Shirt and Skirt
This is the story of a shirt and a skirt. This weekend I went home to my parent’s house… back to my roots where I grew up! This summer I’m going to be traveling a lot back and forth on the weekends to Long Island so I have to learn to pack light. For the next three days you’ll see my outfit choices from this weekend. Some items are repeated but I think it’s nice to see how one can mix and match the same things to make three different outfits! As my Mama would say, “Gaby, you’re not going to bring everything you own are you? Remember you’re only going away for a weekend”. I’ve finally taken her advice, she’d be so proud.
So back to this story of a shirt and a skirt. In these photographs I’m only wearing the skirt. It’s from Zara and I’m in love. It actually has an interesting history. I was thinking of sharing my long winded story of this skirt but I really don’t want to pain you with all the details. Let’s just say it was a long and hard search, but I found it, and now I’m in love with a skirt. It’s an issue. If you read my blog regularly you can tell that I love a lot of different articles of clothing but this skirt really does hold a special place in my heart, *tear*.
Joie sweater, House of Harlow necklace, Zara skirt, J. Crew shoes, Alexander Wang bag
When I was younger, during my angsty years, I used to come out to this swing set and swing on the swings, listening to music, trying to figure out how I was going to woo my next boyfriend. Well now I have the BF and I’m a little less angsty (a little more heavy) and I rarely swing for fear that the swing-set will collapse under my weight. However, sometimes I do brave it, and go out there to remember all those times spent dreaming.
A little sneak peak of tomorrow’s post. It’s the shirt and skirt together… I think they like each other. It was a little overcast for these pictures but you get the drift. I must admit my Papa did a wonderful job with the landscaping of our house. Here I can’t help but smell the roses (and by roses I mean whatever flower this is).
Have to give a little shout out to my Dad who is the resident photographer when I’m home. Thanks Pops!