Tour de Moncks Corner.

Cypress Gardens, Mepkin Abbey, Strawberry Chapel, Childsbury Townsite, oh my!

On the right foot.

Look for these pairs-of the classic and of the crazy persuasions--at seek vintage's booth at Lowcountry Artist Market, along with other shoes and accessories.

Silky smooth.

I've been obsessed with stocking seek vintage with silk tops for spring and summer. Warm weather calls for barely there clothing and what feels lighter on the skin than silk? Tucked in to short-shorts or a cotton skirt, these tops will be your best friend until autumn rolls around. And even then, toss a scarf or blazer on top and you'll be good to go all year.

If you're in the Charleston area, the next Lowcountry Artist Market is June 25, so mark your calendars! I'll be there with a rack stuffed with silk tops, sundresses, cute little skirts, and piled high with shoes and bags.

Mom's Day Weekend

Mother's Day is this Sunday, which is exciting, because it gives me the opportunity to repost my favorite picture of meine Mutti:

I'm not able to spend the day with her, but I did get to spend parts of the past three weekends with her, which was lovely. She's the first person I call most mornings, and the first I call when I need help or advice. I also think there is no better accomplishment than making her laugh.

Happy Mother's Day to the greatest one of all.

Draped and tied.

The boy and I spent a day wandering through Summerville and finding treasures that I have yet to photograph. In the meantime, have you seen this kimono jacket? I think it's neat.

Buy it here at seek vintage. SOLD

Put It in Neutral

Neutral blouses of all shapes and sizes at seek vintage. Just sayin'.

A rainbow of new things on Etsy!

Shop the rainbow on seek vintage!

These Days.

I was always something of a morbid kid. I was anxious and an overthinker. Whenever I was on the brink of something wonderful, like at trip, a birthday party, or time to open Christmas presents, I always had the fear that I'd be struck dead, either by an asteroid, a semi-truck, or some other likely scenario. As of late, my life is so indescribably good that, in the middle of all of these wonderful moments, I'm yet again faced with the irrational fear that I'm going to die in my sleep because life is simply too good, and something is sure to go wrong at any moment.

So yes. The subject of this insane, fearful happiness. It could have a bit to do with me attending yoga more regularly this year, or the gorgeous weather we've been having (up until last week), or it could most likely be the recent addition to my life. Anyone who may read my blog with any kind of regularly might remember a post from the end of January, where I decided to repurpose my blog, and use it as a place to over-share those funny and awkward (generally boy-and-dating related) moments that had occurred and were sure to occur during my present life. And then, less than a month after writing that post, I meet this person. This boy who I still can't wrap my brain around. I haven't been posting that much because I didn't want to get all swoony and fawny and then jinx the whole thing. But then, I thought, "Screw it."

So hear I am, throwing caution to the wind to ramble a bit about this boy who I met on the cheesiest of all holidays--Valentine's Day. I was supposed to meet a friend at a F*** Valentine's Party so we could check out the Stripsters, but she never showed. I have never in my life been more happy to be stood up. It's funny that we only met then, because everyone in Charleston knows there's this point where you feel like you've seen and met everyone in town that there is to meet. Yet, over the course of this time in Charleston, going to the same shows and events and even the wedding of a mutual friend, we never made the connection until the right moment. Thank you, Cupid? Aphrodite? Baby Jesus?

Basically, I'm constantly marveling at this boy who is a crazy fit to this checklist-of-sorts, who is wildly adorable, who makes me laugh constantly, who sings songs in my house with the windows open and the curtains blowing, who loves thrifting almost as much as me, who adores my friends and has great ones himself, who likes to take long and meandering walks, who calls my dog a Muppet, who is talented and driven, who will spend entire Sundays watching bad television with me, who has the cutest kitten of all time, who owns a vintage typewriter, who quotes ee cummings, who whispers in the dark, who makes me so happy that a small part of me thinks that an asteroid is going to strike me dead.

In short, life is good. Damn good.

A completely unbiased music plug:

I especially dig "Stay on the Ground." 

Weekend

Preparing.

Hope to see everyone out at Lowcountry Artist Market tomorrow! seek vintage is totally Springed out.

Lowcountry Artist Market

It's one of my favorite times of the year again!:

 

If you're in Charleston next Saturday, March 19, you should stop by the Music Farm for the Lowcountry Artist Market. There will be crafts and vintage (ehem...seek vintage will be there) and art and delicious food from the Hello...My Name Is BBQ food truck (their pulled pork tacos make me sigh with delight). Plus, it's free to attend (unless you buy something)! Did I mention that seek vintage will be there?

Cute Boys in History.

Pre-hipsters. 

On the Tweeter and the YouTubes.

Updating a blarg is really difficult when real life is so much fun. Anyhow, my days as of late have been a lot of ambient Icelandic music and open windows and windstorms, and exploring, and talking so late into the evening that the chirping of the birds the next morning interrupts the conversation. It's been strolling in to work at 11am with your pals asking, "Where have you been?" But that's what life is, right? Life lulls you into a simple routine that, just as it gets so comfortable that you think you know every groove and nook by memory, it drops an adorable boy with a beautiful voice out of the atmosphere into an entertainingly trashy Valentine's party thrown by radio station and a sex shop, veering you onto a completely different path. Because that is how life is. And that's what I like about it.

Saturday Walk

February Sunday

Oh, Sundays. I think they're so wonderful because you stretch them out to make the most of them before another week of work. Picking narcissus blossoms from the yard, French press coffee, helping a friend choose paint samples at Lowe's (with the right person, this can actually be fun), biking up to Closed for Business to hang out with beautiful boys who tell you that you have good skin, and agonizing over what color to paint your nails for dinner with an interesting fellow. Spring is springing, friends. It's springing up everywhere.

Going to Georgia

John Darnielle used to get his hair cut at the salon where I worked in Durham, back in my days of living in Chapel Hill. I never told him that I knew who he was, or anything like that. I wanted to say something fangirlish every time he came in, but what do you say and how do you say it? How do you tell him that once, years and years ago, a curious boy put "Going to Georgia" on possibly the most perfect mix CD of all time and you listened to it so much that you could anticipate every strum of the guitar. And that the CD, and that song, shook you up and made you feel magic, and made you wonder if that tall, quizzical boy was thinking that "the most remarkable thing about coming home to you is the feeling of being in motion again; it's the most extraordinary thing in the world" about you. And that the song and mix made you think too much about a boy you weren't supposed to think about, not like that. How do you say anything close to that without sounding like a tremendous douche? It's a tricky thing. So I didn't say it; I smiled and small-talked and checked off his name and his wife's name in the appointment book.

Fryday.

I'm having one of those weeks when my head is aswarm with music. I can barely think for all the songs ringing between my ears. I'm trying to sort out a lot of jumbly weirdness that has happened this week and shake off all the eerie feelings that keep clinging to me. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

On a lighter and brighter note, in a few short hours, the pup will be packed up and we're heading to Charlotte to hang with family. For the fam, this weekend holds a great occasion, as the Packers have made the Super Bowl. Though most sports mean less than nothing to me, I will even don some green and gold, though those colors do nothing for my complexion. That's how much I love these people. And I'm going to my sister's basketball game today (if I didn't look so much like my mom, I'd swear I was adopted). This is a big damn weekend. So much sports. I'm going to have to drink a lot. (What is the etiquette of bringing a flask to a high school basketball game?)

Here's a song I'm playing over and over as I down the biggest cup of Circle K coffee ever:



I have a crush on this song. I wish I could feel about a boy the way I do about this song. This song is a 6-foot-tall, brown haired dude with a beard and hidden tattoos and a husky laugh and fantastic cooking skills who can open jars and wears Band of Outsiders. THAT'S how much I love this song.

Listen up, readers.

I hate that I have to clarify this, but just to be sure:

Please do not repost my blog posts into your blog without giving me credit. It's not flattering; it's creepy.

However, if you want to share something I wrote, gimme a little credit (or a lot; I love a good shout out) with a link back to my blog or something.

Thanks!

Listen up, boyfriend(s).

Late night thoughts about...boys. (What else?)

*Style.  Mine: If I hold up two dresses and ask you, "Which one should I wear?" You better pick one, and have a  good reason for it ("I like your rack in that one" never hurts.). If you give a half-assed response such as, "You look good in everything," I will fight you. That is not a compliment. It's laziness. Also, you aren't allowed to be mad when I inevitably go with the other dress. Bonus points if you take even a tiny interest in my style. Yours: fitted dark denim, classic looks, and a tattoo or two would not be judged negatively. Also, be able to grow facial hair.

* Music. Know a lot of it and a lot about it. More than me. All kinds. Old-school R&B is non-negotiable.

* Movies. Lots of these. If you don't do subtitles, get out now.

* Humor. Mandatory. Laughter is way sexier than...well, than a lot of things. Making me laugh is hugely important. If you think I'm a little bit funny, then this deal is sealed.

* Nerdiness. Also mandatory. Dudes who care about things totally do it for me. Please read books. Please.

* Dates. I could not care less about Valentine's day, red roses, or steak dinners. Be prepared for lots of laziness: bottles of wine and endless albums on a Sunday night, or heads bowed together over crossword puzzles (in pen!) in the corner of a coffee shop. Also aimless walks and talks. Tons of those.

* Dogs. Must be a dog person, or at the very least, a Maya person.

* Friends. Treat me slightly better than yours, and adore mine just slightly less than I do. I will do the same for you and yours. 

* Miscellany. Be able to: open jars, untangle my really tangled necklaces, stay calm if I cry (not often, but it happens), drive stick-shift, make conversation with my family, tolerate my personal dramatics, have street smarts (I am too naive), be slightly more realistic than me.

This is probably why I haven't been in a serious relationship for a while. But what can I say? I like being overly specific. If it were up to my Oma, any ole doctor or lawyer would do ("And if you don't like them that much, their jobs will keep them so busy that they'll barely be home anyway."). Oh well.