a little StitchFix review. (or, shopping, INTJ style.)

 

Nobody paid me to write this, though I feel on this blog, that should go without saying, yes? 

I honestly didn't want to be one of those bandwagon-bloggers, and I certainly wanted to avoid, at all costs, a blog post full of selfies (a nice life rule, if you think about it), but next thing you know, there's a StitchFix box on my front porch, and I'm trying on clothes that fit from the privacy of my own home, and now I want to join the masses and sing from the rooftops about how lovely StitchFix really is. So, yes, here's another review of the online service that brings clothes and outfits straight to your door. (I promise this won't become like, a thing.)

Like many of you, I've been reading about StitchFix for months thanks to Twitter and Instagram, and I was intrigued, but not convinced. I signed up and filled out an online profile months ago -- I do love a good online quiz -- but I never did take the plunge. Then February rolled around, and it finally seemed like as good a time as any. Birthday month, and all that.

Of course, my excitement was dampened when I realized I had given the service the incorrect address -- turns out I've been writing Florida on all my mail, whoops -- but customer service fixed my snafu, and my shipment came this week.

Before I dive into my thoughts, here's how the whole thing works.

StitchFix is basically an online shopping service that selects and styles outfits for you based on your personal tastes and preferences using an online questionnaire and a band on real-life stylists.

I live in town with no shopping mall, and I have long preferred online shopping anyway. You generally get better deals, and items are mailed straight to your door. What's not to love about that? StitchFix adds in the aspect of an affordable stylist who finds items you might not pick out for yourself, which seemed like a great idea.

StitchFix charges a $20 styling fee, but that fee ultimately goes toward any purchase you make from your scheduled order -- what the service calls a "fix." You can subscribe to StitchFix monthly, or schedule an order as needed. I think a monthly subscription would be really fun, but we're not in place where financially that makes sense. Our budget for clothing is pretty set, so for now, I'll schedule a shipment when I see a need, or when a shopping trip to town just doesn't fit into my calendar.

Each shipment comes with five items, and if you love and keep all five, you receive 25% off the entire box. Otherwise, pick which items you want, and ship the rest back in a prepaid mailing envelope. You can checkout online, letting your stylist know why you kept or didn't keep your items.

Jordan and I wind up talking a lot about personality types (we're Myers-Briggs obsessed over here), and I think part of my love and appreciation for StitchFix is the fact that I'm an INTJ. Shopping is not really my favorite thing to do, but when I do shop, I prefer to do so with specific things in mind. (I think it's why my friends like me to go shopping with them, but I often wind up not purchasing anything.) I love online shopping, though. I love mail and surprises and formulas and questionnaires, and that's basically what StitchFix is.

So, what did I get in my box? My stylist sent over one blouse, two sweaters, a pair of jeans, and a dress. I loved everything, and everything fit like a glove. I'm not an exceptionally difficult person to shop for, and my sizes are pretty spot on, but I still was shocked that everything fit so well. I loved the two blouses best (shown above), but for budgetary reasons, I eventually just chose the top right. Purchasing a sweater (not shown) in March seemed silly for a Southern girl, and the dress looked too much like some other items in my closet -- which really shows the stylist did a pretty great job figuring out what I like and don't. (It may have helped that I was super descriptive and linked to my Pinterest page.) I regret not getting the jeans, which were a boyfriend cut that actually fit really well, and that dotted blouse kept calling my name. But I had a budget I knew I had to stick to, and so I walked away with only one item.

That may be my lone complaint/concern about StitchFix: each of my items was probably more than I'd typically spend on one piece of clothing. But the convenience and the unique style of the items took off some of the edge, and I made a note on my online return form that I'd like a lower price point in the future. (All of the items in this fix were between $50 - $80.)

Here's the thing: if you're a work-from-home mom, this is a no brainer. We don't have kids yet, but I can't imagine shopping with little ones is the easiest thing on the planet. This is. I can't get over how convenient this was, and it was fun to boot.

I had a lot of hesitations (beware of the bandwagon, I thought!), but sometimes, things are successful for a reason. StitchFix is so easy and pain-free, plus you're getting a surprise in your mailbox while also tackling a chore. While I doubt I'll be scheduling monthly fixes, I will definitely be using this service again. And, if you're ever shopping for something specific, StitchFix will cater to those needs. So impressive.

Hesitate no more, friends. Go for it. I'll be back to regularly scheduled programming soon.

* Full disclosure: If you use my referral link, I'll earn $25 off my next scheduled fix. That's why you probably see so many posts about this service; people are earning their shopping money!

a little wishing.

From top: Nisolo Mendez flat, Pig bookends, Anthropologie gift card, OTBT brown boot, Real Simple subscription, address stamp, Madewell striped skirt, Lisa Leonard word of the year necklace, leather key fob, Mindy Kaling topic cards, duck boots, signet ring.

Guess what I just realized? I'm turning 27 next week, and even though I have lots of different celebratory plans up my sleeve, I had no idea the day was getting so close. (It's February 2, if you're curious.) In honor of the impending date -- and during priceless moments I'm sure I should have spent finishing freelance projects -- I compiled this little list of some of my favorite, yet-to-be-turned-into-reality Pinterest pins. And while yes, these are all gifts I'd love to receive for 27, I'm pretty sure you guys might like them too. 

I'm curious: How do you all celebrate your birthdays? I know I'm a grown-up, but I think everybody deserves a fun celebration, even if it's low-key. So what do you do when your special day rolls around? Breakfast in bed? A trip to the movies? Flowers? A dinner party?

Let me know in the comments!

stuff.

"The nicest thing you can say to me about my home is that it's homey, and people say it all the time. I like it. And at a certain point, I can't say when, I realized I didn't really give a damn about any of it." 

- Anna Quindlen, Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake

So we moved.

We moved, and it was hard and stressful and exhausting, but you've moved too, so you already knew all of that.

What you may not have known is that prior to the move, I spent hours researching rental homes. I made pro and con lists. I sketched to-scale designs of nearly every living space, picked out paint colors, bought new rugs, and sold a few unnecessary possessions on Craigslist.

In short, I became a bit obsessed, and right in the middle of it all, I heard this sermon and read Anna Quindlen's book.

They came at just the right time.

Don't misunderstand: I don't think there's anything wrong with having pretty things and picking out nice furniture (you've saved up for) and making a house look more like a home.

I love all of those things.

But I sometimes forget it's just stuff.

"I now feel I know the truth about possessions," writes Quindlen, "that they mean or prove or solve nothing. Stuff is not salvation."

We live in an era of Facebook and blogging and Pinterest, and we are bombarded with inspiration and glossy magazines and Photoshopped pictures of immaculate living rooms with sheepskin rugs.

Perfection claims to exist, and that's a difficult standard to meet when the laundry's piling up and chicken noodle soup boiled over in the kitchen. (True story.)

I bought some really cute new things for our cottage, items I'm happy I purchased because we saved for them and because I think they'll last longer than the stuff we brought with us from college.

But it's still stuff, and it doesn't make my life better or worse.

I think that's the biggest lie I've bought into, because I'm a firm proponent of retail therapy, of a rewards-based system in which the occasional "prize" is necessary for a stressful task completed and a job well done. (I wrote about my "prize mentality" here.)

All the prizes in the world, though, won't change my reality. As Quindlen says, we've bought into this idea that  "House Beautiful should be subtitled Life Wonderful."

It's unfortunate, because life is already wonderful, even without Target shopping trips and new red suede shoes. (Yes, I want a pair, even while writing this post.) 

I don't really need anything else, and I think that's what I've got to remember, especially this fall, when our finances change a little bit, and we find ourselves living on slightly less than we lived before.

The thing is, even when we're living on less, we're living so far above what so many people live on each year. It's embarrassing, almost, how much we make and how wealthy we are in the grand scheme, and I think I need to be humbled and realize: We already have what we need, and it's far more than what most people have.

During our move, I was so disappointed in the amount of stuff we had, but weren't even aware of. When you move, you pack up boxes, and they arrive at your new home, and they multiply. Just when you think you've got one thing unpacked, there are other items lurking in another box around the corner, and it's terrifying when you realize just how much -- and I don't use this term lightly -- CRAP you own.

For a lot of reasons, I'm reevaluating what we have. I'm trying to declutter, to only have those things in my home I find useful and beautiful. After my initial house purchases -- all of which are lovely and which I'm glad I bought -- I'm taking a break from spending. The pullout sofa? We'll save for it, and maybe buy it in time for Christmas. Anything else? It will come in time, maybe, after we purge a little bit and make sure we're not hoarding things no person should ever have.

And for the things we do wind up purchasing this fall, I'm thinking, too, of implementing a "one for one" rule: When I buy a new something -- whether it's a shirt or a pair of shoes or a handtowel or a book -- I get rid of something else.

"When I fall back into the old ways," says Quindlen, "I remember Willem saying on Christmas morning, 'But I already have one.' That's my new mantra, and it applies to almost everything."

I couldn't agree more.

being a grown-up.

{photo by Hannah Hayes}

Being a grown-up means getting the New York Times delivered every Saturday and Sunday. It means sitting up in bed, doing the crossword puzzle while the cinnamon rolls finish baking in the oven.

Being a grown-up means having a signature scent and style. It means having a livable, wearable, color-coordinated closet and clothes you iron the moment they come out of the dryer. It means having a tailor and a dry cleaner, even if you use both sparingly. It means spending wisely and taking care of what you own.

Being a grown-up means traveling the world and responding to adventure's call. It means making time and money for fun, because some grown-ups forget what fun is, and who wants to be one of those? 

Being a grown-up means having fresh flowers and remembering to throw them out before they begin to rot. It means having a well-curated, well-loved home, full of books and paintings and comfortable furniture. It means having a place other people love, too, a place where they feel warm and welcome and loved and appreciated. It's knowing what you love and why.

Being a grown-up means having a yard and a lawn chair and a fire pit and a sprinkler to run through on hot summer days. It means cooking and cleaning on a regular basis, mostly because you have to, but also because you know it makes you feel better when you do.

Being a grown-up means early to bed, early to rise. It means breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It means no more running out of the house with breakfast wrapped in a paper towel or scanning the refrigerator for expiration dates and signs of mold.

Being a grown-up means front porch living and rocking chair sitting. It means loving your neighbor and caring for those around you. It means having time to do the things no one else seems to have time to do anymore. It means life is a lot more simple than people want to make it.

Being a grown-up means no more overgrown laundry piles or rewashing clothes that soured in the washer overnight. Being a grown-up means sometimes drying your clothes outside on a line so they can blow in the breeze and smell like the air we breathe instead of some soapy chemical. It means doing the things you'd rather not have to do.

Being a grown-up means a little less television and a lot more books. Lots and lots and lots of books, and only the kind you can hold in your hand and mark with a pencil. Real grown-ups read books you can hold and feel and touch and smell, because deep down you know that's what your grandparents did, and it's what you want your children to do too.

Being a grown-up means getting your hair cut before it reaches the point where you begin to look homeless and ill-kempt. Being a grown-up means timely doctor's appointments and healthy eating habits and washing your face and flossing your teeth. It means taking care of yourself, because then you're better capable of helping others. It's putting on your own oxygen mask first.

Being a grown-up means getting vegetables from a garden -- maybe even one you helped God grow yourself -- and having at least one go-to recipe, the kind of recipe that made your grandmother famous. It's knowing some things are better made from scratch, and some things aren't worth the time and effort, no matter how many accolades you might receive. It's knowing some things are better made by your own hands, and some things can be better entrusted to the experts at Publix.

Being a grown-up means being a good friend. It means calling when you say you'll call. It means showing up even when someone forgets to ask you to. It means crying over hurts and smiling over successes. It means grace under pressure and enthusiasm over good things. It means a kind no and a reliable yes.

Being a grown-up means date nights with your husband and girls' nights with your friends. It means hanging out as a family and spending hours at the dinner table. It's knowing how to play a handful of card and board games so you never run out of things to do with the people you love. It's making time to do nothing with the people you love best and need most.

Being a grown-up means confidence in your own decision-making. It means gratitude for who you have become. It means trying to be better, but being content with what you have and who you are.

I'm trying, these days, to be a grown-up, the kind of grown-up I dreamed of being when I was a little girl.

What kind of grown-up do you want to be?

for the birthday.

Now that I've been blogging for a bit (nearly five years!), I try to avoid posting wish lists and my findings from the world wide web. Lots of other blogs do that, and they do it well. I make it a goal to stick to story-telling and to observation-making as much as I possibly can.

I hope you'll indulge me today.

Next week, I turn 26 years old, and for the first time in a long time, I just don't have much planned. I do, though, have a few things I wouldn't mind unwrapping this year, and I thought I'd share them here (despite my aforementioned editorial policy).

Without further ado, a birthday wishlist. 1. A Fabric-and-Handle bag that can transition from winter to spring. 2. A new pair of tennis shoes to run and exercise in (with bright orange laces, please). 3. A Falling Whistle necklace. More on the heartbreaking cause can be found on the organization's website. 4. A classic signet ring from, where else, J. Crew. 5. Gold flatware perfect for parties. I visited a West Elm store last weekend in Jacksonville, and I've kind of been obsessed ever since. 6. An exercise mat to use during my Bar Method DVD (more coming on this next week). 7. I'm thinking I maybe want an iPhone (and this pretty case). Here's the thing: I want to have an iPhone without becoming an iPhone person. Is it possible to have a smart phone without constantly whipping it out during dinners and conversations with friends? 8. A lovely pair of earrings. 9. A FashionABLE scarf. I got an infinity scarf for Christmas that I love, but I'm kind of digging the stripes on this one. 10. This shift dress is both trendy and timeless. 11. I've been ready to read An Altar in the World since I finished Leaving Church back in November. 12. It's time for a new wallet, and I think this one would do the trick nicely.

It's the iPhone that's the most unrealistic, and ironically, it's the wishlist item I'm still a little hesitant about (I think I get some sort of pride out of not having a smart phone just yet), but I have to admit: There are times it would certainly come in handy. Otherwise, I think this list pretty much covers my current wants (and a couple of needs).

---

So you've seen the wishlist. Now forget the gifts, and tell me: What's a girl to do to celebrate her 26th birthday?

home inspiration.

{photos by King Au for Better Homes and Gardens}

Let's ease into the week, shall we? 

I came across the home of interior designer Amy Meier on Pinterest and through some internet sleuthing skills was able to find the entire article, featured in Better Homes and Gardens this past January. I think Meier may have moved since the article was published, but I'm still digging all of the details: the farmhouse-style kitchen table, dark wood floors with colorful rugs, clear food canisters, and built-in shelving galore. 

The entry way might be my favorite, though, probably because it looks simple enough to incorporate its elements into our own home: an oversized basket for shoes, peg rack for leashes and keys, and quirky paintings on the wall.

I think that's the key with decorating and DIY magazines, with blogs and Pinterest: At some point, you've got to translate that inspiration into something tangible. Otherwise, it's just another time-suck. I mean, I like wasting time as much as the next person, but ultimately, I need to get off my couch and do something. 

---

Are you on Pinterest? What do you use it for? Have you taken that inspiration and created something?

If you're on Pinterest, you can find me here.

community.

 {photo via Bippity Boppity Boo}

Last Sunday, as lunch was dying down, we sat around the table, and we talked about community. 

And we wondered: How do you stop talking about it and start living it? 

Community has become this buzzword in Christian circles and maybe outside them; there are books and blogs and sermons devoted to this idea of living together in harmony, of creating an atmosphere where people mix and mingle and live and serve one another authentically. And we love talking about it, love analyzing it, love cutting it open and apart, and then we just leave it on the table, never really doing anything with it. 

I’m not saying I want to start some compound where I live within walking distance of all the people I love. I’m not advocating homeschooling over public-schooling or some imaginary safe-world over the real one. 

But I am wondering why I can’t — or don’t — invite my friends and neighbors over for supper. I’m wondering why the people I love are spread out over a town that’s not even that very big, resulting in occasional, pre-scheduled gatherings. I’m wondering why everyone’s just so darn busy all the time. 

I’m wondering what a simple life really looks like, what authentic community looks like, and I’m wondering: Do we really want it? 

Just like anything else worth having, I’m assuming community takes work. And I think it’s easier to sit around and moan and groan about it, about how we’re missing it, about how we’re just not fitting, not getting it. It’s easier to talk about it than to do it. 

In the past week, I’ve had four separate conversations with friends — all 20-somethings, some with children, some without, some married, some not — and we’re all in agreement: Something is missing. One friend thinks the solution might be a prayer group, a Bible study with an emphasis on confession and fellowship. Another thinks we need to move closer together, to share neighborhoods and homes with each other. Another references her time in Italy as inspiration for what she wants now. One brave friend acknowledges something is missing, but also acknowledges: She doesn’t have time or effort or energy to go about fixing the problem. 

I want community. When Jordan and I have a crockpot full of soup on the stove, I want to be able to call up our friends and say, “Have you eaten yet? We have extra!” I want intense, meat-y Bible study. I want a handful of people (I have always been a handful-of-people kind of person, not a multitudes kind of person) who I can trust and confide in, and admittedly: I’d like those people to be close. I’d like them to be here, not miles away, unable to eat my food or share my couch. I want friends who have babies and friends who don’t. I want single friends and married friends. I want friends who are different from me, but deep down, I want us to be the same. 

The answer to all of this is eluding me. I cannot find it. I do not know, and I do not like not knowing. 

So I’m focusing on what I do know. 

I know that I have three or four good friends, excellent friends, who I can send prayer requests to and confide in via email. 

I know that with some advance planning, I can have dinners and lunches and nights spent talking on the couch with those I love who live right here. 

I know that for me, community includes family, and that is a blessing. 

I know that I have girls in a book club I love, know that there are couples like me who are at least trying to make community happen, even in the tiniest of ways. 

Here is the thing: I am content. This life is good, and despite a year that has been full of changes for a lot of our friends (moving and pregnancies and life), we still have a community. We have people who love us and friends who mean something to us. Our life is full. 

I am content, but I don’t want to be neutral. I don’t want to be apathetic or careless with community. I want to be reaching for more, for better, for the things we dream about at the dinner table but forget about as the hours pass. 

As this year draws to a close, I’m going to be thinking on these things. I’m going to be praying about what 2012 might hold for us, how community might look if we talked a little less and did a little more. 

In the meantime, I’d love to hear from you. In your homes and in your families and in your towns, do you have community? What does that look like to you? Do your neighbors come over to eat? Do you find community mostly in your church or outside it? Do you have small groups or planned fellowships, or does it just kind of happen? (And if that’s the case, please: Tell me how.) 

I feel like I haven’t said all I want to on this subject, but it’s a start. I’m hoping you’ll fill in some of the blanks. 

shopping for a cause.

I consider myself to be a fairly savvy shopper.

Here is what I mean by this: I wait to purchase my favorite clothing items until they go on sale; I compare prices in the grocery stores and buy off-brands; I search online for free shipping coupons; I use primarily cash; Jordan and I do not, between us, own any credit cards.

Here is what I do not mean: I do not often shop in thrift stores; I do not know TJ Maxx’s shipping schedule, nor do I particularly enjoy going there; I do not participate in extreme couponing; I do not travel from store to store in search of the cheaper item. I do not have the patience or the time for any of the above. (Sincerely: Kudos to you if you do.)

Basically, I am a careful and cautious shopper.

There exist two circumstances, though, when all of these principles are tossed out the window.

When I am shopping in a locally-owned store, or

When proceeds go to a child/country/cause in need. 

I am a complete and total sucker where these two areas are concerned. I will happily slap down large sums (of cash, of course) if it means I can get a quality product while also supporting local business owners or helping someone achieve something big.

And since I can’t really share local goods with my readers — instead I’ll just remind you to please, shop and eat at your own local stores! — I thought I could at least make a list of some of my favorite online finds, shops where your proceeds go to help people in need.

Warby Parker

Like TOMS, Warby Parker employs a one-for-one concept: you buy a pair of eyeglasses, they send a pair to someone who needs them. Plus, they offer at-home try-on of up to five pairs of glasses so you can find the fit you need. I'm thinking it might be time for a new pair, maybe these?

TOMS

Yes, yes, I know. You've already heard of TOMS. But do you own a pair? Because I've found a lot of people talk about TOMS, but they never actually get around to buying TOMS. The pairs I've owned are some of my most comfortable (these are my current pair), and like Warby Parker, they've branched off into eyewear (though I find their sunglasses to be quite a bit out of my price range).

Mi Esperanza

While browsing around Homewood last weekend with Jordan's mom and sister, we wandered into Molly Green, a recently-opened eco-friendly boutique. There, hanging from the clothing racks, were colorful bags, designed by women in the villages of Tegucigalpa, Honduras. Mi Esperanza ("My Hope") began in 2002 by providing micro-business loans and skills training to women living in extreme poverty. A friend of Jordan's helped to launch the organization, so you can bet I snagged up one of these canvas bags for myself (I love it!).

100cameras

100cameras takes donated cameras to children living in underserved communities, providing them with a photography class and teaching them how to photograph their environment. Purchasing their photos helps to raise both awareness and funds for their local communities. (I had the print above made into a canvas that hangs over my mantle.) The organization most recently launched their third project, based out of Havana, Cuba. You can purchase prints here.

BeadforLife

My friend hosted a bead party last fall, and I wound up buying tons of Christmas gifts (and a few gifts for myself). Their necklaces and bracelets are beautifully-made by women in Uganda and other parts of the world. Like Mi Esperanza, BeadforLife tries to empower the women of these communities to start their own businesses and begin earning money for their villages and families. BeadforLife also sells shea butter products, and 100% of the profits goes to community development.

fashionABLE

A purchase of a scarf (this one's my favorite) helps to create a sustainable business for women in Ethiopia and other parts of Africa. Every scarf comes with a message from the woman who made it. (Birmingham readers: I also saw these being sold at Altar'd State in the Brookwood mall.)

Diana Warner Obligato Collection

Each item in the Obligato collection (I love this one) helps provide clean water for ten people in Africa for a year. Again, Birmingham readers can find the collection at Altar'd State in the Brookwood mall.

Jess LC Soc Chic
I've been a pretty big fan of Jess LC for a while now — her blog was one of the first I ever read — and her entire collection of Soc Chic necklaces was designed with specific organizations and nonprofits in mind. The proceeds of each necklace go to a different organization. (My favorite, the Bright Side necklace, supports CCC Scholarships, an organization dedicated to improving the quality of life for young adult cancer survivors.)

a trip to tybee.

Jordan and I have been reading Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil together, and its Savannah setting has me dreaming of one of my favorite destinations: Tybee Island, Georgia. The beach isn't nearly as pretty as the gulf coast my family heads to each year, but there's something rather magical about it: the pretty gardens, the long bike rides, and the satisfactory feeling that everyone is content doing absolutely nothing. I love its proximity to Savannah, but I love Tybee for Tybee... And I'm crossing my fingers that Jordan sees the need to take us back this year.

I already know what I'd pack...

01 : Bookish shades from Anthropologie
02 : Smile towel from Bloomingdale's
03 : Ruffled tankini from Boden USA
04 : Hat from Anthropologie 

it's always ourselves we find in the sea.

"for whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea." 

- e.e. cummings

Last weekend, Jordan and I joined my dad's side of the family for some much-needed rest and relaxation in Ellijay, Georgia. The home our families rented sat right next to a slow-moving river; the sounds alone were enough to put even the crankiest baby to sleep. As I sat with toes in the water, watching as kayakers and tubers made their way through the shallow waters, I thought: This is the life.

I often feel that way on the vacations we take; I become attached to the places we visit, and I envision what they could be if I were to ever call them "home." Boston, Newport, Savannah, Chicago, Florence. I love all of these cities.

But there is something about the water that rejuvenates me, calms me, brings me back to who I am called to be.

Maybe it's the sounds, the rushing waves, the babbling brooks. Maybe it's the different, simpler way of life found away from traffic and city skylines.

I think, though, that water itself has some healing properties, has the ability to calm and conquer fears and stresses. Our visits to places by the water are always my favorite, and they are the hardest places to leave. (Tybee Island, I'm looking at you.)

Jordan and I don't know what the future holds or where we'll be in the next few years. But I hope -- I really truly hope -- it is near water of some kind. I'm curious as to the type of person I would be if I were given a few months down by the water.

I have a feeling I'd be a happier, simpler, dreamier me.

--

01 : By Carissa Gallo for Kinfolk Magazine

02 : Via Tickled Pickle

03 : By Braedon Flynn via Cup of Jo

04 : By Rachel Mcginn via Matchbook Magazine

05 : By Bahar Özdemir

house-hunting.

Since I was a little girl, I've been dreaming about the kind of house I'd live in one day. I used to come up with imaginary floor plans and designs for each room, feverishly tearing photos out of magazines and gluing them into collages.

Looking back, collage-ing may have been one of my favorite pastimes. I think it was my way of being an artist.

Today, I don't make collages, but I do still keep a collection of magazine articles and photos in a binder at home. I know everyone's into Pinterest right now (and, full disclosure, I have one too), but there's something about sitting in your living room floor, going through magazines, punching holes, and marking things with post-its that's a little therapeutic. And even though Jordan and I aren't yet in the market for a home (though if we were, this one's still up for grabs; remember how much I love it?), one day, when student loans are paid off and we're finally ready, I'll have a list of exactly what we're looking for.

Behold, a peak inside my inspiration binder (you know you want one):

{built-in bookcases, cottage living magazine, photo by roger davies}

 {farmhouse sink, cottage living magazine, design by jane leyens}

 {natural light, cottage living magazine, photo by tria giovan}

 {open shelving + wood floors, country living magazine, photo by ellen mcdermott}

 {farm table, country living magazine, design by jill borelli}

{yellow door + livable entry, blueprint magazine, photo by laura moss}

 {more natural light, do it yourself magazine, design by pamela porter}

 {white cabinets + kitchen bar, better home & gardens magazine, photo by reed davis}

 {space for outdoor entertaining, country living magazine, photo by lucas allen}

 {black + white floors, country living magazine, photo by laura moss}

bookstore dreams.

 {the boulder bookstore, via pinterest}

I love traveling with Jordan. I love traveling in general, but I like experiencing new cultures, country back roads, and good food with my best friend. Plus, there’s something about time spent away from home that gets us talking about more than just upcoming events and the week’s grocery list. We’re able to dream a little, to think about the future and express gratitude for the present.

Last Saturday, on a spontaneous trip to the coast, Jordan and I were sitting outside a coffee shop in Rosemary Beach, talking about the summer and what we wanted it to look like. Our little trip to the beach felt like a much-needed reprieve, but the sweltering heat and a chipped tooth (yes, yes, I’m a klutz) had put a damper on things. Then Jordan found me a bookstore and a coffee shop, and my tears dried up pretty quickly.

As we sat talking and laughing, I nodded to the 20-something young woman standing and talking nearby. She had opened the Rosemary Beach store just three weeks before, and I told Jordan: I want to do that.

I want to own a bookstore.

That dream is nothing new. I’ve wanted one since before Norah Ephron penned You’ve Got Mail, before I even knew Kathleen Kelly of the little bookstore existed. I’ve had the name picked out for years, toyed with the idea of an accompanying deli or stationary supply shop, peaked inside windows of empty stores in my little town, imagined myself greeting customers and hosting book clubs.

For the first time, though, Jordan looked at me, and said: Have you prayed for it?

And I thought. And I thought. And I realized, no.

I hadn’t.

In fact, it hadn’t crossed my mind to let God in on my little secret, to introduce Him to the little entrepreneur waiting to bud inside of me.

Why?

Why do we keep our dreams to ourselves when we serve a Creator who instilled those passions inside of us?

If I truly believe that He knows the desires of my heart, why don’t I ask Him for them?

So today, I begin. I begin to say out loud what I’ve been saying to myself since I was a little girl. I let God know what I want. And I wait.

Because I just don’t know what He might do with the dreams and desires of my heart. He is a very big God, after all.

sandal weather.

It's been a while since I posted a wish list of sorts (a sign I'm becoming more mature and less concerned with temporal things? meh...), so here are some shoes I came across in the Sundance catalog last week. I was an intern at Coastal Living when I first discovered Sundance -- I used to take home the office copy out of the recycling bin -- and now, here I am, four years later (!) still drooling.

1. Peep-toe flats.
2. T-strap sandals.
3. Metallic leather sandals.
4. Kork-ease sandals.
5. Sunburst sandals.
6. Blossom sandals.

P.S. - Today I'm off work and -- is this gross to admit on the internet? -- having a couple of moles removed. I've never had stitches before, so this should be a blast. Also, consider this your warning: Wear sunscreen, and visit a dermatologist. You'll be glad you did.

i think i'll go to boston.

About once every month, I am filled with this overwhelming sense that I must get out of town. That I will suffocate if I do not hop on a plane or get in the car and just drive. My life isn’t ridiculously stressful, and I am far from miserable (mostly I’m just really happy). But sometimes, I think you just need a vacation. And when the sun is shining and I am sitting in my office writing about the quandaries facing today’s paralegals, the feeling begins to rise up inside of me, and I think I will burst.

Last May, that feeling hit me like a ton of bricks, so I flew to Boston with my friend Amanda. It was one of my finer moments, to be sure.

It was just the change of scenery the doctor ordered, and now I find myself looking at pictures, failing to understand how that could have been a year ago, how life has changed and how here I am, 365 days later, in desperate need of another trip just like it.

What was special about Boston was that I rarely get to be with the girls I was traveling with. I don’t see them often, and when I do, it is fabulous. I love Jordan, but there is something to be said for girl friends, and for me, there is something to be said for those girls who really get you (because let me assure you, those friendships are few and far between). Not every girl gets me, but these two do. And it was so much fun to run around the city, snapping photos, nearly killing ourselves to hit everything on our (my?) list. But it was even more fun to crash on the sofa at the end of the day, giggling and eating takeout while we watched Stabler and Benson solve crimes.

Boston, too, feels a little bit like where my roots are. And I’m sure that sounds ridiculous to you, since I was born and raised in Florida, but Thoreau and Alcott and Emerson are all in Boston, and they are, in some sense, my family. I’ve been fascinated by them since high school. Their beliefs shaped a lot of my current thinking, my ideas about nature and working with your hands and making the world a better place than the one you were born into. Seeing their homes, where they formed their thoughts and ideals, was indescribable to me. It was like finding my mother ship, right there on the edge of Walden Pond.

I’ve read somewhere — though I don’t know where — that sometimes, travel is what you need to gain a little perspective. Sometimes it just takes getting out of your element to really find yourself.

Please, someone buy me a plane ticket, and stat.

improving my closet.

Maybe it's the new year, or the desire to purge, or the fact that every fashion blogger is talking about it, but I'm in the mood to clean out my closet.

One of my resolutions this year was to develop a "usable, uniquely me" closet, and I feel like I'm well on my way.

Last week, I invested ($3.50) in the latest issue of Lucky magazine, and let me tell you: worth every single penny.

One entire article was devoted to 90 outfits for under $500. That's dressing for $5 a day! And even though I'm getting better at the mixing and matching thing (thank you, Kendi), I need pictures of exactly how to pair what with what. What can I say? I'm a visual learner. So anyway, Lucky did all the work for me. Showed me exactly what I needed (a lot of things I already had: denim dress, striped shirt, etc.), then put outfits together... 90 of them! Amazing.

Armed with birthday money and a list of exactly what I needed, I did some shopping -- online and otherwise -- last week. And even though I did buy the occasional Target piece, I'm still working on buying quality clothing... Clothing that will last. Here's a list of things wanted and things bought:

 I need a pair of work jeans, remember, and high-waisted flares are back in. Don't worry, folks: I wanted these, but bought these. I just can't justify spending nearly $200 on one piece of clothing. And based on your comments, you can't either. Glad we're all on the same page.

A striped cardigan. I really want this one.

Also a patterned/funky cardigan, like this one. Anthropologie-esque.

A classic black blazer. I have one from Old Navy, but it's not my favorite (weird slit sleeves). I've got my eyes on this one. Anyone seen one for cheaper?

I used to have a really great pair of black pants, just like Audrey. But they faded (things from the Gap fade easily... or is it me?). So I bought these.

Lucky told me I needed a floral tank top, and I agreed. This one from Target seemed reasonable, so I took the plunge.

Every girl needs a black pencil skirt, and I have one, but it's starting to show its age. Lucky featured this one, so maybe despite the cost, it's decent quality. 

 A new pair of Toms. No one told me I needed these; I just looked in my closet at my holey, faded pair, and I knew. It is time.

---

There we have it. I love shopping with a list of exactly what I need in mind; I think it's saving me a ton of money in the long run! I only buy what I need, instead of what I think I need spur of the moment. Plus, I'm planning on hosting a clothing swap with some friends in the spring, so when I purge, my old clothes will have a place to go. Any clothes not swapped will go to a local charity. I'm pumped.

So, what's on your list? Are there pieces I'm missing? What do you consider essentials for your closet? 

Curious minds want to know.