Share In Style: Vintage

This post is a collaboration with the beautiful Sacramento, my dear friend whose blog Mis Papelicos is a constant source of inspiration to me. We are both posting outfit photos on the theme of Vintage, a subject very close to our hearts. Also linking up with Aminta, who with her blog Aminta Online creates these special weekly Share In Style posts with Sacramento.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where the woodland streamlets flow,
Gushing down a rocky bed,
Where the tasseled alders grow,
Lightly meeting over head,
When the fullest August days,
Give the richness what they know,
Then the wild clematis comes,
With her wealth of tangled blooms,
Reaching up and drooping low.

 

And her fresh leaves only shade
That which is within her bower,
Like a curtain, lightly made,
Half to hide her virgin flower;
None too close to let the wind
Find a place to breathe between,
Where the wild bee cannot miss
All the sweetness that there is,
Underneath her tent of green.

 

And the sunlight flickers in,
So to touch her maiden breast;
And between her twists of vine
Sings the woodbird to his nest;
And the air is wondrous sweet,
And the twilight lingers long, -
And the young birds learn to fly
In among her greenery,
And she hears their earliest song.

 

But when Autumn days are here,
And the woods of Autumn burn,
Then her leaves are black and sere
Quick with early frosts to turn!
As the golden Summer dies,
So her silky green has fled,
And the smoky clusters rise
As from fires of sacrifice,
Sacred incense to the dead!

 

 

Wild Clematis by Dora Reed Goodale, via 1

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit:

Vintage 1970s Blue Gypsy Dress: from Ebay

Vintage 1990s Beloved Red Parisian Espadrilles: bought in Le Marais when I lived in Paris

Hoop Earrings & Orchid Flower Clip: both from Accessorize

Vintage French Silver Coin 1960s Bracelet: passed down from my Mother

Vintage 1930s Silver & Amber Bracelet: passed down from late granny Penny

Vintage Victorian China Jug & Bowl: passed down from late granny Kiki

 

 

The Soundtrack

Nick Drake: Bryter Layter  

 

Photographs taken by me, self portraits using the timer on my little digital camera.

 

 

 

And here's Sacramento's gorgeous vintage look, don't you just love the print of that dress and her amazing shoes! There's plenty more of her vintage ensemble to be seen at Mis Papelicos  

 

 

 

 

 

 

What's more, I am feeling very honoured to have been nominated for a Liebster award by dear Joanna, do check out her great vintage blog and a full list of nominees at Dividing Vintage Moments

 

 

I'm delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from Not Dead Yet Style, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.

 

Beach Hut Life

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She goes, she is, she wakes the waters

primed in their wave-form, a flux of urge

struck into oneness, the solid surge

seeking completion, and strikes and shatters

 

and is its fragments, distinction’s daughters

and now, unholding, the cleave and merge

the hew and fusing, plundering the verge

and substance is the scheme it scatters

 

and what it numbers in substantial sun.

Her hands hold many or her hands hold none.

And diving the salt will kiss a convex eye

 

and be salt fact and be the bodied sky

and that gray weight is both or beggared one,

a dead dimensional, or blue begun.

 

 

(She goes, she is, she wakes the waters) by Karen Volkman via 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit:

 

Pale Yellow Breton Top: bought in a charity shop, originally from Boden

 

Red Gingham Capri Pants: bought in a different charity shop, originally from H&M

 

Straw Hat: bought in yet another charity shop, originally from Accessorize

 

Vintage Rose Print Scarf Tied Around Hat: from Kiki

 

Sunglasses: from the High Street can't remember where

 

Nude Pumps: very old from New Look

 

 

 

The Soundtrack

 

Beth Orton: She Cries Your Name 

 

 

 

Portraits of me taken by my Mum on my little digital camera while we had lunch together at our beach hut, other photos taken by me. 

As Mr Eve and I live near to my folks, every summer we all share the cost to rent this little hut at a nearby beach.

 

 

I'm delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from www.notdeadyetstyle.blogspot.co.uk, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.

 

 

Oh as you probably already know, Google reader is shutting down on the 1st July, so if you'd like to follow me another way then click on my Bloglovin' button to the left of this post, or click here. 

 

For Kiki The Bluebell Fairy

My hundred thousand bells of blue,
The splendour of the spring,
They carpet all the woods anew
With royalty of sapphire hue;
The Primrose is the Queen ’tis true
But surely I am King.
Ah yes,
The peerless woodland King.

 

The Song Of The Bluebell Fairy by Cicely Mary Barker, via 1

 (Barker's illustration is that of Granny Kiki as a young girl) 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit:

 

Kiki's Vintage 1930s Pale Gold Tapestry Silk Satin Wedding Dress: made by late granny Kiki for her own wedding day!

Inspired by her love of Medieval gowns.

 

 

 

The Soundtrack

 

Beethoven: Pastoral Symphony

 

 

Photographs taken by me, self portraits using the timer on my little digital camera, often by propping the camera between tree branches as I don't have a tripod. 

Strange over exposed light effects created by my camera, for no apparent reason. I like them!

 

 

I'm delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from www.notdeadyetstyle.blogspot.co.uk, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.

 

Also linking up with Jane 's great new Shiny T Tuesday link up, where the theme is When Patterns Speak, click on the link http://textgeorge.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/shiny-t-tuesday-when-pattern-seduces.html to see her outfit and others.

 

Blossom To Blossom

 

 

From blossoms comes

this brown paper bag of peaches

we bought from the boy

at the bend in the road where we turned toward   

signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,

from sweet fellowship in the bins,

comes nectar at the roadside, succulent

peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,

comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,

to carry within us an orchard, to eat

not only the skin, but the shade,

not only the sugar, but the days, to hold

the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into   

the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live

as if death were nowhere

in the background; from joy

to joy to joy, from wing to wing,

from blossom to blossom to

impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

 

 

From Blossoms by Li-Young Lee, via 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit:

 

1910s/30s Style Floral Ruffle Dress: bought from Ebay a few years ago

 

Green Silk Sash: vintage fabric from Kiki's days as a couturier

 

Green Patent Ballerina Pumps: a gift from my mother from the Boden sale

 

White Cotton Parasol: from Ebay

 

Vintage Style Silver Teardrop Earrings: from Accessorize

 

Vintage Style Green Pendant Necklace: gift from my mother

 

 

 

The Soundtrack

 

Edward Elgar: Enigma Variations

 

 

With many thanks to the inspiring Sara of Ladylike Delicacy for introducing me to the joys of an old photo generator in her delightful post 100 hundred years ago..

 

Photographs taken by me, self portraits using the timer on my little digital camera. 

The eye infection continues, but is no longer painful, and the gp says it will take as long as it takes, so I am treating it with a good dose of ignoral.

 

 

I'm delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from www.notdeadyetstyle.blogspot.co.uk, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.

 

I'm also delighted to join Shoe Shine, a great new event hosted by the uber-cool Bella of http://www.thecitizenrosebud.com/, click on the website to see her cute shoes and those of many others.

 

Portraits & Mirrors

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Must I, in this question I am asking, include myself

Asking it? Must I include my face—

My face that I cannot see—through which I speak

This question about my eyes, about the field

Of vision, in which my hands press down these letters

Unattached to my arms? The sunlight

Comes in the window and lights up my hands

As they work. The world is not being kind

But there is the sensation of kindness.

There is an appeal to a rule when we realize a term

Behaves uncomfortably. God falls down

Into grammar and says I am but the words are spoken

From a bush on fire. God is included in this grammar

Philosophy offers to the fly stuck in the bottle—

There it is on the table, walking in circles within the empty

Bottle, pausing only to rub its forelegs together,

In anticipation or prayer. I remember

Walking into the glass-walled museum and seeing myself

Reflected in the head and in the belly of the metal rabbit’s

Mirror-like skin. This was not long ago, this experience

Of the ancient world, reason simultaneous with appetite,

Watching myself think, seeing my eyes thinking,

My body a body that contained this thinking

That I write in the margins of the books I read, a script

That over time appears less legible, a form

Of cuneiform I cannot read myself what I wrote

In the margins. There is a fragment that floats in the air

Floating in my mind, spoken by a voice not mine:

To study circumcises the heart and calms,

The book steadies the heart [many words are missing

Or illegible] if not, to turn away,

Fire courses through the veins [many words are

Missing or illegible] then

Anger, anger. Leaning back in the tall grass,

Putting my book aside, my toe covers the sun.

I am imagining this world but I’m inviting you in

So I can join you. In the old language, the language

No one ever spoke, the language whose words

In the scholarly papers are marked by stars,

Asterisks that say this word exists by not existing,

The imaginary root pushing down from the sky

Into our heads, the root of the tongue;

In this language “I” meant “here,” it did not mean “me,”

It meant a location in which this body I am

Was not an expression of love but a word of

Presence. Here I am. Voice in a boundary.

In this place I am I once had a dream.

Cylindrical seals rolled across the earth

Printing in the mud the image of a woman braiding

Her hair was loose and then her hair was bound.

These roads end at the horizon where I also end,

Present in this world as the alphabet is present

In this poem. *I. *I. Sometimes *I like to stutter.

*I like to think the sky is blue. *I see sometimes it’s red.

More soon on the nature of impossible constructions.  

The man in the moon. The sea rose. The living room.

 

 

Museums by Dan Beachy-Quick, via 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit:

 

White Linen Wide Leg Trouser Suit: from a charity shop

 

White Top Underneath: very old from the high street

 

Vintage Pearl Necklace: passed down from late granny Penny

 

Faux Pearl Bracelets: from Accessorize

 

Faux Wolf Fur Shrug: present from an ex boyfriend over a decade ago

 

Two Tone Leather Brogues: bought in the sale from Toast

 

 

 

The Soundtrack

 

Claude Debussy: Estampes Pagodes

 

 

 

Photographs of me by Mr Eve, taken when we went for a drink at Combe House, using my little digital camera. 

 

I'm behind on my post visits, as usual, but looking forward to catching up on all your lovely blogs in the coming days!

 

 

I'm delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from www.notdeadyetstyle.blogspot.co.uk, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.