You dusty old thing you…


Well, I’m not quite sure if anyone actually reads my little ole vintage blog.

*knock knock*

Hmmm…you could hear a pin drop.

Well, anyhow, I’ll just pretend that loads of you care about this blog and all the dandy fanciful things I have to say. Or perhaps not, oh well, what does it really matter.

I rarely read blogs these days anymore as I feel instagram has taken over any semblance of journal writing. I have tried to write in an *ACTUAL journal and so far have written a few times this month.

DAHHHHLING I have been B U S Y.

Of course if you follow me on Instagram you will now know I am now officially a MRS. Have I the energy to tell all about the wedding? The planning or lack thereof. The stress. Real or imagined. The family politics.

I’m never one for getting my panties in a bunch, so when the going gets tough I usually ask myself “Is all this STRESS and DRAMA really WORTH it?”

Goodness, I can’t stand fidgety buggers. Stress drones. Whatever you want to call them. Anytime I’m around anyone of this sort I instantly begin to build mental walls up around me and strategically map out my exit plan.

And when I MYSELF start to morph into these vile creatures I have nearly mastered the art of putting a mirror up to oneself and saying “GIRL. GET. IT. TOGETHER.”

At some point I shall divulge in the lovely details of our wedding. Because, at the end of the day, it went exactly as we wanted (or the closest to it) and I was one very happy, very much in love bride.

I will of course share in all of the wonderful tales of restoring my antique wedding gown and reconstructing my wedding veil from a 1920s bridal veil. I so badly wanted to share in all of this much sooner than now, but my now husband was absolutely adamant about not seeing ANYTHING about my bridal wardrobe.

More on that later.

And since we’re on a quick pace recap of everything else…

Our brother shop (my other shop) Orn Hansen, is now up and open in Portland, Oregon. I work there most days of the week (for now anyway) so if you’re in the beautiful city of Portland that I am so happy and proud to call my home, please come by and visit! Bring me pastries. I will love you forever and give you a discount.

I really ought to tell you more about the joys and agonies of opening up a brick & mortar store. I’ve always loved those TELL ALL books/documentaries. Everyone should air out some of their dirty laundry once in awhile.

Just don’t air out other peoples dirty laundry. It’s not your place to tell. And it makes you a jerk.

Sometimes gals and guys come into the shop and they ask “How’d you do it?” with a glazed look on their face. And I’m like “What do you mean HOW. I just damn did.”

I’m kidding. There is actually a really long list of HOWS and probably an even longer list of SHOULD HAVES that we haven’t gotten to yet or don’t know we’re suppose to do.

Well my adorable little chickens, I am nearly at the point of collapse (just kidding, I just don’t feel like blabbing on anymore and would rather waste an hour of this evening on Pinterest), and must sign off.

Thanks for reading!

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