What time is it? Now - and I'm due in for work. I hurry and gather my lunch bag, boots and purse. Its so early...8:00 a.m. I yawn and stretch. I tug at the lids of my eyes, making them 'closed for business'. But, then I realize the clock is a ticking and I must scatter forward.
It seems like work week mornings are always the hardest. A lazy Sunday however involves awakening to the smell of breakfast cakes and a visit to the local antique store. Last weekend I stopped by Jean Pierre Antiques. A large clock located on the left wall keeps the time. I love antiques, almost as much as I love vintage clothes. The tapestry chairs and delicate china lining every crook and corner of the store appealing to my buying senses. As soon as I walked in I was overwhelmed by the soft scent of various candles flickering.
I didn't end up buying anything - towering clocks don't fit very well in my apartment. I have low ceilings. But I did almost buy a candle and a few do-dads. The time continued to tick as I walked around the store, gliding my hands across each treasured piece. "Maybe next time," I thought as the store's wooden door closed behind me.
Blouse: ? (we've been friends for a long time)
Skirt: Anthropologie
Boots: Duo
Bow Hair Band: ShoeFly