TGIF.

When I was young (I’d like to say very young because it makes me seem less ridiculous in the story I am about to share), I decided to run away from home.

Being ever the logical and food obsessed child, the thought of running away and being ‘Fruit by the Foot’ deprived seemed less than ideal. So, I came up with the brilliant scheme to “run away” from home by hiding in the linen chest where we stored our blankets. I assumed as I was curled up in a ball in a dark and stuffy cabinet that my family would instantaneously discover I was missing, scream frantically and freak out, then reward my instantaneous return with candy. Or maybe a Barbie. I am guessing that we had the “Prodigal Son” flannel board in Sunday School that week….

Two hours later, still nobody had noticed I was “missing”. I was devastated. And hungry. And still Barbie deprived. I came out and announced sassily to my mother, “You are SO LUCKY I wasn’t kidnapped!”. I don’t think I ever explained the nature of that statement, so there you go mom. My plea for attention was fruitless (unless you count the Fruit by the Foot I then went and ate after the non-existant freak out).

Fast forward twenty-some-odd years, I decided to run away from home again. This time, I just decided to run away to Hawaii…. not the linen chest. And I went with my momma.

Sometimes you just need to get away from it all in a beautiful place…. not a linen chest.

xoxo,
SAW

They say adrenaline causes you to do things you thought to be…

Improbable.
Impossible.
Uncanny.
Unbelievable.

I am here to say that is so very true.

Last week I awoke to find my window being shattered by a man breaking into my house. If it weren’t for little Buster Bluth waking me to tell me something was wrong, I might not be as fortunate as I was. Adrenaline took over, and oddly enough the encounter ended with me chasing him down the street in my pajamas.

I thank God for adrenaline. I wonder how many lives have been saved on adrenaline alone. Our bodies were designed with such intricate detail, I am continually amazed at how this flesh I live in is capable of such unbelievable feats. I also thank God for giving me a detailed eye. Not only does it make for capturing wonderful wedding photos, I hope that it one day will help capture these (insert adjective of choice) criminals.

After this past week, I am convinced there is not much in this world I can’t do (although ample amounts of adrenaline does make it far easier!). I encourage you all to face your fears… and attempt what you consider impossible. Because believe it or not, there is not much in this life that is impossible. If you had asked me if I thought I would be brave enough to chase a criminal down the street in my pajamas with a weiner dog under my arm yelling, “What the hell are you doing?!?!”… I probably would have said it was impossible:)

Go. Face your fears. I bet you are braver than you think.

xoxo,
SAW

Used clothing has always kind of freaked me out. I associate it with a musky smell, unidentifiable stains, creepy Goodwill shoppers, and a never-quite-perfect fit.

Perhaps I stereotyped it that way based on the frustration I consistently seemed to encounter when a found a “cool” outfit only to realize it was a size 0 (which I most certainly am not). I always envy people when I ask them where their outfit is from and they giddily reply, “Oh, this old thing… it’s vintage.” So much for my hopes of it being on the clearance rack at Anthropologie.

My first attempt at being “cool” and finding something vintage to wear ended somewhat catastrophically. Last winter I was at the Alameda Flea Market with my fam and I spotted this chic vintage coat. I thought to myself, “People might just ask ME where I got this coat and I could smugly reply, ‘Oh, this old thing…. it’s vintage’!”. I was very excited to sport the coat and knew I had to find the perfect occasion to do so. I decided that an early Christmas celebration at my Grandparents house was the opportune time to transform myself into a woman of intrigue and style.

As you may recall last winter Blaine and I were doing crazy construction on our home, and naturally the afternoon of the Christmas get-together I had spent knee deep in paint. We were running late for the party so I threw my outfit in the car and decided I would change on the way (scandalous, I know). In the car I realized that I had forgotten to bring a shirt to wear underneath, so I figured having the coat all buttoned up was sufficient coverage and would get me through the evening.

Much to my surprise, my grandma started screaming the moment I entered her house and ran into the other room cackling like a hyena. I was baffled to say the least! Here I was convinced I would be bestowed with countless compliments the moment I entered the party and instead my grandma instantaneously departed giggling like a schoolgirl. I quickly confirmed there wasn’t paint on my face and stood there mystified. Minutes later, my grandma re-entered the room sporting the SAME. EXACT. COAT. Apparently she has had in her closet for over 40 years…. so much for me being unique.

My grandma then demanded to see the label in the inside of the coat to confirm mine was “authentic” and began to rip open my coat…. to which I screamed, “NOOOO!” (as you may recall this is because I was shirtless beneath). The entire family looked puzzled and then starting smiling immediately assuming that I was pregnant and trying to hide a baby belly. So I had to quickly confirm that I was not pregnant, just shirtless. Classic.

All that to say, my love for vintage clothing lasted all of five minutes. Until….

This weekend my view on used clothing metamorphosed within milliseconds. I saw it. The most gorgeous vintage dress. It is the kind of dress that makes you wonder what kind of life it lived. I wonder what kind of parties that it attended, the theater shows it witnessed, the woman that wore it. I picture pin curls and a Gatsby-like attitude. I also think about the woman that painfully hand-stiched every bead onto this dress and if she too wondered about the woman that would one day wear it.

Thinking about the life this dressed lived makes me actually love it more. Continuing it’s glamorous legacy is a goal of mine…. if only I can ensure that my grandma won’t pull out a matching one from her closet:)

We live such blessed lives full of new things, but I think it is really fun to breathe life into things worn before and create your own legacy with them. To my brides out there, I sincerely hope this puts some excitement on your “something old”.

xoxo,
SAW

P.S. The dress was only $20!!!!