There are a lot of funny ideas you get in your head as a kid – things you absorb that you don’t realize you’ve carried into adulthood. We all have them – we follow a certain family code, abide by rules of our social group, and accept certain ideas as fact (until we become old enough to question them). We also randomly assign certain aspirational characters that make perfect sense to an 11-year-old brain, but certainly bears re-examination years later…
As much as I’m a gal who likes to take risks now and then, there are always certain old favorites I come back to. It’s no surprise why, no matter how far I stray, you’ll see me inching back to circle skirts, nipped waists, border prints. I mean, tried and true exists for a reason, and there are a lot of cases where one just shouldn’t mess with perfection. And nothing says perfection like the perfect appliqué skirt…
My husband, Mr. Dressed, is a champion gift giver. Truth be told, he stresses about it before every birthday and holiday, but the man has skills. He will occasionally pull something from my wishlist, but more often than not he will brave the cyber streets and find something I never even knew I needed. He’s amazing at pushing me out of my comfort zone or finding a stunning vintage piece that reminds me of just how well he knows me.
I grew up in New England, where differentiated seasons abound. This means we plowed through 2 ft snow drifts in winter, melted in the summer heat, and watched the world bloom around us in spring. But, my favorite season was always fall. One of my most vivid childhood memories was always of that first crisp fall weekend, where my family and I would make a trip to the apple orchards to find the most perfect pie-worthy apples to commemorate autumn.
A huge part of the last few months of our lives has been in redefinition. Redefining Normal. Redefining a successful day at work. Redefining a Friday Night. And, most recently: redefining a reason for having a dance party. Reason being: I simply needed it. And I have Trunk of Dresses and this spectacular hand painted vintage skirt to thank for a moment of pure, indescribable joy as I twirled and jived and forgot the world for a moment or two in my garden…
We all have our sewing “wish list” pile (or at least I do). You know the one: where you have stacks of fabric and a box of patterns that you will one day make into something fabulous. It never happens all at once, but over years of collecting and planning, you turn around one day and realize your pile of plans and sewing ideas is now threatening to drown you. So, I was beyond ecstatic to work with Online Fabric Store to finally make a dent in that pile…
As most of you guys know by now, as a little girl I had dreams of one day becoming a marine biologist. I know this is a common career goal for many-a-five year old, to later make way for other paths. But, I was one of those little girls for whom the dream stuck. From little girl to PhD Candidate to a fully fledged professor running my own lab. And to this day, I still can’t believe I get paid to do what I love…
I think sometimes we tend to find comfort in what we know – a certain vibe, a certain pace. And going outside of that comfort zone can be pretty jarring. Deep down, I think I always considered myself a city girl. You know, wise and worldly and all that. Even though the reality is, I’ve lived in a lot of different places, with varying degrees of cosmopolitan. Everything from a huge, bustling metropolis, with 8 million people crowding its streets, to a tiny fishing village, with little more than 500 people and a dairy. We’ve lived in the most isolated city…
Have you ever had an idea that you immediately scoffed at? You know the one: Where, as soon as the thought forms in your head, you laugh at the absurdity… Despite the pie-in-the-sky nature of it all, you share it with your husband anyway, with the first words out of your mouth being, “I know this sounds nuts, but…” And then what if you just went and did it anyway?? If this kind of story sounds intriguing, read on….
Truth be told, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. Christmas cookies are kind of wasted on me and I’m not a fan of egg nog (it’s a wonder Santa didn’t just pass by me for my rejection of Christmas staples). Even as a kid, I could hoard my Halloween candy for months, much to my sister’s chagrin. I’m the weird girl who goes to a restaurant and says she’ll just have one bite of her husband’s dessert, and actually means it. But, if I ever do hedge away from the garlic bread and towards the dessert tray (rare,…