cherry bomb

You ever feel like certain outfits are just straight-up cursed? They look bangin’ in person, but EVERY. TIME. you try to photograph them, something goes horribly wrong? Yeah, that would be this dress. Fed up with how so much of my vintage seems to be simply disintegrating, I’ve invested in a few high-quality reproduction dresses….

and now for something completely different

The last of my camp photos, taken in that nebulous neverwhere between one responsibility and the next. At least I looked really adorable. I like to think my tiny self would’ve enjoyed having a counselor like me. But I’ll soon be transitioning out of twee!cute and into creepy!cute, because… My haunt is expanding! As of…

summerween

I always seem to take these blogging breaks in the summer. Every year I swear I won’t, that I’ll diligently update the salivating public on every aspect of my life, and then…I fail. I’m cutting myself some slack, though. I don’t do well in the heat. In the past couple of years, my seasonal affective…

harriet in orange

I’m over on Shaped by Style today in Emily’s smashing pumpkin coat, feeling very much like an especially colorful spy.

pie & propaganda

Another summer, another weekend at my godparents’ cabin. (And holy HELL are this year’s photos better than last year’s or the year before’s. It’s fun to measure my improvement.) I always love playing characters here. This year’s housewife one of my favorites. But I’m not quite as toothless as I look. Today I’m releasing a…

maxi dress & evolution

Somewhere in the past two years, I’ve stopped being Kooky-with-a-capital-Q. I don’t know when it happened, but one day recently I woke up and realized all my outfits have the same silhouette, the same pleats and gathers and darts. I still love my power clashing, my aggressive kitsch, my costume pieces repurposed for everyday life,…

polka dots & fireworks

Like any counterculture darling, I’ve always been a little jaded about the Fourth of July. As recently as last year, I was all “okay, but do we really need to celebrate ‘Murica?” I would enjoy the barbecue and fireworks, but only couched in a sufficient layer of irony. Sometime in the past few months, I’ve…

imp in the garden

her eyes: amphibious, drowsy until they’re not – vaulting alive with the punch of predator-on-prey. her fingers: at home in every ragtag corner tasting the oddments of life in their tips: tiny, human circles that surprise me, because i always thought she was a changeling.