Inspire me, again...

- Lolita -

Clothing : Flutterbydaisy

Photography : Fox Harvard

Model : Alexx Bouchard

In love with this set from Fox Harvard, unfortunately the box of Dresses, Pixie Tops and frills that were sent back after this shoot went missing... A fairy post-person I obviously presume... she will look better on her delivery rounds now at least... I decided to re-create this collection piece by piece over these next months in-between my other ideas and collaborations, so keep an eye out here, on my FB Page and in my Etsy Shop for these additions frill by frill...

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Speaking of which...

I found more delights for you from Etsy Land

Nature, Butterflies and Oddities:

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

In between sewing, There are bunnies:

In between bunnies, there's sewing... I've now finished all the custom orders that stole me from view... I'm back and have lacy ideas. Can't wait to unravel them from my head, make them into things and send them to Etsy searching for wardrobes...

Bunnies everywhere... I found this a while ago on Instagram, saved as 'Lilly_Maria' but that link doesn't seem to work ... thought I'd share it with you anyway because it's pretty...

(If you know the credit let me know and I'll update this)

Pretty Parcels, vinegar and brown paper, like the Nursery Rhyme, but without the vinegar, make that Lavender. Sometimes I loose my mind in here; find me, please. Falling down and bumping my head, not sure anymore who will tumble down after. I hope he would. I think he would. I must dry out some more flowers, in big books that smell like time that no one reads anymore.

Tales from The Treehouse

Just found my old blog, it wasn't hiding... wrote this 8 years ago, doesn't feel that long but I guess could read that way, even though I feel almost exactly the same...

"I don't know. It's not easy to say what's happening inside here where I am. The door is locked and on the outside I hear them screaming... under the door, the crack of light I see ten piles of oranges. The smell rises up into me of dying beetles....

Where am I? Lost inside -

Drag my fingernails along the ground. A cold pavement. Gravel. Bleeding. Is this it? the place where you have taken.... me.... taken. Am I to go now through the crack in the door 'drink me' shrink small? is that it? my name is not Alice sir!"

Twitch and The Flutterbydaisy Victorian Slip-Dress Shoot... Part One

Flutterbydaisy Victorian Inspired Slip Dresses will be in my Etsy shop late April

Photography : Twitch Photos

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Tales From The Treehouse

We all need someone we can dream on... stopped before she started to think the Fox was all right, before she turned Vixen; ironic mate of Fox. Talk of emotional evolution, of repeating of keeping, why when feelings fester we get lost, and why foxes are scared of boxes. She can't see the future in front and the past is fading. She can no longer sing when they are singing but she can give her self up and over and happily so; found the part which had been detached: re attachment, attachment. After she will know no other, to her own detriment if that's how you'd prefer to define it. Either that or nothing at all. Human Nature and love... the thing we used to be before we were trapped in all of this and allowed it to confuse us, let's put ourselves back together again, if only in part: because our inside has out-grown the outer but running or denying is never the answer. I just don't know what is. Or what is. Or what. What was the question again? don't think there was one but I do love you with all of my insides. Always. Without condition.

Pretty Prints from the Woodlands...

* By This Years Girl *

... I finally bought a couple of prints from one of my favourite artists...

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Tales From The Treehouse

I bought one for him, because I like him. I'm the bunny. One day, on my future walls will be this and more art/prints, on another will be butterflies, dragonflies and moths... curiosities beyond; A place to fall away, be and dream, it's not about stuff, or having, but about whatever it wants to be, a secret place to share: beautiful. Because maybe, if it's even possible to stop ourselves from being attached to others, another, on one, the one, we are left with just ourselves, be everything, anything all at the same time, not being able to even give, all the while saying nothing, it's heavy, like one of those dreams where your feet can't run and your voice stays inside. Maybe then we revert back and keep going until were living in a dolls house or a fort in a field. Even if they aren't real places and just in our minds. Both are the same and I'm afraid I'd rather ... no, I'm just afraid. My fish can't breathe, the line won't catch, the bread sinks to the bottom and everyone is hungry.

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