Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery, I've decided to pepper clothing posts a la the fashion blog mode, right here, in the unto now relatively "me free" My Pretty Baby Cried She Was a Bird. What heralds this hitherto unheard of venture into self-introspection and self-promotion? Well, ya'll knew I was vain, and you knew I was a chatterbox, but WHO KNEW, I could indulge in both vices in the untested waters of diary-style fashion blogging.
Realizing I spend, oh, 85% of my free time chasing after poodle knickknacks and the perfect pinafore, without once setting foot into local vintage shops, I thought, wouldn't this be just an ideal place to tell stories of my great estate sale successes, my Goodwill mini-victories...more or less the same things I tell everyone when they come to my house or admire my shoes, but in print? To commit to the page the TRUE STORY of my life as a haggler par excellence, a gal who is at her utmost happiest digging through attics and basements and closets and local thriftatoriums to drag home a quarry of kitsch. Yes.
I would begin by saying it is far harder to take a picture of yourself than you would think. "Self-timer" somehow seems to intimate, in its simple labeling, that it's far easier to make sure of your settings, hit the button, and dash effortlessly into place, than it actually, in real life, that which we live in, is.
The sweater in the middle is vintage Bobbie Brooks (maybe 1950's? And usually more opaque!) from Goodwill, skirt (90's, Goodwill), white tank, black tights, and THE BEST SEASONAL PIN I HAVE EVER SEEN, which came from Music City Thrift this past weekend.
Cocktail drinking snowmen. A first for me.
The boots are from the DAV on Western Avenue in Knoxville, circa 2006...were they not a quarter size too small, I would never wear any other shoes. They're a weird hybrid of cowboy boot (the lariat stitching on the squarish toe), motorcycle boot (the buckle), and "other" (for the stacked, almost Cuban heel, more shaped in real life). And they are otherwise perfect.
THE COAT, on the left, is from that self same DAV. I have been waiting, what, four years to get back to a small enough waist to pull off the slim tailoring which may or may not be reflected in the above photo (I think the camera adds 50 lbs, right? Right?). The cut reminds me of F. Scott Fitz with its belted trench styling and grey/white/black speckled rabbit trim... The garment itself was originally marketed through Sears' Fashion Place (maybe late 70's), and then it seems someone saw fit to attach the gorgeous fur piece post purchase, making what was a cute wool coat into a head turner. The weirdest part of this story? Six months later, I returned to the DAV and found what appears to be this winter shaded coat's fall hued cousin... a Sears Fashion place, camel colored, mid-length pea coat, same era, the lapels of which had been very competently covered in a huge, beautiful fox fur piece. MATCHING. SET. One thing that continually brings Christmas cheer to these cheeks is the concept of "one for this occasion, one for that". I wish everything came in symmetrical, occasion-specific pairs.
The entire purpose of the outfit was to leave the (warm, deliciously warm) house, to brave the first-of-the-year, barely there Nashville snowfall in order to replace the aforementionedly, e're so slightly, too small boots. As I've said, I love them. I all caps LOVE THEM. But they're just not fit to wear on these plank-like feet of mine for nine hour shifts au boulout. It's taken me years to remember, the first time around, to wear something similar to the outfit you'd wear with the shoes you hope to buy ON THE TRIP TO BUY THEM... I found the ones on the top and bottom left to temporarily serve in their stead during the working week...
Kind of a Beatle boot to replace my Cuban Biker Gang favorites, but still, something to keep these feet from frostbite and dreaded toe pinch in the winter months, and then you know I'm right back to my children's detective novel, plain and simple black Mary Janes for the all the spring and summer months.
How'd I do?
Next post to detail the new console record player/living room configuration, in all its 1958 glory. Til then!