I have lived in the East, vacationed in the South and followed my heart for a brief stay in the West. Yet, after traveling miles and miles, the North remains home.
Growing up in a Midwestern town of fewer than 400 people, I spent a lot of my childhood not wearing clothes. I frolicked around our hobby farm, feeding the chickens in my birthday suit and catching tadpoles in five-gallon buckets. Now as an adult (and law-abiding citizen), wearing my leopard-print Guess jeans to brunch feels almost equally thrilling.
As a small one, I floated between the demanding roles of stylist and model. I spent afternoons dressing my guy friends in skirts for high fashion photo shoots and asking a pal to craft a dandelion crown “in that field over there” or “hop -up on that donkey and smile.” It’s amazing these friends still love me.
I love clothes, stories, and people. To me, the act of getting dressed is storytelling without words. And just think how many fabulous conversations have started over clothes. “Oh, I just love your cat sweater and Mukluks!” The clothes we put on each day are an extension of our essence and help to define who we are in a sea of bodies.
My closet is a mix of thrifted finds, vintage stunners, and new basics. Drop me into any thrift store, and I practically hear ocean waves in my mind. I love the poor lighting, piles of stuff and 50% off days. I live for the hunt, and I’m damn good at it. If “Thrift magnetism” exists, I have it. My white high top Chuck Taylors were purchased from the men’s section at Goodwill for $6.
A Girl From the North Country is a nod to my roots and a celebration of the work we Northerners have done to make flannel sexy and layering seductive. Like a girl running through a field of goats in her polka-dot bathing suit, giggling until she hiccups (real childhood moment), I can’t slow down! Come on, let’s play.
Yours from the North,
Image by Bernadette Pollard Photography