Vintage

i *heart* my family: christmas ’84

Not much changes….

The year was 1984, and it was our first Christmas in our newly built-by-my-dad-in-61-days house.  My very exotic Aunt and Uncle came over and had the brilliant idea to put “snow” on our very-real Christmas tree.  I’m not quite sure what this “snow” was, but I just remember that instead of smelling like a forest of pine trees, the new house smell was given over to fresh washing detergent.  We were told to scoop up this soupy solution by the handful and let it rip towards the tree — no doubt to give it that fresh-from-a-winter-blizzard feel.  Honestly the only thing I really remember from the night is getting my ass handed to me by my dad for having a bad attitude and storming off crying to my room.  (Mind you, I was a fickle child with VERY tender feelings — sidebar: My dad regularly asked me, “Carrie have you cried yet today?!” — so an outburst of emotions was not that unusual.)  Maybe it wasn’t that harsh, but looking back at the evidence and knowing how confused little emotions stirred violently in my belly with no way out other than through my eyes, I think I know what the problem was. There are two very real possibilities:

A.)  It wasn’t real!  Just why in the world were we trying to create something that could never live up to the expectation of the Bing Crosby special of a White Christmas?!  I knew Christmas was a farce from a young age, I just didn’t know how to step up onto my soap box (like I do now).  So my only option was to sit in that chair in front of the fireplace and sulk it up!

B.) (The more realistic version) I was having a bit of a melt down that this “snoooow” was getting all over our NEW house!  It was messy and I didn’t like it!   (This coming from the same child who didn’t want to get water on her face as a baby and didn’t go barefoot outside on the grass until college!)

Good grief — how did my parents survive me?!

i *heart* my family: the dinner table

With Thanksgiving just a week away, family gatherings are on my brain.  This unmarked photo was grouped together with some of my maternal grandmother’s photos.  I do know that it’s her table and lace table-cloth (that my mother still has).  But I was surprised when I saw this photo because 1.) someone actually used a frame to capture a lovely table setting — instead of a person and 2.) it piqued my curiosity as to what the special occasion must have been.  But I really like that someone took the time to try to capture something seemingly ordinary when it wasn’t necessarily in vogue to do so. I like to think there was good news, love, and laughter shared over a beautiful spread. (I also like that I’m not the only one in my family to take pictures of a table setting! )

 

pretty tears

It’s no secret that I love vintage handkerchiefs.  So when I came across these beauties, I had to look at mine in a different light.  I love what artist Molly Stronczek has created with a simple, lovely object (and good lighting).  These photos are mesmerizing and moody.   In a sense, it seems that maybe she has captured the legacy of emotions cried into those handkerchiefs.  See them all here.

i *heart* my family: fatherly fashion

This week’s post is a nod — or rather, “hat tip” — to the ever sartorial outdoorsman that is my father.  His choice of head gear through the years would make every Brooklyn hipster extremely jealous.  I could do a week’s worth of posts about his entire outfit choices, but I chose to focus on what’s above his shoulders.  (Besides there’s already a tumblr about that.)  And, most of these photos involve some sort of dead animal; so again, I edited.  These days he’s more akin to a Parrot-head than a Brooklyn-ite, sporting his rayon, button-up, Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts.  But each hunting season, I am sure to be treated with vintage flannel, waffled undershirts, and a well-worn belt buckle if not a smart piece of head gear.  {See my favorite look here!}