tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60985086390399971262024-03-13T10:05:30.216-07:00Vintage Rose GirlVintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.comBlogger312125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-35764475098917631402016-09-07T19:31:00.000-07:002016-09-07T19:31:02.065-07:00summer wrap-upWow, Liza. Good job on the whole "I'm gonna blog at least once a week ALL SUMMER LONG," thing.<br />
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I really knocked that one out of the park, didn't I?<br />
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But, in my defense, this summer felt like it was about two weeks long - amiright? June was just like any other June except that I got my uterus issues ironed out (not with an actual iron) and our house nearly flooded (<i>nearly</i>). July was a blur of hot weather and summer food and going for walks in the evening even though it was way too hot to be going for walks in the evening. Then, August saw a trip to the mountains where it was just as hot and humid as it was in Florida, the welcoming of not one, but TWO new jobs, and ended with a hurricane that left us without power for four days. <br />
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Whew. Now that that's out of the way and we're firmly rooted in September, here's a little look back at what you might have missed if you don't know me well or don't follow me on Instagram.<br />
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1. I did a lot of reading.<br />
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2. I wore a lot of seasonally-inappropriate hats.<br />
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3. I frequently wore ballgowns for no good reason.<br />
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4. I did a lot of painting.</div>
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5. I swam in every body of water I could find.<br />
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6. I went on a road trip with my mama and hit up every antique store, cold stream, and scenic overlook in North Georgia and the southern part of North Carolina.<br />
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7. I ate a lot of good food, met interesting people, bought too many hats, and managed to scrape by with only one sunburn. All in all, a good summer.</div>
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Happy September! </div>
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Maybe I'll actually blog once a week this fall.</div>
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(but I probably won't)</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-27835953957349495122016-06-08T06:49:00.002-07:002016-06-08T06:50:28.549-07:00summertimeI'm a big believer in having wardrobe staples - a brenton striped top, a black skirt, nude ballet flats, and the like. And I'm also a big believer in mixing things up and not letting yourself live only within the confines of those staples. But I'm ALSO a big believer in having a uniform for each season. To say I'm indecisive would be an understatement, and having an outfit that I can fall back on during my frequent times of indecisiveness is a necessity.<br />
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So this season I'm getting ahead of the game and piecing together my
uniform BEFORE I spend an ungodly amount of time standing in front of my
closet in nothing but my skivvies. Though with the heat we get in Florida, standing around in nothing but my skivvies would solve many problems.<br />
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So here it is! Vintage shorts + sleeveless button up top + cateyes. I call it "Betty Draper meets Sweaty Floridian." </div>
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<img alt="In Praise Of Betty Draper, Difficult Woman - BuzzFeed News: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/d1/6d/bc/d16dbc04c7b9eae722cdf7d7459a278c.jpg" width="266" /> <img alt="Los Angeles 1960: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/2c/10/9f/2c109f7fcc5acad77e86895801559770.jpg" width="288" /></div>
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And it wouldn't be summer without a new pair of sunglasses. These, from Curio Goods here in Tallahassee, are a beautiful cream color with little rhinestones in each corner. Perfectly cool for this awfully hot weather. </div>
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Stay cool, wherever you are!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza </span></div>
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VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-68773587565015304772016-05-22T19:31:00.000-07:002016-05-22T19:31:10.885-07:00bald pointI'm almost certain that most of life's small annoyances and even some of life's great tragedies can be remedied with a trip to the beach. Now I'm not sure that there's a scientific reason for this phenomenon, but I chalk it up to the combination of cold salt water, warm breezes, and the sweet sound of waves crashing against the shore and birds calling out to each other.<br />
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I'm sure a case can be made for every beach in North America, but you haven't truly experienced the beach until you've been to Bald Point, right here in Florida. There's really something magical about a pristine white beach, free from the high rises and beer pong tournaments one usually finds in this part of Florida. The hour long drive from Tallahassee takes you past all the sights that make this state such an oxymoron - first you pass government buildings and law offices, then Walmarts, Dollar Stores, and Piggly Wigglys, then onto long stretches of road with an over-abundance of bail bonds offices and tattoo shops and oyster bars streaking past the car windows. An endless parade of fire stations, and Ace Hardware stores, and gas stations, until finally, nature takes control of the environment and for several miles its nothing but pine trees and palm trees and scrubby oak trees mixed in with open Savannahs of tall grass and alligators, as far as the eye can see. Then a bridge, and a small marked road, and a ten minute drive past rental houses and fishing boats and boiled peanut stands, until finally, the State Park sign appears in the distance. The beach itself is relatively small, but littered with ancient palmettos, and great masses of exposed pine tree roots, and enormous sand dunes, and wild, untouched beauty.<br />
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So I say it again - if you haven't been to Bald Point, you haven't truly experienced the beach as it was meant to be experienced. But enough of my ramblings!<br />
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My sweet mama and I got up late this morning and decided there was no time like the present to pack a lunch and head down to the coast. One hour later we staked out our spot, dove into our lunch (three bean salad, potato salad, deviled eggs, green olives, watermelon, and baby Cokes), and spent a glorious afternoon exploring our surroundings.<br />
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There really is something magical about the beach.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span> <br />
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VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-5957890213175457612016-04-02T20:06:00.000-07:002016-04-02T20:06:17.521-07:00springtime in the southEveryone has that one outfit that feels fresh and interesting every time they slip into it. For me, that outfit is a beautiful gray 1950s dress printed with small white petals and an outrageously large floral hat from the early 1950s. The hat I picked up in an antique store in Hiawassee, Georgia, eight years ago - I had seen it the previous year, but it was out of my price range. But as luck (and the Vintage Gods) would have it, when I went back a year later, there it was! In the same store, in the same place, with a much lower price on the tag. The dress was picked up from <a href="http://www.dalenavintage.com/" target="_blank">Dalena Vintage</a> and is now a staple in my wardrobe. Worn separately, both pieces are beautiful. But worn together, they look as though they were never meant to be worn apart.<br />
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<img alt="" class="spotlight" height="640" src="https://scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/12928394_10153338757610810_753655109751402467_n.jpg?oh=b93be254c3dc20fd4359f4c9ca8f65aa&oe=577D8004" width="512" /> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was very windy today at the Springtime Tallahassee celebrations, and I stupidly left home without a hatpin, so my arms got lots of unnecessary exercise. After shopping the vendors, listening to music, and eating our weight in kettle corn, my beautiful mama and I took a tour of the Old Capitol Museum, where we found an exhibit about historic Florida State Parks. It couldn't have been a more perfect day (although I could have done without the thick layer of soggy oak pollen that carpeted every surface...but that's life in the south). </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="" class="spotlight" height="640" src="https://scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/12928306_10153338757605810_4789631240172209732_n.jpg?oh=60f934b47b5f48dcd8892dbcbd34da99&oe=5789122E" width="640" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Happy Spring!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-28542843060820468262016-03-16T19:25:00.003-07:002016-03-16T19:27:45.110-07:00emdometriosis part IIDo you ever find yourself googling a medical condition, becoming convinced that you have said medical condition, making an appointment with a medical professional, and then being told that you are perfectly fine and leave the office feeling silly? As someone who is VERY conscious of every ache and pain and completely aware of my family history of just about every singe deadly disease in the books and strives to live as healthy a life as possible, this scenario has become very repetitive. I exercise regularly, I eat clean, I take my vitamins, I wear sunscreen, I watch my intake of salt, sugar, and caffeine, I don't smoke, I don't drink alcohol, and I drink tons and tons of water. I've been to the doctor, convinced that I broke a toe, only to find that I am perfectly fine. I've been to the doctor, convinced that I had a torn rotator cuff, only to find out that I just have a super flexible shoulder joint. I've been to the doctor, convinced that I had breast cancer, only to find out that I have super lumpy boobs. Notice a trend here?<br />
<br />
This is why I was so shocked to find out, last week, that my gut feeling was right. On Wednesday I was diagnosed as having a Uterine Anomaly. Were it not for my gut feeling that I had Endometriosis, this anomaly would not have been discovered for years. And were it not for multiple people sharing their stories about endometriosis, I would not have known the condition existed.<br />
<br />
So, because I believe in being honest, and because I believe my story has the potential to help other women, today I am sharing part two of my Endometriosis Story. (<a href="http://vintagerosegirl95.blogspot.com/2016/01/endometriosis.html" target="_blank">read part one here</a>)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Jim Schaeffing Vintage Pulp Art Illustration | Female-Centric Pulp Art | Sugary.Sweet | #Pulp #Art #Illustration: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="287" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/58/1a/2a/581a2aca0fd43cbb964cb0a9242c2d22.jpg" width="400" /></div>
<br />
<br />
Two months ago I got a call from my primary care doctor saying that the results from my pelvic ultrasound came back negative. I did not have endometriosis, just incredible horrible periods. Knowing this information, I made a follow up appointment with my gynecologist to discuss pain management options - birth control? Lifestyle changes? Chloroform and a rag to knock myself out for a couple days each month? (totally joking.....sort of) <br />
<br />
On Wednesday, I entered the office in a good mood, cracking jokes to the receptionist and my mom (who I was so lucky to have with me). An hour later, I exited in tears after learning that I am one of 5% of women in the United States to have a uterine anomaly called a "uterine septum," a congenital malformation of the uterus caused during the early stages of fetal development. Beginning as two halves, the uterus slowly comes together,the two sides of the uterus connecting to one another. But in some fetuses, instead of developing into the normal uterine shape, the uterus remains slightly separated with a vertical septum dividing the two halves. My gynecologist explained it as having a heart-shaped uterus. Had this not been discovered now, I would have suffered from multiple miscarriages in the future - since currently, my uterus is not big enough or in the correct shape to carry a baby to full term. Due to the abnormal shape of my uterus, my monthly blood flow is being redirected out of the falopian tubes, which both explains my incredibly painful periods, and puts me at an increased risk of having endometriosis. As you can imagine, my head is spinning with information, unfamiliar emotions, and a million questions that won't be answered for another month. Do I have endometriosis? If so, how bad is it? How extreme is my uterine septum? Will I be able to get pregnant? Will I ever be able to carry a baby, healthily, to full term? My first pregnancy would have most definitely ended in a miscarriage. To know that, and now to know that thanks to one person mentioning her experiences with endometriosis, I won't have to experience heartbreaking miscarriages in the future is an unbelievably bizarre feeling. To mourn something that would have happened. To know what my future would have held for me. And now, to know that that WON'T happen, and that my future holds a different outcome, makes me incredibly grateful for modern medicine and for good friends who share their stories. <br />
<br />
Now, I have a plan. Tomorrow I have an MRI, next month I have a follow up appointment, and then a surgery - and then, hopefully, a future clear of the miscarriages and fertility issues that so many women suffer from.<br />
<br />
Three months ago I had never heard of Endometriosis or a uterine anomaly. Life happens quickly.<br />
<br />
So, if you are suffering from an endless list of symptoms - related to the uterus, chest, ankle, or forehead - and keep thinking you'll get it checked out a month from now, or a year from now, or when the timing is right, let my story motivate you to GET IT CHECKED OUT NOW. Nine times out of 10, it will be nothing. But that 10th time always comes. And it's better to get to it before it gets to you.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span>VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-40678834585050481442016-03-15T15:13:00.002-07:002016-03-15T15:13:44.055-07:00the basics of style I often find myself in situations where people ask me why I spend so
much of my life surrounded by the past. Why do I dress in vintage
clothing? Why do I set my hair nearly every night? Why do I spend
countless hours researching novelty prints, various silhouettes, and hat
styles? Why do I only buy vintage clothing?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt=" : " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="430" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/64/46/49/644649ebb14920c54ec2b1c591ad2f6f.jpg" width="640" /></div>
<br />
Now
I know it sounds simple, but I feel my most comfortable in vintage
styles, I love my hair when it spent the night in pin curls, and vintage
clothing is simply better quality than most of the clothing produced
today. There's just something special about taking the time to curate a
wardrobe and knowing that behind every piece is a long history and a
long list of women who have loved it as much as you do now.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="colours: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/af/33/25/af3325e0078e65e267acb075799f4ae1.jpg" width="251" /><img alt="Vintage Knitting Crochet Needlework Patterns Dazespast: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/a5/fe/da/a5fedaab30e2058f70350e38dec03fbe.jpg" width="239" /></div>
<br />
It's
all about attention to detail. It's about the silhouette. It's about
the colors, and the textures, and the accessories. And it's also about
the journey - you can't walk into any old store and find a new addition
to your wardrobe. It takes time, and patience, and trial and error to
find your style.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="1940's couple: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/8a/ce/52/8ace52d7b6ce62ad6bebfa80ab579440.jpg" width="266" /><img alt="August Vogue 1949 Eve is wearing a natural gray Persian lamb jacket and white lambskin gloves. Photo by Frances McLaughlin-Gill.: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/96/b6/4e/96b64ecef4ce60412fa38326fae129d9.jpg" width="289" /></div>
<br />
And
it also takes a new attitude. In a world where casual is king, it
takes gumption to be the most dressed up person in the room. Expect
stares. Expect comments. And expect the all-to-common "wow, you're
dressed up" remark. But more than that, you have to be confident in
your own ability to wear the clothes, instead of letting the clothes
wear you. You have to be comfortable in your own skin.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Elegant ladies (1961): " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/e3/1c/4c/e31c4cc2554195038af88ac1d8ddc266.jpg" width="266" /><img alt="A tribute to Kodachrome Film - The Photography Blog: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/58/ef/0d/58ef0d1d7b76d7a23ffcf3613090545a.jpg" width="272" /></div>
<br />
I
always think of my grandparents - both exceptionally well-dressed - who
always gave me pieces of advice, whether or not they knew they were
doing it. When she was grocery shopping, entertaining grandchildren, or
cooking for Thanksgiving, even when she was in the hospital, my
grandmother always wore lipstick. The same shade, the same brand, for
my entire childhood. She kept a small box in the bathroom with
lipstick, powder, and a small bottle of perfume. She kept her nail
polish in the fridge because she swore it lengthened its life. Her hair
was always done, even when she could no longer do it herself. She
didn't do it to impress anyone, she didn't do it to please society - she
did it for herself. <br />
<br />
My grandfather was always
meticulously dressed. He was a man who owned approximately 14,000 blue
button down shirts because they were his favorite. A man whose closet
was better stocked and more organized than a Prada warehouse. And a man
who could rock a bathrobe and slippers just as much as he could rock a
tweed suit. He taught me that one doesn't always need to be daring in
one's appearance. Sometimes the basics are simply the best.<br />
<br />
Now,
I don't keep my nail polish in the fridge, and I have a really hard
time sticking to the basics, and therefor my grandparents are probably
both wagging a finger at me right now, but these lessons can be adapted
to fit your own lifestyle. Welcome to my three rules of style. These
are by no means strict, and are open to interpretation, but when I'm
having trouble coming up with a new outfit or find myself feeling gross
no matter what I'm wearing, here are the rules I fall back on:<br />
<br />
1.
Don't overestimate simplicity. A fitted black skirt, a white blouse,
and black ballet flats. Black and white stripes. Black cigarette
pants. You don't always need to be loud to be stylish.<br />
<br />
2.
Find your length. Also known as, Mini Skirts Aren't for Everyone. As
someone who owns five miniskirts, I clearly have both a problem abiding
by rules, and getting rid of clothing, but I also know that I look best
in mid-length skirts that hit three inches below the knee. This
knowledge comes from years of wearing super short skirts in ballet class
that barely grazed the derriere (over tights and a leotard, and point
shoes), and another number of years wearing maxi skirts in the
summertime so I wouldn't have to shave my legs. One was too short, one
was too long, and one was just right.<br />
<br />
3. Dress by
the silhouette. When you begin to think what you want to wear, instead
of thinking about colors, patterns, and particular styles, think about
your ideal silhouette. What shape do you want to wear? If someone took
a high contrast photograph of you, so that everything was split into
light and dark, what would your silhouette look like? Once you know
what shape you want to achieve, then you can work from there. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt=""Ok Mabel, Ethel....I got the pistol in my pocket....you guys go in first then I'll follow with the whole "This Is a stick up" routine. The bank won't know what hit 'em." Stated Francene.: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/99/af/d2/99afd2bfd53af6fa70c6b1084f24c9d7.jpg" /></div>
<br />
And
the most important rule? Life is too short to wear boring clothes, and
too long to hate what you wear. So build up from the basics, and never
be afraid to be the most dressed up person in the room.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span>VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-44665625199188773252016-01-18T09:26:00.001-08:002016-01-18T09:26:33.159-08:00endometriosis
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I try not to get too serious on here (because who wants to
read about finances and doctor appointments when you just want to scroll through
recipes and hat photos?), but there are times when I must put aside my own
discomfort and try wearing a different hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So,
meet PSA Eliza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is a Public Service Announcement aimed at people with a
uterus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Sit down, have a cup of tea, and get your pencil ready. It's story time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><img alt="Housewives: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="461" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/f1/88/1a/f1881a095b831b96dea1d179b6e5c735.jpg" width="640" /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ten years ago, a young and newly pubescent me went to the gynecologist
complaining of heavy periods, spotting, excruciating cramps, severe abdominal
pain, and occasional nausea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An
ultrasound found a small lump, which was diagnosed as an ovarian cyst – not
harmful, and likely to go away on its own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was recommended that I go on birth control pills to regulate my
periods and help with the severe cramps, but given my age and the harsh side
effects of the options available to me, I decided to treat them as naturally as I
could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the ten years that followed
the diagnosis, my periods became almost annoyingly reliable (“Can we switch it
Wednesday?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My period is going to start
at 3:15 on Thursday."), but the cramps were still excruciating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were times when getting out of bed was
out of the question, and I was in so much pain that I would throw up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Going to work, going to class, and having a
social life proved difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like a broken record, the phrase
“every period is different and everyone has a different threshold for pain” had been circulating my head for years, slowly brainwashing me into believing that I was weak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could see the weakness scale in my
mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There it was, me on one end, lying
on the bathroom floor and unable to move, and a marathon runner on the other
end, pushing through the pain like an Olympian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This image kept me thinking that the problem was in my head,
not in my uterus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that’s a dangerous
way to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it all changed when I saw
a post on Instagram by Mab Graves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She bravely
talked about her experiences with endometriosis – a big, scary word that I had
heard once or twice before but had not paid any attention to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One Mayo Clinic search later, and all those
frozen layers of self-deprecating thoughts began to thaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lower back pain?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Check.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Severe cramping?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Check.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heavy periods?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Check.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sharp abdominal pain?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Check,
check, check, check, check.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To save you time, here is a portion of the Mayo Clinic's article on endometriosis, though I highly suggest reading the whole thing: </div>
<br />
Endometriosis (en-doe-me-tree-O-sis) is an often painful disorder in
which tissue that normally lines the inside of your uterus — the
endometrium — grows outside your uterus (endometrial implant).
Endometriosis most commonly involves your ovaries, bowel or the tissue
lining your pelvis. Rarely, endometrial tissue may spread beyond your
pelvic region. <br />
In endometriosis, displaced endometrial tissue continues to act as it
normally would — it thickens, breaks down and bleeds with each
menstrual cycle. Because this displaced tissue has no way to exit your
body, it becomes trapped. When endometriosis involves the ovaries, cysts
called endometriomas may form. Surrounding tissue can become irritated,
eventually developing scar tissue and adhesions — abnormal tissue that
binds organs together. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Immediately after reading the above section, I thought of my experience ten years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it a cyst?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or was it endometriosis?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was flooded with panic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if I have to have surgery?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if I’ve had endometriosis for ten years
and it’s done serious damage?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if I
can’t have kids?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those are scary
questions, but ones that need to be addressed rather than ignored.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m now embarking on what may prove to be a long and scary
road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a primary doctor
appointment under my belt, a referral to the best gynecologist in town, and an
ultrasound appointment slip in my wallet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wherever this road leads, I know I have options, and people who will
walk beside me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks to Ms. Graves, I realized it was time I took my body seriously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our bodies know what we need, whether or not
our brains choose to listen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, if you’ve been chocking your symptoms up to a weakness
in character, or have spent way too many days crying from the pain, THIS IS YOUR SIGN
FROM THE UNIVERSE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get it checked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your doctor won’t laugh at you, the people
who love you will support you, and your body will thank you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza </span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-16301773881977418682016-01-17T09:05:00.000-08:002016-01-17T09:05:30.380-08:00a day at the museumI find it fitting that my first post of this new year is all about my first trip to the Tallahassee Museum of 2016. If you've never been to the museum, take this as an omen/sign from the universe/kick in the ass/etc, etc, that it's time to visit. Now that we've cleared up what you're going to do on your next day off, let me tell you a little bit about the Tallahassee Museum.<br />
<br />
Built partly in the swamp, ancient cypress trees jut out of the water with a blanket of Spanish moss dripping from every branch. Beautiful winding trails take you through the sandy Florida wilderness, past a plantation house, school house, historic church, inactive sinkhole, and a fully functioning farm.<br />
<br />
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Part living history museum, part wild animal sanctuary, and absolute heaven for the children of North Florida. <br />
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It's safe to say that I spent most of my childhood at the museum, either running around the playground and playing in the sink hole, or volunteering with the mom and sister at the farm house. Most of my early memories are planting onions in the museum's garden, collecting acorns, visiting the owls, the panthers, and the otters, standing by the wood burning stove in the winter, and collecting cold water from the pump in the summertime.<br />
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Thank you for the memories, Tallahassee Museum. I know we'll make lots more.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-39238897904305523632015-12-16T19:08:00.000-08:002015-12-16T19:08:10.296-08:00~ holiday cheer ~The leaves have fallen. The cookies are baked. The wrapping paper is down from the attic.<br />
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The Holidays are here.<br />
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And with the Holidays come holiday parties, holiday music on the record player, and a sudden desire to not wear what I slept in. The fake eyelashes come out of their box, stockings out of their drawer, hair is put into pin curls, nailed are painted, and festive clothing rescued from the back of the closet.<br />
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Perhaps it's
the Publix commercials that never fail to bring me to tears, or seeing
wreaths hung on doors, or stockings over fireplaces, but the holiday
season seems especially merry this year.</div>
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2015
has done its best to knock me down - and it's going out with a bang -
but despite the painful things in this world, the holiday season still
comes around, presents are still given, and love is still shared. There
may be days when it's hard to get out of bed, and hard to face the
things one must face, but these moments of happiness (however fleeting)
make life worth while.</div>
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So, Happy Holidays. Hold your loved-ones close, appreciate what you have, and eat lots of cookie dough.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
</div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-57324111024282525772015-11-17T06:31:00.001-08:002015-11-17T06:31:56.382-08:00~ mid century modern ~Growing up, I had a plan for everything. My college life, my career, my wedding, my children, and every birthday party up until I was 35. Knowing this, it will be no surprise that I also had a collection of house plans, loosely drawn with a ballpoint pen on notebook paper, with double lines indicating doors and windows, and x's indicting a mix of exotic trees and shrubbery. Although I used pink more liberally than I would now and never seemed to have enough space for a washer and dryer, my house plans really haven't changed that much.<br />
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MID. CENTURY. MODERN.<br />
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Sleek lines, cool hues, eye-catching details, contrasting textures. If it's teak, I'm sold.<br />
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Join me for a tour of my dream house!<br />
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<img alt="The Villanova - Main Line Homes: More Living For The 1960s by MidCentArc, via Flickr: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="514" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ab/bf/eb/abbfebfcdd5d2602a9e802fd79778e2d.jpg" width="640" /> </div>
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<img alt="Pendant lighting was used in homes in the 1950s and into the very early 1960s before fading out of style. Pendant lighting would reappear in the 2000s. Here are three national advertisements from 1960.: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/1c/d2/cf/1cd2cf7580fa844e86cbf44d71c6b143.jpg" /> </div>
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12 year old me would be pleased as punch if my dream home also came with my dream husband, Zac, and my dream children, Lucy and Frankie.</div>
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Now? Forget the kids and the husband...I'll just take the house. </div>
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<img alt="Spring Planting in Suburbia" height="528" src="http://40.media.tumblr.com/f96d262672f5eb2ac557149041cac5eb/tumblr_ml5ti327yy1r9qhhio1_1280.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza </span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-24727708633761672252015-11-15T14:51:00.000-08:002015-11-15T14:51:37.137-08:00~ sur la plage ~November in Florida is like playing the weather lottery machine. Take, for example, last November the 15th - it was COLD, with highs in the 50s and lows in the 30s. This November is having none of that. Today was 70 degrees, a few days ago I wore shorts, and a few days before that we had the AC on. But despite the unreliable temperature, there is something you can always rely on. It will always be breathtakingly beautiful.<br />
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After a good lunch, a breezy walk on the beach, and a tour of the Crooked River Lighthouse, we got back home in time for dinner. A perfect day.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-22615853845770903172015-11-05T19:50:00.000-08:002015-11-05T19:50:27.599-08:00~ the good, the bad, and the grey areas ~In a world of YouTube comments and online dating, a lack of transparency is almost a given. Photoshop can fix blemishes, affairs can be hidden, and 55 year old men in Indiana can pose as 23 year old women in online chat rooms. So how can someone maintain a balance between sharing their personal experiences and keeping their doors shut and bolted? How can one manage a personal crisis in the Digital Age?<br />
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<img alt="Illustration from Mode-Maker Metal Business Furniture catalog, circa 1960.: " class="pinImage rounded" data-load-state="pending" height="340" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ce/2f/cf/ce2fcf446edbe8e7c7f63c0e20fcafbd.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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Facebook, Instagram, Twitter. Smalltalk is expected, but oversharing is met with disapproval and links to articles about people whose houses were burgled and citizens who lost their retirement funds from sharing too much personal information online. Weddings, babies, homemade pizza for dinner? Fine. Divorce, mental health, financial instability? Discuss those struggles and you've started down the slippery slope to becoming "that person."<br />
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We're all guilty of of selective posting. We share the good and hide the bad - it's natural human behavior. But what do you do when life has dealt you a particularly difficult hand and you're struggling to conjure up the optimism you're usually bubbling over with? What do you do when getting out of bed was your only accomplishment for the day? What do you do when sides have been taken and weapons have been drawn? How do you survive? Cat videos and political satire seem inappropriate, daily accounts of your depression seem even more inappropriate, and digital silence is not ideal. <br />
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Life has its ups and downs, so why doesn't social media? The good things are celebrated, but the bad things are ignored. But does it really have to be this way? Can't we have a healthy variety?<br />
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I like to think that it <i>doesn</i>'t have to be this way and we <i>can</i> have a healthy variety of high points and low points. Social slickness is not only untrue but unrealistic. Low points in one's life should not have to equal silence on social media in order to meet society's strict standards for constant perfection. Don't the majority of problems in relationships, both digital and in person, stem from a lack of communication? We cannot be free to be truthful about our happiness if we cannot also be free to be truthful about our sorrow.<br />
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So I'm done holding myself back. I'm done with the voices in the back of my head that tell me "people don't want to hear about that." Do we post what we post because we think other people want to hear it or because we want to say it?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span>VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-14665067868313401012015-09-25T19:41:00.000-07:002015-09-25T19:41:48.616-07:00~ fire and ice ~As anyone who knows me well (or has seen the inside of my bathroom cabinet) will tell you, I have a bit of an obsession with lipstick. This would also be apparent if you took a peek inside of my purse, inside of my car, or inside of my bedroom. I don't pretend to have a grasp on this obsession, and I frequently tell myself "it's not a problem unless you dream about Revlon," but let's call a spade a spade: I know my lipstick.<br />
<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfa1/v/t1.0-9/12036848_10153012811820810_5634631063597866788_n.jpg?oh=6165ec6d25bff604e1154f84f5463035&oe=569578DD" style="height: 663px; width: 663px;" width="400" /><br />
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Coralberry, cherries in the snow, siren, etc., etc., so on and so forth. Reds, pinks, oranges, orangey-reds, reddish-oranges, orangey-pinks, pinkish-oranges. Each is totally different, and yes, totally necessary. But my most-used and most-loved is Revlon's Fire and Ice.<br />
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<a data-ved="0CAcQjRxqFQoTCJzN9ZDNk8gCFQuKDQod_UwJGg" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAcQjRxqFQoTCJzN9ZDNk8gCFQuKDQod_UwJGg&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.beautybombshells.com%2F2010%2F10%2F26%2Frevlon-fire-and-ice-the-relaunch-of-a-real-bombshell-colour%2F&psig=AFQjCNHyLBSj6kqf-XG2fKamb8x2b9YokA&ust=1443319191164261" id="irc_mil" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk;irc.il;" style="border-image: none; border: 0px currentColor;"><img height="442" id="irc_mi" src="http://www.beautybombshells.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/1952-Fire-and-Ice.jpg" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div>
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The name really says it all - a name created by Bea Castle and Kay Daly. A passionate, bright red shade with just a hint of orange. Creamy and comfortable, and perfect for a night out or a quick trip to the grocery store. <br />
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<a data-ved="0CAcQjRxqFQoTCMD59OfVk8gCFQHugAodPOYCig" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAcQjRxqFQoTCMD59OfVk8gCFQHugAodPOYCig&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2FREVLON-Vintage-Super-Lustrous-Lipstick%2Fdp%2FB0043WI6DO&bvm=bv.103627116,d.eXY&psig=AFQjCNHsVIprNL_wF4WVv3cTvYmTYNU0PA&ust=1443321312067466" id="irc_mil" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk;irc.il;" style="border-image: none; border: 0px currentColor;"><img height="355" id="irc_mi" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/31u5NfTkzjL._SY355_.jpg" style="margin-top: 53px;" width="207" /></a><a data-ved="0CAcQjRxqFQoTCMz09YTVk8gCFYG8gAod8-QD6w" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAcQjRxqFQoTCMz09YTVk8gCFYG8gAod8-QD6w&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.makeherup.com%2F2010%2F11%2F29%2Fcheck-out-revlons-new-fire-ice-campaign-starring-jessica-biel%2F&bvm=bv.103627116,d.eXY&psig=AFQjCNHsVIprNL_wF4WVv3cTvYmTYNU0PA&ust=1443321312067466" id="irc_mil" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk;irc.il;" style="border-image: none; border: 0px currentColor;"></a></div>
I lucked out a few years ago and managed to buy this shade in the sleek tube (a limited edition), seen above. I've been hooked every since. <br />
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The history of Fire and Ice is just as deep as the shade. Two years before the introduction of Fire and Ice, Revlon introduced Where's the Fire to the public. This shade was popular in its own right, but never reached the heights that Fire and Ice did. Following its release in 1952 with the two page spread featuring Dorian Leigh seen above, Revlon saw 9,000 window displays dedicated to their newest shade, nationwide Fire and Ice beauty contests, and countless mentions in radio shows, television shows, and in the press. American women were finally being given a shade of lipstick that wasn't submissive, tame, or easily ignorable. The Fire and Ice woman was bold, elegant, glamorous, and not the least bit afraid of color. As one ad stated "What is the American girl made of? Sugar and spice and everything nice? Not since the days of the Gibson Girl! There's a <i>new </i>American beauty . . . she's tease and temptress, siren and gamin, dynamic and demure. Men find her slightly, delightfully baffling. Sometimes a little maddening. Yet they admit she's <i>easily </i>the most exciting woman in the world! She's the 1952 American beauty, with a foolproof formula for melting a male! She's the <i>'Fire and Ice' </i>girl. (Are You?)"<br />
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In a time when all eyes were on European beauty and fashion, Revlon wanted a shade that showed the world that American women had the same amount of sex-appeal and passion as the French and the Italian. If a woman had any doubt about choosing such a daring shade, Revlon's quiz could help them decide.<br />
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<em>Have you ever danced with your shoes off?</em><br />
<em>Did you ever wish on a new moon?</em><br />
<em>Do you blush when you find yourself flirting?</em><br />
<em>When a recipe calls for one dash of bitters, do you think it's better with two?</em><br />
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<em>Do you secretly hope the next man you meet will be a psychiatrist?</em><br />
<em>Do you sometimes feel that other women resent you? </em><br />
<em>Have you ever wanted to wear an ankle bracelet? </em><br />
<em>Do sables excite you, even on other women?</em><br />
<i>Do you love to look </i>up <i>at a man?</i><br />
<i>Do you face crowded parties with panic -- then wind up having a wonderful time?<br />
Does gypsy music make you sad?</i><i>Do you think any man </i>really <i>understands you?</i><em>Would you streak your hair with platinum without consulting your husband?</em><br />
<em>If tourist flights were running, would you take a trip to Mars?</em><br />
<i>Do you close your eyes when you're kissed?</i><br />
<em></em><br />
So, how do you fare?<br />
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xoxo,<br />
ElizaVintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-76574459017798245702015-09-09T11:56:00.000-07:002015-09-09T11:56:35.776-07:00~ teal ~I confess that I'm not an expert in color. I skipped Color Theory class at school, black and black is my go-to color combo, my room was Rose Pink .01 for 12 years because I couldn't decide what color to paint it, and when I finally did paint it, I settled on white so that I wouldn't have to buy matching bed linens. Despite this lack of color literacy , I find myself strongly drawn to different colors during different stages of my life. Pink, light gray, orange, navy blue, and now, teal. For those of you more proficient than I am in the language of colors, feel free to let me know what that means.<br />
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<img height="497" src="https://scontent-dfw1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xlf1/v/t1.0-9/11954578_10152979159220810_3372934835615406689_n.jpg?oh=549aa338dd6a42c9268d72b99a12527e&oe=56A4E665" width="640" /></div>
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This heavy presence of color in my life, coupled with a new-founded obsession with Wes Anderson, has lead to the birth of a new project: The Interior Portrait Series. A monochromatic study on the link between color and emotion.<br />
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<img height="354" src="https://scontent-dfw1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfl1/v/t1.0-9/11951238_10152978887435810_4286434169315058450_n.jpg?oh=f961895c387dae73e21edda872a140ba&oe=56781EB0" width="640" /></div>
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In such a chaotic and transformative period of my life, I'm excited to begin a new project. And who knows? Maybe it will be just as good for me as any color theory class would have been.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-28539378320926909042015-08-20T17:55:00.000-07:002015-08-20T17:55:32.082-07:00~ summertime ~As the days grow shorter and summertime draws to a close, the Florida weather is creeping closer to 90 degrees/farther from 100, the air is slowly dehumidifying, and the beach trips are becoming fewer and farther between. But as any true Floridian knows, summertime is not officially over until Halloween, even though last minute costume changes might be necessary due to overnight temperature plunges. To celebrate my return to the U.S., the beautiful weather, and my total lack of coursework for this semester, a beach trip was most definitely in order.<br />
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<img height="640" src="https://scontent-atl1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/11896165_10152948635040810_6608942361221355852_n.jpg?oh=fddb8b3fc0d102c0d3feb89765cb6026&oe=563EFDE0" width="640" /></div>
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I wore a vintage two-tone bathing suit that I picked up from a little shop in the UK.</div>
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It was a beautifully clear day, with only a few clouds in the sky and only a few people on the beach. We ate quinoa salad and potato chips, read, took naps, and then headed over to Apalachicola to snoop in the shops and meet friendly people. It was a perfect day and a even more perfect way to postpone fall as long as possible.</div>
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I'm ready to do it all again.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-37430951322209213602015-08-04T03:28:00.002-07:002015-08-04T03:28:58.726-07:00~ the stray ~Ever since I was little and read books like Alice in Wonderland, Linnea in Monet's Garden, and Anne of Green Gables, I've had dreams of running through the tall green grass in a vast meadow on a warm day. <br />
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Thanks to beautiful weather and a perfectly-placed flat, I lived out that dream. <br />
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And it was just as heavenly as I always imagined it would be.<br />
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{Photos by my sweet friend Sarah, who put up with my micromanaging beautifully}</div>
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It was a warm evening with a nice breeze (which gave a gaggle of university boys a nice look at my undies), so I whipped out my new (to me) 1980s-does-1950s dress which I picked up in Manchester, and paired it with my favorite bakelite bangles and hoops.</div>
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I'd be happy to do nothing but frolick in the Stray for the rest of my days.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-44171779559621343402015-08-03T02:49:00.000-07:002015-08-03T02:49:03.405-07:00~ across the pond ~For those of you who aren't friends with me on facebook, don't follow me on instagram, or keep your windows shut and therefor haven't heard my excited squeals, I am currently in England! Right now I am resting comfortably in my friend's dorm room in Yorkshire, which overlooks a beautiful grassy field, sipping a cup of Yorkshire Red tea and preparing for a full day of wandering around city centre and exploring the York art museum. After navigating three busy airports and juggling luggage, boarding passes, and my passport, a blissfully calm trip is just what the doctor ordered. So far it's been nothing but wonderful!<br />
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Day 01.<br />
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I arrived at the Manchester Airport at 9 (UK time) on Thursday morning after a long day spent navigating three airports and attempting to entertain myself during a long lay over. After meeting up with Sarah, we headed back home for a quick lunch and then caught the train to Stockport to explore the town and tour the hat museum.<br />
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After doing a little shopping, we headed back home to make dinner (bowtie noodles with a red pepper and mushroom red sauce and a fresh salad with balsamic dressing), and watch I Love Lucy.</div>
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Day 02.</div>
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After a great, and much-needed, night's sleep, we ate a quick breakfast and took the train into downtown Manchester. Despite some key differences, Manchester reminds me of Philadelphia, PA - a bustling metropolis with incredible cultural diversity.</div>
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We shopped at several vintage clothing stores, ate at an incredible vegetarian/vegan cafe, and explored city centre (which was great for people-watching).</div>
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Day 03.</div>
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On my third day in the UK, we took the train into the Manchester-Piccadilly station, and then caught our train to York. It was a gorgeous day, despite being a little cloudy and rainy, so the view out of our window was glorious!</div>
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After dropping our bags at Sarah's flat, we went into town for dinner and some sightseeing.</div>
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Day 04.</div>
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I spent day four exploring the beautiful land around Sarah's flat and getting reoriented. We walked to the park, had a picnic on the bridge, watched people playing tennis, and got ice cream from a canal boat. To top off an already beautiful day, we had a photoshoot in the Stray (details and pictures to come!), and had some delicious tomato and basil soup for dinner.</div>
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Ohhh England. I'm falling in love with you.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-65509544082984763852015-07-26T08:11:00.000-07:002015-08-20T20:05:05.662-07:00~ one hundred hats ~Someone wise once said that once you hit a certain number, a hobby becomes a collection, and once you hit another number, a collection becomes an obsession. From then on, you (and everyone who has the great misfortune to visit your house) enter, dangerously, into hoarder territory.<br />
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I think, now, of my grandparents. One who kept everything that contained one speck of sentimentality. Another who routinely vacuumed the floor under the table after every meal with such tenacity that even the smallest of crumb didn't stand a chance. One who kept every single dress, hat, baby shoe, and letter from summer camp neatly tucked away in boxes, garment bags, and heavy trunks. Another who would gladly have thrown away everything that wasn't nailed down.<br />
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Wager a guess as to which one I'm most like.<br />
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I might as well point out that I have excluded two hat boxes, one travel hat case, one suitcase, and the countless hats that liter my vanity table (and every level surface in my bedroom).</div>
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As of last week, the grand total hits somewhere around 50 - a number that makes me both proud and a little scared for the sagging shelf in my closet where nearly all fifty hats are stored. Now what, you may ask, do I DO with all of these hats? Despite my mixed emotions (equal parts adoration and fear), and the baffled looks on the faces of those who are not hat collectors, this question set me out on a mission: style and photograph all 50 hats that are currently in my collection, and the 50 more that will inevitably take their place on the closet shelf.</div>
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Welcome to the OneHundredHats Project! Watch my Instagram (@vintagerosegirl) for photos, information on the hat style, label, age, and where I found it.</div>
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Hat No. 1</div>
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<img height="400" src="https://scontent-atl1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xaf1/v/t1.0-9/11403164_10152893902415810_793844684366182237_n.jpg?oh=49dda59c74e50a15dae81cb8a58311ee&oe=56584B65" width="400" /></div>
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Hat No. 2</div>
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Hat No.3</div>
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Happy collecting!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-85364084762193092882015-07-19T18:38:00.003-07:002015-08-20T20:05:24.870-07:00~ flower power ~Do you ever buy a new (old) dress and suddenly feel that, for that moment, everything is right with the world? Or is that just me? Yesterday my friend Alex and I walked in to Other Side Vintage in Railroad Square and this dress caught my eye within the first ten minutes. It was too hot to try on the 50s plaid skirt or the 70s knitted dress I had also picked out, so I stuck to the 60s dresses and 50s button ups.<br />
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Maybe it was the soul-draining heat or the power-punch of protein from having just eaten a veggie burger the size of my head, but yesterday was undoubtedly one of those everything-is-right-with-the-world experiences. <br />
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<img height="640" src="https://scontent-mia1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xtf1/v/t1.0-9/11742822_10152887892215810_1098707075986013181_n.jpg?oh=3603963eb708cc128a8cf48c84869534&oe=561302F3" width="640" /></div>
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A 1960s blue/green/white explosion of flowers that can be worn with sleeves rolled up or down, with a (matching) belt or without, can be worn at any time of year, and is currently my favorite thing in my closet.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVyD4up6enXsUhJ6ewuQomK3Q60aPSXoNFhm9t_zH0ccwml98TtidIM5dhlzgJHfQiBOWINGvx9eowGMx0shp0Parh1UXyrnNP3q7i_puFyKO9zE1d_VndDwDgiei0d5KkM6CJwg0rT8/s1600/11755658_10152887892220810_6677102304458431332_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVyD4up6enXsUhJ6ewuQomK3Q60aPSXoNFhm9t_zH0ccwml98TtidIM5dhlzgJHfQiBOWINGvx9eowGMx0shp0Parh1UXyrnNP3q7i_puFyKO9zE1d_VndDwDgiei0d5KkM6CJwg0rT8/s640/11755658_10152887892220810_6677102304458431332_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The tag reads Shannon Rodgers for Jerry Silverman, a brand that dates back to 1959. </div>
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How strange to think that a design that is nearly 60 years old is still as relevant and stylish as the day it was produced. I don't know how Shannon Rodgers and Jerry Silverman would feel knowing that their design is being worn and loved all those years later, but I like to think it would make them proud.</div>
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So thank you for your design, gentlemen. And don't worry - I'll take good care of it.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-45499964142207941502015-07-11T09:57:00.001-07:002015-07-11T09:57:36.970-07:00~ mrs. robinson ~For someone who loves cats of all kinds as much as I do, you would think I would own more leopard print than I currently do. But for now I only have two large leopard print scarves, that when skillfully placed, can give the appearance of a leopard print top, leopard print turban, and leopard print lingerie (see below).<br />
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<img height="500" src="https://scontent-atl1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfa1/v/t1.0-9/11666198_10152867871565810_6126850591436566738_n.jpg?oh=c0ca79889aa88fa2a6a3957af8616f87&oe=561AE2E6" width="640" /></div>
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Now, this is definitely a good start, but in order to reach my dream wardrobe, I'll need to take a leaf out of the book of these rad ladies and go into full-leopard mode....</div>
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<img alt="classic" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/47/48/f4/4748f487efabd2e82b00f1fae4834cb2.jpg" width="366" /></div>
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<img alt="Gene Tierney with leopard" height="640" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/6b/7b/f6/6b7bf6f2b6ece0b842383d6fa174211a.jpg" width="503" /></div>
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<img alt="Grace Kelly in all her leopard glory." height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/48/4c/8d/484c8d153e39efa4f6b24eeb70bd6dea.jpg" width="216" /><img alt="#Grace." height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/cf/56/11/cf56114eb0d2ca8651994979a2f54fa7.jpg" width="211" /><br />
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<img alt="Gloria Swanson #smoking" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/75/52/d4/7552d405a93043fa23b1f369a070a8ec.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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<img alt="Gloria Swanson - that is a fabulous outfit! :)" height="640" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/b9/51/59/b9515903f2d3af57210e524b99cea1ef.jpg" width="503" /></div>
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And of course, saving the best for last...</div>
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<img alt=""Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?" -- The Graduate (1967)" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/0e/25/29/0e25295f898e48b1f8e23fda2a29fcf4.jpg" width="265" /><br />
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After all, what's life without a little leopard?</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
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VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-35935441607735069642015-06-19T07:48:00.000-07:002015-06-22T06:12:51.665-07:00~ barbie girl ~When thinking back on my childhood, I see flashes of swimming pools, birthday parties, Hot Wheels, tree climbing, and playing Oregon Trail (not the computer game) in the front yard with a wagon full of Ritz crackers, bundles of grass clippings (for the oxen), a thermos of hot chocolate, stacks of blankets (for fort-building), and all the things one would need for embarking on a day-long journey through the dangerous terrain of rural north Florida.<br />
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But most of all, I think of playing dress up with hand-me-downs that floated through the closets of every single kid in my neighborhood, and concocting elaborate plots, acted out by my vast collection of Barbies and Barbie paraphernalia.</div>
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<img alt="vintage Barbie booklet" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d5/cf/0f/d5cf0f7fb7d75782b76e3e4f7b335477.jpg" width="290" /><img alt="Barbie and Friends, 1962 Sears catalog ad detail/edited I would play with these right now if I could! How much fun to switch the wigs around and stuff. SOOOOOO cool. As a girl I didn’t get into the doll scene so I never played with barbie…except one, wait a minute, two: Growing up skipper whose breasts grew out and she grew taller all with the crank of her arm and Malibu Barbie with her real live tan…! I just HAD to have those. File Photo" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/92/d9/e3/92d9e3ef5b5318d3de7352f46e41d5e9.jpg" width="352" /></div>
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I absolutely grew up in the era of Barbie, let me make that clear. My friend had a hot pink, kid-sized Barbie jeep and was the envy of all she met/nearly ran over. I had ten Barbies (four stolen from my sister) and dozens and dozens of outfits for every season and occasion, from summertime at the Malibu beach house, to parachuting out of the second-story window. It was an exciting life.</div>
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I had, and still have, a kick-ass kitchen set - complete with a frying pan that would flip pancakes, an ice maker that had tiny plastic pieces of ice that were just small enough to settle into the carpet and give you a rude awakening when you walked across the room an hour later, an oven that would make a sizzling noise when you put in the fake turkey and ding when it was fully-cooked, and cabinets and drawers FULL of plates, bowls, serving dishes, breakfast cereal, canned goods, cake mixes, drinking glasses, and a vast array of cutlery. It was 90s-child heaven.<br />
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<img height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/21/de/37/21de372b03d132ca5bb553c62e9a6da6.jpg" width="253" /><img src="http://40.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m79f6vhjGi1rbsup0o1_500.png" height="400" width="314" /></div>
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To fuel our obsession, in between the time we spent getting stuck in trees and fantasizing about Chad Michael Murray, my collection of friends and I would spy on my sister and her friends who spent hours choreographing and rehearsing a dance to Barbie Girl (that I still remember to this day and will perform in exchange for a crisp fifty dollar bill). It wasn't until a decade later that I googled the lyrics and realized that what once flew right over my head was now as clear as day, but c'est la vie! The damage was already done.</div>
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Now, let's be honest here. My Barbie collection is in a plastic box, either shoved under my bed, or somewhere in my closet. I'm no longer in love with Barbie or envious of her waist. I've been made aware of the over-sexualization of young girls, the ridiculous gender stereotypes present in the toy aisle, and my feminist self cringes at the recent onslaught of "girl toys" that, yet again, put the emphasis on outward appearance rather than inward growth. But even I have to admit; vintage Barbie rocks.</div>
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The hair! The makeup! The clothes! The picnic sets! She makes my heart flutter.</div>
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And until someone makes Barbie dolls without funky feet, a wasp waist, and permanent makeup, she'll have to do.</div>
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<img height="640" src="https://scontent-atl1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xat1/v/t1.0-9/11140357_10152825305470810_7467300664528921229_n.jpg?oh=5980b123c655f0ffc17da70cd93d2f80&oe=55FA2AEA" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-63724560800400146262015-06-16T18:45:00.000-07:002015-06-16T18:45:04.062-07:00~ tuesday ~<div>
It's 9:30. I'm currently sitting in bed, ceiling fan going full blast, with a record playing on a brand-spankin' new record player. I have nothing I <i>need</i> to do. No one I <i>need</i> to communicate with. No papers to write, no floors to vacuum, no plans to make.</div>
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Bliss. How would you define it?</div>
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If there's something I've forgotten to do (and there probably is), I'll remember it in the morning. </div>
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But for now....bliss.</div>
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This morning I went to yoga, which started me off on the right foot. And now I've just seen the most beautiful sunset - the rosey end to a hot day.<img height="640" src="https://scontent-atl1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xat1/v/t1.0-9/11536128_10152826915980810_36898522635393532_n.jpg?oh=19c6eb4768982c16839cf55c5c76167a&oe=5634F21A" style="text-align: center;" width="640" /></div>
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What a perfect Tuesday. </div>
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You have some mighty big shoes to fill, Wednesday.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-64478531520933685182015-06-13T17:08:00.000-07:002015-06-13T17:08:08.941-07:00~ confessions of a former packrat ~Let me take you on a little trip down memory lane. Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived in a world of innocence and a room full of dress up clothes and canned goods. She would go "shopping" in the kitchen, in the bookshelves, and in the underwear drawers, collecting specimens and carefully placing them in her plastic, kid-sized shopping cart, ringing them up with her plastic, kid-sized price gun and conveyor belt, and storing them under her bed, in her closet, and in her kid-sized refrigerator. Nothing in the world could possibly stop her.<br />
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Until one day when her mother noticed pieces of mail had suddenly gone missing from the coffee table and cans of tomato soup were no where to be found. In that moment, a raid was conducted and months and months of hard work (and diligent hoarding) came to a close. The perpetrator was caught and charged with mail theft, shop lifting, and endangering the public, and she never stock-piled canned goods again. <br />
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The End.<br />
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In a perfect world, that would be the end of the story, but as we all know (and spoiler alert if you didn't already know) this is NOT a perfect world. It wasn't easy, but I eventually learned my lesson about the electric bills and cans of soup, the kid-sized fridge found a new home, plastic boxes replaced piles, and the rod in my closet only <i>slightly </i>sags under the weight of vintage prom dresses and hat boxes. To put it bluntly: I got my shit together.<br />
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Now I'm no domestic goddess (and have no interest in being a domestic goddess), but cleaning my room is no longer a 48 hour ordeal that ends with tears, hair-pulling, and a fiery tantrum.<br />
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My shopping cart survived being thrown down flight of stairs (not my doing) and is probably still in the attic somewhere, but my conveyor belt and price gun met a fateful end during a battle with a can of shaving cream. So, the lesson learned here? As my mom so wisely says, nothing in a book about child-rearing could possibly prepare you for giving birth to a hoarder. But please take my advice. If you are so (un)lucky to bring a hoarder into this fine world, don't give them a shopping cart, and for heaven's sake, put them in the bedroom with the small closet. You'll thank me later.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span>VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-29812578964499938122015-06-07T07:21:00.000-07:002015-06-07T07:21:18.292-07:00~ takin' it easy ~Do you ever take a look at your life and realize that everything you're striving for on a daily basis <i>might</i> not happen? Or that what you always thought you wanted out of life might not be what you actually want? Or that you haven't washed your bras in a frightfully long time and Martha Stewart would not approve of how you fold your sheets?<br />
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I think about that a lot. <br />
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I'll be moving cities relatively soon, living on my own for the first time in my life, and working towards getting my degree (majoring in production design, minoring in photography), all while attempting to remain sane - and I am FREAKING OUT. I hate change, even incredibly wonderful change, so someone will most likely have to push me out of my front door, force me into the car, and push me out of the car door once we reach our destination.<br />
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But until then, I've adopted a new attitude. I'm not going to think about it! I'm going to do yoga and go to the beach and spend time with family and friends, and snuggle with cats, and live in a blissfully ignorant mindset for as long as I can!<br />
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I'll stop making to-do lists, eat way too much homemade salsa, watch all the historical dramas I want, wear nothing but vintage ball gowns and bathing suits, and not think about which kitchen utensils I'll need or whether or not my mid-century chair will fit in an elevator or how many of my vintage hats I can justify taking with me.</div>
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There will be time for all that. And that time is not now.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span>VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098508639039997126.post-72134666676467666212015-06-03T12:23:00.000-07:002015-06-03T12:23:33.666-07:00~ savannah antiques ~I don't claim to be an expert in the Savannah vintage/antique scene (because I've only been there twice and only been to three shops total), but from my experience, little that it may be, Savannah is a vintage-lover's dream. Last weekend I visited Alex Raskin Antiques, the Wright Antique Mall, and Southern Charm Antiques, and today I'm going to do my best to describe each as accurately and fairly as I can.<br />
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Alex Raskin Antiques:<br />
Last year when I was in Savannah, we went into Alex Raskin's store (the basement of a large house) and snooped around for an hour or so. Little did we know that we had only seen one out of four stories - so when we went back this time, we climbed every staircase (even though I had to be nudged up the final one thanks to a mild case of vertigo), peaked into every room, and heard every floor board creak as we cautiously passed over them.<br />
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The house itself was built in the 1850s - it's a beautiful representation of its era, complete with exposed beams and peeling paint. Some might cringe at its slightly-dilapidated state and yearn to restore it to its original glory, but I strongly feel that it should be left alone to sag and creak as much as its 165 year old self wants to. In some rooms, you can clearly see the passing of time and fading of styles by counting the layers of wallpaper that are peeling off the wall and will eventually flake to the floor. The carpet has years worth of dust settled into it, the railings on the staircases are well-worn, and the house itself has clearly been well-loved by every generation of occupants, past and present. To cover and sand and strip and paint would be disrespectful to the house's spirit (if you believe in that kind of thing, which I do).<br />
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Wright Antique Mall: </div>
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I have a shocking number of photos of the Wright Antique Mall - zero, in fact. Probably because I was way too excited to find several racks of vintage clothing, and boxes and boxes of new old stock hairnets, hair pins, and stockings (in my size!!!), from the 40s and 50s. I already regret not buying more of the stockings (the opposite of buyer's remorse), but I did stock up on hairnets and postcards, so that kind of makes up for it.</div>
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Southern Charm Antiques:</div>
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Within fifteen minutes of getting into town, we found a parking place, ran into Southern Charm Antiques, and ran out with an amazing 30s hat, all before the meter ran out of time. So, mission accomplished.</div>
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Southern Charm Antiques was cram-packed with vintage clothing, vintage jewelry, vintage shoes, vintage hats, furniture, dishes and silverware, grandfather clocks, and a plethora of odds and ends. I easily could have spent two hours sitting on the floor, rifling through the stacks of magazines and brochures.</div>
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In between the shopping and snooping, we attended my best friend's graduation from SCAD (yay!!!), I got to walk in her senior fashion show, and we moseyed through blocks and blocks of beautiful parks and historical houses. I miss it already.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eliza</span></div>
VintageRoseGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05091239042202489369noreply@blogger.com0