I may be late to the game, but wearing vintage dresses is my new thing. For some reason in the past I assumed that if one was to wear vintage anything, one would have to match everything else to the vintage piece. Oh, you found a fifties housewife dress and you want to wear it? You have to wear your hair in a 50s style too, dumb dumb. And don’t even think about stepping out in anything other than shoes of the era. You may end up leaving the house looking exactly like June Cleaver.
Not that all of that is necessarily a bad thing. We’ve all seen 1940s pin-up styled gals on the more hipster side of town or in tattoo shops and they are pulling off the look, complete with victory rolls, effortlessly. God knows that people keep trying to bring back 90s fashion, so there’s that too. But something about wearing a head to toe look from a different time feels a little too costumey.
I had what I refer to as a “dumb blonde epiphany” a few months back when shopping at a local vintage fair: What if I bought this 1960s maxi dress and wore it just how I wear everything else? Then, when people inevitably ask where I got such a lovely garment, I can answer elusively with my nose up in the air: “oh, it’s vintage“. Sounds like an all around win to me.
I don’t have the contact info of the vendor who sold me this blue maxi, but I did get three colorful, loud dresses from this shop that I looooove. This weekend a giant vintage event will take place here in Pittsburgh, and I can’t wait to see what I can score.
In case you haven’t noticed the big change I made to my blog recently, I now have a co-author, my vivacious and bubbly cousin, Christina. It is now our blog. I will continue to write essays about whatever pointless/silly things I happen to be thinking about and regularly post about what I’m wearing and why, while Christina might actually teach you something (she’s a total natural at writing DIY posts).
When I read blogs, I tend to favor posts that help me get to know the person I’m reading about. I always crack up when I get to read posts with random facts about people (like this one that my friends wrote), so without further adieu, here are 20 random ass things about us that you didn’t even realize you need to know.
I like how skunks smell.
If I could trade places with any fictional character, it’d be Rip Van Winkle because I love sleeping so much.
I may act like a literary snob, but most of the things I know about literature were learned from the 90’s PBS show, Wishbone.
I didn’t have cable TV or at-home Internet access growing up, which explains why I watched so much PBS and had to go to the library to keep up with my Myspace correspondents.
I think that Samson from the Old Testament (you know, of Samson and Delilah) might be my spirit animal because I too feel powerless without my hair extensions.
I wish I could carry a tune, but am frequently asked to stop every time I begin to sing.
My husband and I have been together for 6 years, and we’ve still never openly farted in front of each other.
Eight is my lucky number. No it’s not, I don’t have a lucky number I just couldn’t think of anything to write.
If I could only listen to 5 bands for the rest of my life they’d be: Abba, ACDC, Styx, Queen, and idk Drake or something.
I once ate a few bites of undercooked chicken because I didn’t want to hurt the chef’s feelings. I’ve been working on being less passive ever since.
I’m 27 and I can still do the splits.
If I could paint my house like a rainbow, I would, but my husband has some say in the matter.
My hair is always changing color. I prefer fashion colors (pink, purple, silver) over natural ones.
My right leg is one inch longer than my left.
When I sneeze or hiccup, it sounds like a squeaky dog toy.
I was in the hospital the week of my wedding for an emergency gall bladder removal surgery. I honestly thought I was going to get married in the hospital.
I’m a direct descendant of Henry V (as is Sarah).
I had both of my children unplanned.
I play the viola.
I can have an entire conversation using only movie quotes.
Among my 5 siblings, I was dubbed The Artistic One way back in the day. Since The Bossy One and The Cool One were already taken, I was more than happy to accept my fate as the only one who can wield a paintbrush. These days, saying “I was an art major” is one of my favorite pretentious things to say to people who never even asked.
One thing this artsy fartsy gal has been in desperate need of is a space to create. Besides past bedrooms and art classrooms, I haven’t ever really had my own designated space to paint or draw. I’ve always gotten by portably, setting up shop as I go and cleaning up when finished. I have fallen asleep with paper, pens, and markers scattered among my bed many times.
Joel and I always knew we’d have some sort of office space in our home, but didn’t start putting it together until recently. In our three bedroom home, we have our bedroom, “the middle room” (where we have a very big/comfortable but hideous sectional, Joel’s stationary bike, a TV, and two stinky AF litter boxes for our children cats), and our guest room. Since we will probably have to take a wrecking ball to the side of the house to get the giant sectional out (seriously don’t know how we got it in there in the first place), the guest room is underway to double as an office.
Last weekend, I started getting the ideas for our office space/guest room out of my head and into, well, the room. I told Joel I wanted to paint some “out there” murals and he didn’t even bat an eye when I told him my idea to paint an eye print on one of the walls.
I still have a few touch ups, but it only took me a few hours and about $10 worth of paint to finish this. I am loving it. It’s creepy in the coolest way possible.
The inspiration for the wall came from my friend’s Instagram account who had photos of similar eye street art somewhere in Spain. I’m really excited to be working on this space in our home and I feel pretty hashtag blessed to have a husband who is so on board with my wacky decor ideas. Most importantly though, our guests aren’t going to be able to shake the feeling that they’re being watched when they stay with us. That’s so funny to me… Eye can’t stop laughing.
Two weeks ago, my mother-in-law/BFF, Sheila, and I flew to Nashville, TN to attend my beautiful sister-in-law’s baby shower. After flying out of a blizzard and straight into a thunderstorm (a plane ride deemed “too bumpy” for us to be served our complimentary Chardonnay) a relaxing 38 hours in a new city was just what the doctor ordered. Since all the rooms at Laura’s house were filled with friends (and one perfect baby boy), Sheila and I had the pleasure of staying with Jeremy and Elsie Larson. I’ve been crushin’ on The Larson House via Instagram for a while now, so it was truly an honor to get the invite to actually sleep there. My main goal for the weekend (besides feeling Gummergal‘s baby bump as much as possible) was to be a good guest and not embarrass myself. I can’t speak for E or J, but I think I did a pretty GD good job… For the most part, anyway.
Although we’ve been Internet Gal Pals for a while now, I couldn’t help but think it might be, idk, a little weird not only meeting Elsie in person, but staying in her house. Would it be like sleeping in a museum? Would I be allowed to touch stuff? Would her dogs like me? Would my habit of waking up early annoy the shit out of everyone like it usually does? I soon realized that this would be my first time being a real guest (staying with family or long-time friends doesn’t really count) in someone else’s home and I’d have to be on my best behavior.
Full disclaimer, it wasn’t even a little bit weird and the Larson Dogs, Dolly and Suki, totally love me. Elsie Larson, YOU REALLY ARE THE HOSTESS WITH THE MOSTESS.
The weekend went by so quickly, but I made the most of my short time in Nashville. Most importantly, I now have some good tips on how to be a good house guest…
HOW TO BE A GOOD HOUSE GUEST:
Don’t quote obscure movies or TV shows, no matter how funny you think you’re being. Example: Elsie gave Sheila and I a tour of her home and when it was over, I turned to her and said “your house has a real ass on it” (a quote from an episode of It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia). I got a polite smile from Elsie and an elbow to the ribs from Sheila.
Watch where you’re stepping, you clumsy fool. I kept walking into all the cactus and getting poked.
Do take advantage of all the cool mirrors. If they didn’t want you to take mirror selfies, they probably wouldn’t have bought them.
Make your bed! I never, ever make my bed at home, but it seems like a polite thing that people do, so I did it.
Make yourself at home! I definitely did wake up early to sit in the living room, kick my feet up, and read my book like I do at my own house every morning.
Don’t just slink out into the night when you leave like some kind of cheap hooker, say goodbye to your hosts.
Resist the temptation and don’t snoop (even if going through medicine cabinets is one of your favorite things to do).
This should go without saying, but don’t steal anything… we know that pink ukulele is calling your name, but buy your own on Amazon. GET OUT OF HERE, YOU CAN’T EVEN PLAY THE UKULELE.
A big thank you to Jeremy and Elsie for letting us stay with you and for not thinking it was weird that I took so many pictures inside your house…. Oh, you do think it was weird? We’ll work on it next time!
It’s been so difficult to keep this a secret, but….
WE’RE OPENING A COFFEE SHOP! For locals and anyone interested in visiting the ‘Burg in the near future, Cup Of JoeL Is now open in the trendy neighborhood of Lawrenceville! Do you love specialty lattes with pictures of flowers in the cream, European-style espresso, and organic ingredients? If so, this is not the place for you. Are you craving a crappy cup of coffee that you could probably just make yourself at home? Well, crave no longer, Cup Of JoeL totally has that! Here, it’s okay if you want call it “expresso”, because that’s not on our menu anyway!
Seriously, this April Fools joke has been sitting in my list of drafts for months now. NO, we are not actually opening a coffee shop, but whatever… Joel’s getting really good at photoshop!
Six years ago today, I met my husband. Although I knew from the first encounter that I’d one day marry the crap out of Joel, the feeling was, in no way whatsoever, mutual. In the beginning, I was in the friend zone…
It’s no secret that Joel took his sweet time escalating our relationship (read more about that here), and I’m really not complaining because, duh, we’re married now…. But that year and a half spent in relationship limbo when he “didn’t want to put a label on us” was a pain in my 21 year old ass. I spent who knows how many nights contemplating never texting him again, but I always gave in because when you love someone, you bombard them with calls and text messages so they know you mean business.
The same thing happened with Christina and her husband, Brandon. She was friend zoned for over a year and now they have two kids. Come to think of it, my ridiculously good looking sister-in-law, Laura, was ‘zoned by her husband, Todd, for like 5 years. I guess what I’m getting at is: it’s possible to leave the friend zone and find yourself in Love Town? Loveville? RelationCity? This post is dedicated to any sad sap who finds him/herself in the same situation, you can persevere! You can be more than “just friends”.
Every blogger on the face of this earth has some sort of blogging equation + schedule that they follow, you know, on their blogs. Whether it’s 3 detailed DIY posts everyday teaching readers how to make or bake something, or a post every now and then about what they wore to the last party they attended, everybody in blogland is doing something. On the off chance that I mention this blog to someone I don’t know very well, the inevitable first question they ask is “what is your blog about?” to which I answer “absolutely nothing, but somehow everything.” It’s a Catch 22 blog.
If you’re new visiting our “little corner” (ugh, gag) of the Internet, here is what you can expect from the Sarah half of That’s What She Said: