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Monthly Archives: July 2012

lili vintage boutique

Vintage is a peculiar thing, like a self-aware beautiful woman, it’s picky, it’s moody, it’s even sometimes high-maintenance.  But when it loves you, you have no choice but to love it back.

This is my relationship with vintage.  I haven’t always loved it, frankly, I initially found it to be too mysterious to be worth the risk, until I had my first…

Vintage hat, that is!  Wow, that was a gorgeous thing.  A 1940′s velvet headpiece with black lace netting.  Fit me perfectly, gave me that Veronica Lake noir allure I wanted.  First love, it was unforgettable.

Since then, I’ve never been able to deny myself some good, proper vintage.  And it has definitely expanded beyond hats.

Like this last time at Lili Boutique, when I spent almost two hours chatting, admiring, trying things, and photographing every little treasure like I had never seen vintage before.  Granted, it was 90′s outside with that signature Southern humidity, so air-conditioned Lili was an oasis, an oasis with beautiful things and a lovely owner, Lili herself.

Two hours, one yellow dress (that Lili told me it fit no one else so of course I was convinced it was made for me, me and the lady who wore it before in the 40′s) and two hats later, I felt loved.  I felt confident.  I felt included in the tale of the clothing.

This is the truth about buying things that come with a history, like that charming lover, you never know the whole story.

And that’s what keeps you coming back!
for more photos from my New Orleans visit, go here:
{travel diary} new orleans: chapter 1

{travel diary} New Orleans. chapter 1

Before I visited the Big Easy, it was difficult for me to understand the spell that New Orleans casts on its visitors; it wasn’t love at first sight, the city is indeed, complicated.  But I fell, hard, for the complex layers of soul that are so signature New Orleans.  

Way down yonder in New Orleans
In the land of the dreamy scenes
There’s a garden of Eden…you know what I mean

Creole babies with flashin’ eyes
Softly whisper their tender sighs
Then stop….won’t you give your lady fair…a little smile
Stop..ya bet your life you’ll linger there…a little while

We’ve got heaven right here on earth
With those beautiful queens
Way down yonder in New…Orleans
~Louis Armstrong

she walks in beauty…

This post is dedicated to a very good friend of mine, one that not only has drawn me close with her remarkable style and her impeccable grace, but also with her gigantic beautiful heart!  Every sunset I have spent photographing her has been one well spent.  Here’s to another year of your great beauty!  
Happy birthday Chatnoir!

if you’re in love with her outfit, and why wouldn’t you be?
go visit her fashion blog at www.chatnoirtran.com

{dream} in colors

Christina Rossetti

What is pink? a rose is pink
By a fountain’s brink.
What is red? a poppy’s red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float thro’.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? Why, an orange,
Just an orange!


Outfit: J Crew boatneck tee & skirt, Anthropologie purse and necklace, Steve Madden flats; “Paris in a Box” dessert by Tebo Tea Lounge.


costa vella: a garden in santiago…

I hope that in this lifetime, you’ll find yourself wandering, at some point, unexpectedly,
into love.
But if that doesn’t happen, then I hope you’ll find yourself wandering into this garden,
tucked away in the bed and breakfast boutique hotel that is Costa Vella,
set in the floating dream that overlooks the old city of Santiago.

It is a refuge to offer solace or romance,
peace or inspiration,
whatever you’re in the journey to find.
Built with stones full of character, filled with gorgeous Spanish moss and ambitious vines, 
the windy paths lead to petals, leaves,
but hopefully,
most of all,

I leave you to daydream with this poem by Emily Dickinson

A Bird came down the Walk—
He did not know I saw—
He bit an Angleworm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

And then he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass—
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass—

He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all around—
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought—
He stirred his Velvet Head

Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home—

Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam—
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon
Leap, plashless as they swim.