Why yes, my grandmother had a monkey.
(via onebadapple)
This Was Hers
because the best clothing comes with a story
My grandparents (on right) on their wedding day in 1946. On the left is my paternal great grandmother, who until this week, I’d never seen a picture of.
Of all the things I got from my grandmother, the most important is my name. When my mother was pregnant with me, she needed to go on bed rest for most of the pregnancy, and my grandmother quit her job as a bank teller and took care of my older brother because my mother could barely lift him. So, after 48 hours of labor (I really made a project out of being born), the decision to name me Marianne came easy for my mother. No middle name, just Marianne. Because the weight of that name, my grandmother’s legacy, was enough.
This photo was taken at John F. Kennedy’s inaugural ball in 1961.
Shout out to all the rad dads, I have some of my dad’s stuff, and I’m sure some of you do too.
Your dad wore short shorts before you did and he has the upper thigh tan lines to prove it. It takes a certain kind of man to pull off wearing what most would consider lady attire, but your dad was that man. He walked around with the kind of confidence that said he could properly sex any women, mollywhop any man and escape any law. People today call it swag, but your dad didn’t need a name for it because he had it everyday.
So hipsters, next time you’re cutting a pair of Dickies off to mid thigh so that you can ride your fixie without catching your shorts on your knees, remember this…
If you live to be half the man that your dad was, you’ll still be a disappointment, but at least you’re trying not to suck… which is a start, because you suck right now.
The inspiration behind our latest Tumblr contest is this darling book: My Mom, Style Icon.
Have you entered yet? Click here for details!
I am a big fan of both your blogs. I am Alexandra, french but living in Germany, Berlin since 2000.
It was quite difficult to make a decision on which photo I should send you because I have several which could be perfect for the contest.
The one enclosed is from my grand-parents. “Biarritz_1936” They lived normally in Reims, north-east from France.
This photo was taken just before the war in 1936 in Biarritz. They are on their honeymoon. I like this photo a lot because they just feel happy and they look incredibly elegant and stylish even if they are at the sea… it would never happen nowdays ! My grand-father was half english and until his death very elegant, a real gentlman. I also like the contrast of the perfect hair for my grand-father and the wind blowing through the hair of my grand-mother.
Until their death, they had 6 children and about 35 grandchildren… they were very important to me and my family, and were very implicated in helping others who needed it.
I could not resist sending you a photo of them both in Bandol on the same vacation because I find them so beautiful even though they are just wearing the minimum: a swinsuit. The photo reminds me a little bit of Man Ray photo.
Best,
Alexandra H.
(via The Sartorialist)
My Dapper Grandparents
Posted with permission from Nebraska Admiral
durga chew-bose on her mother, photographed here in the province of quebec
“We share a brief and unexpected smile, both quiet and wonderful, and yet somehow dire. As if anchored by a memory, or the threat of forgetting, I sit back down beside her and rest my head on her lap as she plays with my hair. She reminds me about something I did as a child; the clementine peels warming in my palms.”
This is an old photo of my great grandmother.
(via calivintage)
CAUTION: Melissa in Progress: For Aunt Peg
My great aunt Peg used to always give the best gifts when I was growing up. They weren’t the most expensive or the coolest, but I always looked forward to them. She was a major collector/borderline hoarder, though I didn’t know that at the time, I just knew she had the best “stuff” in her house, and every year for a Christmas gift, she would give me something that belonged to her. When I was younger, it was usually a porcelain doll, or figurine, or one of those anniversary Barbies still in the box. I always treasured them, because I felt like she’d given me a part of her, and I knew that each of her collections were precious to her. She spent the majority of her life with a man- a painter- that she never married, and after he died she gave me one of his paintings. She kept as many as she could, but she would have to sell them occasionally for income in the years after his death.
One of the last things that she gifted to me is the bracelet shown below. The only note she included said ” TN white water pearls”. I always assumed that was just her southern pride talking: after all, pearls can’t come from Tennesee, can they? So I Googled it, and sure enough, there is a huge freshwater pearl farm in Tennessee- the only one in the US. The bracelet is so dainty that I’ve never worn it; I’m afraid the clasp will break, but I keep it in the same box she gave it to me with her note.
My aunt Peg died on March 10. She was still a collector. Not long before she died she sent me three anniversary barbies, still in their boxes.
