Mother Nature, My Favourite House Guest

When I was still living at home, as in the house where my mum would put out a beautiful bunch of flowers on the kitchen table, and the house where my siblings and I would fight to the death over the last half-piece of bacon, and even the house where my dog would leave us the smelliest of presents in the darkest of corners, I never came to fully appreciate just how much I needed those flowers my mum would so diligently adorn our house with. Although I did very quickly appreciate the lack of bacon debacles and poopy presents. (Warding off my dog’s twisted sense of humour has been a struggle.)

But now it has hit me as to why flowers are a necessity my mum couldn’t go without. Quite simply, flowers are 24/7 spreaders of joy and cheer.

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 But now I am forced to accept the weeds along the side of the road on my way to class as  indifferent replacements. Once upon a time, dandelions were sweet, simple gestures, but now they are my only hope for a burst of natural exuberance. Long story short, my life is lacking some natural exuberance.

I just want a chair where I can feel like my bottom’s on vacation.

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Or a room where the walls are purely white because the flowers speak for themselves, breathing into the room with colourful exhales.

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 Even if that means just a sliver of life, like a single branch, or, if i’m really and truly desperate, a picture of pressed flowers will do just fine.

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Perhaps one day I’ll try to act as though I am Mother Nature herself, deserving of an indulgence so cheerful and so joyous that it’s simply not meant for the mortal race; I would drape a string of bottles with my lovely cheerleaders in each one over top of my desk. Ah, the optimistic sense of motivation I’d be given.

“She has it! She’s got it! She can always do it! Wahoo! Yippee doo dah! Look at her go!”

My cheer of choice. Thanks, ladies.

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As a result of my desire to make my humble abode as welcoming as possible to my future flowery tenants, I came across some damn nifty flower-trappers. Don’t worry. To the flower familia, this contraption is just called, “Palace for Joy.” What a life they lead. Maybe one day my room can just be permanently entitled, “Palace for Joy.” Although of course I’m going to need some flowers for that to even be a possibility. No Joy Palace lacks in Mother Nature’s offspring. Don’t be fooled. She needs an heir or two.

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Mmmmm. Yes, that is my go-to response for these babies. Simply, “mmmm.” Maybe it’s this dreamy photography, where the flowers look as though they really are captured from  utopia in glass water drops, but something tells me that the way the sunlight would dance through these Orbs of Joy would at the very least warrant an, “Mmmm” or a, “My god, I think I just opened my eyes for the first time” or maybe, “Turn me into a fairy, asap. My homeland is calling me.”

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Luckily for me, I live with someone who shares this somewhat obsessive appreciation for flowers. Now what does this naturally call for? A wall of pressed cheerleaders. Okay, that was admittedly disturbing, but remember that the cheerleaders of the Earth actually enjoy it. Their presence is intended to be permanent, but for some reason (someone told me because they are technically alive, but it could be a rumour) they need water and whatnot to keep on livin’. So pressed flowers are a beautifully convenient replacement.

Here is a perhaps more fancy-shmancy-DIY-skillz version..

If you want to get really epic:

gorgeous garden wallUntil next time, keep smilin’ (with flowers in your room, I think I’ve made it seem like that’s the only way possible).

*m

first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh is me, eighth, ninth

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A Thing or Two About DIY Adventures

I have never been one to jump into DIY ventures. First of all, there has been a fear for hot glue guns festering inside of me since I first tried to attach impossibly delicate hair to a wooden angel doll at the age of six, and, on that same sticky notion, I find bits and pieces of dried glue stuck to my body as though I were slowly transforming into a reptile for what seems like a week after. And so, for the past while, otherwise known as this lifetime, my free time has quite lazily drifted over to my computer, or eating out with lady friends, or perusing down the streets popping in and out of stores. But lately, as I avoid looking at my bank account where the numbers that used to look back at me with such jolliness are now literally sneering and/or laughing at me, I have to say my eyes have strayed every which way into this other world. DIY doesn’t just appear as a little more appealing than before, it looks like something of a necessity to me if I want to have a somewhat visually pleasing room next year.

The world of my free time may be about to turn into… slightly-less-free-but-oh-so-joyously-productive time. Can’t say it’s a decision I want to make at this point. I’m still hoping I win some variation of contest that just violently throws money at me, as though my bank account numbers are yelling, “Yeah, take this! We’re multiplying like crazy! Whatcha gonna do about it, huh?” And I would laugh and say, “Silly money. I want more of you to love.” And then I would take one step into Anthropologie and *poof*, money be gone. It really would work that way. Let’s not even think about ABC House & Home at this point.

But see, I’m not a delusional person. I am painstakingly aware that my part-time job next year will not fuel these wistful ideas of mine. And so, thus marked the opening of Sweet Paul Magazine, no. 10. The edition of last year’s fall, but the edition that threw a pitcher of cold, sweet, inspirational water of DIY goodness in my face and opened my eyes to this hidden world. Instead of recoiling from the boiling weapon otherwise known as a hot glue gun, I think back to some fond memories of my grandma and me in a white-washed painting studio, and of the less aggressive DIY projects we took on – like painting rocks, or making photo albums. The kind of DIY projects I genuinely enjoyed.

So now I find myself walking down the street into a cafe and instead of thinking to myself, “That grid of watercolour portraits has to be the most visually pleasing thing I have seen all day,” to, “Who the heck says I can’t do that?”

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Don’t worry. I will find the artist of this collection next time I swing by, but in the meantime, just bask in this charming set of portraits with faces spanning decades and personalities that are entirely unapologetic in their variety. I feel as though any one of these fellows, or ladies, would have an entirely different answer to, “Why is your portrait up here?”

And so, some projects I am (no word of a lie) stoked to take on before the remainder of my summer becomes lost in the sounds of my keyboard. All brought to you by the sweetest of crafty folks, Sweet Paul. Some of them, admittedly, are still a little frightening to me, but baby steps involve just thinking about it, right?

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Festive Pom Pom Frames!

Especially if one is partial to black & white photos, which are sometimes the classiest of colour hues, these cute little frames will give that much desired pop of colour that some folks (hey, what’s up, that’s me) can’t do without.

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City Scene Candle Motives!

I dig the traditional architecture (in fact, it looks like the Bay building in Vancouver to me), but most of all, I am swooning over the fact that the lights will be flickering with the candle (or LED flickering light) making the whole scene so whimsically alive.

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Jar Light!

Yes, this one is daunting as it involves actual electrical work, but the outcome is almost enough for me to maybe possibly consider it? Yes. Got my thinking face on now.

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Vintage Bookshelf!

If anyone is already lusting after those walls where there is a myriad of book pages pressed to the wall (like this), practically breathing inspiration into your room, then the idea of using a vintage book as a shelf might just be its equally whimsical sister. Imagine placing miniature teacups and delicate vases on top. Lovely.

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Castle Votive Lantern!

The young lady behind this magical creation, Lova Blavarg, is a Swedish princess. Well, at least the closest thing to, because she is gracing the world with the loveliest of crafts and art projects. She must literally only drink creative juices (bought in some obscure local Swedish farmer’s market) because I don’t know how on earth she comes up with some of these beautiful ideas. Who wouldn’t want a castle fit for faeries atop a desk bogged down with work? NOT I. I need a dose of DIY luxury in my life from time to time.

I also snuck away to my cabin this weekend and, let me tell you, this place is a DIY heaven. Next time I head up there I will take a few snaps of what I mean. photo 2photo 3

The lodge is a place where all of the visitors on the island can go, but most of all, it represents the island as a place where interior design does not conform to the pages of the latest magazines, because the beautiful simplicity of this type of design is its timelessness. In other words, I could return a decade later and still find myself equally charmed by the quaint nature of symmetrical beds and faded floral curtains that have always allowed the most delicious amount of sunlight through.

The lanky figure in the second photo is an overgrown elf I found wandering through the forest, quick to assess the comfort of these beds (let’s just say the lodge doesn’t necessarily conform to the latest mattresses either).

That’s all for now. Thanks for reading, you lovely human!

*m

An Incomplete To Do List

What I should do with my summer and what I do, in fact, do with my summer are two very different things. And not that I’m not enjoying myself, with this intellectual enlightenment I’ve been granted during summer school – it’s just, I need some variety up in hur. Don’t get me wrong, I relish summer. It parades into my life once a year, with baskets of confetti and absurdly large sunglasses, and we all dance around like old pals in front of some kid’s lemonade stand. We then haggle the dollar price on the lemonade and leave with a real bargain! (I kid, I kid. I pay fair price for that lemonade. It’s fair trade.) But here comes the real tragedy. I haven’t been to a single lemonade stand. This doesn’t necessarily define my summer, believe it or not, but I also haven’t been to the beach more than two times, maybe thrice (I am Shakespeare with that word). And I also haven’t had a week of lounging on my couch where my laziness has taken on the shape of another Miranda, dressed in a pair of lounge pants that are never allowed to leave the house and Hermione level hair.

Hey, you might be thinking, ah jeez, what a debbie downer (imagine if your name was actually Debbie Downer for a moment and bask in gratitude), but all I’m thinking lately is how I should be painting my front door bubblegum pink and putting up my favourite number on it.

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Or that I should spend more time making use of all of the dishes in my kitchen, whipping up crepes and croissants and declaring, “C’est parfait!” with a triumphant kiss to the air (even if the croissants resemble a popped balloon more quickly). If my kitchen was on the airy, crisp level of this beauty above, I don’t think this could be a problem at all. As soon as the aroma of the culinary masterpieces had settled in the kitchen and seeped into the unsuspecting noses of my family members, we would all take a celebratory dip into the most inviting, modest pool I’ve seen. A pool like that is unassuming, and almost more luxurious in its simplicity because it’s not demanding your attention. It’s more of a pleasant peek-a-boo once you enter the kitchen.

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Most importantly, why have I not found a place like this to have all of my meals in? This space begs to be filled with slender women dressed head to toe in breezy sundresses on  a strictly gluten free diet. There is a certain elegance to this room that is very natural, most likely due to the abundance of greenery spilling from each corner. And the candle-lit lighting is always a suggestion of both intimacy and luxury to me.summer to do list 4

Really tempted to do something my mother would do, and bring a bundle of tree branches into the home, but then top it off with a myriad of lights and/or orbs with candles set in them. I think I may need to dedicate an entire post about why I am so obsessed with stringed lights.

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And a final quote to leave on.

“I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.”

*m

Meet Your Summer *Insert Ridiculously Out of Reach Item Here*

Whenever summer rolls around, the same dreamy images float through the fog of my brain. Now this fog is relatively easy to clear up though, so don’t be too concerned about its gloomy presence and/or my health. With each exam checking itself off on the seemingly never ending list of things that had to be completed before I could declare my summer as officially open, the sun would break through that fog and I could suddenly imagine myself dangling on the tip of a sail boat on the open sea. Perhaps dangling is a little too life-threatening. Although a good dangling session on the edge of a sail boat does sound appealing if it weren’t for the fact that I have imagined myself already in a rather expensive and oh-so-breezy summer dress.
Seeing as how what I’m wearing kept coming into play in these day dreams of the exotic nature of my summers, whenever a fashion mag would boldly state, “Meet your summer jacket,” I would immediately direct my eyes to this apparent staple for my summer wardrobe. Until the price tag practically hisses at me, “$525.” Who has that money, yo?! Okay, well, not the starving student I claim to be (please look away from that Starbucks bill).
So this is pretty much a nod to magazines to say that the majority of people who pick up your magazine want to be whisked away into a dream-like state of picking and choosing items for their dream closets… but the dream can only extend so far, and I would like to see price tags that don’t cripple my soul (no hint of melodrama here).

And with that, rant over & happy mother’s day!

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Please get your mumma this many flowers. Or treat yourself. Or a stranger. Because I think everyone deserves to be hugged by this many flowers.

Actually, now that Clare Elsaesser’s paintings have made its way into this little post, I should dedicate a few more words to her. It would be a small crime not to, as I would be depriving you all from a taste of graceful talent. The series that first caught my eye were, of course, focused on these beautiful collections of flowers. My eye has become acutely trained to notice any bursts of colour that have so graciously bloomed for us over the next few months, as though they’re trying on a new shade of lipstick and are eager for us all to see their dolled up beauty. We’ll kneel down, place our nose but a few inches away, and just smile and say, “We’re so glad you decided to stop by.” At least that’s how it should be. And I think that’s exactly how these women feel, as they embrace their bundles of flowers as though they were long lost lovers. There’s such a distinct feeling of relief, coalesced with sincere longing and a desire to never unlock their arms. And by hiding these women’s faces, it becomes less of a painting about one woman, but one moment – a moment where love has bloomed all over again and we’re somehow given this privilege to see it all paused, amidst the chaos of everyday when they have rushed to the store and spontaneously – or very much intentionally – purchased a bundle of flowers, or more aptly, found a moment in time to remember a lover. I find it all very beautiful. What’s more, these scenes have a distinctly European feeling to me, and, of course, only in Europe does the term “lover” really seem to feel at home.

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It is because Clare can so gracefully catch the beauty of the moments that are often overlooked that I am drawn to her paintings. I do think that she shares an appreciation for simplicity, made elegant but kept with its raw state. The next series of paintings focus on the quieter moments between lovers, if you will, or, I suspect, of a couple she may have simply passed by on the streets, or imagined herself.
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To me, it looks as if this body is radiating warmth from the inside, with these golden undertones finding themselves so much more illuminated against the darkness. It’s as if you’re in the perspective of her lover, and your eyes notice the soft curve of her spine, and the way the light just seems to wrap itself around her.
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Quiet dependancy. At first, I thought that there was anger between the two of them, with the darker clouds hovering over them as though it hinted at unhappiness, but now I notice the way the woman is slumping into this man, letting herself relax into his back, her body appearing as though it has given up, and I realize that her support system is this man behind her, and he is the only thing that is keeping her from falling.
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Again, I love the fact that their faces are hidden, because the emotion of this painting is made clear by the way this woman retreats into his chest, turning her face towards his to sweetly whisper, or just to relish in this lover behind her. Clare captures the light in these block-like strokes, edged along their arms, boldly and unapologetically. It’s as if Clare wants us to realize that she knows that the moments we are sometimes most desperate to freeze in time go by the fastest, in a blur of feelings and touch, and that by focusing more on the way with which the woman finds shelter in his arms rather than the finer detail of her dress, or the flowers surrounding their bodies, we recognize the fleeting nature of these moments we want to freeze, and that maybe they’re not meant to be frozen at all, because the memories are meant to be in the feelings that will inevitably linger in our hearts.
The next series is a delicious dose of whimsy.
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*m

Starry Lights

It’s always interesting to me to see how people embrace the holidays. Some opt for the minimalist decor, a star here and there, christmas lights strewn across a table, maybe a single reindeer proudly standing next to the salt and pepper shakers. Others take these 25 days as something of a challenge to channel as much Christmas spirit into their home as possible. The whole tribe of Santa’s reindeers dangling from a chandelier, cookie jars with a smitten elf tempting you to reach in and grab one of grandma’s freshly baked shortbread cookies, a wreath dominating their door, a toy store of plush creatures from Santa Claus’ team suddenly occupying every seat in the house.
Whether you’re on one end of the spectrum or contentedly in the middle, I can’t deny how happy it makes me to see elves as a socially accepted addition to everyone’s home. 
The naturalistic decorator keeps things simple with the elegance of frosted pinecones and lacey stars sprinkled across their home. Candles are a welcome addition as well, but not too many, as their house is most likely built off of an abundance of wood.

The “christmas-all-year” decorator never quite lets go of the cheer and jolly spirits that pervade homes during December. She prefers to keep the cranberry accents and twinkling christmas balls as a reminder of the importance of generosity, and very well may end up tricking children and adults alike that she is in fact related to Santa Claus.

The starry light decorator keeps much of her home the same, but adds an absolutely whimsical effect in the form of lights dangling from anywhere she can manage to find an outlet. Suddenly her whole house is draped with the milky way and her feet become ever so lighter.

Ah, the eclectic decorator. The perfect home for entertaining as the combination of vintage St. Nicholas postcards, delicate strings of golden lights, and the seemingly never ending glasses of wine contribute to quite the party. 

The naturalistic decorator’s sister is more adept to adding in the touches of the outside wintery world with quite the luxurious pieces as well. She considers herself the Narnia decorator, where a tree stump is balanced with a minimalistic stool, and collected tree branches are in juxtaposition with white cylindrical spot lights. It’s like the forest if it were dominated by elegant paintings and brilliant lights.

Oh the gift wrapping artist comes out to play in this month of giving. She fully immerses herself in the art that comes with gift presentation, seeing with delight the looks of her impressed friends as they examine her work. If you walked through this lady’s home it would be marked by subtle presents peaking next to dolled up mirrors, and beneath hand-sewn Christmas stockings. 
The Scandinavian decorator! Oh you know my soft spot for Scandinavian style. Homes covered head to toe in a milky white, with feminine accents here and there, whimsical paintings, and when Christmas comes around? A collection of particularly warm strings of lights and storybook frosted trees popping up on miniature pianos. So endearing.

Lanterns really aren’t reserved for Halloween. They add such a fairy like element to any home, reminiscent of twilight picnics and starry nights. 
Now I really frickin’ wish I wasn’t in a dorm. Challenge? Deck out my dorm in Christmas swag? I could accept that. 
*m

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At first glance, it looks like they’re falling from far away and it’s actually a little exhilarating and scary at the same time. They look so animalistic, as if they’re really curious to see the photographer in their domain.

Boyish charm, boyish bruises.

I’ve always loved bumble bees.

Girlish whim, girlish bubblegum 

Adventures in the eyes of children are always so much more theatrical.

Kitty, kitty, whatchu lookin’ at?

The black lines make this dress – I think they add a much needed sense of structure and elegance.

Balla!!
*m
{All from my tumblr, don’t own any of these photos!}

Some Things Catchin’ My Eye

Cesarr Tario’s photostream on Flickr:

Everyone should have a jar or two of clouds in their home.

I can’t tell if he’s falling back into reality from his dreams, or if he’s being pulled into it. This looks to me like the transition point between the playfulness of your imagination and the sensible world of reality, so subtly done.

Such a playful mix of whimsy and realism! He takes the ordinary and adds a dash of drama, a heap of intrigue, and a sprinkle of some magic for an endlessly intriguing effect. I will obviously be checking up on his photo stream on the daily.
Irina Graewe’s Interior Styling:
The starkly modern cube teases us from the corner of the desk, making the subtle contrast from the more overpowering rustic atmosphere a little more bold. It reminds me of alternate dimensions for some reason, like the future slipping through a lapse in time into a more quaint period.
Also a period in time where people enjoyed to play absurdly large instruments. I like this period of time more and more.
Little, little people just chilling on your chair. Watch out, they do bite.

If I had any of these umbrellas on a rainy day, I would probably end up with a trail of equally cheery baby ducks following me down the street. What, you haven’t seen that happen before? All the best umbrellas come with a possy of baby ducks. Or piglets. They’re cute too.

 Very eery light. It gives off the same impression as a ghost, standing in the corner, wisps of her long silver hair hiding her face. Not a threatening presence though, but a confident and assertive one actually.
Irina’s website is also just a treat to look through anyways. 
I was lucky enough to steal a few days at my cabin a few weeks ago. If only I could’ve spent my whole damn summer there. Some pics:

Fucking delicious, people. Banana oat pancakes.

Havin’ a swell time as you can see. I’ve been wanting to visit this coffee shop, Culprit Coffee, ever since I saw the cheeriest yellow brick walls I’ve ever seen just drenched in sunlight, and just generally looking like it was transported straight from NYC.

Not a cloud in the sky that day. 

One morning, before an early shift at Anthropologie, I woke up to see sunlight pouring through my house because of the early sunrise. It gathered in places I thought it didn’t touch before, and gah, it was just magical.
Cheerio!
*m

Dormspiration: Come One, Come All!

Seeing as how my ever so humble abode is now going to be a room the size of a bathroom as I’m off to good ol’ university (I say that like I’ve been there before), every detail is crucial. Listen, I’m very affected by my surroundings. When a tornado has passed through my room, it’s very inconvenient. (That disaster of clothes on the floor is my fault? No, no, silly. Just another tornado sweeping past.) I will actively avoid my room all day and pretty much get to the point where I forget it exists, other than when I stumble in to sleep in this foreign, unmade bed. Or I’ll just consume myself in its messiness and become one sticky, conglomerated ball of laziness and spend hours underneath my sheets, wishing it all to disappear, but at the same time kind of relishing in my own sloth-like form.

^me. (But not actually. Just my sloth twin.)
So I do vow to at least try and keep my dorm clean, otherwise I’ll sleep on benches in the library and look like one of those severely sleep deprived keeners who refuse to leave before their finals (although this young man deserves some appreciation). 
And now, some dormspiration
A map of Europe only, please, to somewhat satisfy my incurable travel bug.

Imagine how efficient it would be to write all my papers on a typewriter? No mistakes for me.

Mosquito nets have always had an air of luxury to me. Delicately draped over your bed, a princess slumber is awaiting. Oh and then when morning comes, and the light’s pouring through your window, it’s like you open your eyes to a sleepy, magical haze all around you. 

I’ve posted this once before, but I am seriously considering a shelf so close to my bed fit for a laptop. Better yet, maybe I should invest in a king size bed and have it cover my entire floor. So tempting.

I love this. Everyone needs some floral love in their abode, especially when it looks as if peonies were simply sprinkled over your curtains.

Unfortunately most dorms don’t come with spiral, wooden staircases. This shall have to change.

For my graduation present, I was lucky enough to be able to order a DSLR camera with our air miles (what a wonderful creation). After tracking its delivery for over a week, anticipating its arrival to the second, and just generally being a giddy twelve year old, it has arrived in glorious form on my front door steps… only to be taken captive by my mother and banished into the depths of her secret hiding spots of presents. At risk of sounding like a spoiled Dudley Dursely, it’s mine, mine, mine! Give it back, mumma! 

^me again. But the steam decided to come out of my eyes instead of my ears, minor inconvenience. 
But anyways. 
Random, lovely items I wish to have in my dorm.
1. String of lights
2. Dainty teacups
3. Miniature animals
4. Coffee table books for somewhat productive procrastination
5. Wired grid for nostalgic photos
6. Vintage mirror
7. Paper peonies for my curtains
8. Mosquito net
9. Map of Europe
10. A kitten if possible

 *m

{HIMYS, Seren Coskun, HIMYS again, Urban Outfitters Home Catalog 1, 2, 3, Interiors Porn 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, my tumblr (Rabbit Earz)}

Life Updates & Inspiration Clusters of Goodness

A few mornings ago, I opened my eyes to a mischievous, dancing trickle of light on the arm chair next to my bed. Initially, gotta say, I was like, “Yes, proof of fairies,” but then I emerged out of my dreams and propped myself up to pull up the blinds and HALLELUJAH IT’S THE SUN! THE SUN HAS COME FOR ALL TO SEE! Wait no, THE SUN HAS COME BECAUSE I’M HEALTHY AGAIN! MOTHA NATURE, I LOVE YOU, BABY GIRL!


Because that’s obviously how I sound when I’m excited.

Here are some bohemian ladiez who I’d kind of like to join in the sun.

Wizard sleeves are always a do, especially in a forest, because then you legitimately feel like a wizard gone off to concoct potions and ride deer or unicorn.

This splash would be beyond epic. Colours soaring gleefully through the air, or a hypnotic ripple of a rainbow pulsing away from you.

JESUS HORSE! He’s going to greet the wizard in the forest.

Anyways, everyone had been waiting for the return of our glorious sun for, well, summer time obviously, and so right when I was feeling healthy again, I open my blinds and you can see why I would think it was a present directly from Mother Nature to me. 

I’ve just been knocked out for about a week, literally isolated into the depths of my groggy, most likely hazey bedroom with strep throat. My brother said he thought I was just out for two days with friends because he hadn’t seen me. Nope! Just having some one-on-one time with me and my disgustingly sick self. She’s not a fun time. Don’t let her fool you. I will not be seeing her again for as long as I can. 

Now, aside from my ramblings and updates, here is the…

Inspiration Cluster of Goodness!

She is exactly how I would like to imagine myself looking with a pixie, but somehow I don’t think it’d look as adorably impish on me. 

I would never remove myself from this impossibly soft sweater, I know it.

What I’m listening to right now, by the way.
Just some models lost in the city of love. Really digging the denim jacket on mint. And the red lip, of course, always fitting with the cherry moped in the back.
But coral is my true love. Did you ever get underwear sets when you were a little girl, one for every day of the week? I was religiously dedicated to wearing the right pair on the right day, otherwise I’d feel like I was painted neon with flashing lights screaming, “WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.” Perhaps that’s an OCD tendency. Anyways, I can see the letters sewn into the back of this dress, “Sunday”, most likely in a dainty cursive font, and I’d stroll down the sun kissed streets every Sunday with a little birdie on my shoulder to fetch croissants. Weo!
*m

{1, 2 – unknown, 3 – alexandravalenti, 4 – LF Stores, 5 – Bohemian Daydream, 6 – StreetStyle, 7 – FromNorth, 8 – mytumbla,  9 – Free People, 10 – liamsawthis, 11 – LF Stores}

ps. a wonderful cluster of these pictures were found from Bohemian Daydream, a new favourite of mine!

Chaotic Perfection

above is from Uzel.Scotus’ flickr photo steam – real name is unknown.

Paintings are a way of keeping people, landscapes, essentially memories alive, right? What left me so mesmerized by these oil paintings is the blatant confrontation the artist is taking to that idea, as if history itself is erasing the memories, as if each time we look at it, another piece will be forgotten in the fragments of our past… it’s just such an air of absolute mystery, I love it.

The beginning of her transformation into a mermaid.

Above are the works of the ever talented Chad Wys, check him out here.

And then there’s Chad Wys, who takes the traditional portraits of centuries before us, in all its posed perfection, and twists it into these eerily detailed paintings lacking in the boldest of ways, begging us to look at it in another light. 
Pree fascinating, if you ask me.