The Antlers and Some Goodies

Listen to the lyrics.

A few nights ago I was up late chatting with a friend, and the topic of music came up.
Always a casual subject, I was expecting an exchange of songs, and that would be it. 
I was saying how if you listen to Bon Iver’s Blood Bank at the same time as Rainy Mood, it can lull you to sleep within minutes. He agreed. “But nothing will ever come close to The Antlers.”

Here are the lyrics.

…and he was right. I have been completely wooed.
It isn’t often that music can actually hypnotize me enough so that if I lay down and listen to it, I can just let their lyrics breathe through me, the delicate notes of piano acting as a heartbeat to their message. Their music is beautiful.

Please listen to these songs! I hope it shall resonate with you as deeply as it has with me. *read in an elderly English accent for most impact*

Anyways, it’s good to be home. I’ve spent the last week reading To the Lighthouse, sipping variations of David’s Tea (can’t get any better than this), watching Pride & Prejudice over and over (don’t ask why, not sure myself, I was just obsessed) and playing Kettering on the piano, but the internet connection has been a sketchy, disappointing situation so I couldn’t post anythang.

But YO! Because I have abandoned you unexpectedly for a week, I fully intend to make up for that by making this post full of equally unexpected goodies

Ilana Kohn, Spring ’12
Ilana Kohn, you too have wooed me with your breezy tops and sundresses. Something about watching Keira Knightley wander through the knolls of the English countryside in those simple, high waisted dresses make me want to throw away my entire wardrobe and replace them with summer dresses fit for six glorious weeks of July spent in a French chateau. Really not too much to ask.
Bzrbzr Ombre Tights
Ombre tights are easily my newest obsession. Scrolling down past each photo was like watching a flower bloom in slow motion, a little in awe… at tights. Aka Tiffany Ju has made tights into something of an art and that is no small feat, I’m sure.
Slash this song came on and I found it quite suitable. Refer to the line: “…and you can walk your long legs, baby, right out of my life.”
Scout & Catalogue, Spring ’12
If I could look anywhere near as effortlessly cool as this girl, then I’m sold. This photo shoot was apparently shot entirely in the dead of winter, but they’ve achieved such a dainty, spring-like vibe to it all with her distressed blonde hair, the pastel palette, and the happy splash of vibrant ocean colours.
Okay, who doesn’t want a wolf eating their finger as a ring. That isn’t a question on purpose. I already know the answer. And note the battle wounds on the ears of the rabbit, what a unique touch to an already whimsical piece itself. 
Erin Wasson for Zadig & Voltaire
Here are a few goodies hand picked from her shots for Zadig & Voltaire, Summer ’12 collection. What did I take from these photos? 
a. I want her hair (…slash her face in general, and her ability to look so absolutely laid back while maintaining that rocker, bad-ass look).
b. This will be my French vacation home I was mentioning earlier. Oh golly jee willickers, guys, just bought it, so excited!
and c. Above all, I need Zadig & Voltaire in my summer wardrobe, stat. 
This has to be the most ornate, stunning, intricate fireplace I have ever seen. Talk about paying attention to details. It’s honestly a form of art in this room, I can’t take my eyes off it. 
Mmm, greenery. Come to mama! I would be so at peace working here. Kudos to the architect who intentionally forgot a wall, pretty brilliant.
D’aaaw. I can already a picture an entire wall dedicated to these enchanting shadow boxes, in an otherwise totally minimalist room. Very scandinavian, eh? 
Oh, and ps, be prepared to be washed over with envy. The creator of these gems lives on a small cycladic sland, Antiparos, with the Aegean sea stretching beyond her view for miles upon miles, acting as her inspiration and source of calm. Wow. 
Until next time, I bid you adieu.
That was my cat alter ego speaking.


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