Kelsey Dundon

if the chain on your wrist matches the chain on your blouse?

Ummmm…

That’s a tough one.

The opposite of tough? Lace. Which covers my high-waisted knee-length skirt.

But back to the pressing question at hand — is it matchy-matchy if you match your shoes to your handbag?

I’d say it’s a toss up. (I’m sorry. I’m the worst.)

So they’re my baby brother’s band. The WZRDZ, my favourite band ever, put on a ridiculously magical live show. Have never laughed and danced and then kept laughing and dancing as much as I did when they played Lucky Bar in Victoria this weekend.

Wore my husband’s vintage Vancouver shirt, my vintage eel-skin bag and more bracelets than you can shake a wand at.

Didn’t rock my Gryffindor cape after all and I got reprimanded by a gentleman in a Harry Potter costume because of it (I won’t let you down next time, Elliott.).

Also wore my favourite boots. A few of you were asking where I found them (Nordstrom, last year) but I did see a similar pair by Sam Edelman at Freedman in Victoria this past weekend.

I also got a little crafty with my vintage jean jacket and sewed on a couple patches (the one above I found at Rugby in New York).

I know you’ve been sewing badges on things since you were in Brownies but I’m not as crafty as you are. Nor am I as magical.

Hocus pocus, friends, I cannot wait ’til the WZRDZ play Vancouver!

But when you can take a pair of boyfriend jeans and polish ’em up? That, I’m into.

Wore them with my shbooties, which, like my open-toed booties, will have to be tucked away for the long, long rainy season we’re expecting in the Couv.

The jeans are so freaking comfy I wear them casually (well, sailor-y) too. But with my Club Monaco tuxedo jacket and belt, they’re wearable to work.

My ma found these earrings in New Mexico. (When I said I’d wear them with everything, I wasn’t kidding.)

Though I’d call them boyfriend jeans, they’re actually ladies jeans I bought a few sizes too big (funny, they feel so much baggier in real life than they look in photos).

Regardless, they’re a keeper.

When you and your dad show up wearing plaid…

It’s pretty rad.

Both are men’s shirts. His, for obvious reasons. Mine, for comfy cozy reasons.

“Yeah, but is yours Columbia?” he asks me.

No siree. It’s vintage.

Which means this plaid once belonged to someone else’s rad dad.