summer wrap-up

Wow, Liza.  Good job on the whole "I'm gonna blog at least once a week ALL SUMMER LONG," thing.
 
I really knocked that one out of the park, didn't I?

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 (nearly).  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. 

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.

1. I did a lot of reading.

 

2.  I wore a lot of seasonally-inappropriate hats.

3.  I frequently wore ballgowns for no good reason.

4. I did a lot of painting.

5.  I swam in every body of water I could find.

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

Happy September!  

Maybe I'll actually blog once a week this fall.

(but I probably won't)

xoxo,

Eliza

bald point

I'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.

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.

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!

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.

 

            

 

 

There really is something magical about the beach.

xoxo,
Eliza

springtime in the south

Everyone 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 Dalena Vintage 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.

 

 

 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). 

 Happy Spring!

xoxo,

Eliza

~ 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?

 

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."

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.  

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?

I like to think that it doesn't have to be this way and we can 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.

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?

xoxo,
Eliza

~ 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!

Day 01.

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.

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.

Day 02.

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.

We shopped at several vintage clothing stores, ate at an incredible vegetarian/vegan cafe, and explored city centre (which was great for people-watching).

Day 03.

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!

After dropping our bags at Sarah's flat, we went into town for dinner and some sightseeing.

Day 04.

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.

Ohhh England.  I'm falling in love with you.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ 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.

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.

The End.

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 slightly sags under the weight of vintage prom dresses and hat boxes.  To put it bluntly: I got my shit together.

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.

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.

xoxo,
Eliza

~ takin' it easy ~

Do you ever take a look at your life and realize that everything you're striving for on a daily basis might 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?

I think about that a lot.

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.

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!

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.

There will be time for all that.  And that time is not now.

xoxo,
Eliza

~ emancipation day ~

Today, throughout Florida, people celebrated the 150th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation being read, and it was beautiful.  I attended a ceremony and reenactment of the reading downtown at the Knott House, the exact location where it was read 150 years ago.  On every face in the crowd of people was a look of true understanding and appreciation - something that I'm glad to have seen first-hand.

It was so wonderful to run into old friends and make new acquaintances, all under a canopy of oak trees and a mellow blue sky.

I wore my favorite hat (although, as one might point out, I call every hat my favorite), partially because I love it to death, but mostly to keep the sun out of my face, since the afternoon sun turns me into a tomato.

And it's now officially the time of year where jeans are just out of the question (unless you like to have sweaty thighs), so a skirt was my only option.

I spoke to many people today, which not only restored my often-dwindling hope for the human race, but reinforced my strong belief that vintage clothing and vintage accessories can truly start conversations.  It was so heart-warming to have half a dozen people come up to me to ask about my hat and talk about their experiences with (and love for) clothing.  I met people whose kind words will follow me for years and lift me up when I have a bad case of the Blahs.

What a beautiful day.

xoxo,
Eliza