Since we can’t go outside for spring, I thought I would bring spring to me. I didn’t know how much I loved spring until I lived in Portland and actually experienced the transition. In South Florida there’s a long-running joke that there are no seasons…because there truly aren’t. Fall is still my favorite time of year (for now), but the floral beauty of spring has grown on me so much after watching so many different blooms come to life in a single Portland season.
These dreamy images and outfits make me want to frolic through a wildflower field, or the quarantine version: print out the images and tape them to my walls. Sometimes I think about laying in a field. I haven’t done this in so long. Not that I haven’t wished to, but that I haven’t had the opportunity. But I wonder if I would squirm with the thought of little earthling bugs crawling around or if it all wouldn’t matter because I would be touching the earth. Maybe sticking to woven picnic blankets would be a good place to start. If going outdoors was an option right now, and I could go anywhere I choose, I would love to find somewhere cool and calm, perhaps under a tree, with the hint of a summer breeze rolling in, and set out a decadent picnic. I’m also finding myself drawn to images and stylings of cut flowers and baskets of fruit and cooked fruit (aka pie!)… but again, all things that connect back to nature. And the photography that captures these moods and stories has sparked something new in me, as well. So many of these moments of dreamy spring are simple things we don’t take advantage of often enough. And moodboards like these have made me realize, in a way, what I desire or miss or lack. They’ve become a sort of beautiful agenda of what I intend to do once we are free to explore and create outside again.
From every bit of fashion I’ve added to this post, it’s become clear that I’ve been attracted to flowy fabrics, particularly linen lately. For some reason I haven’t had the confidence to pull it off which is absolutely silly since I truly believe that anyone can pull off anything they want to; whatever makes you feel good is the right choice for your style. I remember my mother had two linen dresses when I was young. The same one in black and in beige. I loved them so much and always wanted to wear them but I was still too small. They were practically bag-dresses with short sleeves and two-toned tan buttons down the front, but they still stand out in my mind over 20 years later. I think my first linen purchase–whenever I go for it–will be something that reminds me of those dresses.
It all suits the dreamy spring feeling. A flow and smoothness between us and nature. A forward movement. An upward movement. Like the flowers pushing through the earth reaching their peak and blossoming outward toward the stem beside it. Too slow to see it in a glance, but recognized over time.
