Deep Roots Are Not Reached By Frost

When I first started my blog I was feeling terribly alone and bored in Pennsylvania. It was the summer after my semester in Japan and I was working on my college's campus and I remember looking at my co-workers and wondering why it was so difficult to connect to people in my native tongue when I had just spent six months in Sapporo making friends in stumbling Japanese. I was reading a number of personal style blogs and I became so wrapped up in the world of those girls. Not because it presented some idealistic vision of daily life or some glamorous peek into a lifestyle I would never afford, but because their words echoed thoughts in my head. They had seen the same black and white movies I had grown up watching and their inspirations were displayed on their sleeves. I largely started a blog to engage in a  dialogue with these girls who revered Bette Davis and FRUiTS magazine in equal parts. Who also discovered Jean-Luc Godard in their youth and thought France wasn't just a honeymoon destination but perhaps a vacation they could carry their melancholy to. Girls who spent more time indoors with their hearts skipping beats over heroes and heroines in novels while feeling no similar stirrings for the peers that wandered the halls of their schools. It's a terrible thing to feel--not unique and weird in a special snowflake way--but madly fascinated by things that you attempt to share through movie nights or book suggestions to friends only to find that author who captured your soul with a few phrases and took you to depths of despair in a single chapter, holds no interest to the girl who sits next to you on the bus...I knew I wasn't alone in my interests and the Internet was this bridge to kindred spirits. I've lived in Greece, Washington, and Virginia between that Pennsylvania and now. It's nice to remember your "roots" every once in awhile.

Outfit details:
vintage shoes
Rebecca Minkoff backpack


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