Turban style: start with wrapping the headband around your head and twisting the two ends together into bunny ears. Then tuck the ears underneath the headband and voila, you're done!
For this rosette style, again start by wrapping the headband around your head and twisting the two ends together to form bunny ears. Then wrap one ear in a circular motion and tuck the end under. Wrap the other ear in the same circular motion and tuck the end under. That's it, a simple, twisted look that resembles a lovely rosette.
For the simplest headband style wrap your wire headband around your head with the ends at the back of your neck. This gives you a seamless look ala Brigitte Bardot, perfect for a bouffant or other retro hairstyle.
The classic and most popular way to tie a wire headband is this one--the bunny ears. Wrap the headband around your head with the ends towards the front, twist the two ends together (I usually twist them around twice) and that's it!

Blogging is slightly on the back burner this week since I type this from our catamaran tied up outside of Hydra. It's nearly midnight here, yet I sit comfortably outside at the front of our boat looking at the stars with bare legs and wet hair from a little nighttime swim. It's the fourth day of our weeklong sailing holiday with MedSailors and despite the sweltering heat during the day and frequent swims, I have still managed to escape getting burned! I meant to type up this post before the holiday, to talk about the lovely day we had at Murlough Beach--the sun and sand and the little shop that sells the most amazing ice cream that is hidden in compartment under their counter, so you have to know it's there to ask for it, but right now I'm distracted by the stars. We've been snapping pictures like mad (you might have noticed if you've been following my Instagram stories) and yet I still feel so relaxed. I spend most of my days barefoot and bare-faced wandering from one end of the boat to the other with salty hair. It feels like the absolute best holiday right now, full of sun and swimming and the occasional sea urchin.

I used to have the coolest black hat. It was from Modcloth ages and ages ago; a sort of classic boater hat with a wide brim but in black instead of the typical tan straw. While I've gotten rid of a lot of things through the years for lack of necessity, I've also had the misfortune of losing a number of things. Funny how moving from one side of the States to the other and then back again and then up the coast and then across the ocean in the space of half a dozen years might cause you to lose a few things. Some I'm sure slipped away quietly in the night, unnoticed and mostly unremembered, but other pieces were (are) bitterly missed. My favorite pair of vintage brown loafers disappeared somewhere between Virginia and Washington State. My gorgeous black hat was lost between Virginia and Pennsylvania. There's a lovely little tan handbag that dematerialized between Pennsylvania and Northern Ireland...but today my thoughts are on that hat and my futile efforts to replace it. On a budget anyway; I've found similar hats online but outside my price point and recently settled on this hat. A similar style but a bit floppy--handy for the careless hat-wearer (which I am) since it's already a bit soft you can mash it into your bag or generally be a bit reckless with it since it won't wreck the shape. It's a hat that gets the job done, but I'm still dreaming of that hat I had once and how I would wear it now...
These polka dot shorts are an article of clothing that suffered the opposite problem to my departed hat (and various other garments). They're a pair of shorts I got and then decided I wasn't sure if I liked them and shoved them into some dark drawer. Instead of disappearing they lingered on, taunting me every summer with their polka dot quirkiness; demanding to know if I was ever going to finally wear them anywhere or let them linger on in back-of-the-drawer purgatory. They're the sort of piece that could evaporate and I would hardly notice or care, but on this sunny day I did finally release them from their prison and unleashed them on the world (or at least the beach). I can't handle the cold water here, so even on the warmest days, a good day at the beach for me is lounging in the sun with a picnic and a book. Polka dot shorts, a comfy tee, and sunscreen make the perfect beach-wear for my Irish summer.
P.S. Anyone else catch the Freaks and Geeks reference in my tee? Discos and Dragons, man.

One of the most amazing sartorial feelings has to be when you slip into a vintage dress and it fits like a glove. Heck, it's an amazing feeling when you slip into any dress and it fits perfectly. We might have more clothing options these days, but no matter what your size is, buying a size at a shop today (versus the custom fit creations of yesteryear) means buying something that fits you ok. It's a tradeoff for our modern privilege of walking into a store and having hundreds of options; back in the day the selection was more limited and closets were smaller. You might not have many clothes but they were almost always made for you; not by a generic size range, but specific to your measurements. Not just the measurements of your bust and waist, but every inch in between and sleeves measured to your wrists, shoulders measured, etc! To be petite and a vintage fashion enthusiast almost automatically means to know how to sew or the name of a good tailor because clothes so rarely fit off the rack. People assume as a petite person I'm usually altering hems of dresses, but actually it's the torsos that usually are my biggest problem area--waistlines hit closer to my hips and shoulder seams dangle down towards my elbows. I know it's not a "me" or even a petite problem, it's the way clothes are made these days, but it also means when you find something that fits wonderfully it's a revelation. That's how it felt when I slipped into this little vintage dress from So Loves Vintage. It's even more remarkable to find a vintage dress that fits so perfectly since you can't try the same dress in several sizes--trying on vintage is a take it or leave it moment, either it works (or can be made to work which is why a good tailor is essential!) or you leave it behind and wonder if you'll ever find something like it again. But this dress, this dress feels made for me. Perfect in cut, color and the fit; as if someone had painstakingly taken every measurement and fit the garment to my body's every quirk. It's the sort of special find that keeps me addicted to vintage. This dress fits my 50s leanings, but there's so many other tempting pieces in the So Loves shop right now--my favorites are this perfect crochet dress ala Jane Birkin and this embroidered blouse that looks ripped from the high street stores (instead it's vice versa). I don't think they would be the perfect fit for me, but for someone out there they could be a revelation...

You can't really talk about vintage models without covering Suzy Parker, who's icy sophistication defined glamour in the 1950s on dozens of magazine covers. Known for her elegant, aloof appearance in front of the camera (likened to Grace Kelly), in person she was a chatterbox dubbed "my most challenging muse" by Richard Avedon. When she later became an actress photographer Horst quipped that "maybe she could do for the movies what she never did for me--hold still." Audrey Hepburn's beatnik-turned-reluctant-model character in Funny Face was actually inspired by Suzy Parker (who also makes a cameo in that film). Still despite her chattering tendencies, Suzy Parker became the first model to earn more than $100 an hour and more than $100,000 a year. Some of my favorite photographs of her come from later in her career, where she is studying scripts for films--her natural beauty shines in those images--red hair, green eyes, an abundance of freckles, and a sort of elegant repose. The fancy clothes are packaged away, there are no professional hair or makeup artists on call, and yet you still can't take your eyes off of her...