeared on our doorstep a few weeks back and it was packed full of vintage goodies! Some she had found in her travels, some were her own that I remember admiring as a child, and some stunning pieces belonged to my beloved grandmother, who we lost early…
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.
I’ve come to realize that I probably wouldn’t fashionably survive in a place like New York City. Not that I am not fashionable, because I definitely rock my style to her fullest potential, but because I am fundamentally opposed to wearing all black clothing. And the New Yorkers are alllll about the all black ensemble. I’ve tried before…and I literally can’t do it. My fingers start twitching and I have to add a pop color somewhere to avoid my own madness.
I have to say, life has been absolute madness lately. It seems as if there’s no time to stop and enjoy what’s around me, because I’m always running from one place to the next. And the problem with being constantly on the go, is that stopping somehow feels wrong. In academia (aka, the world in which I dwell), you constantly have your eye on the next paper, the next project, the next deadline to meet…and as such, I have done a whole lot of working and not nearly enough lounging…
I love trying unique color combinations. Although mint and red is certainly not groundbreaking, there’s something very eye catching about it that seems to catch people off guard. I always manage to garner looks (well, more than usual) as I go skipping down the street in a sweet confection of minty-red goodness. I can’t tell if it’s the poofy skirt, the polka dot heels, or if people are just trying to work out whether I’m a few months late for Christmas and a few bulbs shy of a Christmas tree…
I always seem to have quite the adventure when I embark on a dressmaking project and this latest was no exception. This one in particular combined two of my favorite things: sewing and shark biology. Though the impetus is usually different, in general my dresses go from some sort of idea that’s been tickling at the back of my head for awhile until the perfect opportunity arises… Warning: Photo heavy post ahead!
We all have our style comfort zones. Although I like to experiment now and again, I tend to gravitate towards the things that work for me. My body type really suits the fit and flare silhouette – I have a proportionally tiny waist in comparison to my larger bust and then those blessed flared skirts cover all kinds of business (especially the squishy areas we all tend to be most insecure about). So most of the time I stick with that which is comfortable.
Over the last week here in Australia, I can feel the first chill start to set into the air in the evenings. The Bostonian in me instinctually feels like I should be out shopping for school supplies when I start to feel the crisp fingers of autumn start to unfurl. And yet, being that’s it’s April, my northern hemisphere brain still can’t resist pastel colors and floaty chiffon dresses. They’re like a magnet tugging on my vintage-loving heart. And therein lies the dichotomy…
You know that feeling of responsibility you have when determining whether or not to buy something? Weighing the pros and cons of cost vs. the gap in your wardrobe that needs filling. You see a gorgeous item and the mature thing to do is walk away because you really don’t need another dress/pair of shoes/handbag/fill-in-the-blank-with-appropriate-fashion-obsession? You are highly conscious of your budget and that keeps your visa card planted firmly in your wallet.