master bedroom.
all photographs by katy jones, © dirty hems, 2012.
☽▲☾
Since moving to Waco, we’ve been working on getting this little rental house in shape. We will be here for two years total, and neither of us can bear to live somewhere without our personalities splashed across the walls. At first, I had a very specific plan for how I wanted things to look. But the more I worked at it, the more frustrated I was. Nothing was panning out, nothing looked the way I wanted it to. So, this weekend, I gave up. And decided to chuck out all my serious “interior design” ideas and do it how I like it. A mix of styles and aesthetics, laced with humor. I had boxes of things under the bed and in the closet, deemed too “silly” to be placed out in the open. How ridiculous. I am silly. I like silly things. Bring on the silly.
There are a few things still needing to be done – we have a new duvet to go under that amazing bedspread, but I cannot find a simple, plain white cotton duvet cover within our budget. I’ll have to make one. We still need to put up a curtain over the strange little side window (we’re thinking neon green or yellow hardware for this one).
april 29, 2012.
thrifted black lace dress / vest diy from thrifted acid-wash jean jacket / clare vivier messenger / vivienne westwood pirate boots / vintage jewelry
Back in the saddle. More content will be coming soon.
damn, y’all.
I haven’t done a post since January. My bad.
Life is…life. I work as a teacher now. Between that & The Blind Hem duties & trying to make some extra $$ via the shop…I just don’t have the energy or time to update this little corner of the interwebs as much as I should.
I will try to be better.
the great rug skirt.
I don’t know why I never posted this! I just found it in my Drafts and I can’t remember why I never clicked “publish”. It is giving me serious nostalgia – I miss our light-filled house on Port Lavaca Bay. I miss being only 2 hours away from my family & friends rather than 3.5 hours. I miss my long mermaid-rapunzel hair. I miss the hardwood floors and the big den area where I could set up my photo equipment. I miss the feeling of security we had there.
Anyway. It’s been awhile since I’ve posted a DIY of any sort – and even though this isn’t the best or the biggest…it’s still fun.
~
Ever since I saw this DIY over at the (fantastic!) blog A Pair & A Spare, I’ve wanted to make my own. She originally made the dress, but then made a skirt which just sealed the deal for me. Officially on the look-out for some cheap-o rag rugs. I found some at the dollar store when I was in Houston, made from jersey rather than that icky plastic-y stuff they’re usually made from. Great stretch, lovely weight, pretty colors. Yes!
Here’s a few photos of the process:
the last age.
thrifted wool skirt / target gray t-shirt & tights / thrifted chadwicks patent loafers / levi’s jean jacket / vintage & assorted jewelry
Today is my birthday. Today I am 29. The last age I will ever be – because my dad sent me an email today telling me how my Nonnie (his mother, my grandmother, who died when I was six) never told her age past 29. It was always “anniversaries of turning 29.” I like this idea.
No, really, I don’t mind being 29. I won’t mind when I am 30 (much). But sometimes it hits me that I am no long 22 years old — who am I kidding, sometimes it hits me that I am no longer 18 — and it blindsides me. I feel 22. Most of the time. I feel like I was back then – messy & heartsick & ready for anything. And then reality comes crashing in — in the form of responsibilities — and I hate it. I hate Reality most of the time. I want that old me back, slightly wiser & steadier, but still crazy and bleeding and young.
Today I stayed home and didn’t take a shower until 3PM. I sewed a skirt to wear tomorrow when we head back to my hometown and I get to drink beer with my friends. I organized my closet. I fed the cat. James took me to eat cajun food for dinner and I had a margarita. It took all of my willpower to not fall back into that dark space again — why are birthdays like the magnifying glass of all problems? Why do they make it all seem so much more? I wish someone would solve this & give me a cure.
Tomorrow we head down I-45 towards me hometown & I am giddy with excitement. To see my family. To see my friends. To drink and be crazy and yell at the moon. I may be 29, but tomorrow I plan on being all of my twenties at once. This year ahead, this big yawning cavernous year, better be a good one. I need it something crazy.
- I wrote a guide on How To Date Vintage Clothing at The Blind Hem.
- Use the coupon code HAPPY BIRTHDAY to get 20% off your order at Moonshine Hill until 2/1.
one more rung.
thrifted gap chambray shirt / vintage cashmere sweater / target tights / zodiac boots / vintage jewelry / corey lynn calter skirt
This morning I had a test on the Dewey Decimal System, which threw me for a loop. It was an employment assessment for a part-time position at our local library. The pay isn’t great, but it is at a library…so I really want the job. Unfortunately, I assumed the assessment was for basic skills like making sure I can read — but no, on arrival it became apparent that the entire quiz was on the DDS. Which I have never studied, except for those odd library orientations they used to give us at the beginning of every semester in college. You know the ones. We all sleep through them. But my luck was with me — my years of haunting various libraries across the state and overseas has blessed me with a working knowledge of that hallowed filing system. I missed two questions. Bagged a 96%. And thus my application goes on to whatever the next level is, and I am stuck waiting with fingers perpetually crossed.
It felt good to dress like a normal person today — by which I mean in something that doesn’t have bleach stains or is falling apart at the seams. It felt so good that, after the assessment, I went to the library. As you do (as I do). See potential employers?! I do love me some library. I was on a mission for The Blind Hem inspiration and managed to collect a pretty hefty stack of books, all posing the same question — why do we wear clothes? Why, indeed. Other than the basic facts of modesty & keep-it-to-yourself-edness, why do we wear clothes? I want to answer this. Maybe.
Tomorrow is trash day. Tomorrow is another day without employment. Tomorrow is…tomorrow. See y’all then.
the change.
PLEASE UPDATE YOUR RSS FEEDS FOR DIRTY HEMS TO http://feeds.feedburner.com/dirtyhems
We are making a change, kids. Moving to a new wordpress on the same server because our host supplied wordpress installation is a piece of crap. Manual install is the way to go, apparently.
We’ve also been having some severe database problems, causing all of my sites to load slowly — really crossing my fingers that this can be resolved, as I don’t want to go through the hassle of changing hosts.
I would appreciate y’all sticking with me — love & love.
times, they are a-changing.
I am embracing my inner art-teacher. I am trying my hardest to stop worrying about what the locals will think when I go out wearing things other than North Face fleece vests or Ugg boots (which makes absolutely no sense because we live in flipping Texas not Alaska). I am trying to embrace the idea that I will probably be the one they talk about to their friends – “Oh my god, I saw this girl today and she was wearing…” I need to be okay with that.
In other news, things are changing. I am spending more and more time on The Blind Hem and Moonshine Hill. Which is good – because one I need for sanity purposes and the other for monetary. Poor little Dirty Hems is getting left behind. But here’s how it’s going to be — The Blind Hem and Moonshine Hill are my day-jobs and Dirty Hems is my sitting-in-front-of-the-tv-in-pajamas job. I’m going to get a bit more personal, a bit more wordy on this thing. I need an outlet, because the frustration is piling up and sometimes I just need to sit down and hash it all out via the internet. I blame Livejournal, but what can you do.
That’s not to say that the fashion/style stuff will end – oh no, because that helps me calm my nerves. I’ll still be posting that sort of stuff. But mixed in with a lot of whining.
Last night John (James’ little brother, who lives with us) invited over two of his friends and we built a fire in the fire-pit. I am on antibiotics so I can’t drink, which was a huge bummer all weekend especially when the party moved inside to play Big Buck Hunter on the Wii. That game is only fun after a few drinks. I busied myself by playing Blondie on our record-player and trying not to fall asleep. It was a lackluster Saturday night, but it was nice to talk to people who don’t live with me. That doesn’t happen often.
I turn 29 on Thursday and it’s sort of blowing my mind.
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- I wrote about dangerous historical fashion choices at The Blind Hem this week.
- I blogged about these amazing photographs of showgirls in Florida in the 1940s at Moonshine Hill too.
but i’m flat out of luck.
I feel better today. I took a shower and did all sorts of girly boudoir type things this morning that I haven’t done in awhile. Painted my nails, conditioned my hair, got dressed with more thought than comfort (though that was part of it). It felt good. It still feels good.
And then I did some work and organizing in my little studio/office space — and in the midst of that I started sewing. So the inspiration is just rolling, which I find hilarious because Jesus Christ I’ve been so low-down these past few days and now my brain is just buzzing. I wish I was getting paid for this shit.
James keeps telling me to take a step back and breath — but I can’t take a step back. If I step back I will trip and fall back into that dark place. I have to take a step forward. Always moving forward. But I do breath.
video games.
I have been really worried about money lately. James going back to school and no longer working has put me in the position where I need to find a job — any job — as soon as possible. But I suppose it’s general knowledge that now is not the time to be looking for work. And boy, do I know it. I’ve sent out about 30 applications in the last two weeks and have had no call-backs, no responses to office visits, emails, etc. It’s a bit disheartening. I went through a pretty rough patch the last three days — we’re eating into our savings and I am so frustrated and helpless. I didn’t leave the house or change out of my pajamas for three days. I spent three days sitting in front of the computer — working on The Blind Hem & trawling for jobs. If I think about it for too long, it makes my heart hurt. This was my turn — my turn to take care of us so James can make this step for himself. And, so far, I’m doing a pretty shitty job.
Three days of unwashed hair. My computer desk was a mountain of coffee-mugs, tea-cups, legal-pads, pens and pencils. I listened to the Gershwin and Chopin stations on Pandora for three days. I wore my robe for three days. James came in and out of the room, between classes and in the evenings, worried and quiet and comforting. But it was just this cave I needed to crawl into — when they say you have to hit the bottom before you can rise up, I suppose it’s true. Because as the three days wore on, my mind started spinning. I worked on The Blind Hem and I am so, so proud of it. I applied for more jobs — making compromises, taking chances. And, best of all, I opened up Scrivener and started working on my YA novel I shelves earlier last year. I mean, I worked on it — and there’s no slowing down in sight. So. Three days of wallowing resulted in that. I’ll take it.
But even though some inspiration switch was flipped, I was still in my pajamas, drinking green tea during the day and peppermint tea at night. I was still hiding from James and John and just feeling incredibly sorry for myself. I cried after I talked to my mother on the phone because sometimes you just need to.
I started printing out my Pinterest and Tumblr Likes, the ones I had saved because I wanted to emulate that outfit or that hair or that makeup. I’d been meaning to for awhile, wanting to stick them around my little dressing room area because I save so many of them and I never really use them as inspiration. And I just kept printing and printing. Until there was a stack several inches thick. And then I decided to collage the wall, because I used to do that when I was fourteen and for some reason when I feel sorry for myself the only thing that helps is nostalgia.
So I holed up in my dressing room and blared Lana del Rey and scotch-taped printout fashion pictures on my wall. And the song Video Games came on and as I pressed down on that tape I felt the deepest sense of déjà vu I have ever felt in my life. When I was sixteen I was in love with a boy, the first boy, and we would sit in the upstairs den in my parents’ house and play Tony Hawk Pro Skater for hours. And my legs would be in his lap and he would rest his elbows on my thighs. I have photographs somewhere of his tanned face smiling up at me, a tangle of game controller cords behind him. He had pillow-lips and a whiskey laugh, even at sixteen. I will never forget the feeling of my head on his shoulder, his hand clenched at my hip.
I taped up those printed photographs of leggy girls and I tried not to cry. Because there are so many things I am thankful for, so many things that have made my bloody little heart expand into the confines of my chest. So many times in my life I have cried, curled up under the covers, because it is all too much. Too sad, too beautiful, too much.
It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you want to do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
It’s better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
Baby now you do
I guess this was also my way to tell y’all this blog is going to get a bit more personal.
