The Evil Temptress That is Anthropologie

Anthropologie is one of the few 'new stuff' stores with the ability to make me feel all consumerist. Their often vintage inspired, always over-the-top beautiful, clothes and housewares bring out every bit of giddy girl in me. The store is perfectly arranged, smells lovely, and really is just a big 'oh' and 'ah' fest.

It's always the dresses that get me wishing that I could temporarily ignore my thrifty nature (and low bank balance).

On a shopping trip last night with my dear lady-friend, Megan, I tried on the Chromatic Canvas Shirtdress. This ultra-flattering, brightly colored painterly-striped frock looked perfect with the vintage nude sling-back wedges I happened to be wearing. So perfect, it makes me want to restyle this model, and leaves me wondering, why is she not wearing the thin black belt that comes with this beauty? At least on me, I liked the added definition at the waist, giving the dress a more vintage-feeling fit.

I did not see the other dress, Primula, that caused me a bit of keyboard drool, in the store. Probably a good thing because I am not sure if my power to say no could stand up to that darling print and peek-a-boo lace.

Once again, I will resist temptation, yet take the inspiration. Which this time means keeping my eyes peeled for a shirtdress of the brighter, funner, and saucier variety than those already residing in my closet.

Stuck a Feather In My Hat

Fort Wayne's Coney Island

I spent this weekend in Fort Wayne, my hometown, visiting with family. Every trip there, I plot to sneak away from everyone to enjoy some of the Fort Wayne that I miss. Mainly, my old favorite thrift stores. Like almost every trip, my plot was scrapped in order to squeeze in as much time as possible with my loved ones that I do not see nearly enough of.

I suppose I should be thankful that I enjoy hanging out with my family enough to pass up thrifting.

I did have the pleasure of visiting a Fort Wayne landmark this time around- Fort Wayne's Famous Coney Island. The little diner-style hot dog dive has been in business since 1914, and nothing on the short menu costs more than $2.50 (a hamburger). As their name suggests, the place is famous for their coneys- a thin dog on a steamed bun topped with Cincinnati style chili, chopped onions, and a line of yellow mustard.

This is the type of place where customers use the back entrance and are allowed to walk through the kitchen to get to the dining room. After descending a few wooden stairs, the path takes you past giant pots of chili simmering on the stove with handmade signs warning, "HOT!"

Although I am sure I ate at Coney Island several times during my childhood in Fort Wayne, the time that sticks out in my memory is a late night visit with my dad in my pre-vegetarian days. We sat near the front and made up stories about the large table of large men in the back and their adventures in the Russian Mafia. Perhaps I was his designated driver that night...

Point is, this is one of those places that could not be anywhere else. It feels exactly like Fort Wayne, and full of people who appreciate the connection to a place and tradition, even if it happens to be something as seemingly simple as a hot dog joint.

I certainly did appreciate it today.

Recall my recent complaining about rarely finding vintage shows in my size?

Once again, persistence and patience in thrifting was rewarded- today I scored two pairs of sandals that are big enough for my hooves.

I have a feeling you will be seeing a lot of these in a special project I have planned for my blog starting on the quickly approaching first day of summer. That's right, a plan. Get excited.

To Denim or Not to Denim

So we have all noticed that denim, and lots of it, is all sorts of in this season, right? I am thinking this '80s Jordache vest would add just the right amount over an ultra feminine white or floral dress.

This is in my 'to be sold' pile, but I may have to give it a whirl first.

The Dog Ate My...

What do you get when you add that handsome pup of mine and a beautiful Mid-Century sofa?

Bad things, very bad things. So bad I will spare you from having to witness the horror.

Last week we said goodbye to our sofa which was upholstered in this ornate Oriental print. Our dog Barley has a bit of a chewing problem. Over the years he has chewed on more things that I can, or wish, to list, but this was certainly the worst incident. We had not paid much for it, but it was still terrible seeing such a great piece of vintage furniture destroyed.

It was not so terrible that I entertained the idea of tossing Barley out with its shredded remains, or the remains of any of his prior victims. No matter how shitty of a beast he can be, I have long accepted that cool stuff comes and goes, but he is a part of our household until the end.

And yes, we have tried to crate him. Maybe due to his shelter dog past or whatever landed him in the clink in the first place, he hated it, and honestly, I might have hated it more.

I am a softy, but hey, this dog has issues, and how mad can you really be at that sweet wrinkly face and those big brown eyes?

Another Etsy Preview

There is one plus to being a clotheshorse with inadequate closet space- discovering forgotten treasures in dark closet corners.

I guess our basement has some dark corners too.

I noticed the bright green strap of this handbag poking out of a box while changing the furnace filter this morning. Although I thought I had found everything worth a damn during the recent task of going through my basement stash, here was another box of vintage ready for a new home.

The bright green Kelly Bag is a mint condition Mam'selle with the original mirror. The beaded bag with tiny embroidered flowers is made by Lumured. Both of these summer-friendly handbags will be included in my first batch up for sale.

First Rule of Wearing Vintage

Never leave home without them.

Ruby Slipper Nails

I end up sticking with one polish for my fingers and toes for pretty much the entire summer, every summer. This is another of my thrifty lady moves; I find one perfect color, and use almost every drop of the bottle during the season.

Last summer it was Cover Girl's Coral Rose. This summer it is Revlon's Frankly Scarlet.

Due to the often wishy-washy coverage of shimmers, I typically prefer cremes, but Frankly Scarlet goes on as a true, deep red with just the right amount of gold fleck.

It is like ruby slippers for the nails. Love.

Woodruff Flea

Thanks to getting up ridiculously early this morning I managed to hit all three Drives at the annual Woodruff Place Flea Market before the rain started. Here is a brief recap:

East Drive: A fellow with some great architectural antiques like doorknobs, light fixtures and such is in the 900 block. He also had some excellent news, a marketplace for antiques of all sorts will be opening the first of July on 16th Street at the Monon.

Middle Drive: A fellow with several purchase-worthy lamps is set up on the 800 block. I am kicking myself in the ass for not the buying the mint condition MCM lamp shade he had for sale. Across the street is a sale with a few rough, and therefore pretty gross and creepy, taxidermied animals, pretty sure the same ones I have seen in years past.

West Drive: 800ish block there is a gentleman with a good collection of very old vintage, mostly dresses, but also some underclothes and hats. A lot of it was stained or too old to actually wear, but there were a few gems that probably will not last.

So out of all of this, what did I buy? Only this Napier necklace. In addition to being huge and having a lion, I loved its '70s take on regality and filigree.

Dress Painting

Crossed the Line

Sorry fellow thrift shoppers of my fair city, I have crossed the line.

I have resisted purchasing items in the past with the express intent to resell, but lately my position on this has changed. For years, I felt it was only fair to give another lady the chance to prance around town in the fabulous vintage shoes or a dresses that I could only wish were in my size.

When the guy from a local vintage shop came to our yard sale a few years ago, I resisted him buying the clothes I had for sale. My husband talked some sense in me- 'um, we are having a yard sale to get rid of stuff, and wouldn't making $200 before 8:00 a.m. be nice?' Yes, it was, but I envisioned ladies who would do the wearing and enjoying themselves to score at my sale.

The less romantic reality is, there are plenty of folks in town scooping up vintage and turning it for profit online or in shops. Since I have lived in Indianapolis I have seen the previously mentioned reseller, arms loaded, dashing around a thrift store, oh, I don't know, probably a couple hundred times. Seriously.

This all really hit home after seeing a dress I had recently donated back to the Salvation Army for sale at the Savvy Bazaar, a yard sale type shindig set up in a parking lot a Broad Ripple salon. The day I stopped by there were vendors selling vintage or their own handmade wares with tasty grill smell and blaring reggae filling the air. I must say, this is a pretty sweet idea. But back to the dress- this was one I had not worn in years and donated back to both free up some space in my closet, and to give it the opportunity to be worn and enjoyed again. Here it was, for sale for $16.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I have done some selling before. This was cleaning my closet of clothes no longer fit, that I brought home really hoping to fit, but did not, or that never made it to the alterations shop. These were shoes I swore I could squeeze into, but were too painfully tight to actually wear, or handbags I decided to part with as my collection grew. And a couple items that were just too beautiful and delicate not to possess that I later felt silly for coveting so.

Of course neither of these pairs of darling kicks fit my giant hooves, yet this time they came home with me. Vintage is what I love, what I am passionate about, and what I am good at. I have accepted that others profit from it, and now, I am ready to give it a shot too.

Less-Effort Beauty

In addition to a few suicidal thoughts, blow drying my hair in our pea-sized bathroom during this unseasonably warm weather has inspired me to do something new with my hair.

The something new I am ready to do is nothing.

It is not just the hellish bathroom inferno, hair has been on my mind since last month's visit to New York City. Through my recent trips out of the Midwest, and browsing street style blogs from around the world, I realize, that here in Indiana, we try really hard when it comes to our hair.

In addition to drastic dye jobs on both ends of the spectrum, it is commonplace to spot highlights in streak or chunk form. We meticulously straighten, use smoothing serums, and fortify with hairspray. It is a lot of work, and too often, this shows.

I am guilty of all of this too. Until a few years ago, I no longer knew what my actual hair color was. At some point, it has been every shade, from platinum to black, and most colors of rainbow. Despite choosing more natural colors for some time now, I still spend a lot of time attempting to tame my thick, wavy hair.

Not ready for my grays to show just yet, I will continue to color my hair, but I am ready to give blow drying and straightening a rest. I am tired of working against it, trying to make it something it is not. If a woman can confidently rock a less than perfectly styled mane in Paris or New York, I am declaring this bit of less-effort beauty good enough for me too.