Eloise, Age 24

Eloise Verdante, Curator, Spring 1969

Was it easy?

Dismantling my brick walls,

with your bare hands,
making

compost of cries

buried in the ducts of my eyes?

Did you even have to try?

Or did it come naturally?

The way monkeys are born knowing how to climb a tree,

Is it instinctual 

the ability you have to

move me? 

I wonder.

Who taught you how to touch?

Never mind touch,

taste.

How to melt away my melancholy days and nights,

one long-drawn lick at a time,

'till you reach the center of my
unadulterated mind,

capturing that elusive spoil no one else could find.

And as the tick
of the tocks
of my clocks unwind,

you unwrap a lost soul from a delicate foil
so divine,

Unrefined,
and genuine,

that when all is said and done,
I can hardly believe

it's mine. 

In Eloise's Closet...

Eloise's Closet by thequeenknowsbest featuring a short sleeve dress

*The quote above is a fictionalized account inspired by the people and fashion of a photograph found here.*



Jolene, Age 18

Kaleigh Hamilton, fashion darling and creator of http://kaleighhamilton.blogspot.com/ took off from her busy blogging schedule this week to bring us our second guest post below.  This 23 year old, uber photogenic administrative assistant/owner of Pish Posh Couture (a hair, makeup and custom accessory boutique) admits to always having "a book or four" in tow and is a fan of (among other things) blogs like Cheeky Cheeky and Kelli Murray, cookie dough, fur wedges from Target, and black “wet-look” pants from Pacsun.  WE are a fan of HER.  Many thanks for the post darling! --- Aleah Rae 

Jolene Roxbury, Student, Fall 1967

    Free Love. Summer of Love. The Hippie Movement.  Jolene had heard all the terms. What people didn’t seem to realize was she didn’t really care about the reasons behind it all; she had just wanted a free ticket out of her small town to experience something new and fun and adventurous. Her family was terrified she would become “one of them” but she wasn’t so sure that was a bad thing anymore. So far the summer had been rushing by, a crazy, wonderful, colorful blur that surrounded Jolene like a tornado --- catching her up and bringing her along to new and different places. While there had been some uncomfortable moments (She just couldn’t accept the fact that sleeping on the ground with a group of total strangers was better for her spirit then a nice fluffy bed), Jolene hadn’t truly experienced anything that made her want to run screaming back to her old life. Nor did she think she would “burn in hell” like the local pastor had shouted at her when she drove away on the bus that was unwelcome in that dusty community she had called home. Years later Jolene would look back and realize just how lucky she had been to get through that summer in one piece, with her innocence and naivety intact. But for now Jolene was as giddy as…well, exactly what she was, a school girl. She was away from home, finding knowledge and experiencing the world. And wasn’t that what it was all about? Or something close to it?

In Jolene's Closet...

Jolene by kaleighmh featuring floral summer dresses

*The quote above is a fictionalized account inspired by the people and fashion of a photograph found here.*

Arianna, Age 23

Arianna Hidalgo, Exchange Student, Summer 1974

 "Ari, what is it?"  Deep in deductive thought, I can still hear him across the growing mental distance. 

"I don't know yet!", I reply quickly.  

Chad looks down at me half smiling, as the ashy black rocks he stands on show off their tide lines to the shore below.  He's tall --- even taller than usual --- and his lean body blocks the sun like a small "l" against a capitol "O".  Dios, el es guapo.  His golden blond hair ruffles my attention, but a movement I can feel smoothes it back to reality --- there's a creature in my hand. 

"Looks like some sort of crustacean.  I think it's in the hermit crab family."  My ruling is final, and Chad's mood too relaxed to appeal. 

My first guess was more than an educated one.  It was instinctual.  Mamá gave birth to me on an anchored yacht --- or so the story goes --- on some foreign longitude no one can quite remember.  My first breaths were of salt air, imprinting the sea skin deep into my very being.   

Chad is still staring --- not so secretly for once --- at me from his rocky podium, and I wish just for a moment, we could switch places.  I long to be able to see what he sees, in me.  But from the look in his eyes, I can tell it's something splendid. 

In Arianna's Closet...

      

In Arianna's Closet by thequeenknowsbest featuring embellished sandals

*The quote above is a fictionalized account inspired by the people and fashion of a photograph found here.*