stolen

I was searching for inspiration for my costume for a Cops and Robbers party tomorrow night when I came across Lonely Heart's  AW2011 collection titled Little Bandits. Perfect timing world.

it's too old and cold and settled in it's ways here.

Some photos I found that are assisting me out of this dry well I seem to have stumbled into.

 The Tallest Man on Earth

 Lonely Hearts

Faye Dunaway

I'm in need of  inspiration. Please come swiftly.

Away

Here are the digitals from my weekend away. I also brought my new camera, and I can't wait to get my film developed. These are all from my the antique section of a store my friend Lindsay's parents own. Among these treasures I bought a wonderful ring, with a huge amber stone in a gold setting. I can't believe I overlooked the blue heart necklace in the first photo though (I'll have to hope it's still there on my next visit!).

 Display case with brooches, and necklaces

 Lindsay looking

 Vintage fur stole, chair and glassware

 Lipstick holder

 Vintage knitting and sewing patterns

Muff purse (Lindsay swears one day she is buying  me this)

 Oval necklace with floral detail

 Vintage post cards

 Velvet dress with lace inserts

Me sitting at a lovely makeup table

Darling  little clutch

We wore these hats around town all day

the sparrow and the medicine

These photos were taken on a day when I was feeling very, very sick (which seems most evident in the last photo!), so this song seemed appropriate for the title of the post. Luckily I have recovered since then, and found them on my camera! The necklace is one that my dad bought me on Christmas eve, and it has the loveliest sparrow charm. This blouse was given to me by a wonderful girl who, before moving to California, gave away most of her clothing. I hadn't worn it that much until lately, but it's slowly becoming a favorite. Are any of your favorite clothes hand-me-downs?

Tomorrow Never Knows

Tomorrow Never Knows is one of my favorite vintage shops in Toronto, and I have been drooling over these photographs from their 2010 lookbook for quite a while now. I'm in love with the little playlists that go up on their blog as well, which you should stop by and listen to whenever you're in the mood for something dreamy but hearty.

how is the language we're speaking the same

A five in the morning talk has left me bewildered, and I'm not sure what to do next. I don't feel that anyone I've spoken with about it really gets what this glimpse of honesty means to me.

On a lighter note, I felt very studious going to meet with my professor in this outfit today, and was quite pleased to find that the fur on my jacket (pictured in a previous post) removes to become this simple trench.

Also, spaghetti squash and Freaks and Geeks is making my life right now.

I do not let the little thieves under my tightly buttoned sleeves

He built our walls on a small patch of grass that was sometimes flooded in the spring. Four beams rested on the earth, no cement rooting them. When we wanted, we became nomadic. Gathering fallen arms of trees, we had the option of prying them between dirt and wood and suspending our walls in air. Wrapping our fingers up and around the oak frame, our home in our palms, we would walk east, or sometimes west. The nicest wood he placed closest to the earth, and I never quite figured out why.

The walls housed a six inch pocket between the outer and inner layer. The insulation that we never got around to was instead grown over with weeds and bean sprouts. In the summer, you could see these sprouts leaping between the cracks in the roof. I sometimes climbed a ladder to harvest them. Once I imagined that as my nimble hand wrapped around the squirmy sprout, it shot up into the sky, propelling me beside the stars. The thunder of his falling tree dropped me flat to the roof before I could grab a handful of stardust.

In the next weeks he carved out our bed from the wound of the tree. I hung peonies from the south-west wall upside down, and once they dried, I collected their pedals in glass jars on which we had painted portraits of timid foxes. Each day we worked in silence, him keeping focus, as I tried to keep to myself. We spoke between the friction of sandpaper, through the scraping of a fine grain on timbre. Our walls became paper thin. Once nightfall came, we used real words, like “I’m sorry” and “let me go”. They couldn’t come close to the touch of sandpaper against my right hip.

The second summer, and into winter, I learned of his caring nature. He never left an animal or me for dead. His laboured hands nursed us to health, or tried to. When a wild hare or an injured deer finally lay their backs to the soil, he gathered their fur for our bed. And so we rest atop his burden of failure,

and my vision of his hopes.

I'll never be like your kind of girl

Ventured out to the junction for lunch at Rawlicious with my friend Melissa today, who I do not see nearly as often as I should. When I got home I was feeling a little crafty, and so I turned an old faux fur coat I had into a stole. I originally bought the coat two Halloween's ago (I went as Margot Tennenbaum) for $10, and I had only worn it out once in Toronto, and then once in Montreal, so I'm hoping I'll get more use out of it now!

I think some silly things are going to happen this week, despite my better judgement. oh well x.xx
This song is making me want to jump around on my bed.

Moi je joue

These are some stills from an upcoming stop motion short that I am making for Worn. I can't wait to show you all once it's done! This song has been stuck in my head for weeks as a result...P.S, now you get to see some of my little apartment, I hope you like it xox