summer roses

 And continuing the theme of roses, here's a photo I shot in Big Sur, CA. Aren't they dreamy?

desert rose

Heya buddies! I’m back from a short trip to Northern Arizona. I’ll share more of my adventures soon, but in the meantime, here’s a  photo of the entrance to the Secret Canyon, a slot canyon in Page, Arizona. The pink and red gradient hues of desert rock, sculpted beautifully by nature, had a profoundly meditative effect upon me.  I could lay all over the cold smooth desert rocks for hours, but alas we were on a tour so it would probably not be appropriate.  Albeit, it was a Hummer tour (a present for Pete’s bday), in which Pete and I were the only two participants, so I could have got away with just about anything. The tour guide, a really swell young man, did his best to live up to my exclamations of Faster, Faster!

Outfit: 70s wrap dress with rose print, motorcycle boots (thrifted).  Also, I’ve been really into perfumes lately, so I wore Decennial’s Lys de Desert perfume. (I only have a sample size now, but definitely want to own a whole bottle- it’s amazing! And you can recall the desert even when working in the office in the city.) I should probably do some posts on all the amazing perfume scents I've discovered. Perhaps a perfume/adventure match-up?

Photo by Pete.

Wardrobe Inspiration: Trip to Northern Arizona

Pete and I are going to spend a few days in Northern Arizona next week (Sedona, Flagstaff, and Page - Navajo country mostly), and this beautiful editorial has reminded me how suiting long flowing dresses/slips and my ridiculously oversized cowboy hat will be for the occasion.

Photos by Peter Lindbergh for Vogue June 2013. Model Edie Campbell. Images via Fashion Gone Rogue.

let us race to the ocean

Beach days start with a trip to Angelo's Italian Deli in Long Beach.

My niece answering the call of the ocean.

Long Beach

keeping my nephew from going too far out into the ocean.

beach reading

new bathing suit bottoms

Sunset Beach, my favorite.

Lately I can’t deny the urge to run into the ocean, and the rapport I have with the waves seems like the most meaningful conversation I could have. I spent Mother’s Day weekend at Sunset Beach. A school of dolphins played within eyes sight on both days. My nephew runs to the water and yells “Agua, Agua!.” I hold him back; he wants desperately to be part of the ocean. He doesn’t understand the danger, he only feels the urge. His little heart is beating fast. I think of my mother, who loved to swim. She was a natural. I recall a trip to Point Pelee National Park in Canada when she dove into Lake Erie and swam incredibly far out like a mermaid returning home, while my sister and I watched her awe-struck and shivering from the shore.
It was foggy but warm outside when I finally took my swim. Have you ever noticed how incredibly hungry you feel after spending time in the ocean?

 Outfit: 50s red shorts (Vets Flea Market); white tshirt, sunhat, Keds (thrifted), watermelon bathing suit bottoms (American Apparel), bathing suit top (DKNY). 

taking shape

a backdrop of jasmine and roses.

I don’t normally wear my hair straight, but I’ve been too much of a beach bum on the weekends to give ten minutes of precious summer time to rolling my hair.  (By that way, I realize that it’s not technically summer, but to me summer will always be a feeling, and I’ve got the feeling.) Thank goodness it takes no effort at all to throw on a vintage dress.

Outfit: vintage 60s knit mini dress (thrifted), sandals (Topshop)

a feeling called summer

Photos by Andre de Dienes. Scans by me.

the weekend that George Jones died

Our first stop was at the Cold Spring Tavern in Santa Barbara, an old stage coach stop, built in 1865.

 

California poppies in abundance.

looking up at giant hawks gliding overhead. Wearing an embroidered dress that Pete thrifted for me.

our cabin for the weekend in Carmel

Pete chillaxing on our cabin porch, wearing a vintage Hang Ten shirt that I recently thrifted.

Cypress Tress in Point Lobos State Reserve, Carmel.

cheesy tourist pose with my large pine cone pals. Figueroa Mountain, Santa Barbara

my hiking boots and happy flowers.

listening to a George Jones cassette on our cabin porch in  Carmel.

 

Big Sur

tons of elephant Seals, San Luis Obispo, CA.

It’s always a heartache when another country heroes passes on, so I’m glad to now be able to associate the passing of George Jones (he died on my birthday, April 26) with the beautiful time I spent along California’s Central Coast. I was even more stoked that I packed a cassette of his tunes, and this was before I even heard the news of his passing.  As I listened to him sing from my Moving Sound cassette player on the idyllic porch of our cabin, overlooking a canyon filled with old growth oak trees, I felt that, in my own way, I was saying farewell.

 Reached by a dirt road lined with redwood trees, high above the clouds, we found our cabin; we pretended for the time that our cabin in Carmel was home. Time, refreshingly languid, afforded us the opportunity to breathe, to let go. I watch a bluebird in an oak branch from the antique claw tub on our porch, where I bathed in lavender two mornings in a row. The smell of jasmine in the air, the soft rustling of the leaves from a tender breeze, the brilliant fire from our wood stove, the quiet stillness of the canyon, I let go.

And outside of our home, it is just as pleasant. Along the coast, the wild flowers are everywhere. The cypress, redwood, and oak trees signal life and longevity. An old lady, a local, has never seen so many elephant seals in San Luis Obispo, and she’s lived there her entire life. And my word, the pine cones in the Figueroa Moutains of Santa Barbara are plump and healthy!