Desperate Housewife

These past few days I have really been contemplating the theme of housewives. The term seems to have become an antique phrase associated with grandmothers who sit in a church pew with their paper fans. The concept of a woman staying at home to care for her household is not only few and far between but the women who actually desire to this are really quite "extinct". The whole process of life seems to revolve around going to school-grade school-high school-college, and then graduating to hopefully find a job which will provide money to either share with a husband or support a woman on her own because in this day and age, who really needs a man?

I must confess I used to find myself caught up in this mindset. My first couple of years of college I found it enjoyable to read novels of women who had found empowerment and could overcome any obstacle set before them because they were-well, a woman. Kate Chopin's novel, "The Awakening" tells of a woman trapped in her marriage as she finds she is a slave to her household. She finds empowerment by rejecting the themes of womanly duties, and rebels against them. I remember reading the book and thinking what a cop-out. The main character didn't want to follow through with her job as a mom-wife-caretaker of the household, and dropped everything. Ridiculous.
I also read multiple novels about various queens who live life to empower themselves above the mindsets of their husbands. They figured out ways to overthrow the rules set forth by their husbands and began to empower themselves. There was also the radical days of the 60's and 70's where women tossed out the aprons and irons to project themselves as equal members of society.

Then, there is today. Today in which I will be 23 in a few short weeks. (Yikes!) And, I find myself ultimately longing for the day when I can take care of a household. I have spent almost four years in college, will hopefully graduate in December, and the most glorious thing I can hope to attain is to become a loving wife and mother. I pray that the Lord richly blesses me with a warm home, and that my children learn to rise up and bless me. I hope that I will be able to figure out the ways of the kitchen and develop fun recipes to enjoy for a lifetime. I hope to tackle the ol' sewing machine and make the needle and thread my friend...this might take some serious patience and longevity, but I am sure it will come, and I want my home to be warm and open for anyone who walks through it's door. I want to be able to host tea-parties, book discussions, play-dates, and ultimately birthday parties and sleepovers. I want there to be secret hiding places, creaks of doors, a backyard full of exciting adventures, and a bedroom of endless possibilities. I want there to be a living room filled with laughter and a dining room table filled with light-hearted discussions. I want a swing on my front porch to sit and gaze at the beautiful sunset with my sweet husband. I want to be able to host family get-togethers and take a hot turkey out of the oven for everyone to enjoy.

What is wrong with solely hoping to become someone resembling June Cleaver who lived in an era where aprons were a fashion statement, steaming cookies on a decorative plate for the neighborhood kids was a common custom, bridge-clubs, volunteer work, and family oriented activities?
Where are the college classes that help girls prepare to be homemakers? I spend all of my days learning the various concepts of a certain painting created over a thousand years ago by an artist I will never remember, or I read a novel that is graphic in nature and I would desire to not feel my mind with, I figure out an equation the length of my right arm, and I stay up until wee hours of the night cramming large amounts of definitions in my brain to one day make sure that the casserole I have placed in the oven turns out lightly-golden?
The whole concept seems a bit confusing to me and I have to take the fact that I am in college and desiring to finish up soon as an accomplishment (I mean after all, it is a HUGE accomplishment)...but as I ponder the next phase of my life-- which I find myself doing more and more these days, I have to wonder. Where are the June Cleavers of this era? Where are the women who are hoping to spend their lives as a homemaker? What happens when you are given a calling and longing to do so?

I don't look down on corporate women. I find them very respectable and I admire the drive they possess to wake up every morning and take care of their families as well as tackle the workforce, but I do not believe it is for me. I spent an entire sememester last year sitting within the confines of a cubicle and I felt completely useless. I would sit and worry about various things that I could be accomplishing rather than merely sitting there and hoping the phone would ring or my fake plant might die. I pondered the places I needed to go, the laundry I had to do, and the assignments I needed to finish. There was a multitude of other activities I wanted to be doing over sitting in a desk chair with a dressy pair of slacks on. I would glance out of my beloved window every once in a while to a little girl walking hand in hand with her mother, or a woman jogging along with a stroller in front of her and admire the freeness they experienced. Not only were they able to enjoy the beautiful sunny days with their children, but they were able to spend quality time with them with productive things that would ultimately benefit them.


I am sorry, my children will NEVER be put in a daycare while I go sit in a cubicle. That would be the most horrific experience I could imagine.

Although I haven't quite made my mind up as far as the schooling process, I do find homeschooling to be a worthwhile experience. As a young kid, I thoroughly enjoyed it. When I got to high school, I resented it a bit, but I do find that if done correctly, homeschooling can be a very worthwhile experience. The ability to learn and interact within an environment solely based around your family and have good, solid morals taught in a curriculum that seeks to teach you more about God is 100% more refreshing then sticking them in a stuffy classroom with other little kids who cough and sneeze on them and give them germs, who bully them or talk down to them, who give them worldly concepts, and who are exposed to curriculums that will NOT give them a biblical basis for life.
The school thing will definitely be worked out in due time, but homeschooling has been mulling around in my mind as of late.

I think the career of a housewife is a tremendous career and I admire my mother and various women I know who took the call of taking care of their homes instead of sitting in a cubicle. I cherish the multitude of recipes that await me passed down from generation after generation of housewives, and I look forward to sharing them with my future children. I value the quality time I was able to spend with my family and the closeness I have with them as a result, and I love the fact that my home is warm and open and filled with laughter and love.
There are creaks in doors that sound familiar and comforting, there are places in the back yard where pirates used to live--there are secret passages that would lead to the vast unknown, there are tombstones of beloved animals cherished throughout the years that my dad created in the depths of our back yard, there are warm smells from the kitchen, and there is laughter from the kitchen table at dinnertime.
So, June Cleaver, I admire you. You paved a pathway for generations to follow in your footsteps. You donned an apron and made it look appealing, and so to all the housewives out there, I thank you, and I hope to join your team in the future.
I will need immediate assistance with the sewing machine!

Musings

I want to wake up
And unfold the covers as a mound of tissue paper
Walking throughout the house and picking up pieces of wrapping
That ties together a mint green box
Filled with laughter and innocent desires-
And unwrap laughter throughout the day
With a whoosh of a candle flickering
And sit atop my swing with the weight of my crown
And scoop of my chocolate cake
And forget all the mutterings of girls growing into rulers of dynasties
Or households and realize that
He isn’t here.
And the time fleets away like sand upon the shore
And tomorrow brings a step closer to a ticking clock
And his thoughts are far from my realm of
Celebration-
Close my eyes,
Make a wish.
-Emily

Top Ten Goals of Summer 2010

I live for summertime. There is something nestled in the back of my brain that signals happiness when the weather grows warmer and the sunshine makes its first appearance. I love the sound of crickets chirping at the close of a day, the ability to lounge underneath the warmth of the sun, walking barefoot through the grass, and reading a book that is not assigned to me.

Although my spirits are a bit dampened this summer because I have to take summer classes in order to graduate this December, I am not letting the onslaught of academia weigh me down and have completed a summer list of things I hope to accomplish. It will be somewhat of a challenge since I know that in less than a week I will have my daily planner strapped to me as the only source of guidance through the mass of daily work I will have to finish in order to pass and well, graduate, but I am hoping to find time to still enjoy my favorite season despite stuffy classrooms, textbooks, and learning information I thoroughly deem useless.

*Have a picnic at Oak Mountain- The picnic table atop the most gorgeous view of Alabama is really a joy and complete treat for me. To sit and munch on a carrot stick and overlook the beautiful landscape of God's creation is delightful. The hike to Peavine falls and the trickle (it is summertime so there is not quite a rush) of water overflowing from the rocks is just beautiful. I can't wait!

*Swimming- Going swimming with my little sister is one of the happiest moments of my summer. We have a great time donning our goggles and diving into the clear, blue waters playing games of "telephone", "tea-time", and "shark bait"....we also have our annual holding our breath contest, and diving lessons for the somewhat in-experienced divers...cough cough...me.

*Going on a Train- For whatever reason the concept of traveling somewhere on a train sounds so delightful to me. I think I might be the only one in this category and it doesn't sound quite appealing to travel completely by myself, but I have been researching Amtrak almost daily to see where I might go. I would LOVE to travel up north and experience it via train however the price tags seem to be hindering me just a bit so it might be the type of thing where I take a train to Georgia or something. Savannah would be delightful.

*White Water Rafting- This little surge of energy and complete athletic prowess (which I normally do not possess) has been influenced by my dad. He has been researching ways for the family to go rafting and after several searches on *Google* I have found that this seems really exciting and fun. Although I don't know how my paddling skills would be or what I would do if faced with the fact that I am going to drown or go down a rather large rapid that I would not be in control of, it would be an experience I would stretch myself with and that sounds appealing.

*Travel to the Beach- Although I always imagine going to the beach as many times as possible during the summer months since we are so close and it is well within a days drive, I never find myself going more than once with the family and even that idea might be in jeapordy this year. My heart is at home when it is near the sea and I can't imagine not going this year. The wind clipping my hair as I sit atop a mound of white sand and hear the rush of waves curling at my toes is something wonderful. I ultimately will have a house on the beach in the latter years of my life. Just sayin.

*Go canoeing- Again, I am not superbly athletic but this seems fun and quite the adventure so if I can find a canoe, and a river that doesn't smell like sulphur, I will be 100% ready.

*Have a black and white movie marathon. (I think this is pretty self-explanatory).

*Become physically active in some sort of cardio type of class. I would love to take up some rigorous pilates or possible a stretch class of some sort as well as become involved in Zumba (the latest trend in the fitness world). I will research.

*Take a day trip somewhere- I guess if the whole train thing doesn't work out, I could always take out my ol' faithful vehicle (I'm not sure it is exactly faithful, but I try) and traverse to possible Savannah, or Nashville, or somewhere remote and southern.

*Make all A's. (This will be difficult when I am not entirely motivated to even attend class).

*Interview someone cool. (Maybe on one of my trips!)

I think I might have typed 11 goals so if one doesn't come to happen, I will have a backup.
Now, all I have to do is figure out a way to accomplish all of this after my classes that I will be attending almost daily and the money to accomplish them from trying to ask off of work.

I will start plotting when I am free from the chains of the workforce that bind me. 6:00 please come!
- Okay, attending a fair is not exactly in my "to-do" list but I did find these images of Ferris Wheels to be super cute and summery.

Circe

The sun drops luridly into the west;
darkness has raised her arms to draw him down
before the time, not waiting as of wont
till he has come to her behind the sea;
and the smooth waves grow sullen in the gloom
and wear their threatening purple; more and more
the plain of waters sways and seems to rise
convexly from its level of the shores;
and low dull thunder rolls along the beach:
there will be storm at last, storm, glorious storm.

Oh welcome, welcome, though it rend my bowers,
scattering my blossomed roses like the dust,
splitting the shrieking branches, tossing down
my riotous vines with their young half-tinged grapes
like small round amethysts or beryls strung
tumultuously in clusters, though it sate
its ravenous spite among my goodliest pines
standing there round and still against the sky
that makes blue lakes between their sombre tufts,
or harry from my silvery olive slopes
some hoary king whose gnarled fantastic limbs
wear crooked armour of a thousand years;
though it will hurl high on my flowery shores
the hostile wave that rives at the poor sward
and drags it down the slants, that swirls its foam
over my terraces, shakes their firm blocks
of great bright marbles into tumbled heaps,
and makes my preached and mossy labyrinths,
where the small odorous blossoms grow like stars
strewn in the milky way, a briny marsh.
What matter? let it come and bring me change,
breaking the sickly sweet monotony.

I am too weary of this long bright calm;
always the same blue sky, always the sea
the same blue perfect likeness of the sky,
one rose to match the other that has waned,
to-morrow's dawn the twin of yesterday's;
and every night the ceaseless crickets chirp
the same long joy and the late strain of birds
repeats their strain of all the even month;
and changelessly the petty plashing surfs
bubble their chiming burden round the stones;
dusk after dusk brings the same languid trance
upon the shadowy hills, and in the fields
the waves of fireflies come and go the same,
making the very flash of light and stir
vex one like dronings of the spinning wheel.

Give me some change. Must life be only sweet,
all honey-pap as babes would have their food?
And, if my heart must always be adrowse
in a hush of stagnant sunshine, give me then
something outside me stirring; let the storm
break up the sluggish beauty, let it fall
beaten below the feet of passionate winds,
and then to-morrow waken jubilant
in a new birth: let me see subtle joy
of anguish and of hopes, of change and growth.

What fate is mine who, far apart from pains
and fears and turmoils of the cross-grained world,
dwell, like a lonely god, in a charmed isle
where I am first and only, and, like one
who should love poisonous savours more than mead,
long for a tempest on me and grow sick
of resting, and divine free carelessness!
Oh me, I am a woman, not a god;
yea, those who tend me even are more than I,
my nymphs who have the souls of flowers and birds
singing and blossoming immortally.

Ah me! these love a day and laugh again,
and loving, laughing, find a full content;
but I know nought of peace, and have not loved.

Where is my love? Does some one cry for me,
not knowing whom he calls? does his soul cry
for mine to grow beside it, grow in it?
does he beseech the gods to give him me,
the one unknown rare woman by whose side
no other woman, thrice as beautiful,
should once seem fair to him; to whose voice heard
in any common tones no sweetest sound
of love made melody on silver lutes,
or singing like Apollo's when the gods
grow pale with happy listening, might be peered
for making music to him; whom once found
there will be no more seeking anything?

Oh love, oh love, oh love, art not yet come
out of the waiting shadows into life?
art not yet come after so many years
that I have longed for thee? Come! I am here.

Not yet. For surely I should feel a sound
of his far answering, if now in the world
he sought me who will seek me--Oh ye gods
will he not seek me? Is it all a dream?
will there be never never such a man?
will there be only these, these bestial things
who wallow in my styes, or mop and mow
among the trees, or munch in pens and byres,
or snarl and filch behind their wattled coops;
these things who had believed that they were men?

Nay but he will come. Why am I so fair,
and marvellously minded, and with sight
which flashes suddenly on hidden things,
as the gods see who do not need to look?
why wear I in my eyes that stronger power
than basilisks, whose gaze can only kill,
to draw men's souls to me to live or die
as I would have them? why am I given pride
which yet longs to be broken, and this scorn
cruel and vengeful for the lesser men
who meet the smiles I waste for lack of him
and grow too glad? why am I who I am,
but for the sake of him whom fate will send
one day to be my master utterly,
that he should take me, the desire of all,
whom only he in the world could bow to him?

Oh sunlike glory of pale glittering hairs,
bright as the filmy wires my weavers take
to make me golden gauzes; oh deep eyes,
darker and softer than the bluest dusk
of August violets, darker and deep
like crystal fathomless lakes in summer noons;
oh sad sweet longing smile; oh lips that tempt
my very self to kisses; oh round cheeks,
tenderly radiant with the even flush
of pale smoothed coral; perfect lovely face
answering my gaze from out this fleckless pool;
wonder of glossy shoulders, chiselled limbs;
should I be so your lover as I am,
drinking an exquisite joy to watch you thus
in all a hundred changes through the day,
but that I love you for him till he comes,
but that my beauty means his loving it?

Oh, look! a speck on this side of the sun,
coming--yes, coming with the rising wind
that frays the darkening cloud-wrack on the verge
and in a little while will leap abroad,
spattering the sky with rushing blacknesses,
dashing the hissing mountainous waves at the stars.
'Twill drive me that black speck a shuddering hulk
caught in the buffeting waves, dashed impotent
from ridge to ridge, will drive it in the night
with that dull jarring crash upon the beach,
and the cries for help and the cries of fear and hope.

And then to-morrow they will thoughtfully,
with grave low voices, count their perils up,
and thank the gods for having let them live,
and tell of wives or mothers in their homes,
and children, who would have such loss in them
that they must weep, and may be I weep too,
with fancy of the weepings had they died.
And the next morrow they will feel their ease
and sigh with sleek content, or laugh elate,
tasting delights of rest and revelling,
music and perfumes, joyaunce for the eyes
of rosy faces and luxurious pomps,
the savour of the banquet and the glow
and fragrance of the wine-cup; and they'll talk
how good it is to house in palaces
out of the storms and struggles, and what luck
strewed their good ship on our accessless coast.
Then the next day the beast in them will wake,
and one will strike and bicker, and one swell
with puffed up greatness, and one gibe and strut
in apish pranks, and one will line his sleeve
with pilfered booties, and one snatch the gems
out of the carven goblets as they pass,
one will grow mad with fever of the wine,
and one will sluggishly besot himself,
and one be lewd, and one be gluttonous;
and I shall sickly look, and loathe them all.

Oh my rare cup! my pure and crystal cup,
with not one speck of colour to make false
the passing lights, or flaw to make them swerve!
My cup of Truth! How the lost fools will laugh
and thank me for my boon, as if I gave
some momentary flash of the gods' joy,
to drink where I have drunk and touch the touch
of my lips with their own! Aye, let them touch.

Too cruel am I? And the silly beasts,
crowding around me when I pass their way,
glower on me and, although they love me still,
(with their poor sorts of love such as they could,)
call wrath and vengeance to their humid eyes
to scare me into mercy, or creep near
with piteous fawnings, supplicating bleats.
Too cruel? Did I choose them what they are?
or change them from themselves by poisonous charms?
But any draught, pure water, natural wine,
out of my cup, revealed them to themselves
and to each other. Change? there was no change;
only disguise gone from them unawares:
and had there been one right true man of them
he would have drunk the draught as I had drunk,
and stood unchanged, and looked me in the eyes,
abashing me before him. But these things--
why, which of them has even shown the kind
of some one nobler beast? Pah, yapping wolves
and pitiless stealthy wild-cats, curs and apes
and gorging swine and slinking venomous snakes
all false and ravenous and sensual brutes
that shame the Earth that bore them, these they are.

Lo, lo! the shivering blueness darting forth
on half the heavens, and the forked thin fire
strikes to the sea: and hark, the sudden voice
that rushes through the trees before the storm,
and shuddering of the branches. Yet the sky
is blue against them still, and early stars
glimmer above the pine-tops; and the air
clings faint and motionless around me here.

Another burst of flame--and the black speck
shows in the glare, lashed onwards. It were well
I bade make ready for our guests to-night.



-Augusta Webster

Getting a Gilbert

This past week I have found my newfound freedom of lazy summer afternoons with schoolwork assignments feeling as a thing of the past, and I have been thoroughly enjoying it. The ability to spend my time in various ways that allow me to enjoy things I wouldn't normally be able to do is one of the most splendid experiences one could imagine. I have taken complete advantage of this time by laying out by the pool, trying to stay in shape with fifty million crunches to the tune of the latest Civil Wars song, and brushing up on my favorite- Anne of Green Gables.
In Anne with an e's world, it is breathtaking and real and I feel as if I am visiting with an old friend as I sit and watch the movies or fumble through each chapter of my books. If Anne were alive, we would be bosom buddies and I would sit in her boat and recite Alfred Lord Tennyson's, "The Lady of Shalott" as I glided down the stream of a calming brook and imagine that I too was leaving the tower to find my lost love.





I would sit with Diana and ponder all of the world's greatest wonders, and I would feel as if I was atop a cloud with a beau like Gilbert.

- Bosom Buds.


Gilbert.
Although in the first several books, Gilbert annoys Anne and she detests his very existance, it isn't until the latter novels that she discovers the depth of her love for him. He is kind and considerate and he loves Anne. He understands her and he pursues her. She has always been within the realm of his possibility and he never backs down from pursuing her.
The most romantic love story. Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley.

This leaves me pondering- where is my Gilbert? Granted, I was a complete sucker for the romantic love shared between the couple that when I purchased my dog two years ago, I had to name him something significant. Fred, Tom, Jack, weren't exactly special doggie names to me, so I broke down and named him Gilbert. This name has always held a special place in my heart since the age of ten when I first picked up Lucy Maud Montgomery's classic novel, "Anne of Green Gables"...I immersed myself into the world of red hair, wild imaginations, and Gilbert. At the tender age of ten, I would sit atop my bed and longingly imagine what my Gilbert might resemble...as time changed and I continually re-read the books as a sense of familiarity, I would gradually change my image of Gilbert to what I would hope he would be....When I was 15, I wanted him to be "tall, dark, handsome, and have a nice car".
16- He needed to be tall.
17- He needed to be handsome.
18- He needed to want to kiss me, be handsome, and tall. (notice a trend?)
19- He needed to have a job, pursuit of a career, money in the bank, and handsome.
20- He needed to be a devoted Christian actively pursuing the Lord's desires for his heart, respecting of me and my desires, able to allow me to be independent, pursuit of a place in life, and a good family.
21- Same as a above and I wasn't a fan of unhealthy eating habits. He also needed to have a good work ethic, and somewhat normal. Tall didn't really matter anymore.
22- Same beliefs, pursuit of marriage, children, career, kind, genuine, NOT picky, able to have a strong character and backbone when not around me, handsome (to me) and overall-lovely.

And...this brings us to the present day. I don't know if I ever finished my story about the dog, but I named my dog Gilbert. Besides the loving four legged creature that likes to cuddle and is pretty handsome to me, I have to confess that I haven't found my Gilbert Blythe quite yet.
Although Anne was annoyed with him at the beginning, I'm pretty sure she was completely infatuated with him and his chivalrous nature to take over any feelings of annoyance she might have experienced at age 10. I highly doubt she found many problems with him, and I'm pretty sure she always felt loved by him. If another guy came along it didn't matter because she had her "Gilbert" and nothing in the world would compare.

The Lord has my Gilbert out there. He is molding and shaping him for me. Although I do still secretly hope he is tall, and handsome, I know that when I meet him he is going to be breathtaking, and I will feel as Anne did when Gilbert wrapped her in his arms- atop a cloud.

Gleaming the Golden Child

If I have heard it once, I have heard it almost daily, "That will look great on your resume." These sage words of wisdom are offered as if it is the only thing that will help me survive the crazy abyss of life that awaits me. I have all of these images running through my head of me graduating from college and being handed a gold-plated resume, or running a marathon with my number being my resume. I see girls walking around and no longer compare their miniscule figures to that of my own- but imagine, "What is on their resume?" Jobs arise and I think, "Would that look good on my resume?" or I accomplish a certain task and complete the check-mark within my head of, "Cha-ching. Upload to resume now."

The trouble I have had recently is with the fact that the standard rule of thumb is that all resumes should be one page. You should presumably have your name in a superbly catchy, eye-grabbing font, contact info, objective, and then of course your amazing qualifications. References are always available upon request and you hope beyond hope that all of your detailed efforts throughout the years will result in a callback, interview, JOB, and paycheck. I have various different tips on making the resume golden, and end up closing my computer confused and frustrated that I don't have the "Golden Child". I have had unbelievable opportunities presented to me throughout my college years ranging from honors programs (these were in the beginning stages of my college career), writing opportunities, articles published, and the ability to meet many fabulous people. *They were really better than the word fabulous conveys but it was the only adjective that sounded deserving of the fact that they were grand*.
I have attempted recently to condense these wonderful opportunities to fit on one page and found my efforts unsuccessful. In order to cohesively portray the best of my talents and abilities I have had to weed out various experiences in order to mold the golden child. This is a hard task. It is like weeding out my favorite candies from my Halloween pile to share with my parents, or weeding out the clothes from my closet to donate to the thrift store. The shirt I bought on a whim from Gap's clearance section might be worn once a year but it is still worth keeping right?
Weeding out is difficult and something that should not have to happen when you compose all of life's experiences. I mean after all, you did experience all of those events that should project a well-rounded individual for a future employer, right?

I weeded out some of my high school accomplishments because, well, it was high school. I barely even remember who I was in high school, much less the efforts I made to change the world. I think some of the goals I had at that time were to travel the world like a wild vagabond and never have to worry about employment, or find an Australian guy with an accent and have him buy me a house in the Outback so I could live in what I deemed, "Paradise." I am now far from my high school days and have yet to meet anyone from Australia or travel anywhere that might transform me into a vagabond. Plus, the thought of being a vagabond now stresses me out because do they ever shower? Or do they have anyone to be a vagabond with?

I have also carefully selected my references to be available if ever "requested"...not that I am 100% sure employers actually follow through with this process, I have heard that in some cases they do ask for them and better to be fully equipped with people who will pat you on the back or signal a thumbs up then individuals who say, "Oh yeah, I knew her five years ago."
My references are people that I have worked for recently, friends who I like, individuals of high standing in my eyes, and genuine people who will represent me and the fruits of my labor well.

So, I'm not sure if my resume has reached "Golden" status quite yet. We shall see once December hits and the tassel from my hat has been shifted to the desired place of accomplishment. Then I guess I can revert back to comparing other girls miniscule figures over their resumes because in the long run, I doubt half of them, if any, even have a resume...much less a golden one.

- My future career?

Unique-esh

Birmingham is not a bustling metropolis, but we manage to keep up with the world. We have help from magazines (fashion, pop-culture, news, etc.), television, and a firm belief that we are hip and cool with various "trends" on the market. So, it never ceases to amaze me when the latest style on the cover of Vogue will somehow make its way to the ol' ham. I have never been one to keep up. This stemmed from childhood when my mom decided that the cool thing for me was to wear homemade hairbows that resembled small helicopter propellors and a mixture of stripes and polka dots as a means for self-expression. Thumbing through old photo albums, stirrup leggings and jelly shoes were my essentials, and the trendiest part of my wardrobe were some Little Mermaid bubble pants. They were awesome. It didn't seem to matter if Mary-Kate or Ashley Olsen was wearing it on (the fashion influence of my day), I knew I was cool and it didn't matter what anyone else thought.

Fast Forward.
I am now about to enter my 23rd year of life, and find it annoying when I see people in a "cookie cutter" mold. These types of people (yes, I am stereotyping) travel through life with little to no originality and spend their days waiting to see what will be the next best thing to copy. I can't lie and say that I do not own things that are part of a trend. Currently I have an i-pod, laptop, cell-phone, and issues of Vogue and Glamour lining the crevices of my bookshelves. I no longer write letters, text messaging is a way I communicate, and I check Facebook almost hourly. So, to say I don't follow trends is not entirely accurate although I do desperately try to avoid the flow and maintain a level of experience swimming upstream. I peruse anything vintage in hopes to bring back certain aspects of the beloved 40's and 50's in which I feel I would have been adequately suited. I miss the concept of a lady wearing white gloves to go grocery shopping, or the purchase of a new hat signifying a day's greatest shopping finds, and the overall feeling of elegance through day to day activities. Why don't we dress up when we merely leave the house? Why are pearls considered something dressy?
Stories of my grandmother and her generation consist of her never leaving the house without her gloves, thinking mixed bathing (swimming with guys) was a horrific concept, and pin curls being an every night custom. I sometimes imagine what her expression might be at seeing a girl swimming in something resembling petite lingerie, an evening dinner wearing a pair of athletic shorts (cough cough, the swoosh we all know and love), or the lack of a good hat to make all the worries of the world go away. Here are just a few ideas of sheer loveliness:

-I love this.


- The hat is beautiful.



- I would wear this!

- Little Miss Audrey.










What has happened with the trendiness of society? Is it not refreshing to feel elegant and ladylike? Does the concept of leaving home with what you might sleep in suddenly take precedence over feeling glamourous?

This is what I see when I leave the house these days:








Although my budget does now allow me to purchase the most classic vintage concepts from various indie websites created to lovely icons such as Audrey (my favorite) or Grace, this summer I am in pursuit of discovering my outward elegance. Sure, I might be caught once in a while in the season's latest trend of Nike shorts and a white v-neck, but who cares if no one wears pearls with a pair of blue jeans, or a cardigan to add flavor to a sundress? I mean, I was the girl with a propellor atop my head many years ago, I doubt the feeling of being "unique" will come as a shock, and perhaps next year, the cookie cutter theme will be a pair of white gloves. I wouldn't be opposed and might find myself flowing, er, downstream.