Wie isch es gsi? Ungloublech

The most perfect day I could imagine. Was this day.

Breakfast: farm fresh egg, crusty/fluffy bread, swiss cheese, nespresso and fruit.



Chocolate factory: cheap "flawed" chocolates...



... including unlimited samples. UN.Limited. Unlimited.



Thrift shopping: taking 10 steps outside the chocolate shop only to reach one of the most magnificent Brockehüser of my life, can it get any better?



If only my suitcase were bigger and my pockets deeper.



Dinner: a dangerously delicious fondue made by the lovely Fabian. Homemade fig bread dipped in garlicy winey cheese? Damn, just. Damn.



800g of heroin. Er, cheese.



Evening: discussing philosophy, politics and English literature. I adore.



To be honest, though: every day I spend in this town - in this country - on this continent - is perfect. I'm really not exaggerating either. One week left.

"Too bad that you're not as smart as you thought you were in the first place."

Quote from Doug & The Slugs Too Bad.

Hey Blogland, s'up?



What I wore a few days ago:
My dad's old Doug & The Slugs tshirt, thrifted and altered skirt, thrifted belt & shoes.

(Fun fact that is mandatory when I say this shirt was my dad's: apparently D&TS have a song called "Pretty Man" or "Beautiful Man" or something and when my dad was at one of their shows and they sang that song, Doug reached down and ruffled my dad's hair. I love that story because I remember how my dad looked so happy and nostalgic when he told me)

Would you please lay your eyes on those jewels of footwear?! A) Gorgeous. B) Fit like a miracle. C) Thrifted in my tiny town from a church charity shop I can only get to during my lunch break. D) Hollah.
The thrift store in question is a shoe gold-mine. That is sweet, sweet music to the ears. Or a sight for sore eyes, however you want to shake it. Bottom line: it is paradise.

Dear dearest Dad.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

My favorite picture of him.
At his high school graduation.

Lydia and I have to sneak in a lunch-hour (lunch-30-minutes, rather) charity shop run tomorrow because it's only open until 3. And closed on weekends. This town really is filled with the elderly. Lydia is my Summer co-worker at the museum and I think I lucked out! Um, by quite a lot.

Now, back to writing cut-lines. For my other job. Soon to be other other job. Good thing I enjoy money quite substantially.

Clap your hands say yeah hello how are you?

I moved back to the desert (only desert in Canada, thx) to pile on the sweaters & slippers and dream of soup in the rain. What?



This is from a few weeks ago, but I thought I'd share. Because. I can.
I wore this to our new favorite thrift store in Vancouver where a cute photographer asked me to be in the Street Stylin' portion of this magazine! I'm kind of (really!) excited. My attempt at a nonchalant "this happens to me all the time".

Blouse, belt & shoes: thrifted, skirt: H&M, earrings: gift from my mum.

A date with many blankets and Russel Brand's Booky Wook is well in order. Cheerio loves.

I wish that I could see you soon.

What I Wore Yesterday

I stopped by the little thrift store on our street on the way home from school. As I was trying my new dress and skirt on, I realised that the cardigan, skirt and belt I was wearing are all from that little thrift store.



Cardi, belt & skirt: thrifted, sweater: H&M from Cyril's closet, necklaces: gift & thrifted, tights: H&M, boots: Ebay.



Herman Düne tonight! I hope the show will be like this video. And I hope he will wear a fuzzy, pink bear hat!

Tennis Hero is quite good.

Maybe I should be doing French grammar. But when I have the option, am I ever really going to do French grammar?

7:30 am Erin:

Shirt: Mango, skirt: thrifted, belt: thrifted, scarf: vintage shop in Paris, tights: H&M.


The extent of "putting my hair up" is usually whipping it up into something messy or a bun-type do. This was therefore a proud moment.


GRANNIES.
Shirt: thrifted, jeans: Tati, necklaces: the big one: gift from Cyril's mum, the white one: thrifted, the gold one: gift.


Good thing I have my big, burly boyfriend to cut open pumpkins.






A good dinner: fake chicken in one hand, wine in the other. Simultaniously.


Pumpkin Pie. That I am proud to say I made from 100% scratch.

The thrifted white skirt, yellow blouse and granny heels are from the MCC Thrift Store on Fraser. It just so happens to be 3 blocks from my house. And on my way home from school every single day. And sweet old ladies greet me when I come in. And the money goes to a good cause. And and and. And while we're doing laundry, in a few minutes, we shall mosey on in there.