Flags and Donuts.

Happy (belated) 4th of July! Something came over me this year, an appreciation for summer kitsch I'd tried to shrug off for something more refined finally took over, and I rang in the start of July with all kinds of Americana paraphernalia, hot dogs almost every day, soft-serve ice cream cones of almost every kind except actual ice cream, fireworks, sparklers, and actual fire. Last night I rolled into bed with hair reeking of chlorine, skin tingling with sun (these are two activities I would normally always remedy with sunscreen and cleansing but, sometimes who can be bothered?), finally feeling that particular brand of summer exhaustion that I've been chasing all spring. 

Vintage Playsuit: Laura's Vintage, Shoes: J. Crew summer 2012, Pin: Laura's Vintage

This romper has been at Laura's Vintage for a little while; I had probably tried it on half a dozen times, but left it behind until it dawned on me that it's really totally perfect for 4th of July (and honestly, most of summer). I wore it on the actual 4th despite grey skies and rain, but knew it needed to be in sun for a real post! I wore it again at the end of the weekend for a BBQ to send off the 4th, complete with giant flag on the garage, and my current pride and joy: my pool donut. 

I love this thing. Generally speaking I love pool toys and load up on them every year (dollar stores are one of my favorite places for weird pool inflatables), but when I saw this one on Modcloth my heart skipped a beat and I needed it. 

I ended up getting mine at Zumiez, a store I had never actually been in but then saw this in the window. I maybe also purchased some heart-shaped aviators with american-flag printed glass and some donut printed socks but hey, maybe not. You can also find the donut on amazon, but I hate waiting for things to ship.

It doesn't end there. 

These magical peace-sign sunglasses (totally impractical for wearing as you can barely see a thing in them) were a dollar-store find back in the early days of spring, when the 4th of July was a long-off dream. Now we're here, smack in the middle of the summer, and I am not going to complain about the heat or sun one bit (out loud anyway). 

Lighten Up.

I like things that light up. You know, Christmas lights and glitter, neon signs, fireworks. Maybe it's because I'm a fire sign and drawn to things that blaze. When I was younger I remember 4th of July celebrations ringed in all kinds of backyard pyrotechnics, sparklers that stuck in the ground and were waist-high, and it's kind of been a while since I had my own personal little back yard light show. 

I came across a giant box of pretty small sparklers over the winter, or maybe it was the tail end of that season, and quietly started tucking away a nice little collection of the things (along with some colored smoke bombs) to save for when the weather was nicer. Of course, now I think how nice it would be to light up the snow, but something is really summer about setting things on fire (on purpose, and things you're supposed to). Memorial day was lovely, hot and a burning, taking absolutely forever to get dark, and I had a really strong feeling of okay, it's summer now, it's shorts and lemonade and grass.

Rebecca has always been really fantastic at photographing these things, and when her post broke I thought well, better get a move on! I'm pretty lazy when it comes to my camera--which I suppose is pretty awful, but, I'm not a big fan of fiddling around with things--and there's always the weirdness of hanging out in your backyard by yourself with a bunch of sparklers. Like, what am I supposed to do with these things once it's lit? Wave it around? I'm pretty happy just to stare at it and be excited by it so, girl laughing alone with camera and sparklers. 

It's my own weird little start of summer celebration, an offering to the good vibes of golden summers (the last few have been really good, practically molten in memory they're so bright), a chance to break out a dress left sleeping in the closet for a few weeks. Next up, marshmallows!

Dress from Dethrose Vintage, even though you can't see most of it. 

Getting Shorter.

I have a really hard time containing my love of puns and irritating alliteration when it comes to the titles of things. I think I went with the least obnoxious, cloying, thing that popped into my head but I still feel like that's pretty groan-inducing. 

Shorts: J. Crew, Blouse: Laura's Vintage, Tote: fieldguided, Shoes: Marshall's last summer, Sunglasses: Somewhere, 2 years ago. 

Shorts are hard for me though, and I suspect for a lot of others, so I have to lock in my little word crutches and campy verbal security blankets for this topic. It's tricky (there we go, another one I rely on) because I love them. For someone who drags her feet about pants I sure have acquired quite the collection of wildly-printed shorts. 

I regularly complain about my legs enough on various social media outlets that I get nice, reassuring messages about them. Which is lovely, and I appreciate it immensely, although it does point to this really stupid problem where women scrutinize their own bodies in really ridiculous, unfair ways. I have nothing to complain or feel self-conscious about, and I tell myself this often! On the one hand, I like to think, who cares, I will wear shorts and fuzz to anyone who has one little peep to say about it. On the other I can't help but sometimes feel self-conscious about it. 

Then there is the added worry of oh dear, are my shorts too short. Are they decent? Am I going to get unwanted attention from these, when really I just thought they were cute? There's a lot going on with pretty much any pair of shorts, so much baggage for a pretty small garment as far as getting dressed goes. 

All of this aside, I've spent the past two summers enjoying shorts with--gasp--3" inseams. For years I wouldn't dare, I'm not entirely sure why, something in the back of my mind totally wrote them off as being too short for me, they wouldn't look alright so I'm not even going to try it. And then one day I loved a pattern so much that I did, and I loved them, and was happy and comfortable and have barely thought about the whole ordeal again.

These shorts are, I think, already a favorite. They've got a nice little waist (finally, because goodness knows I've got piles of little vintage blouses just crying out to see daylight but hardly any high-waists that aren't skirts to help them on their way in the world), floral pattern, and a good tap-short shape. Of course, they look wildly different on the model than on me, but for once I'm not bothered in the least by this fact. 

I think I had planned for this post to be a little more positive, yay shorts! And it's not that I don't feel that way! I do! I've really been waiting through a long winter to get to this point, daydreaming about shorts and sun on legs even in the fluffiest and most sparkling days of snow! It's just, you know. I feel the need to acknowledge the little pipsqueak of a voice that second-guess these kinds of things, and all the dumb feelings that come along with a measly, adorable, pair of shorts. 

Other randoms on this one include:

It's finally hitting mid-70s and sometimes, 80 degrees out there so I am justified in pulling out my fieldguided endless bummer tote. Not that I've been waiting to use it again since September or anything. 

I've finally sorted out the crown-braid mystery just in time. I've never been more sick of ponytails in my life. Maybe, having been all productive in blog-land lately, I'll pull myself together and post a How I Do This on that. 

Thanks again Eden, for snapping these for me!

Over It, I Need It.

I'm obsessed with finding a pair of overalls.

 It started several years ago, when a now-defunct music shop I frequented had a rotating pile of vintage in the back. I had overalls when I was a kid (the last time I remember actually wearing a pair I was about 3, and I was rolling around in big piles of soil in the backyard throwing dirt clods at the fence. I remember this because looking down at my legs revealed that the denim knees and thighs were totally caked in some pretty delicious mud).

My foray into wearing vintage was just starting to bloom for realsies, and this pair of dark denim overalls was calling to me. I can't remember enough about them to hindsight-date them. They were way too big. Not even in a fashion-y kind of way. But I wanted them. A week or so later they were gone, which is probably a good thing as they were in no I would have ever worn them at the size they were, and they were pretty awful.

But since then it's been lurking in the back of my mind, a desire usually popping up in the early days of spring. Last year I saw a few on instagram, usually on someone adorable out in a sunny field, or shopping with an armful of paper-wrapper flowers, and of course I get that feeling in my gut that says yes, I want that image in my life!

70s denim overalls by Mayflower Supply Co.

And then Mayflower Supply's lookbook and collection went live, and the desire became concrete. To be honestly they're popping up all over on street-style blogs, and suddenly they're trendy again, but as far as I'm concerned this only means I'll hopefully be able to find a pair that don't give me a really bad case of saggy baby-butt. 

I'm pretty sure I've spent the better part of the last twenty (okay maybe not 20 but at least 13 or so) years actively avoiding this kind of garment. I haven't thought about the click the little clasps make in ages, or the profound frustration when said clasps don't work and you spend most of your time wearing overalls attending to the straps. I'm okay with this trend. 

This one has been going around for a while, but I found no credit, found on tumblr.

I mean, I've been hunting quietly for a pair for a little bit, but it's surprisingly hard to find these things out in the wild (there's no way I can grab a pair without trying on). 

I just have visions of straw hats and white t-shirts under denim for idyllic summer activities. I will find a pair. They don't need to be vintage (in fact I'm pretty skeptical I'll find a vintage pair I like), but I've got a vision going on, and it will be fulfilled. 

Next step, jelly heels. 

Soft Serve Summer.

It isn't summer yet, not quite, but that hasn't stopped me from already eating my fill of soft serve from my favorite little spot not too far from home. I like to go vacuum my car across the street (something that it needs often because I am a champion car-snacker) and then reward myself with a baby cone of chocolate soft-serve with rainbow sprinkles (promptly dropping a few on my nice clean car carpet). People are really particular about soft-serve in this area (maybe in every area, but there are lines of battle drawn in the ink of nostalgia in these parts especially), so I'm pretty loyal to Jim's Tastee Freeze. Partly because it's less than ten minutes from home but also because look at totally amazing ice-cream sign!

I've also had visions of an outfit post for this dress with ice cream and sprinkles for probably two years now (yeah I've been sitting on it and not wearing it for that long. But it needed some mending, and honestly when I bought it I was slightly more svelte than my natural self tends to be, so, you know) , but it depends on cooperative weather and my ability to drag someone with me instead of standing out there with a tripod in the middle of the day, running back and forth with a melting cone like some kind of selfie-obsessed lunatic (note: nothing against selfies, I love them, but after all these years I still really hate taking my own shots in public spots). But anyway, something about it just looked ice-creamy. I got soft-serve vibes from it, nipped-in waist and demure little bow collar,  it's a pony-tail drive-in milkshake kinda dress. It wanted sprinkles. Yesterday promised warmth and sun, perfect for an ice-cream soft-serve lunch. 

There might be nothing as strange and mildly embarrassing as having someone take pictures of you eating an ice cream cone. Partly because it takes about 45 pictures to find one or two decent mid-bite images, and partly because it's just, I don't know. Maybe I did it to myself with the heart-shaped ode-to-Lolita glasses. Whatever (forever).

Like I said, I've had my fair share of soft-serve so far this year, but I'm glad to get all dressed up and silly for it, and to go with a friend instead of just as a reward for myself for keeping my car clean(ish). I feel like I can start summer for real now, or at least, complain about how I want it to be while we occasionally dip back into 55 degree days. 

Dress: Vintage (funnily enough, it has a Jonathan Logan label sewed into it, but appears to be home-made, so, there's one for the vintage police), Jacket: J. Crew, Shoes: Thrifted, Pin: Laura's Vintage

Thank you to my friend Eden for snapping these! 

Easter Dress 2014

The past two years I've kind of gone a little ridiculous for Easter. Last year was relatively normal but on the prim side, while the year before was positively confectionary. I'm just never gonna get over Easter dresses, or outfits, I think. I don't know why I take it as an excuse, more than any other holiday, to be really traditionally girly in my dress, really pastel. Maybe it's more of an Easter costume but, I kind of look forward to it all year. My Easter dress is up there with birthday dresses in terms of scouting months before for the perfect one. 

Dress: Vintage from Laura's Vintage

, Sweater: J. Crew (several years ago), Stockings: Forever21 (recently), Shoes: J. Crew summer 2013, Crown: Home made.

Which is a rather heavy-handed segue but, let's chalk it up to being out of practice blog-writing-wise. Last summer, in the early days of August, I spent a few days preparing and then parading around in a vintage fashion show for Laura's Vintage. It was really a dream, and one of the dresses I ended up wearing came home with me that week, on my birthday. I had every intention of wearing it to some fancy cocktail evening but, as always, things got away from me and this absolute dream-puff of a dress sat tucked away safe in my closet for an entire half-birthday away. 

And then before I knew it Easter was around the corner and I thought, well, I suppose I've already got the perfect dress.

It was probably the most perfect Sunday in a long time, breezy and warm and sunny to blindness, so this lemon meringue dress practically glowed in the sun, and gave us all intense pangs for spring and summer in the deep middle of our bellies (soon enough we'll be sick on sun, the way everyone seems to have collectively hated winter by the end of it).

I wore the flower crown all day, though I eventually swapped out the yellow dotted dress for a less intense frock for baking purposes, and I anticipate it'll pop up here and again throughout the summer. I still haven't let go of them after the summer of Lana that happened two years ago. 

Happy spring!

Sneaking.

(Oops, well. Just gonna mostly ignore that two month silence. As usual.)

I bought new white converse this spring (whenever it gets here proper), the first pair in a bout 8 years. I kind of hate, just a little bit, those articles about classic pieces, that go on like oooo, yes this time-tested brand item that everyone should own! I don't know why, I think I used to enjoy that kind of thing, and I still do, it's only that I'm sick of that tone. 

I like the white ones because they go with everything, mostly. In high school I wore purple ones, I think I went through two pairs, with hideously loud shoelaces patterned with rubber ducks or something equally as silly, and even wore the dumb things to gym class (usually a really awesome outfit of boxers, rolled to low-rise at the waist, with knee socks and some kind of t-shirt. The unofficial uniforms that come about in private schools are really strange). Last year I finally tossed the first white pair. I sort of wish I had kept them to at least editorialize their degradation (coming apart at the sides, stained beyond recognition, the insides tearing up so that the plastic bits started to poke through so that even those were getting worn on the edges). 

The problem was I knew if I kept them in the house for a second longer I would continue to wear them, and really they were probably a flourishing community center for all kinds of bacteria. And so they went. In the interim I've tried other sneakers, little keds type shoes and a pair of cushy white something-or-others that got returned at work, but most days when it wasn't time for flats or something fancier I ended up in my grey pair. Which were fine but.

I feel like the white ones are cooler. I totally buy into that cool thing, you know, dark jeans and striped shirt and white sneakers typical kind of thing but, eh. Whatever. 

The problem now is that they're new, this pair, and I feel so profoundly uncool wearing them. Which is totally dumb I mean, everyone has a new pair of shoes at some point, but I feel like I want to carry around a little card to hand out that says I have cred because they're not my first pair okay, the original ones just started cutting into my heels and it's less cool when the blood on your shoes is your own. 

At the same time I'm kind of afraid to get them dirty. Yeah, I know, of all the things to be dual minded about today, I pick sneakers. I'm sucking it up and wearing them to work at the bakery, where I am sure I will drop coffee and buttercream and probably egg all over them. We gotta get to know each other, me and these dumb sneakers, at the very least so that they break in and are comfortable. I figured I better get at least one picture of them before they get all bedraggled.