When I was little, one of the biggest treats was getting to visit my Mimere (our name for grandmother). She called it our “bonding time” and always made me feel so special. The pantry was always stocked with my favorite cereal (Cinnamon Toast Crunch – dubbed a “sugar cereal” and therefore forbidden in my house), let me watch Pretty Woman (though put a pillow over my face during the rude bits), and would stroke my hair until I fell asleep.
I think, no matter how daring you are, you can always get stuck in a bit of a rut. While I have a reputation for being somewhat fashionably “You Do You“, I’ll be the first to admit that I have my comfort zone. Without fail, day or night, you can be sure you’ll see me in a full skirt cinched within an inch of its life and as many crinolines as I can conceivably stack beneath some manner of glitter.
I don’t know what it is about summer, but I swear the months conspire to move at different speeds. I always seem to glide lazily through June, sipping mules from copper mugs and meeting friends for outdoor BBQs. July is always on a mission, moving forward with a blink-and-I’ll-miss-it ferocity, and August barely even seems to exist, her eyes already on autumn and the start of a new school year.
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 are certain kinds of fabric that just call to you. As someone who is all about the clash of geometrics and florals, with a particular penchant for border prints, it should come as no surprise that Gertie’s latest Hopscotch Gingham in cotton sateen would steal my heart. The tricky part: which color to choose??
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 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.
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.