Clermont

I have a lot of memories of places that I only barely remember in the way where I can't tell if they're real or just images from books or movies that I've stolen for myself. A lot of these places are historical sites or other picturesque places that I visited as a child or adolescent, that I'm certain exist, but of course I hardly paid attention it when I was there or was only barely cognizant at the time of anything other than my current, phase-ful, obsession.

It's hard to get back to places when you don't remember their name.

I have a very (well, relatively. It's not that strong, it's just distinct I suppose, in the general feeling I get from it, but the image itself is fuzzy and sort of lacking in definition) strong memory of this place. I remember wearing a white t-shirt, playing with a necklace made of a plastic lanyard that I had looped through a bangle, sitting on the railing on front of a stone lion (I might have been sitting on the lion. I did a lot of sitting on sculptural animals for a while there). I think I remember wandering into the house, the entrance hallway, because doors were open on both sides, and I ran into a woman who was a tour guide or something, but I don't remember talking to her or anything at all. I remember some cracks on the ceiling, or a watermark, or something. In my memory of it, I spent a large part of the time there wandering around waiting to do something else.

Eventually, it turns out the place I remembered is Clermont, with it's deeply sloping hills and the frighteningly wide view of the Hudson River.

Outfit details: Dress: vintage, via Five and Diamond; Shoes: J. Crew; Bag:fieldguided

It might be one of my new favorite places to go. Optimistically speaking, I suppose I should warn you that there will be future outfit shots taken here, since I imagine summer picnics and wandering of trails. In the end though, I'm never sure if I'll follow through on those kinds of daydreams, but we did end up back there this time, so that's hopeful.

I do wish my hair would hurry up and grow. I'm so wistful and sad for long hair in the summer. There is that thing that happens, like when people who want have babies but haven't suddenly see them everywhere, I keep seeing these long, floaty braids streaming all around and all I can do is shake some strands and hope it loosens some length.

Pictures taken by John M.