golden locket

"She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. She spoke to no one. She spent..."

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 08:08:04 +0200

“She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. She spoke to no one. She spent hours on the riverbank. She smoked cigarettes and had midnight swims.”

- Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Photo

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 08:07:28 +0200

Self-Service #17 F/W 2002 by Jenny Gage and Tom Betterton

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 08:06:16 +0200

Self-Service #17 F/W 2002 by Jenny Gage and Tom Betterton

Despina Spyrou

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 08:30:39 +0200

Despina Spyrou

Photo

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 08:30:05 +0200

Photo

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 10:34:38 +0200

from my diary, 12 June 2013

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 01:15:23 +0200

June gloom. Summertime blues. The way the sea-salt sticks to my skin. The sound of foghorns at midnight. Afternoons spent watching hummingbirds and bumblebees; spent searching for Dendraster excentricus, running head-on towards the incoming tide to rescue them before they could be swept away.

Morning sunlight streaming in through kitchen windows. Lemon-flavoured ice pops. Playing about with red nail varnish. Gardening in storm clouds, dirt underneath fingertips. Flowers are most beautiful in the rain, you see. Standing barefoot in front of a shuddering teakettle in the middle of the night, lost in thought.

“You’re not supposed to cry.”
“I don’t know what else to do.”

Photo

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 23:27:48 +0200

Michal Pudelka

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 23:27:31 +0200

Michal Pudelka

Many happy returns, Anne Frank.

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 22:30:58 +0200

Many happy returns, Anne Frank.

Backstage at Margaret Howell A/W 2012 by Vanessa Jackman

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 03:26:08 +0200

Backstage at Margaret Howell A/W 2012 by Vanessa Jackman

Van Gogh; Roses, detail

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 01:26:29 +0200

Van Gogh; Roses, detail

Space Time A fluffy piece of girl-group pop, brought to you by...

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 21:34:11 +0200

Space Time

A fluffy piece of girl-group pop, brought to you by La Sera’s Katy Goodman and The Hush Sound’s Greta Morgan. Inspired by a walk past Los Angeles’ Griffith Observatory, the track is an ode to extraterrestrial love, wrapped in an earworm chorus.

Didn't you used to have long blonde hair? Regardless, your hair is so sweet and lovely!

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 21:32:00 +0200

I did. I cut it short around Christmastime and just coloured it dark. Thank you, very much. I was very nervous about having it dark. x

It’s summer, here. So that means dungarees and dip-dying...

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 21:15:00 +0200

It’s summer, here. So that means dungarees and dip-dying skirts.

Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1969.

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 12:48:55 +0200

Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1969.

“Bruce Davidson’s 1959 project Brooklyn Gang is an intimate...

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 11:14:49 +0200

“Bruce Davidson’s 1959 project Brooklyn Gang is an intimate photographic study of a rebellious Brooklyn teenage gang, who called themselves The Jokers. Not only is Davidson’s work a sincere portrayal of troubled teenagers coming of age, but it also acts as a documentation of teenage life during 1950s, exposing the emotional climate of that time period and exposing the dark side of a supposedly innocent time period.”

American travellers building a sand replica of France’s medieval...

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 03:14:03 +0200

American travellers building a sand replica of France’s medieval abbey at Mont-Saint-Michel in the background (July 1948)

Photo

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 03:04:29 +0200

"l love lipstick. I want to write an essay about the politics of lipstick. I like lipstick that’s..."

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 03:00:18 +0200

“l love lipstick. I want to write an essay about the politics of lipstick. I like lipstick that’s deep, deep red. I like lipstick that’s purple, lipstick that’s black and dark for when I want to dress up my melancholy. I like sharing lipstick with sisters. And I laugh at boys that think I wear lipstick for them to notice, I laugh, lipstick is an art you can’t ever understand. From picking out a color, testing it on the inside of my wrist, pursing my lips during the application of it. I like when I kiss a baby and leave lipstick on their cheek, when you hug someone and leave lipstick on their shirt, when it gets on your teeth and you use your tongue to get it off, when you sleep in lipstick and wake up with it on your pillow case. In 1997, mama left for Ethiopia to see her mama for the first time in 12 years. I was six and I cried the entire way home from the airport. And when we came home, there, on the kitchen table was the teacup Mama had been drinking out of. At the bottom, a sip of tea and black cardamom seeds. And, there, on the rim of the cup the lipstick imprint of my mama’s kiss.”

- from Nomad Manifesto