This summer, the Hubster and I are taking a trip. A fabulous, fun-filled, family trip. We are going to visit Fin's dad and his family in California for nearly three whole weeks in June and I. Cannot. Wait.
Flights to the US seem to be inordinately expensive at the moment and it was difficult to decide whether to go or not, but now that we've booked up I am embracing it. We're spending most of the time staying with Fin's dad outside Sacramento, with a couple of days in San Francisco somewhere in the middle, and ending with a long, luxurious week in a beach house in Santa Cruz.
I love visiting his (our) family in California, even if I haven't always covered myself in glory when we've been there. The first ever time we went to visit Fin's dad, on our very first night there, I found myself standing out on the deck, savouring the warm evening breeze, alone for a brief moment. The rest of the family were inside somewhere (playing ping-pong, probably. They love a bit of ping-pong). I decided I'd better go and join them, be sociable and all that, so I walked from the darkness of the deck back into the empty living room.
Without opening the screen door.
It did not end well for the screen door. Or for Fin's dad's bank account.
CRINGE.
I love visiting his (our) family in California, even if I haven't always covered myself in glory when we've been there. The first ever time we went to visit Fin's dad, on our very first night there, I found myself standing out on the deck, savouring the warm evening breeze, alone for a brief moment. The rest of the family were inside somewhere (playing ping-pong, probably. They love a bit of ping-pong). I decided I'd better go and join them, be sociable and all that, so I walked from the darkness of the deck back into the empty living room.
Without opening the screen door.
It did not end well for the screen door. Or for Fin's dad's bank account.
CRINGE.
Anyway, I'm sure that won't happen again. And now that we're into May and our holiday is officially Next Month, the excitement is really cranking up. I can't wait to feel the California sunshine seeping into my cold, creaky bones. Paddling in the Pacific, drinking wine in the hot tub, eating my body weight in Lucky Charms - it's going to be heaven.
And, of course, now that it's Next Month, holiday fashion planning can officially commence. I went on a pre-honeymoon Primark spree last summer (it was amazing, I just went round the shop picking up three of everything. It was how I imagine Victoria Beckham must feel in Harvey Nicks) so I can't really justify a whole new wardrobe, but there are definitely a few gaps to be filled.
In particular, I find myself unexpectedly lusting after a new swimsuit. Not a bikini, a tankini, or (God forbid) a monokini, but a good old covers-all-your-squidgy-bits swimsuit. (Incidentally, I hear Anthropologie are calling them maillots these days, which is possibly the most pretentious thing I've ever heard. "Hey, do you like my new chaussures?" "Why yes, they look marvellous with your pantalon!" Come on, Anthro. Get a grip. Also, it's a maillot de bain. Un maillot is a jersey. Just so you know.)
The swimsuit thing has partly arisen from the fact that my brother-in-law and his teeny-tiny Chinese dancer wife will also be joining us. Sitting next to her in a bikini would not be conducive to maintaining high self-esteem, especially not after all the Lucky Charms. Not to mention the fact that swimming in the ocean, as I know from bitter past experience, is often a bit too much for a bikini to handle. Nobody wants to flash their in-laws. Destroying their screen door is quite enough for one holiday.
Mostly, though, I am just loving all the retro-inspired suits that have sprung up everywhere this year. More 50s pin-up than Baywatch babe, they are classic, flattering and fun. I think I'd feel a lot more comfortable hanging out (hopefully not literally) with my in-laws wearing one of these bad boys than in any of the teeny-tiny honeymoon numbers currently crumpled at the back of my sock drawer:
But while I'm super excited about visiting the beach, and our family, and San Francisco (the only place I've visited in America where I could really imagine myself living), there is also the tiniest tinge of disappointment. Because if we were flying out just a couple of days earlier, there's a chance I could have been in San Francisco for the next APW book club meet-up there. Which would have been AMAZEBALLS. I could have met Meg, and Lauren, and who knows who else? It's like the APW mothership. Sigh.
However, all is not lost - it just means we get to have a Scottish APW meet-up instead! Now, I tried to organise one last time, and only two people were interested. Two! That is lame, Scotland. Lame. But since my graduate post went up a few more people have expressed an interest, which has got me really excited. So this is just an early heads-up that there will be a meet-up at some point in June, so if you're at all interested in coming along you should head over to APW and vote for a date that suits you, then buy the book, then leave a comment or send me an email to let me know, so that I can circulate the deets nearer the time. There will also be a facebook page set up once we know the date, so keep an eye out for that.
I am so excited that I might finally escape from behind this laptop and actually get to meet some of you lovely ladies! Almost as excited as I am about the beach and the sunshine and the Lucky Charms. It's a close-run thing.
All images are of the exquisite Grace Kelly, shot by Howell Conant in Jamaica in 1955. Because I thought we might all enjoy a little reminder right now that there was more to her than just her wedding dress.
And, of course, now that it's Next Month, holiday fashion planning can officially commence. I went on a pre-honeymoon Primark spree last summer (it was amazing, I just went round the shop picking up three of everything. It was how I imagine Victoria Beckham must feel in Harvey Nicks) so I can't really justify a whole new wardrobe, but there are definitely a few gaps to be filled.
In particular, I find myself unexpectedly lusting after a new swimsuit. Not a bikini, a tankini, or (God forbid) a monokini, but a good old covers-all-your-squidgy-bits swimsuit. (Incidentally, I hear Anthropologie are calling them maillots these days, which is possibly the most pretentious thing I've ever heard. "Hey, do you like my new chaussures?" "Why yes, they look marvellous with your pantalon!" Come on, Anthro. Get a grip. Also, it's a maillot de bain. Un maillot is a jersey. Just so you know.)
The swimsuit thing has partly arisen from the fact that my brother-in-law and his teeny-tiny Chinese dancer wife will also be joining us. Sitting next to her in a bikini would not be conducive to maintaining high self-esteem, especially not after all the Lucky Charms. Not to mention the fact that swimming in the ocean, as I know from bitter past experience, is often a bit too much for a bikini to handle. Nobody wants to flash their in-laws. Destroying their screen door is quite enough for one holiday.
Mostly, though, I am just loving all the retro-inspired suits that have sprung up everywhere this year. More 50s pin-up than Baywatch babe, they are classic, flattering and fun. I think I'd feel a lot more comfortable hanging out (hopefully not literally) with my in-laws wearing one of these bad boys than in any of the teeny-tiny honeymoon numbers currently crumpled at the back of my sock drawer:
 |
| Anthropologie, Undrest, Boden, New Look |
But while I'm super excited about visiting the beach, and our family, and San Francisco (the only place I've visited in America where I could really imagine myself living), there is also the tiniest tinge of disappointment. Because if we were flying out just a couple of days earlier, there's a chance I could have been in San Francisco for the next APW book club meet-up there. Which would have been AMAZEBALLS. I could have met Meg, and Lauren, and who knows who else? It's like the APW mothership. Sigh.
However, all is not lost - it just means we get to have a Scottish APW meet-up instead! Now, I tried to organise one last time, and only two people were interested. Two! That is lame, Scotland. Lame. But since my graduate post went up a few more people have expressed an interest, which has got me really excited. So this is just an early heads-up that there will be a meet-up at some point in June, so if you're at all interested in coming along you should head over to APW and vote for a date that suits you, then buy the book, then leave a comment or send me an email to let me know, so that I can circulate the deets nearer the time. There will also be a facebook page set up once we know the date, so keep an eye out for that.
I am so excited that I might finally escape from behind this laptop and actually get to meet some of you lovely ladies! Almost as excited as I am about the beach and the sunshine and the Lucky Charms. It's a close-run thing.
All images are of the exquisite Grace Kelly, shot by Howell Conant in Jamaica in 1955. Because I thought we might all enjoy a little reminder right now that there was more to her than just her wedding dress.
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