~ betty grable ~

Ohhhh Betty.  The queen of pin up.  The quintessential renaissance woman.  The envy of all.
(the reason why I wanted to dye my hair blonde when I was 12).

How I love you.

Years ago, after my obsession began, I couldn't pass a mirror without practicing the classic Betty pose seen above.  I'm pretty sure I can attribute many sore muscles and hurt necks to her.

But since then I've moved on from posing and into the territory of hair styling.  It's a lot less taxing on the back.

{pardon the terrible quality of these photos.  It was 10 pm and I was too lazy to get out my photography lamps}

Although I'm quite proud of my curls, considering this was the day after I washed my hair and the humidity was off the charts, I'm not quite on Betty's level.  

Clearly I have a lot to learn.  Luckily spring break is right around the corner, so I'll have plenty of time to practice!

xoxo,

Eliza

~ the weekend ~

Whoever first formed the concept of time, and the calender, and decided that there should only be two days per weekend was a bitter person and I would curse their name if I knew what it was.

  But with my New Year's resolution to not complain so much in mind, I will take whatever time I can get and not think about it coming to an end.

Yesterday I got all my homework done, ran some errands (and bought new shoes), and had a great dinner.  Then I watched Birdman (so good), ate strawberries on soy ice cream, and went to bed.

{gap shirt, target cardigan, vintage scarf, vintage skirt via. my grandmother}

Today I got up semi-early, ate a big breakfast, and then spent a beautiful day at St. Marks, walking around the old fort and disconnecting from the stressful things in my life.

Tomorrow it's back to studying and going to bed before midnight, but first, The Oscars!  I hope you all had a fantastic weekend.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ saint valentine ~

I pride myself in being prompt.  I'm always concerned with being on time, leaving the house way earlier than I need to, and giving myself plenty of time to get ready in the morning as to avoid a last minute scramble.  But my blogging schedule doesn't reflect that.  So as per the usual, I'm posting this five days late.

(if someone wants to tick everything off of my to-do list, do my laundry, read two chapters of my comparative politics textbook, and make my lunch, Monday-Friday, then my blog promptness will reflect my real life promptness.  Until then, take what you can get.)

Valentine's Day, for some, is a day dedicated to reminding you of the mildly depressing fact that you're alone.  Everywhere you look there are public displays of affection, pinterest is exploding with wedding dresses and bouquets of flowers, and it seems that everyone you know who's over the age of 20 is getting engaged, having a baby, or having "THE MOST AMAZING VALENTINE'S DAY EVER."  You drown yourself in chocolate, glare (internally) at happy couples, and take solace in the fact that unless there's something you don't know, Tom Hiddleston spent his Valentine's Day alone also.

For others, Valentine's Day is a day of love.  Candy and flowers from your sweetheart. A romantic dinner for two.  Blah, blah, blah.  Etc., etc.

For me, and those like me, Valentine's Day is a day to pamper yourself and the ones you love.  I slept in (and by that I mean I slept until 9:15), went to brunch with my mom and sister, ate way too much chocolate, made vegan thin mints, took the entire day off from doing any homework, made a fantastic dinner, and sent out some snail mail.

{recipe from topwithcinnamon}

 As someone who is single and happy to be single, I found myself to be in neither a romantic nor a bitter mood, but instead, a happy mix of relaxed and whatever that feeling is called when you've combined a cup of coffee, a cup of tea, and four cookies.

Why be bitter about your relationship status when you can instead take a hot bath with a homemade face mask and curl up in your pajamas by 10 o'clock?

xoxo,
Eliza

~ throwback thursday ~

This semester, Tuesdays and Thursdays have become my dress-up days.  Vintage dresses, bright lipsticks, my favorite shoes, actually putting effort into my makeup, and even attempting to match my socks.  Now as I write this, it's Friday, and I'm in my pajamas, have my hair in a knot on the top of my head, and a dab of honey on my cheek (FYI guys, gals, and everyone in between - honey works miracles on an overnight pimple), but I was too happy with yesterday's outfit not to share it.

Usually I have a pretty solid idea of what I want to wear when I wake up, and thanks to a week-long bout of insomnia, I've had more time than usual to think it over.  This not only makes my morning go smoother, but enables me to spend less time standing half naked in front of my mirror, holding up two different shirts to see which one matches the dark circles under my eyes best.

When in doubt, go with black (which, thanks to a house full of kitties, require some awkward positions with a lint roller).  I wonder if Audrey Hepburn had the same problem.

Slowly but surely my wardrobe is transitioning into that of a spy from the 1960s who specializes in jewelry theft and international espionage.  Not that I'm complaining.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ let's hear it for the boy ~

I've loved menswear as long as I can remember - walking into my grandfather's closet and seeing his suits on one side, and what seemed like 100 blue shirts that were only slightly different on the other, and all of his shoes, lined up neatly on a shelf underneath had a profound impact on my sartorial education.  Diane Keaton, Marlene Dietrich, Frida Kahlo, Cary Grant, equestrian wear from the '30s, etc., etc.  Classic tailored lines, broad shoulders, mismatched ties, vests, pocket squares, cuff links - I love it all.

This winter, I think I've worn a dress twice and that was only because all of my pants were in the wash (and it was 70 degrees), so I think it's safe to say I've entered a new era of my personal style.

{button up: Old Navy / striped shirt: Ralph Lauren via goodwill / blazer: Target / jeans: Gap}

I've spent the last week scouring Etsy, ebay, and Pinterest for vintage ties and riding pants, only furthering my obsession and making all my clothes seem boring and too feminine for my taste.  So if anyone has a velvet top hat or a three-piece tweed suit, I'd be happy to take them off your hands! 

xoxo,

Eliza

~ my favorite things ~

One of my earliest memories is of my grandmother at the mirror, putting on her lipstick.  The first makeup I ever bought on my own was a tube of sparkly hot pink Covergirl lip gloss (it was 2005, don't judge me).  The thing that takes up the most space in my purse, makeup bag, and bathroom cabinet is, undoubtedly, lipstick.

I have a color for every decade from the 1920s to the 70s, and it's the one thing that I wear even if I'm at the beach, sick, wearing sweatpants, or having a day at home.

(one time I wore it to the gym, but I quickly discovered that red lipstick and sweat don't mix very well)

L. Revlon, matte, 012 Sky Pink.  R. Revlon, creme, 616 Wink for Pink.

L. Revlon, matte, 011 Stormy Pink.  R. Revlon, pearl, 657 Fuchsia Fusion.

L. Revlon, creme, 440 Cherries in the Snow.  R. Revlon, creme, 720 Fire and Ice.

L. Rimmel London, 109 Rossetto.  R. Revlon, matte balm, 240 Striking.

L. Revlon, creme, 750 Kiss Me Coral. R. Revlon, lip butter, 035 Candy Apple.

L. Revlon, matte balm, 250 Standout.  R. Maybelline, 075 Let me Pink.

Lipstick can instantly dress up an outfit, add some color to a rainy day, and can turn a quick trip to Target into an agonizing decision between two reds that anyone besides an expert would say are the same.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ springtime ~

I can't wait for spring, so I'm gonna go ahead and pretend that it's March and the flowers are blooming, the bees are flying, and I'm unpacking the shorts and putting away the sweaters because the idea of two more months of layering and hurrying from one poorly heated building to another is disappointing.  Party to console myself (and partly to avoid doing the things I actually need to do), I've been slowly purging my closet to make room for floral 50s dresses, cigarette pants, and an assortment of playsuits and rompers (none of which I currently have).

Not that I haven't enjoyed wearing my vintage coats, (faux) fur stole, turbans, and fleece lined everything, but I'm really excited about wearing fewer articles of clothing.  Maybe my hatred of winter is due to the fact that I spent the vast majority of my childhood running around in my underwear and the plastic version of Dorothy's ruby slippers (just look at my childhood photos - it's like I didn't have any other shoes), and only layering on pants and a jacket when it got too cold to go swimming and play Oregon Trail outside.  Whatever the reason, a decade later, I still hate winter.

I'm ready for beach days, and popsicles, and temperatures that begin with numbers greater than 7.
And until that first glorious day of spring, I'll be silently cursing winter and dreaming of better days ahead.

xoxo,
Eliza