I’m an 80’s baby, which was all about color and exuberance and some seriously poor fashion choices. There is something about stone washed jeans and puff paint that makes me both nostalgic and horrified at the same time. And I must admit I was definitely one who gleefully joined the splatter paint phase, unapologetically adorning my clothes, my version of “art”, and even my bedroom walls with color.
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.
Some days (or years, really) can feel a bit like a house of cards. You know what I mean – where you are managing to keep everything together, stacking each day precariously on top of the next. But you know that one wrong move – one exhale in the wrong direction – and it will bring everything a tumbling down.
I’ve always had a thing for clothing that finds its way to nature. Floral border prints, necklaces of leaves snaking around my neck, and you are all by now pretty aware of my fruit-themed sartorial obsession. I wonder if it’s a way to help me feel more grounded. Where, despite the pavement I click my heels down or the car I zip to the lab in, I am always a little bit connected to nature.
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…
The ocean and I have always had a pretty tight bond. When I was a kid, you couldn’t drag me out of the waves on summertime trips to the beach. I’d swim until my fingers were prunes and my shoulders were crispy from the sun, not even minding the water was freezing cold (I grew up in New England after all). The sea was also my biggest source of inspiration – being lucky enough to know what I wanted to do at a really early age, I always kept one eye on the ocean…knowing it held my future. And nowadays,…
This past week was a pretty big one in the Dressed household – Mr. D and I celebrated our 10-year wedding anniversary. This level of togetherness usually involves a fair degree of extra (especially because the Mister and I are no strangers to going ALL out). However, circumstances being what they are, we had to scale the celebrations down several (thousand) notches. But, perhaps that’s the measure of true love – when you’re just as happy with a quiet night in as you are with fireworks and fanfare.
Almost immediately following my last collaboration with the amazing Lucy Baribeau, where we brought one of my most coveted vintage trompe l’oeil prints into a modern day reality, we started chatting about the next colorway. Truthfully, they have all stolen my heart in different ways, and it was only a matter of time before each one ventured to my sewing table…
I was feeling pretty bolstered by my last sewing project and almost immediately jumped to the next. Given I have about 50 things in my head at any one time I want to create, plus an overflowing tailoring pile, the time I have never quite meets the time I need for sewing. However, after kicking the Imposter Syndrome squarely in the eye with my Garden of Eden dress, I didn’t stop to doubt myself and simply plunged on ahead.
One of the greatest things in my life is being able to watch my niece grow up – granted, much of this observing has to be done from afar via FaceTime, but every time I get to spend time with her I’m in awe of the person she is becoming. The amazing person she already is. My second greatest thing is probably the fact that, for every dress I make myself, I can make her a miniature version and marvel in the unending cuteness.