Ok, technically only one of each, but pluralized words often make for nicer titles, don't you think?
Prescription eyeglasses: (frames) Venus Eye Design V-12
1940s cream and brown mini heart print dress: etsy (seller is no longer in business)
Copper-pink pearl hued earrings: Claire's
Brown 1950s gloves: etsy or eBay
Sand hued bangle bracelet: etsy seller RecycleBuyVintage
Multi-colour crystal bead bracelet: gift from my mom and step-dad when they went on their trip to the Grand Canyon last year
1950s floral tapestry handbag: etsy seller Studio 1950
Nude seamed stockings: eBay
Dark brown faux letter heels: Pipsqueaks and Damsels Consignment Store (here in Penticton)
Lip colour: Clinique Raspberry Glaze
Photography by Antonio Cangiano
Just to the left where these photos were taken, until very recently, stood the town's only (present day) strip club. Ummm, where yah going with this, Jess, I hear you saying...allow me to continue. You see, Slack Alice's (the aforementioned gentleman's club) burned to the ground this past February, taking with it a neighbouring liquor store and Chinese restaurant, and as such this corner of the city now looks a touch barren.
Not though, that many folks around town really mind (well, perhaps some of the chaps do, but I've yet to hear any of the ladies lament over Slack's unexpected demise). I don't have qualms with strip clubs as long as they're legally operated and the workers are treated fairly and properly, and I feel sorry for the three Front Street business owners who lost their properties (and perhaps even livelihoods, I don't know their respective back stories) in the blaze.
Anyhow, a few feet further down the street is the parking lot near where these buildings once stood, and on the wall of a building that luckily remained unscathed stands a beautiful mural that was painted by two local artists. The scene it depicts is one of downtown Penticton circa 1930, and is the only solely vintage themed mural that I'm aware of in town.
I don't own much in the way of 30s garb, so instead I donned a 1940s dress (which, given it's age, I'm always a little leery of wearing on any kind of regular basis) and a beautiful 1950s tapestry handbag to go visit this artistically adorned corner of town on a recent (somewhat) overcast afternoon.
As many of you know, I'm massively allergic to nickel and have to avoid it like the plague, which means that many handbags are off limits for me. Occasionally however, if the amount of exposed metal is minimal and I don't plan on wearing the bag too often, I'll push aside my fears of getting a painful rash from the (potential presence) of this offending metal and take the plunge.
I'd been daydreaming about finding a pre-1960s floral print tapestry handbag that was nickel-free (or at least pretty close) for years now, and was elated when I discovered this lovely purse on etsy earlier this year. There is a little bit of metal, as you can see, but if I wear it with gloves and (save for these shots) long sleeves, I suspect I should be ok most of the time. A point which makes me a very, very (1950s rose tapestry purse carrying) happy camper.
This post includes something which is a rather uncommon occurrence for me, the bearing of my exposed arms. The reason why I rarely do so boils down to two main factors. The first of which is I believe in dressing with a certain degree of modesty (shy, ultra self-conscious soul that I am), and second because I'm not a big fan of my upper arms at all.
For medical reasons its virtually impossible for me to lift weights or do any kind of sport that would help tone my arms again (believe me, I've tried, and the consequences have been awful and very detrimental to my health), because of chronic muscular problems. As such, for many years now I've had what I humorously refer to as my "bulldog wrinkle" arms, thanks to the little fold of flesh right above the elbow (which in a way is cute to me, but I doubt others think so) and the fact that my upper arms are fleshier than I wish they were.
In the grander scheme of things, and given all the other (much more serious) problems and complications that have come about from my chronic conditions, my arms are not a big deal. My chest and torso, for example, are riddled with surgical scars and yet I have no issue my skin there whatsoever - funny, isn't it, the elements of our own bodies that we opt to worry about?
My arms usually look fine when clothed, and really aren't that bad when exposed, doing so is just something that I doubt I'll ever be fully comfortable with. Sometimes though, when the summertime heat is blazing down almost as hot as the flame that took out Slack Alice’s, a gal just has to forgo sleeves, done a cute dress, and embrace how she looks – flaws and all - in the name of vintage fashion. 
