Monday, December 30, 2013

Dark and Stormy

hat, Goorin Bros / sweater, skirt, and coat, vintage / boots, Zara / necklace, Clyde's Rebirth / bag, old UO

Hello! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and have been dutifully increasing your alcohol tolerance level for New Year's Eve. I had a wonderful Christmas with my family that included cooking/ long talks with my mom, a marathon game of Cards Against Humanity with my dad and his wife who is way too cool for him, morning runs with cows, and doing all the dishes at my grandparents to earn extra points in their will. Speaking of those old people I know, they gifted me this awesome necklace made by my favorite ginger and queen cat lady, Merl Kinzie. I'm never taking it off, I love it so. My whole family dug it, too. Much more than the Mason Pearson hairbrush I asked for and recieved (thanks again, grandparents!). The idea of a $100 hairbrush is still boggling my grandfather's mind, despite the fact that he spends much more than that on each individual golf club he owns. I kept that observation to myself though, as one of my New Year's resolutions is to stop saying things to people that might get me killed. 

Friday, December 20, 2013

Bare Bones

glasses, BonLook / blouse, vintage / blazer, vintage / bag, vintage / belt, vintage / jeans, Levi's / boots, Clark's

It was 40 degrees yesterday, so like a proper Chicagoan I celebrated by wearing a seasonally inappropriate sheer shirt while Christmas shopping at Market Supply Co. Mike's unmatched selection of vintage menswear helped solve my yearly, "What the fuck do I get my brothers" quandary, and I also managed to find a couple goodies for myself. I mean, it's the season for giving, and I don't know who needs a black cocktail dress and sparkly earrings more than me. So, Merry Christmas, me! 

Speaking of Christmas, I'm excited to head back to Indiana to help my mom prepare our family's festivities. The poor woman slipped on some ice and broke both bones in her wrist, which required surgery to put back together. Before you start to feel too sorry for her, you should know that she didn't believe me when I broke my wrist when I was 12, as nice bedside manner is not a trait you'll find in my family unless someone else has personally experienced your pain and can vouch for you. I was playing basketball (by myself, in my own driveway), when I tripped (over my own fucking foot) and felt my arm snap when I hit the pavement. I ran inside, confused why I couldn't move my hand and suddenly felt like I needed to barf. "Mom, I hurt my arm," I said, holding up my damaged wing. She looked at me skeptically and told me to go back outside and play. Looking back, I can't blame her for dismissing me. In years prior I used to study her old nursing books and would tell my teachers I had the symptoms of various afflictions and diseases so I could get out of class. People stopped humoring me when I tried to convince my second grade teacher I had testicular cancer and needed to go to the nurse, but if there was something I felt I needed to skip school for I was always ready to come down with something that was most definitely pneumonia, maybe Gordon Syndrome (aka clubfoot), or, most likely, rabies. 

A day or two later, my grandmother came to visit, and noticed that I was either getting worse at basketball than I already was, or that my arm was indeed broken. She took me to the ER, where they made my entire year by confirming that I had an actual injury, slapped an ugly white cast on my arm, and gave me the phone so I could call my mom and gloat. She sounded sorry until I tried to leverage two days off school in return for not telling the hospital's social worker about her blatant neglect of my serious medical condition. Did I forget to mention I was also interested in law?

My mother's accident was the first time she had ever broken a bone, and after she drove herself to the hospital she called me and said, "I'm sorry! It really does hurt!" While I wanted to remind her that at least she didn't have to wait until her grandmother came to visit to go to the emergency room, I took the high road and gave her the compassion and sympathy I didn't get those 16 years ago. 

"You'd do anything to get out of fixing Christmas dinner, wouldn't you?"

Monday, December 9, 2013

Type Cast

beret, pants, coat, Coach bag, and gloves, vintage / glasses, BonLook / scarf, self made / shoes, Loeffler Randall / shirt, Zara

Hello! So clearly the above photos were taken before the entire country sans Florida was blanketed in snow (my dog is way pumped, I'm a little less thrilled). Ah, the good ole days of last week. I wore the above ensemble to go on a vintage hunting and pizza date with my hubs. I usually don't don vintage duds when I go to estate sales, as I hate being followed around by the estate sale company's employees as they try to get me to buy ridiculous 80's polyester blouses. It's funny how quickly wearing vintage gets you type cast by others. There isn't a week that goes by where I'm not asked if I'm going to a costume party. I wonder what makes people think they can ask others why they are "so dressed up?" When I see people walking around in the same crummy North Face jacket they've had since college paired with light wash, boot cut jeans and old sneakers I don't approach them and say, "Hey, I was wondering why you don't give a shit?" Maybe I should. But then I'd also have to start wearing sneakers because I'd probably have a lot of running away to do.