vvitchy vvoman

Okay, so nothing about this  outfit is witchy, besides the fact of my wearing it. But it is accompanied by a review of one of the best theatrical experiences I’ve ever had. I would summarize The VVitch as “Puritan family loses child, succumbs to witch-hunting hysteria”, but it’s so much more than that. First, you…

ballooning

I had a pretty quiet Valentine’s Day, as evidenced by my mentioning it eight days late. I wrote about this at Christmas, and it still holds true: I’m uncomfortable with the pressure on bloggers to publicize our holiday celebrations. Certain things are just for me and my loved ones; I don’t have to invite the…

in praise of effort

I confess: I don’t understand “effortless chic”. I don’t understand applying makeup to look bare-faced, I don’t understand moussing one’s hair to emulate bedhead, and I really don’t understand why expending effort on your appearance has ceased to be cool. You see it everywhere. Don’t look too “done”. Don’t look costumey. Spend hours caring, but…

on attraction

One of the most stubborn assumptions about us vintage lifestylers is that we’re doing this to impress men, or that we somehow long to be subservient to them. As though we’re nostalgic for an era when domesticity reigned oppressive. Now, I want to make it clear that I don’t find a damn thing wrong with…

dabblers & devotees: an ethnography of vintage blogging

After four years of fashion blogging and two-ish in the vintage/retro/pinup scene, I think I can sort us into a few distinct, albeit occasionally overlapping, categories. On one end, you have what Jessica of Chronically Vintage deems “vintage appropriate“: not vintage, and not explicitly vintage reproduction either, but evoking a vintage aesthetic nonetheless. Bloggers in…

misinformation, my old friend

Okay, vintage virtuosi, let’s play a game. I don’t consider myself an expert on vintage clothing. I have no formal qualifications; my education has been purely osmotic. I’m pretty good at dating and describing garments, but there are certainly gaps in my knowledge. So it’s downright bizarre to realize: sometimes I know more than the…

preview

On Monday I spirited away to Montpelier for a totally impromptu shoot with Brent. He messaged me on Facebook, and forty minutes later I was on the bus, because why the hell not? Brent and I have worked together on and off for three and a half years now, almost as long as I’ve been…

and now for something completely different

This dress is unlike anything else in my closet. It’s a) not fit-and-flare, b) made of synthetic material, and c) from the ’70s. I mean, what? It’s long been on record that the ’70s are my least favorite fashion decade. It’s not anyone’s fault; it’s just what happens when you snarf acid like candy. Dear…

wasp waist

I have had amazing luck with discount ’40s dresses lately. First sheer WWII loveliness for $20, and now this striped confection for $25. At a brick-and-mortar vintage store, no less, so no shipping costs. I drooled over this particular dress several weeks ago, actually, but it was $98 then, so I left it on the rack and…

throwback

A return to my former heyday. Aggressively twee outfits are no longer my bread and butter, but once in a while ain’t bad. Particularly in such a (stereotypically) Parisian color scheme. I feel like Madeleine’s sullen older sister, the creepy one they keep in the attic. Dress: Lindy Bop, via eBay Everything else: thrifted d

somewhere that’s green

I’m feeling really jittery and burned out today, with not a lot to say. I’ve had a wonderful few days, though, so it’s to be expected: I get, and have always gotten, hella dopamine crashes. Get me happy enough, get me deliriously buoyed, and there’s bound to be a low. Flip a switch, and my…

danica in daguerrotype

I took these photos of Danica almost six months ago now and promptly forgot about them, likely due to the bucket of sangria that concluded our shoot. I found them a couple days ago, edited them up, and here you are! (Yes, the Victrola is actually hers. How cool is that?)