A rose is a rose is a rose.
If anyone is still following my blog, you may have noticed some slothfulness on Chic Vic, as I’ve only managed to churn out one dinky post this year. And now it’s already September which means 2018 is practically over and I’ll be counting down to Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve in no time. Where, what, and why, you may ask, has Chic Vic gone? Well, I’ve been werking it.
Much has transpired since my last life update. I have finally established a stable freelance wardrobe styling career (technically an assistant, but that’s a minor detail). Luckily, clients have found me pleasant to work with (yay!) and for the most part, my calendar has been booked solid every month. As strange new faces become familiar friends in the game of rotating freelancers, I’ve been learning a lot from all the wonderful people I’ve met so far. Everybody has some passion project they’re working on, and the creativity and ambition are contagious.
Instead of styling myself for blog photos, now I style other people in order to build my portfolio. I’m constantly brainstorming for the next photoshoot even before the current one wraps up. To all the budding creatives out there, you know that TFP hustle I’m talking about. My creative juices have been flowing towards this endeavor, and at the end of the day, there’s little reserve left for my humble blog. Oh yes, the blogging struggle is real.
In other adulting news, I’m a homeowner now (can someone say 30 year fixed mortgage?) aaaaand I have gained an Instagram husband till death do us part. I apologize for keeping ya’ll in the dark about my IRL personal stuff, but since I need an alibi for my absence from the blogosphere, I’m coming clean about what I’ve been up to – so let there be light! Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I can finally stop and smell the roses, 1950s style. Let’s get back into fashion, shall we?
From my photo archives, I present to you a flashback to the fifties with a fit and flare floral gem that I’ve only managed to wear just once. I love how the low sexy back juxtaposes the demure high neckline. With my hair covered up in a similar rose printed headscarf like a sister from another mister, I feel as though I’m I channeling Rosie the Riveter all the while giving off some serious 1950s housewifey vibes. The only thing that would knock the socks off this look is a pair of Bobby socks to go with my fancy floral saddle shoes.
Between the barely breathable cinched waist and the scratchy crinoline action underneath, the only type of housework I’ll be doing in this dress is lying the f*ck down, Ali Wong style.