There is nothing more important than self-care. After the kind of semester I’ve just had (and let’s face it, the kind of 2 years we’ve all just had), I’m looking for it more than ever. And self care can take a variety of forms: either spending some time to yourself getting lost in a good book, heading to the beach for a girl’s weekend, or a splurge on the cutest new handbag range from Vendula London.
I’m not quite sure how, but these last few months have managed to feel harder than any other through this whole pandemic. Is it just me, here? I was trying to explain it to a friend the other day…and the best analogy I could come up with was that it’s as if I experienced that surge of adrenaline that instinctually happens in a crisis for the last 2 years. The one that enables you to outrun a bear or lift a car off the baby. And collectively, we’ve been holding the car off the baby for 2+ years. And once you…
I find inspiration for my skirts from all kinds of places. As many of you know, this often comes from the vintage stylings of Juli Lynne Charlot and Marjorie Montgomery. Or from dresses I never quite got my hands on. Dresses that in their original form would fit my pinkie toe (if we were lucky). But, every so often, I get a crazy, whimsical idea. And I just run with it. Or oink with it, as the case may be…
There is something truly captivating about a city skyline at night. Looking out across the sea of buildings, feeling so far away from the world, but somehow still seeming connected to everyone and everything. I always loved how the lights blinked on slowly as the sun set, hinting of the lives within those windows. Both mundane and magical.
Isn’t it funny the way nursery rhymes stick in your head? I mean, I know they’re designed that way…and never mind the fact that when you’re a kid, your synapses are strengthening rapid fire, so we remember all kinds of crazy things with alarming specificity from our childhood. But, it is still kind of remarkable to me that I remember every word from the Farmer in the Dell, even though upon further reflection, I realize it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.
I’ve never had much of a green thumb. Without ever meaning to, I am an enemy to all plant life, a horticultural assassin. Your ferns and rosebushes aren’t safe around me. I even killed a cactus in my pitiful gardening history (a feat I’m told you actually have to work at). And while basil plants wilt and grass shrivels in my presence, a flourishing wardrobe: Now, that I can cultivate…
I know for most of us, 2021 was a bit of a dumpster fire. It can be a relief when that calendar flips to the next year, feeling as if we are shaking off all that’s happened and moving forward, refreshed into a new year’s renaissance. But, even as I took that step forward, I did so with some trepidation for what 2022 might bring. After all, they say you should stay with the devil you know…
There’s always that moment in the dead of winter where you start to see forward to Spring. Yet, there’s no actual benchmark for it. No physical moment you can point to. Slippers are very much a part of the daily routine, you still wake up to frost lining the windows, and coffee is as much a warming device as it is a caffeination mechanism. And yet it happens every year. You can feel the stirrings of a new season making its way up through frozen ground, pushing her arms upward, whispering that Spring will be here soon.
Every year, I often have grand sewing plans to coincide with various holidays. Always starting with good intentions, I keep a notebook to record my idea of the perfect skirt for Easter, to launch into Spring, or to commemorate Halloween. But, because of the craziness of life, it rarely ever happens that way. True to form, my annual Christmas skirt is about a month behind schedule. Well, you know what they say about making plans…
The start of a new year is normally accompanied by a feeling of crisp anticipation. It always reminded me of the sense that I’ve come away from the ATM, where the machine has just spit out newly minted bills. And you get to believe for a minute like anything is possible, if you just spend those dollars on the right thing. This year is a bit different than most – in that I’m really struggling to find that feeling.