happy belated

I’ve written about becoming a more private person (I could link to it, but that might defeat the purpose), and that informs my celebration of holidays like Valentine’s Day. I no longer want to perform my relationships for the world. Which isn’t to say I’d shame those who do – it’s just no longer my…

damsels, dames, & dior

It snowed a foot and the winds are punishing, but this is what I opted to do with my snow day. You don’t get between a woman and a long-dead midcentury designer, that’s for damn sure. Dior’s “New Look” collection launched seventy years ago yesterday, and a late homage is better than none. I’m not…

cig figs

I never thought I’d own a pair of cigarette pants, but fifty years ago no one thought we’d put a man on the moon. Shit happens. I picked up these pants at The Getup Vintage on my most recent trip to Montpelier. We went in search of a Kabuto nest, but ended up with a…

a quick remix

“Local Vermonter sick of winter” is hardly a press-stopping sentiment, yet here we are. At least February’s short length means that something upstairs loves us. Or so I keep telling myself. You’ve almost definitely seen this outfit, or parts of it, on Instagram (@quando_porpoise). It’s one of my go-to work outfits lately.  I’m trying to…

pieces de resistance

I’ve thought a lot about fashion as resistance lately. It’s part, I think, of why I’m suddenly drawn to the ’30s and ’40s: art that comes out of tragedy is more interesting. Anyone can doll up in petticoats when the living is easy. To keep making things beautiful while the world falls apart – that…

pajaminated

Let me tell you a secret that I’m sure every other person on the planet has already discovered: wearing pants is like getting away with wearing pajamas in public. For someone whose life is largely centered on the goal of figuring out how to wear pajamas in public, this is a godsend. I’ve always emphasized…

hepburn-hued

As I lean toward older styles, I’ve also come to crave something a little less feminine. Well – not less feminine exactly. I’ll never abandon shapewear and curl sets. The word I’m looking for, I think, is straightforward. ’50s looks are so visually stratified. Everything matching, not a hair out of place. More self-fabric than…

black and pink and cold all over

I took these shots in Montpelier with my mom last weekend, while we were killing time after having arrived a week early for the women’s march. Whoops. I’m not-so-secretly glad, though – the day I took these photos was so cold I couldn’t feel my anything. It was a day better suited for drinking tea…

saucer hats & authenticity

The more I learn about vintage, the more I hesitate to mix my eras. When you’re starting out, everything makes one big ol’ midcentury stew. The finer you tune, the less you’d be caught dead wearing victory rolls with a petticoat. It’s only natural, right? But here’s the thing: living history doesn’t work that way….

hat appreciation life

National Hat Day was officially two days ago, but here in my scrappy little kingdom, hats are cherished every day of the year.  Of all the vintage in the world, I love headwear the best. A really excellent hat divides the women from the girls. The society dames from the sock hoppers. I’ve seen it…

nye in nyc

If you follow me on Instagram (@quando_porpoise), you’ve gotten a super-special preview of this post. My partner and I spent New Year’s weekend in New York City with friends, and I documented the big scary world in real time. We stayed with our friend’s family in Washington Heights, which happens to be spitting distance from…

lucille three

Sue me: in my gut of guts, I long to be a fabulous louche of a society dame. Malory Archer‘s my first choice, but Lucille Bluth will do just fine. I’ll take Jessica Walter animated or not. While I’m sure I’d be a nicer matriarch than Lucille, damned if marching through the world with a…