No, not like, “I got pinned by my boyfriend.” *giddy laughter* And no, not anything to do with Pinterest. Brooches, people. I’m talking brooches.
The gold one at the top was my Gramma's, my friend and work study boss in college made the feather, and the rest are vintage.
Where was it that I heard no one under the age of 50 should wear a brooch? In a movie? A TV show? Read in some inane fashion article? I’m not sure, but what complete rubbish. Pins, or brooches, are lovely. They add a little extra to an outfit. They can help one showcase their personality in a classic or quirky way. I have vintage brooches and costume jewelry pins, and I love looking through the cases while out antique shopping. There are some beautiful pieces and some that are pretty funky.
There it is, in all its glory. And that may or may not be me.
Growing up our TV was also a piece of furniture. When I was in the first grade my Dad (always the lucky guy) won money off of the radio and purchased a new TV. It was big, and encased in wood. As I said, it was a piece of furniture, we had things on display sitting on top of it. That thing lasted forever. I don’t know how many times it was affected by lightning and had to be taken to the repair shop, but each time it returned back to my parents’ house working like new. That is, until a few years ago, when lightning finally won the battle with it. Rest in peace, large wooden TV. To my surprise, my parents bought a snazzy HD flat screen TV. They’re more up on technology than I am!
There are too many moments when I wish I were skilled in the area of being handy. As in, “I’ve found something partially broken, let me buy it and fix it, and it will look wonderful!” Or, “I really want this, but can’t quite find what I’m looking for or it’s not in my price range, so I’ll just build it myself!”
I think these things. They do not happen.
Such was the case with wanting a mid-century coffee table. I had visions of several different coffee tables, all familiar mid-century styles, but the one I just couldn’t get out of my head was one similar to the table pictured below.
Or something like that. I am back after some time off. I had planned on taking Christmas, my birthday, New Year’s, etc off, but once I flew back from Kansas I decided January would be one long vacation from blogging! It’s just so stressful. (Where’s that sarcasm font when you need one?) I hope everyone has been well and those of you in certain parts of the country aren’t still snowed in.
Back to the subject at hand.
As with clothing, I feel a swimming suit should be flattering to your body type and should make you feel good about yourself and feel comfortable. However, in more recent years it seems there’s a general attitude about suits that is far from that idea.
Over the years, suits have gotten smaller and smaller with the progressing societal changes and more liberal and freeing thinking. While there is nothing particularly wrong with that, very few people look good in a string bikini. Regular bikinis have become the norm, they are seen on the beach everywhere and on everyone. If you’re comfortable in one, and look stunning, or just don’t mind all your bits hanging out, more power to you, but I feel like there’s pressure to wear a bikini. This is the fashion now and you’ll look frumpy, silly, or uncool if you wear anything but.
Anyone who knows me, knows I love a good happy hour. Giant margaritas and cheap tacos? Yes, please. But what about cocktail hour in the home done with a little more sophistication?
The cocktail hour (which is essentially moved to a restaurant and called happy hour) was a staple of life beginning in the 1920s, and probably best recognized in the 1950s and 60s. You can always have your own private cocktail hour. You come home from work, a glass full of goody liquid, and a relaxing chair, perhaps some music in the background. Think:
“Honey, I’m hoooome.”
“Oh, dear, how was your day? Here’s your scotch on the rocks. I think I’ll have a Tom Collins.”
The above scenario could be envisioned either the man is coming home or the woman, and is greeted by their significant other at the door with a drink. How come people don’t do this anymore? (Not as many alcoholics?)