Skip to main content

Not Peter's Wendy


Peter Pan collars... I could live in them. Easily.
Labels:

Comments

Unknown said…
Love them... they make life so much cuter
7:17 AM
America Lettuce said…
Peter Pan collars are so perfect! I could live in them too! hahahaha you have a lovely blog. The title is really cute

http://lettuceforyou.blogspot.com/
10:22 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tiny Dancer

Ode to pictures galore... we are NOT camera virgins. As the weekend swiftly dwindles away following a saga of dinner parties, Christmas tree mishaps (ornament wars), and that old familiar work hard, play harder mantra… my narcissistic denim tendencies beckoned like the call of the wild. In the very nearly retirement section of my closet they loitered, brooding in uncharacteristic glamour. But with a downcast feeling that pulls you from reverie… bluntly, I knew nothing else compared to the resurgence of my second-skin blue jean baby . And about a week (or more) ago, I was pleasantly taken aback when the lovely Carrie over at Bare Style sent an e-mail and subsequently mailed over a bundle of (unexpected) amazing goodies from her store Bare Accessories . Launching a slightly embarrassing (I won’t lie) celebratory dance, it took all of a minute for the clutch, bangle, and AA leggings to baptize themselves among the legion. Obviously fated to join the ranks of my closet, I can’t wait to tak...
174 comments
MORE PICTURES »

The Carousel Ride

A little storytelling... A modicum of silence swallowed the room as dusty shards of sunlight patterned the multicolored carpet. Decorated with an army of garish jewelry, everything jingles, almost intentionally, as the woman perched behind the large candy counter brushes invisible lint from her blouse. Her silvery hair is the color of cotton candy. She offers a genuine smile before shifting her gaze downcast towards her slender hands. Briefly, she examines their delicate surface that is creviced by time and wiser than yesterday. At four quarters per ride, it was a small price for six minutes of uncontaminated childhood reminiscence to sweep the memory warehouse. And while we kept the company of an epoch 1920’s carousel, 60 handcrafted horses, and funky reindeer, we went round and round, faster and faster… letting it take us to those secret places we almost forgot existed. --Bella H. p.s. In lieu of those who have so thoughtfully given me awards and spotlight features... YOU'RE AM...
190 comments
MORE PICTURES »

They said it was a Trail of Tears

I don’t have to search futilely the dank corners of an attic riddled with dust, or spend hours wading through the unbounded contents of a relic cherrywood trunk to grasp the secret language of my heritage. Because in the darkness of quiet spaces, when the world was seduced by a requiem of sleep, I heard the myriad of stories that taught me of my Great Grandmother’s upbringing. As a child, I learned of her survival and the devastating circumstances that transpired during the forced relocation to Indian reservations west of the Mississippi River. And even in the fades of memory, the truth can resurface… and some stories live to linger. So as one of my latest writing projects unfurls its raw edges, what I’ve rediscovered is that sometimes, getting back to your roots is a journey all in itself. p.s. Special thanks to the Modepass team for my wicked Flair Magazine Spotlight ! (Forever 21 feather hair clip and necklaces, Vintage turquoise ring and bracelet, Brass Plum crochet dress, G...
110 comments
MORE PICTURES »