Take two bright, bold vintage pieces, add them together and what do you get?
An outfit fit for a BBQ.
The blouse is a silk vintage Ralph Lauren number (as if the golf buttons weren’t enough, it used to have shoulder pads before I took a pair of scissors to them).
All that red and all that gold — there’s nothing subtle about it.
What could be more fun than tacky on top of tacky?
Spent forever on my friend’s sunny patio. And now I have the most wicked forearm tan.
Love that this sweater is sparkly gold (and glitters like a disco ball when it catches the light).
It’s straight out of the eighties (hard to believe, I know).
The belt is the one I wore on the Style Spy.
My favourite part of the sweater isn’t the razzle-dazzle glitter, though. It’s the batwing sleeves. How can you not want to flap your arms wildly in something like this?
to what it was before, this dress is now something I’d wear out of the house.
To brunch, to lunch, to dinner, wherever.
It’s sweet, but not too sugary sweet.
What did my husband say when he saw the transformation?
“It’s so short.”
You can’t win, can you?
and insist that my sis keep this vintage dress exactly as it is.
She picked it up on her travels with the intention of shortening it. But frolicking in fields isn’t the same in a short dress. And this is a frolicking kind of dress.
She thinks it will just sit in her closet if she leaves it long. But I think in ten years when she finds that perfect event to wear it to, she’ll be happy she kept it floor-length.
There has been speculation that this was actually a bridesmaid’s dress in its day (the brooch is her own).
What do you think? Do you vote to keep it long and risk rarely wearing it? Or do you vote to cut it short so it’s more wearable?
They say you shouldn’t mess with success.
So for all four rounds (and there will be four rounds) that the Canucks play in the playoffs, I’m going to post an outfit that incorporates my husband’s t-shirt.
This one, with my new favourite shorts (don’t let the acid wash fool you, they’re brand new).
You can find the first outfit here.
Now let me hear you: Go! Canucks! Go!
Says my husband, “It looks… You look…”
“You just can’t.”
Well, I had to. Because it’s my favourite “before” (my purple striped dress is a close second).
I’m getting it altered and I’ll post the “after” shot in a week or so. But tell me, does it or does it not look exactly like what your Great Aunt Helga wears to bed?
And when that’s vicariously vintage shopping, well all the better. This guest post is from Leigh, a fellow Style Spy Girl of the Week, who just moved to Kelowna from Vancouver.
My first mission as a new Kelownian (if that’s the correct phrase) was to secure a handful of go-to vintage shops and cute, unique, one-of-a-kind boutiques. I always think it feels a bit like a treasure hunt when you’re in a new city, scouring the side streets and excitedly exploring the little neighbourhoods, searching for that perfect gem of a store.
In my quest for some new fashionable discoveries, I unexpectedly came across a charming consignment boutique called Frock.
I wear my bright red Queen’s sweatpants from the year 2000 (best gift ever, Laura, Anji and KJ).
But when we go in the morning, my walk wear is work wear.
The pendant was my mom’s brooch from the sixties, which means it can fasten to tube tops and jumpsuits too.
The skirt’s vintage — it’s made of really thick felt, but what I love most about it is its wacky and wonderful colour.
And now that spring’s (finally) here a sun dress “after” shot seems about right.
Took me a while to figure out if I’d chop this bad boy or not (why did I ever hesitate?).
Even when it was longer, it screamed “music festival” to me. Now, I think it’d be pretty perfect for my trip to Turkey too.
Thankfully I circled back to get this men’s battledress jacket.
Note the date sewn into the inside.
It’s so much more hardcore than the pretty little sequin sweater and razzle-dazzle-y jacket I also got that day.
I would obsess and obsess for weeks (months? years?) if I didn’t go back to get it. Are you like that? Please tell me I’m not alone.