Little Gypsy Things

I’d best describe my very eclectic, yet classic personal style as having heavy influences from 1920s European gypsy fashion. To me, that means silk and velvet embroidered and brocade fabrics in flowy kimono silhouettes and wraps as well as femininely structured dresses topped with heavy silver jewels.

In today’s look, I’m wearing a lovely, special dress, ravishingly vintage-inspired with a delicate winter floral print and a whimsical front key-hole cutout (my favorite part of the dress)!

 

I accessorized this dress with a fabulous heavy silver medallion necklace, which I instantly fell in love with for its resemblance to 1930s belly dance hip belts. It has such adds such a rich oriental vibe to any outfit.

For footwear, I threw on my blue velvet gogo-style booties by Steve Madden. They add an edge but maintain the vintage, eclectic look of the entire ensemble.

For beauty styling in this look, I straightened my hair and did an emerald and blue jewel-toned smokey eye with a mauve lip color.

Now where’s my crystal ball?

A Modern 1960s Dream

Nashville is feeling unseasonably warm, even in its 30 degrees. My strong Chicago blood feels the sun on my cheeks, and it doesn’t for even a second feel like the end of December.

Today, while organizing my closet, I pulled out a quick little shift dress with keyholes on the bust. I remember seeing this dress for the first time before buying it and letting out a faint gasp, as I knew I had to own it. The shape, movement, bumpy texture, and undeniably 60s checkered black and white print spoke to me.

A dress like this is not only fun and flirty, but it holds so much potential for styling in various ways. I paired it today with one of my all-time favorite pieces – a cropped, boxy-cut tweed jacket in the perfect jewel-toned teal which screams Jackie-O (I also own this jacket in a beautiful violet because for the life of me, I couldn’t choose one color or pass up such a sweet authentic find). I finished the look off with my Poetic License mustard oxfords and a tweed vintage floral-print handbag.

This outfit is funky, it’s weird, and it accurately encompasses several aspects of 60s fashion that I adore – mixed textures, complimentary colors, patterns galore, but added sophistication in structured lines.
To make this outfit a tad modern, I went with extremely simple makeup: a light brown shadow, black mascara, and a pinky nude lipstick. I left my natural curls, and tied half of my hair up in a messy topknot.

If this isn’t the look of a city girl, I don’t know what is.

Did you know the Blue Hawaiian was a popular drink created and consumed in the 1960s?

Here’s a delicious authentic recipe for you to create your very own Blue Hawaiian cocktail to sip as you dangle your cute little Oxford-clad feet from your avocado green barstools with the hairpin legs.

1960s Blue Hawaiian Cocktail:

•3oz pineapple juice
•1 1/2oz sweet & sour
•1/2oz blue Curaçao liqueur
•1 1/2oz light rum
•1/4oz fresh lime juice
•maraschino cherries and pineapple wedge for garnish

Enjoy!

The Transcendent Wife (Part I – POV of the OW)

As I walked into his study, I was hit with the exotic scent of white moss and roses, intertwined with the familiar cherry tobacco his suits always smelled of. Through the haze of the smoke, in his tall, cognac leather armchair, sat a woman with hair black and soft as the wing of a raven, in perfect ringlets around her unwavering face. Her eyes were dark under the heavy veil of her lashes, and I could almost taste her pouty red lips as they wrapped around the stem of the pipe that always sat on top of his desk. As she turned to look at me, I suddenly felt ordinary and small, though I stood at the very least five inches taller than her. As she uncrossed her strong, shapely legs and stood up, the thin, sheer silk that once rested above her knees fell to the ground, and with the ease and grace of her steps towards me, I suddenly knew, she was no longer just the wife.

She handed me a crystal glass, nearly empty except for a few amber drops and the stain of her lips around the brim. With her ivory gown, she floated around the room, pipe still in her left hand, unadorned with the sapphire she once wore so hopefully through the days when he would sneak me in this very room. Now there was no space for thoughts of him and I. Her presence invaded every inch of the room – so much so that my feet felt heavy, and I could not step past the doorway. She looked back and smiled at me. I could only stare. She pointed her head in the direction of the bronze tiered bar cart aside his desk, silently asking for me to refill her glass. When I did not move, she went to the cart herself and brought the decanter over to me, never breaking eye contact. Her small hand carefully poured the scotch into the glass I was still holding, and as her dark brown eyes met mine, my hands began to shake, and the glass crashed to the ground.

I ran to the bathroom and looked into the mirror, searching for the parts of me that he loved over hers. Suddenly the blue eyes he once stared into and called beautiful felt void of color, and all I could see as I fell to the marble floor was her small hand pouring his most favored bottle of scotch into the glass.

An entrance down the grand staircase…

Impractical as it may be, everyday life is best served in a delicately etched double old fashioned glass, in the hands of a woman draped in soft, heavy emerald velvet and dripping with layered, mismatched Art Deco jewels. I find myself thinking about that woman often – this dark, cunningly mysterious woman so full of grace and elegance and at the same time such danger in her dark eyes that most people who meet her flee.

Velvet & Scotch is a platform for me to be that woman in my entirety; to share with you my fleeting thoughts as I experience this life, to give you the nearly provocative experience that is vintage fashion and culture in this modern day world.

I invite you into this corner of my life, where the walls are dark burgundy, sky-high with mahogany bookshelves invading the room with the rich scent of old pages and tobacco, and the taste on your wine-painted lips is undeniably scotch.