A Word On Retrospectives

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Timidly, I am choosing the limbs and breastbone of one,

 

A man who isn’t much for spoken words,

 

But whose touch resounds on me

 

With the impact of Halley’s,

 

Falling,

 

Landing,

 

A whisper into the ground.

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These images mark the end of a season and the beginning of a very new period in my life. Late this past summer, I chose to try joining the journey I’m on with that of someone else and I’m learning that this kind of thing – a relationship – is intricate and case-specific.

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Men with short beards, softer sides and hearts that are a rich basin of complexity. This has been my jam for years and the variety of men like this with whom I’ve crossed paths have helped to teach me lessons each in their own turn. However, what I’m learning now is that, despite a wealth of lessons that develop later on into wisdom, relationships can’t be tamed and constrained by algorithms and lessons learned.

 

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My dad said recently of relationships: “[he doesn’t] think that anything is natural or normal”. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this statement came up during a time when I was having difficulty establishing some sort of standard to which to compare my relationship. Since mulling on the truth of my dad’s words, I’ve been learning that generalities and norms won’t bridge the risk or heal the uncertainties that come with caring deeply for another person. The more familiarized I become with the beautiful and simultaneous contradictions that make up the man with whom I spend my time, the more I realize that there isn’t any reason for applying these general rules where close observation is merited. My boyfriend does things differently from me, and the more I learn his language, the more I’m able to recognize and feel the depth of his caring towards me.

Timidly, I am choosing the limbs and breastbone of one, a man who isn’t much for spoken words, but whose touch resounds on me with the impact of Halley’s, falling, landing, a whisper into the ground.

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Photography by Matt Lowden

Lustre and a look at interactive beauty.

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The scales on the wings of brown African butterflies thicken and evolve to reflect violet light, “if it suits them” – a letter of love to their surroundings, a stunning externalization of their own genetic make-up.

A friend and I are chatting while glazing the rims of our coffee mugs in bright, cosmetic reds. As it often does, the conversation turns toward expression and what it means to be noticed and influenced by others, while indulging in dress that’s true to who we are and what awakens us, internally.

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There’s a beautiful and unique conversation that goes on between the way we choose to adorn ourselves and the environments we reflect.

I remember myself – a little girl gaping up at “full grown” women in loud, elegant outfits thinking “twenty”, my hunger to be like them nearly seeping from my stomach. Not fully understanding why, at the time, the thought curdled nonetheless, coming out (then) in lipstick and in art and (now) in more ladylike garments and still in art. . . and lipstick.

Sometimes the little things that influence us stick around and become who we are, fashion calling them to sight in a rich and navy lustre;

Fibre vulnerable to the indents and folds of my twenty-something year old body;

Hoarfrost thread crowning neck and queuing delicate fingers, mind;

This is the response I don towards a visual culture that’s informed who I am.

This can only be had in the knowing that’s it’s OK to be influenced by the environments we espouse while seeking to express what make us . . . us.

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Winter mystique: the ornamental knit.

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Thick mitts cocooning already numb fingertips, red noses, an early morning marathon between you and the prairie wind to avoid even one second more in the wintery, “great outdoors” – yeah.. that’s February.

Do you dare to keep reading? haha

Alas, fear not – March is close at hand and so is nicer imagery!

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Featured: the Jenny Cardigan, available, here, on Farminista.com.

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Am I right though, that it’s sometimes tough to equate the bleaker months of the Canadian experience with an atmosphere ringing of mystique? While my spools won’t craft me a breathing Casanova, I couldn’t help but find an unlikely charisma in this richly patterned, bohemian knit.

Crowned in texture from neck to hem, this stunning, ornamental cloak entices warmer days and, best of all, can still be donned when these arrive. While, for obvious reasons, I have slipped on a silky pair of tights in the images above, feel free to take this look outdoors, when the time arrives, by pairing it with a mode pair of heels and your favourite LBD 😉

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There is really no need to wait until the arrival of green grass and shirtless men with washboard abs, parading on longboards to turn up the heat – I think we’ve got this one covered 😉

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