I feel as if these pictures speak for themselves but just in case:
About Me
- Vintage Hippo
- Writer. Aspiring Pinup. Journalist. Liberal. Hippopotamus. Dancer. Fashionista. Makeup Junkie. Risk taker. Seamstress. Photographer. Hoarder. Music Addict. Incurable Optimist. Shoe Collector. Tree-hugger. Feminist. Listener. accident prone. Mad Men watcher. Sailor without the mouth.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
No. 31 These Boots Practically Save Themselves
I feel as if these pictures speak for themselves but just in case:
Thursday, November 3, 2011
No. 21 Dorothy
Friday, April 1, 2011
She Swam in the Sunshine
The room too bright.
The denim too thick.
A strange feeling was in her heart,
as if she was anticipating the end of an exciting mystery novel.
She found herself searching for peace of mind in her 2nd drawer
where the shorts had sat waiting through the cold.
She left her house in a mad rush,
15 minutes later than she should.
Green light. Green light.
Jessie's Girl came on the radio.
One of her all time faves.
She sang. She smiled.
Green light. Green light.
Green light.
"Thank you!" she exclaimed into the universe.
On the outside, Hildy was a black blur,
whizzing through the unusually light Thursday morning Bakersfield traffic.
Inside, she was a place of solitude.
A quiet place despite the loud music within.
Jessie's Girl came on the radio. Again.
She giggled out loud.
"Oh my gosh! Are you kidding me??"
She arrived at 9:25. She wouldn't be late.
The sun tanned the back of her legs as she walked.
She entered class at it's exact start time.
Halfway through class she realized her ASL partner's name is Jesse.
She smiled at the coincidence.
She craved something salty.
A bag of crunchy pretzels was the only way to satisfy her for now.
She placed a shiny, cold quarter into the machine.
"Credit: 1.25" it read.
She was saddened that the misfortune of another was her reason for smiling.
A-8. The pretzels fell, and then the M&M's.
M&M's and a bag of pretzels for 25 cents?
She wondered if anyone else was experiencing this lucky day with her.
Last class of the day.
She smiled at the boy with the straw hat,
tank top, shorts and almost-invisible long blond eyelashes.
She loved boys who put effort into their appearance.
Boys with hats. Boys in tank tops.
She giggled to herself.
There was just something so silly about
how much she loved naked boy shoulders.
She exited her last class. The warmth greeted her.
She walked through the campus, excited for the weekend.
Step-step. Step-step.
Step-step-step.
The stairs are a pain when they're uneven.
Back through the parking lot where Hildy waited patiently.
She passed another boy in a tank top.
It read "Suns out, Guns out."
She suppressed a laugh. Smiled and sighed instead.
She could feel the heat of the black concrete through her flats.
Her skin tightened in the direct sunlight.
She wanted to smell like water babies.
Hildy was an oven.
Chase Long Beach sang about being her friend.
Beads of sweet salty sweat ran down the back of her neck.
She realized the real craving she was having earlier.