*This photo is old as dirt. I no longer have that sweater, or that turquoise bookcase and I think someone should answer for that. And by someone, I mean me, because I sold them and that was dumb.
Mother Nature is a sadistic broad.
Black Cats and Hand Slaps: Thrift Shopping
After several years of thrifting hiatus, I’m back. But two years of apartment living in New York taught me several things.
Accent Wall Painting, Hang-Em-High Curtain Philosophy, and Creeping Under the Bed
This is the least blog-staged photo ever taken. It’s off kilter and the lighting is weird, but sometimes you just think, “IT’S GOOD ENOUGH I CANNOT STAGE A PHOTO WHEN I DIDN’T HAVE THE ENERGY TO PUT ON DEODORANT THIS MORNING.” Sorry for the shouty letters, but I feel very strongly about this. Social media is always a little bit staged, clearly, but isn’t it okay to have a rough day, forget to brush your teeth, and take a crooked picture, and then not apologize for it?
Sell In a Haste, Repent In Leisure: Buying and Selling Vintage Finds
Sometimes I daydream that I have a real fairy godmother, and she shows up in my kitchen one night while I’m cooking, a big poof of turqoise tulle and glitter. She may or may not be wearing a Homer Laughlin Orange Tree Bowl as a hat. She waves a wand around and says, “My determined and faithful thrifter. I’m going to gift you $10 for every thrifting hour you’ve spent in an antique shop or thrift store in your lifetime.”
Blue
We took a trip to the shore. It was an unseasonably warm day, and we walked alongside the ocean. The sea gulls were calling, the waves were crashing, and I kept taking the biggest breaths possible, filling my lungs with fresh sea air. It felt like a peaceful way to bookend a week that has been, for so many people, a horror show.
