Better Late (’20s) Than Never

Oh, Honeymooners. I am so glad to be back! So much has happened, and I am still in a state of upheaval, but I had a thought–why not just go back to something I know and love? That will most certainly put me on more comforting ground. So here I am again!

I turned 28 in April, and even though everyone says you shouldn’t worry about “not having it together”, I felt like I had been stagnant and I needed to move forward somehow. My mind, my creativity, my enthusiasm had been stifled. I thought, what can I do to create some excitement? How can I change my life? What sort of adventure can I come up with to help me blossom once again?

The answer wasn’t immediately obvious. But one day when I looked around my studio apartment and considered how long I’d been there (three years)…. Well. Moving is exciting, isn’t it? I immediately went on the hunt for an upgrade, and within three showings, I found my dream space– downtown, two bedrooms. Even though I’m having some trouble with the noise level from the upstairs neighbors that may force me to leave, just going through the process and finding out I could handle the stress, the frustration, the financial strain, all on my own…was really empowering. And being in a brand-new (and much larger!) space has rekindled my creative spark in a big way.

However, I wasn’t entirely without it when shooting my last handful of looks in April, during that month’s brief spell of gorgeous weather. It had been a couple of months since my last “Honeymooning” day, and I had bought a gorgeous teal vintage hat with a bow and a black tulle veil from Salvation Army that I had been wearing in the apartment all day for kicks…



After lip-syncing show tunes in my hallway mirror for a little while (okay, an hour), I started rummaging through the pile of clothes that had increased in height as a result of my most recent thrifting excursion. I yanked out my black maxi skirt with knife pleats (which you can see styled here), as well as a semi-sheer black sleeveless top, another Salvation Army find. I donned both of them, leaving the hat on, and felt somewhat satisfied, but thought something was missing…

I had immediately gotten a vague ’20s-era vibe from the look as it was, especially with the top tucked into the skirt. What about a shawl, or a scarf? I wondered. And then I remembered the striped black silk hanging with the handful of other scarves in my closet, a very lucky (and cheap) find from last summer, a rare time when I actually had left with something I intended to look for before arriving to the store. (You can see it here).

The only black shoes I have that I felt would adequately match the outfit were my stiletto pumps, so I put those on and marched out into the sunshine with my camera and tripod, feeling very much like the merry widow who arrives to the funeral after everyone else. I was heralding the death of an old life and the birth of a new. Why should I care if it happened for me after everyone else? Better late than never, I say.

Better late than never.




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