Honestly, I think that I’m a traitor to my own generation. During reunions, I would always find myself at the grown-ups’ table–giving a curt nod to cousins my age all while fascinated at the talk of premature osteoporosis and crow’s feet. I’m an old soul trapped inside a 21-year-old body which could possibly explain my yearning for the vintage:
As promised, more GWTW posts.
I wish I was back in a time when people wore ball gowns while drinking tea with milk in the afternoon. Look at those intricate lace tiers. That pop of color. Hem the skirt up several inches, get rid of those pigtails, and maybe deflate that balloon skirt a bit and she’d fit right into the 21st century.