I feel like it was only about two days ago I was bemoaning the start of the new semester. Like most of my colleagues (and profs in solidarity worldwide), I felt burnt out before it even began. And suddenly I blinked and found myself on the threshold to October. I guess if there’s one thing you can count on, it’s that time chuggs steadily and relentlessly forward to the next station, whether we like it or not.
Awhile back in February (feels like a hundred years ago in COVID-years), the lovely Amy of Miss Hero Holliday and I embarked on a joint sewing adventure. We decided to each create our own take on Simplicity 4784 for Valentine’s Day, zipping photos and ideas across the pond as we went. I have to admit, even though I am usually a solo-sewist, it was one of the most fun sewing projects I had tackled in ages.
I’m teaching neurobiology this semester and we started to dip our toes into the wonderful world of neurotransmitters last week: those magic little chemicals in our brain that allow for our neurons to transfer information to one another. One such neurotransmitter is dopamine – it’s historically known as the “pleasure neurotransmitter.” When we experience something unexpectedly awesome, our brains get a burst of this feel good substance.
You know when you see someone – either while scrolling IG or walking past you in the street – and they’re wearing something that stops you in your tracks? Where you can almost feel yourself start to salivate and it’s taking everything in your being not to chase them down and demand to know where they got it? I mean, I’m sure we’ve all experienced that special sartorial greener-pastures lust, where you truly believe for a minute that life would be perfect if only you could find that garment. Yeah well, what happens if the woman in question you’ve walked…
There is always a certain time of year that feels a bit like the eye of the storm. While summers are supposed to be relaxing, mine was chock full of book chapters and editing and teaching a summer class that nearly did my head in (but I can’t even ask you to feel sorry for me…it was all totally self-inflicted). Grades for the summer class were submitted last week and our fall semester doesn’t start until next week. So, for today at least, there is an eerie, blissful calm on the surface of the water…
When I was young, my sister and I would go away to camp every summer for a week of morning calisthenics, capture the flag, and (to this day) some of the best food I’ve ever eaten (I think food just tastes better outdoors). This one summer, my sister was assigned to be counselor for the same cabin I was assigned to. And, while you might think chaos would ensue, I think it was one of the most magical weeks of camp I could ever remember. We had that perfect combination of people bunking up to our cabin, where everyone got…
When I was young, Sunday was Candy Day. We weren’t allowed to eat candy any other day of the week, so this day was held with a special reverence. On Candy Day, my sister and I would be given 50 cents a piece and were allowed to traipse two blocks to a local general store. Even though the selection never changed, we spent ages poring over the choices every time. Candy, gum, chocolate – before you officially made your selection, there was always this unbridled anticipation in knowing you could have anything in the aisle.
Have you ever noticed that it’s human nature to be drawn to things that are bad for you? Be it an ex-boyfriend, a bad habit, a vow after a particularly raucous night to “never drink again,” only to find yourself woohooing on the dance floor a week later. Despite seeing many who have flown to their fiery doom before her, the moth simply can’t ignore the allure of that bright, magical flame beckoning her to a promise of intrigue and light (and occasional debauchery).
One of the reasons why I love vintage so much is because I feel like, in many ways, it finds me. Although I am always on the hunt, finding the perfect dress in the perfect moment never feels like an accident. Rather, it always seems fated that we would meet. Like I was somehow cherry picked from the crowd to be her temporary guardian, before she gently passes to the next chapter of her story.
I’ve always been a huge fab of florals – giant rose border prints, floral appliqué, vines snaking up a bodice. I want it all. So it’s only natural for me to drool all over uniquely floral pieces from vintage past, particularly those that have dotted my Pinterest wishlist for years.