As we’re ticking down the minutes to the end of the year, I always start to feel a lot of pressure to think big thoughts. To close the year on something profound and find some meaning in the chaos. But here’s all I’ve got people: 2021, I am DONE with you.
I’m sure we’ve all had the experience of seeing a piece that is just so perfect in its simplicity. One that stands tall and proud without all of the bells and whistles of print and sparkle. Now, as someone who is all about the extra, it takes a garment that is truly exquisite for all that it’s not to catch my eye. But such was the case when I spotted the most spectacular vintage Lanvin skirt….
When I was a kid, we had this massive purple lilac bush in the backyard. I can vaguely remember stepping off the back porch in late Spring and being hit with that immediate, sweet scent, a wall of purple calling me forward. There are a lot of memories of my childhood that linger. But few are as powerful as olfactory memories – one whiff of lilac and I can literally feel the start of summer.
I will very likely be dating myself here, but something I have always been grateful for is being one of the last generations to grow up analog. Truly, the internet wasn’t really a thing in my teen years. Home computers had only just started to become normal, cordless phones were the newfangled modern technology (call waiting? What?!!), and to get the movie times you had to dial a number and drum your fingers on the countertop while a recorded voice droned on through your options.
I know we all have those photos saved to our Pinterest boards – the elusive collector’s items, the seemingly unattainable vintage. More often than not, I’ll have a photo saved of a vintage piece, and then will inevitably see it appear a few weeks later on some of my fellow vintage huntresses. And all I can do is hope that one day it will be released back into the wild…
Probably the most common question I’ve gotten since I started this blog (other than, “Are those your real clothes?”), is “How do you get your skirts so gloriously full?? I have my standard response, which is that I have always been a two-crinoline minimum kind of gal. But, much like every vintage huntress out there, I’m always in search of the next magical solution to the full-skirted glory I crave….
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.
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…
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).