Saturday, April 23

heart shaped tights and easter.

  Hello to the moon on Easter's Eve,
I hope your lips are dripping in chocolate goodies. I hope your fingers are weakened from pressing paint into boiled eggs. I hope your feet are yawning from seeking sugar treats. I woke up this morn, hoping to find a dwarf bunny beneath my cotton sheets.  Instead, I found old socks, and wondered how I became such a mess. 


I am filling my cup with happiness. The Spring has drawn yellow splatters along the dirt. The snow is cloaked underneath oak trees. The meadows are dry. The river ways are flowing. The faucets are pouring water to cool our insides.  I have long, and lonely, awaited to hug the summery bone.  My arms are open with the breadth of ocean, and I'm plucking smiles from the heat.


   I wandered through the tongue of land today, walking by hills and rich estates.  As I parted my feet, and walked, I witnessed smiling teeth. The sidewalks were filled by bodies.  Spring isn't only made beautiful by seedlings, gardens, and tropic weather..  The fruit of summer lies in the mix and mingle of the human race.   At winter's beak, we are kept secrets. Unseen by earth's plants, hidden from people.  We are shrouded by curtains,  afraid to be nipped by frost.     
 
Winter seeks permanent dusk. A dusk that hides star beams, and moon glow.   When the ground breaks beneath me, and spring widens, we open our curtains, and happy babies are born.


There are many things I cherish. And many things I spend too often, dabbling about.  This includes starry lights, spring blossoms, bearded boys, and breakfast.      
 
The goodness of a whole wheat bagel, salted egg, and turkey bacon.   The daily coffee, dots of vanilla cream, and pinkie pressed white sugar. Then,  to help my mom prepare for a dinner date,   we cut boiled eggs, and stirred yolk, celery, cayan pepper, mayo, salt, and onion. Tickled tummy feelings. 


I'm going to explore the grasslands, and bow to the tree bark. Then I'll munch on chocolate till my belly is sore.  Happy Easter xx

what i wore
purple blouse- the bay $14
black skirt- forever 21 $18 
crochet vest- urban outfitters $11
pink bow- claires $1
heart shaped tights- wet seal $8
boots- atseoul.com korea sponsor

playlist april 23


  • The Tallest Man On Earth- Shallow Grave- Where do my bluebird fly
  • The Tallest Man On Earth- Shallow Grave- Pistol Dreams
  • The Felice Brothers- The Felice Brothers- Ruby Mae
  • The Felice Brothers- The Felice Brothers- Little Ann
  • Josh T Pearson- Last of the country gentlemen- Sweetheart, I Ain't Your Christ
  • Josh T Pearson- Last of the country gentlemen- Sorry With A Song
  • Bonnie Prince Billy- Master and Everyone- Three Questions
  • Bonnie Prince Billy- Master and Everyone- Hard Life
  • Frightened Rabbit-The Midnight Organ- Old Old Fashioned
  • Frightened Rabbit-The Midnight Organ- Who'd You Kill Now

As April decorated itself in unpleasant weather, fervor for summer decorated my bones. A deep nostalgia for the past summer grazed my feet.  For April, musically, I've been humming tunes I fell for, last summer, when I played in grassy meadows underneath a sunlit beam. I can remember wandering through fields of dandelions, with the sounds of The Tallest Man on Earth, and The Felice Brothers ringing through my brain.  One of my most beloved artists is coming here Tuesday, the tallest man on earth, and I have tickets for row two.  It's a wonder I can't sleep. Too tickled in my boots.

"So deep into the orchard, you will stumble
On the skins of snakes, so let me know
Your nerves will lose the road
And I will boil the curtains
To extract the drugs of springtime
But that unicorn, he just stirs up as a mule"
    Tuesday, April 19

    Free People at the bay

    Hello brown sugar, and honey on toast. The air is quiet. There are marshmallows by my bread. The sun is here, but it's warmth has hightailed. Watch me kiss the sky, pawn my jacket, and welcome moss birthing flowers. Until then, I snuggle my toes in a feather bed.  
     
    I want to decorate the prairies with the green leaf garland.
     

    As Saturday morning rose with petals of snow. I awoke at dawn to my daily caffeine.  With a happy belly dressed in strawberries, and two feet arched in fur boots, I went downtown.  Whenever I'm a guest of the downtown city, I feel alive.  Caged in cars by Winter, I wait for Summer. Summer, so I can place footing beneath the sky scrapers.  The towers of glass frame, and stone are brimming with city folk.  I've spent many hours,  head bent, watching the cranes, the construction, and the mighty looking men.
     
    I've always dreamed of a homestead, or a job in the basement of the city.
    I want to work by morning, writing, wearing posy fabrics, drinking coffee, as the sun rises by the highest tower. Then by lunch, I will snack on yogurt, fruit, and deli sandwiches.   There is a magic to the basement of the city.  The way shadows are cast. The way people are hurried. The business men in their business suits, and the pencil girls in their pencil skirts. How the downtown becomes a ghost town when workers go home. Birds perch on frail city tree branches.  I dream of an office with pictures of rose-blushed babies,  and spider plants I water.

    On Saturday, with pleasure, I attended the Free People event at the Bay.
    I wore a dress similar to the white crochet frock found in the Free People catalog. This one is blue. Reminds me of a flower I planted with my mom a few summers ago.   If free were an outfit, I tried to embody it.   A floppy hat to shade my skin from the imaginative sun. A flower blossom belt. And boots made of fur.



    The first hour was spent humming tunes, and bowing to beautiful displays.  While I fawned over fabrics with my Ma, we sipped preservative free orange soda, given to us by The Bay.  
    Dappled with pure cane sugar, and bliss.

    The hours were composed of pretty flower tops, ethereal knits, and delicate crochet.  As always, Free People sings lullabies for the Meadow girl. The girl who softly ballets her toes through fields of grass or alfalfa. And finds her heart plucked by garden flowers.     Sadly, Free People isn't as accessible to the Canadian girl.  For most, it requires internet, and credit cards. I've spent many hours, drinking tea, and dipping into their catalogs. But, to my dismay, their shipping prices are otherworldly, so I am thankful for the Bay. 
    Imaged here,  the sweater of comfort. Emblazoned in rose flowers.

    After browsing, there was a fire in my belly to attach myself to the peaceful cloth.  Me and Ma played silly in the dressing room. As if I was a child of play.   After 30 minutes of falling in love, I decided to wed my wallet to a sweater of gray hue.  I spent forever mulling over which sweater to purchase. As a true girl, the decision was taxing.   As I write to you, I envision a future Bay trip. (( to take the rose sweater home ))

    Along with the earthy garments and soda,  there was music, models, and candy. It was as if The Bay knew of my ardor for the jelly bean. A goody bag filled with jelly beans, and I knew of heaven. 

    This display tickled me. The antique suitcase brings pleasant remembrances. How it perfectly decorates the spirit of free people. An ode to the old fashions, and the hearts and flowers of the 1970's. 



    The entire day delighted my senses.  From dawn, to the moonlit hour. If only sun beams brought spring, me and ma could of had a picnic.     Greatest appreciation for The Bay.
     
    Sweet sugar plum hugs,
    and wishes for healthy things xx

    what i wore
    blue dress- Vespucci $15
    black floppy hat- jessica simpson  $20
    fur boots- atseoul.com korea sponsor

    Friday, April 15

    milk white gown. hm event.

    Dear swinging trees, and sugar fawns bowing their heads.
    The week has dressed itself in rose petals.  I have been busy as the blue bird, building a nestling for her baby chicks.   But I haven't been building. Just following trails of fashion events, playing student, wandering everywhere, and munching on oats.  
     
    Before Thursday's rise, the sun was legless. The warmth of the land was unsheltered. And I was brimming with happiness.  I spent sun lit mornings, escaping through poetry, and found that my poems were etched in summer's solace.  That is, until, the sun wore boots, and walked away. Uninvited, the rain clouds formed, and fooled our bosoms with snow.   It's a melancholic atmosphere, when the weather makes trickery.   My feet are begging to be bare. My legs are displeased by tights. I want to scrunch my nose, squint my eyes, and watch the tree blossom.

    For now, I'll make home inside of my head. And pretend the weather knows me better.. 

    I am thankful I took pictures when the sky was pleasant. When the Sunbeam sugar dripped itself onto me. The day, true summer arrives, I will be missing.  You will find me beneath the apple tree, strumming heart strings, and making friends with the pearly wood nymph.  I will not carve myself by walls.  When my head bends, it'll bend by moss. My skin will glow, and give birth to tawny hues.  I will fall upon bed by midnight, after sipping strawberry juice, and I'll spend moonlight, dreaming of the next day's forest.

    As I'm writing to you, the sun poked its head through my frame, and a red bird perched himself and sang me a melody. If the red bird can't bring the sun to melt the snow, then nothing can.  

    if the sun~ wore legs~ that grew tired of walking~ then wintry~ witching~ would never come~ stalking
    I kiss~ the soft air~ along~ your sugar teeth~ like pollen,~ I fall for you~ every time*  


    Now, for the gown made of charm, and the marshmallow hue. This gown belongs to my Ma.  It's the dress she wore for her graduation.  Since I was a seedling, I fell for the drapery, and the sweet falling shoulder. The dress sat lonesome in her closet for years.  It was calling my body.  craving to be worn.

    As I'm wearing this dress, I can feel the heart beats of an 18 year old girl who once wore it. Who once dreamed in it, who once bowed in it, who once dined in it, who once danced in it.  The same eighteen year old girl who swallowed sorrow and hummed tunes of starry nights. The same eighteen year old girl who fell for a boy born in May. The same girl who turned 19, then 20, then 21. The same girl who gave mirth and blithe, and turned into a woman.  The same girl who passed years tickling underarms, and filling kindred air for everyone.

    One day, her belly grew, and inside of her belly, I grew.   If it hadn't been for her eyes, or her tresses, or her teeth. If it hadn't been for her misfortunes, and her grief, and her luck. Surely, she wouldn't have a girl wearing her milk white gown. Surely, I would have stayed a fox, and never evolved into a girl.  When attached to the gown, grooves of eeriness and enchantment tickle my spine. The same dress fit my mother, at the same age, in the same day light. 

    Love you Ma.

    On Wednesday evening, I joined the fashionable folk at the exclusive opening of H&M.   The entire evening was sprinkled in bliss.  I spent 5 pm, sipping gin, and giggling over steamed veggies with flower girl Adelaide. After merry talk, and merry eyes, we read our fortune cookies. Mine said, "You will travel many places."

    By 6 pm, we pardoned our bill, and hurried our bodies to the store. It felt like I was stepping into a club. I had to tell my name, and they confirmed I was on the guest list.    As I walked into the store, my eyes began to wander... Frocks, delicate lace, porcelain hues.  When I'm adding clothes to my closet, I set my eyes for H&M. Their tags are charming, and reasonably priced. And to date, my collection of H&M attire has never bent, broken, or decayed.

    The night was stirred in bubbly refreshments, finger foods, and lively music.  Unfortunately, the steamed veggies + gin took away my belly eyes, so I didn't taste any treats. But they looked toothsome.

    The sugar of the evening was seeing all the plums from Calgary Fashion, and friend flowers whom I adore.
    Deepest appreciation for the core downtown, and h&m. I'm already mulling and plotting a future visit.


    Now it's time for rest, hot cocoa, and poetry sipping before the free people event in the morn.

    Hugs, and wishes for healthy things x

    what i wore
    milk white gown- mom's grad dress 1970's
    flower band- new york flea market $13
    Thursday, April 14

    Free People party~ part 1

    Happy Thursday,
    With boots in tow, and smiles forming wrinkles, I'm blissfully awaiting Saturday.    Each passing day draws me closer to pretty people, sugary treats, and fashion indulging.  On Saturday morning, I'm attending a celebration for my most beloved brand, Free People.     

    Free people embodies the 1970's in a nutshell. Perfectly draped dresses, gypsy flowers, and patterns from forests where fairies roam. The style found in Free People is folksy embroidery, and designed for the ever lasting nature girl.    I am tickled for the invite, and I anxiously await to compose photographs as I drool, (..and beg Mama for everything I spot...)

    To prepare for the occasion, I've glorified my heart by plucking pieces from the garden, that is, Free People's catalog. Please enjoy some of the delicious finds.  x