This post will come to you in 3 parts.

Part 1
MEMORY LANE


An all white outfit lightly inspired by 1Finedai. I myself am not that known for wearing white (or different shades of white) that often, but I thought it could be nice to change things up for a bit. Ya know, trying something different, wearing some white, moving and posing... different.


The general inspiration for this outfit is a mixture between the little photo album (more on that later), my necklace (which I got from the market. Yes, that market), the top itself (made by my grandma) and Al Bowlly's singing (as to be heard in the video. (did I just link the video twice to you now? Oh how naughty of me... (GO WATCH IT PLEASE!!))). I declared it as a 1980's soap opera rich Italian girl character mixed with a classic 1920's tennis yard swirl... I got a bit carried away with describing. I'd also could've said "girl in clothes", but I think this gives a more general idea.

I wasn't that sure about it all, because everything does never ever turn out as I imagine it will (do y'all also got those problems? Or is it just me?). But after watching or foremost reading what Louise of Sprinkle of Glitter had written down in the dooblydoo (?) of her newest lookbook, it gave me this kind of confidence like a reassuring mothers smile. This might also be because my mother was smiling at me. Oh well. I'd recommend everyone reading what she's written if you need a little pep talk concerning the gap between the mind and body... that sounds a bit weird, but I hope ya get what I mean...

This little photo album used to be my grandma's and it's filled with all kinds of wondrous pictures. I myself got very excited about seeing them. But I get excited about pretty much anything... so... here are some groovy pictures of my mother... She's a good looking one, she is. And yes, I've inherited all the facial expressions. She did so from my grandpa. It's a family thing, I guess...


In the picture below y'all see an angry looking woman on the far right. She's my grandma (and you can see a little glimpse of my grandpa too. Lucky you). Now I know that most people didn't know her, but this picture is so out of character and thus so perfect and yeah... I love it... It just feels so out of place and almost could've been part of Jake Bugg's video for There's A Beast And We All Feed It. Almost. Sorry btw for all the linking today, it's just that kinda day, ya know?


Also, on a non-related note, if you in anyway feel inclined to send me free colthes or hats or anything, I'm happy to be your guest! Just hook me up and I'll wear it. I love clothes. Sometimes I look at my rack stuffed, or one might say overflowing with clothes, and think to myself "Do I have too much clothes?", but the answer is definitely a no. NO. One can never have too much clothes. I don't even think such a thing excists... (is this all btw a bad thing to say? I feel sort of bad by saying it. That feeling of having accidently rubbed your dirty hands off on a white cloth (AHA! You see what I did there? Keeping in theme... I'm brilliant). That will forever stain. Even when there's nothing left to see, you know that there's a stain ruining the white. Also, I try to be a bit more milieu (and money) friendly in the spirit of Vivienne Westwood. Ya know what? Keep your clothes (but only if you want to...), I'm off hugging a tree while crying over some pair of shoes that I really want but are too expensive so should I opt to find some kind of knock offs that aren't really that pair of shoes but affordable or wait and save for the ones I really want, again in the spirit of Vivienne Westwood. Oh Vivi, how you hunt my mind...

Part 2
RETURN OF THE FONDUE


Yesterday evening we dined yet once again through the means of fondue. They say that third time is a winner, but I relentlessly give up on this second occasion. Although this time I actually tried something -progression-, I 1) didn't like it (I don't really like meat anyway. I only sometimes eat it when often forced by my mother because she says I need "all the good stuff from it", whatever that may be... I always feel quite guilty about it. Especially when I know what it is. Or was. Poor thing). 2) I got quite ill from it (now this might also just be because I'm not feeling that well in general, but still, FONDUE OF DOOM).

Part 3
THREE MEN IN A BOAT (TO SAY NOTHING OF THE DOG)

Three men on a boat, more like, three men and a pipe! Amiright? Amiright?! hahahahahahha. ha. ha.

Since of late I've got a Spotify account (is it called an account? idk) and I'm quite enjoying it. Although, I haven't figured everything really out yet, but it's quite easy to understand. *ahum* *ahum* Yesterday I listened to Three Men In a Boat (To Say Nothing of The Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome read by Hugh Laurie. And I absolutely loved it. It's all very funny and it made me chuckle a lot. The book was initially intended to be a serious travel guide, as Wikipedia tells me, but because of the rather cynic/ironic/sarcastic way of describing it, it all came better known as a comical novel.

The whole story is thus based upon a real time event (except for the dog. As Wikipedia enlightens me again. "The dog, Montmorency, is entirely fictional but, as Jerome admits, developed out of that area of inner consciousness which, in all Englishmen, contains an element of the dog"). It's very well and easy written (and very lovely told by dear Hugh). I don't want to spoil anything, but I can find myself in every word written as followed (although I must say that the whole thing was rather relatable. If that's a good thing or a bad thing I'm not quite sure):

"I opened the bag and packed the boots in; and then, just as I was going to close it, a horrible idea occurred to me.  Had I packed my tooth-brush? I don’t know how it is, but I never do know whether I’ve packed my tooth-brush.

My tooth-brush is a thing that haunts me when I’m travelling, and makes my life a misery. I dream that I haven’t packed it, and wake up in a cold perspiration, and get out of bed and hunt for it. And, in the morning, I pack it before I have used it, and have to unpack again to get it, and it is always the last thing I turn out of the bag; and then I repack and forget it, and have to rush upstairs for it at the last moment and carry it to the railway station, wrapped up in my pocket-handkerchief."

Go and read it! Or listen to it! (the deep British voice of Hugh Laurie will do any men good).

Love,
Dominique