Polka Dance Club

Polka dots are fun, but they aren't all that fun to talk about. What is there to say, really? Stripe alternative, for the summer.  Let's talk about the polka instead.

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I had a social studies teacher when I was in 8th grade who was from Estonia.  He was so old.  He seemed ancient, in fact, but like so many very old middle school teachers, he also seemed to have this ability to just keep going.  He never seemed fatigued. He'd sneak outside between classes to smoke cigarettes, which on the surface made him seem like a bad role model, but actually, made him seem relatable and authentic.

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My good friend and I were squarely in a Violent Femmes music phase in 8th grade, and a byproduct of that was that we both became pretty fascinated with accordion music.  Mr. Koiva heard us discussing this interest in accordion music and struck up a conversation about the polka.  It turned out he was quite well versed in the moves, and to our delight, offered to teach it to us.  He started a polka dance club in the gymnasium one a week after school, which we enthusiastically attended.  While no footage exists to memorialize our accomplishment, 1994 was truly the year that the polka dance took smalltown New England by storm.

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Happy Monday! Thanks for reading.

Sartorially Particular

I had a pair of cutoff shorts that I made out of a pair of jeans that I got secondhand in 2004.  I really loved the shorts and they were my weekend uniform for the past few summers.  But gosh, they finally fell apart.  They actually split at the seams.  I thanked them for their service and realized I did not have anything with which to replace them.  (Note: denim cutoffs are EMOTIONAL CLOTHING.)

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I shot this look in San Jose the same week that I replaced the denim cutoffs and I had very similar thoughts on both days.  The day I shot this look, I remember thinking, "How very over are skinny jeans?" And later in the week I thought "are denim cutoffs even something I need to keep wearing?" Then I realized that I know exactly what I like to wear and so these are the wrong questions.

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Things I like include:

1. Comforting cotton basics

2. Lack of pattern except geometrics

3. Pants that hit above the ankle except I don't actually want exposed ankles; I want stretchy cotton socks on my feet and covering my ankles.

4. High waisted EVERYTHING

5. To never be itchy

6. Cardigan sweaters all day every day

OH MY GOD I AM OFFICIALLY OLD AND PART OF BEING OLD IS NOT CARING THAT YOU HAVE BECOME SARTORIALLY PARTICULAR AND YOU FIND EVERYTHING ELSE EXHAUSTING TO CONSIDER.

I don't think this means I'm not fun anymore, right? Fingers crossed that it means I am more fun than ever because it's kind of like I've passed through some sort of second puberty known as ages 25-35 and now I can really get my groove on.

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Thanks for reading.  Hope the weekend was a good one.


Gap tank (old) // J.Crew jeans (old) // Vintage boots // Celine sunglasses 

Your Own Worst Habit

I had this really useful conversation with my husband yesterday.  We were talking about judgement and how casually people sling it around.

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I told him that I had a conversation with another parent recently and over the course of our discussion, realized that we had zero parenting philosophies or strategies in common.  The old, knee jerk internal reaction would have been to judge all the ways this parent was doing it wrong.  However, I dug a little deeper past that initial reaction, and considered where the other parent was coming from.  This person (a father, not a mother, but not a detail I consider terribly important) loves his kids.  He loves them a lot! He thinks through all the ways that he decides to raise them.  He's been informed by his own walk through life, just as I've been informed by mine. 

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He doesn't have to do it my way, any more than I have to do it his way.  That isn't anything relevatory.  But what feels newer and better to me is to let go of the constant urge to evaluate that difference of opinion and assign "better" and "worse" labels to each side's decision making.  In that single conversation, I let go of that judgmental impulse previously residing inside of me much the same way you could release a helium balloon and watch it gently float toward the highest height (rough analogy for an environmentalist, but a handy one).

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After describing this freeing process to by husband, he pointed out that we were having a sort of meta-moment, where we were kind of judging judgmental people as being less than those who had broken free of that habit.  It's a good point, but I'm not too worried. There's room for caring, constructive judgement in life.  Your boss gives it to you.  You give it to your spouse and your kids and your dear friends.  But the intention is to be helpful, not to create some sort of cruel totem pole of winners on the top and losers on the bottom. Intention and context mean a lot.

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Good luck breaking free of your own worst habits.  And if you decide not to change at all, I'm not judging.


American Eagle Outfitters hat (old) // Chanel top (vintage) // Amour Vert shorts (sample sale) // Clarks sandals (old)