Saturday Snapshots: July 18, 2015

{Heartwarming, timeless and very easy to relate to, this immensely sweet photo from c. 1918 shows three young sisters busily engaged in needlework on the verandah of their Toowong, Australia home as their matching trio of dolls watch on.}




{This photo from 1950, which has the accompanying note of "Irma at home" lands a place in today's post because Irma's red skirt suit and sophisticated bird wing adorned hat are the kind of early 50s fashions that make swoon and then go running to Etsy to try and duplicate those same styles! :) (PS: If you click though to this person's Flickr stream, you can see lots more photos of Irma over the years.)}




{A wonderful car, elegant mid-century attire, and a great getaway to the woods. Sounds like my idea of summertime heaven!}




{It was all I could do to keep my knees from buckling when I came across this delightful vintage photograph or two friends or relatives in their causal c. 1940s daywear attire. I mean, come on, just look at that A-MAH-ZING airplane novelty print sweet. Tres swoon!}




{A once common part of youth for many women that is now all but forgotten in most circles, these lovely ladies from 1954 were all debutants that year - and what a beautifully evening/party dress adorned group they were!}




{Tourists, and likely the occasional local or two as well, exploring Windsor Castle, 1949. I'm always drawn to vintage crowd shots like this - they give you such a good look a decent chunk of the population at one time and thus many outfits and hairstyles to study, learn from, and simply enjoy seeing.}




{The caption "traveling with friends" accompanies this 1920s photo of six fashionably attired ladies who all look marvelous from their elegant shoes right on up to their jaunty cloche hats. Talk about traveling (with friends) in style!}




{This photo stirs a sense of nostalgia in me. Though you need to bump things up about three decades, this photo could easily have been taken little me along with my mom and aunts or some of her girlfriends during my childhood. Not only that, but look at that crazy cool animal and cocktail print wallpaper - I had to post this 1950s photo if only for that!}




{Two young woman (very) hard at work on the war effort front, March 1943. I always seriously admire how well dressed and put together those who did these kind of demanding manual labour jobs still managed to look day in and day out.}




{The cross section of genuine facial expressions in this 1950s colour photo is more perfect than had it been staged. You're got the visibly concerned, serious faced lady on the right, the woman engaged in telling her story on the left, the sweet, excited little gal in the middle who looks like she just saw Santa Claus step into the room. }

{All images above are from Flickr. To learn more about a specific image, please click on it to be taken to its respective Flickr page.}

♥ ♥ ♥  

Several months ago I was involved in a situation with someone for whom I went unbelievably above and beyond. I'm prone to doing this. It's in my nature not just to care, but to care incredibly deeply. I am an empath, a highly sensitive person, and INFJ, so you can likely image (or perhaps personally relate) to the fact that I quite literally feel other people's feelings and can sense a mile away when someone is in distress, is upset, was hurt - any negative or positive emotion, I'll read like a book, even if they don't say a word. In fact, it often between those proverbial lines that I pick up the very truest clues.

The details of what unfolded do not merit relaying, but the very in-a-nutshell version of things is that I did what I felt was an incredibly kind and generous thing and the person I was trying to help (who it should be noted, gave me permission to do so for beforehand) rebuked, complained about, and was mind-blowingly rude regarding what I had done.

I didn't see that coming in a million years and was floored by it (believe me, I say this without an ounce of bias, their response was incredibly uncouth, hurtful and selfish). I mean, to the point where I literally felt a powerfully crushing, gripping sensation in the center of my chest for days afterwards. I was nearly paralyzed from the trauma of their reaction and I was as good as useless to myself and the rest of the world for at least a week as I slowly began to recover from how incredibly ungrateful and hurtful they were to me.

I'm a sensitive person, there's no question about it, but I've been wronged, slighted, screwed over, used, you name it, over the years, and for all my tender emotions, I've grown quite a thick skin, so to have someone (who I barely knew) trouble me so deeply was unnerving unto itself.

Far from being bitter or even angry at that person. I felt sorry from them. Pity sprung the very core of my heart and I wondered how they could function in this world with the attitude that they possessed. I wept and in a way I grieved for them, but through it all, I never regretted the actions I had taken in my attempt to make their life better, their world happier.

During that rough patch in my life, I thought and meditated on the quote that launches today's edition (the first this year, believe it or not) of Saturday Snapshots, hailing from the mind of that wise philosopher (amongst other things) of ancient Rome, Lucius Annaeus Seneca, who said "It is another's fault if he be ungrateful, but it is mine if I do not give. To find one thankful man, I will oblige a great many that are not so."

Each time I read it, my soul calmed. My nerves relaxed, my heartbeat slowly returned to normal and the invisible elephant sat up and wandered off from my chest. It would be easy to let an experience like that one jade or sour you. To turn your spirit harsh, your heart cold. To make you stop remembering that there is good in many and that there are some people who can never truly be pleased or who lack the ability to experience genuine gratitude.

I could have, but I didn't. For I did not do so each time (with other people) at earlier stages in my life, and I will not when something similar happens down the road in the future. It is bound to. There are too many human beings on this planet to not run into at least a handful more before my mortal time expires that will cause similar feelings, provoke such agonizing reactions, and who have as little clue about how to be grateful as that aforementioned elephant does about flying a spaceship to the moon.

Today, a relatively long time after this experience unfolded, I share it with you here to let you know that if you're currently facing, have dealt with, or will one day encounter something similar, that you're not alone. This problem predated even our good man Seneca (not to mention all the lovely folks in these vintage snapshots) and it will far outlast each and every one of us here.

When you encounter ungratefulness, and I promise you that you will, think not of that individual but of those for whom your actions, words and caring soul were appreciated - and of those who stirred in you those very same feelings.

The next time someone does something from a place of love and care for you, make sure your look them straight in the eyes (or write a heartfelt thank you letter/email) and make sure that they know just how very grateful you are. Believe me, Seneca, would approve, and so will the rest of the people in today's world that you will actually want to be around as you move forward with your life after having been dealt a painful reminder that it truly takes all kinds!

Saturday Snapshots: September 6, 2014

{Image source}




{It is yesteryear images like this - the ones that depict real world women wearing wonderful fashions in the most charming of settings (inspiring me greatly in the process) - that help ensure this series will keep going strong for as long as Chronically Vintage exist - which I hope is very long time to come!}





{This immensely cute snapshot of a young girl holding two darling kittens has been in my "to use" list of Flickr favourites for years now, but I don't believe it's appeared here before. On the off chance it has, no bother - a photo this precious deserves to be seen twice.}





{There's just something about summer and sherbet hued party dresses - no matter if you're a schoolgirl or sophisticated woman of the world - that go together so smashing well, as these sweet little lasses from 1956 clearly knew.}





{A newsboy cap, bobbed (or possibly simply tucked under) 'do, and rugged stripped ensemble give this c. 1920s gal such an awesome air of menswear inspired style and understated elegance.}





{Though it was written a decade after this great street scene snap was captured in Atlantic City in 1954, the moment I saw it, the opening lines from the classic song Under the Boardwalk sprung into my head.}





This wonderful 1940s group shot of several Alpha Phi sorority members instantly made me think of my maternal grandma, who was a teenager herself during the decade, and I'm sure posed for a few similar snaps with her friends back in the day (though I don't believe she was ever in a sorority).}




{You guys know I'm a big fan of vintage photos that are chocked full of interesting background details, and this fun 1950s image of two female employees at work on the grand opening day of a pet shop just such cool details in spades!}




{Unique perspectives just happen to be another type of vintage image that I've always been keen on, so the moment I spotted this lovely vacation snap of two tourists gazing at the castle on St. Wolfgang Lake, Austria back in 1959, I knew it was destined for this month's Saturday Snapshots post.}




{As with many of the most engaging vintage wedding photos, this 1930s group shot depicting a bride, groom, maid of honour, and three bridesmaids is teaming with a wide array of facial expressions - the very cheeriest of which appears to me to be the groom’s.}




{From her lovely green dress to the darling dachie, those fab white peep-toe heels to the the Chevy they're posing with, there isn't a single element of this delightful 1940s snap I don't adore.}


{All images above are from Flickr. To learn more about a specific image, please click on it to be taken to its respective Flickr page.}


♥ ♥ ♥  

Have you ever encountered a quote that - while you didn't go out of your way to find it - came into your life at precisely the right moment, lifting up, shaping, or changing your outlook on some element of your existence, your world, or your future?

About a year and a half go now, in the midst of deep discussion with myself - and some days with my husband, as well as with a treasured online girlfriend - about my own appearance and the struggles I've encountered throughout my whole life regarding self-esteem and how (I feel) society views me from an aesthetic standpoint (a topic that I discussed last year in this post, sparked by one of the most touching, incredible gifts I've ever received), today's quote from Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk and author Thich Nhat Hanh appeared in my Facebook stream one day.

Quite literally the night before Tony and I had been waist deep, so to speak, in the thick of a conversation about my perception of myself vs society's actual take on my appearance (by which I mean my physical appearance, not my vintage attire), which really hadn't lead anywhere more productive or helpful than past discussions on the topic had proved to be.

I know that many of us struggle for some, or all of our lives, with issues pertaining to self-esteem, self-confidence, and body image. I am by no means alone on this front, and am sure that quite a few folks out there battle these things on a much greater level than I do, but they've been present with me - like unseen, nagging passengers - ever since I was a very little girl, and I am, quite honestly sick of them (which is part of the reason why I finally mustered the courage, to hone in on one of them, to show the world my crooked/bad teeth on camera via my YouTube videos for the first time this summer, as I discussed in my second ever video here).

For a very long I could scarcely bring myself to even look at my own appearance in the mirror, and if I was out and out in public (where I generally feel substantially more self-conscious and shy) I would intentionally divert my gaze from my reflection in any kind of surface for many years. This carried on until I was about twenty-five - though I still do it occasionally, old habits dying, as they tend to do rather hard.

I saw no beauty in my face or body whatsoever for most of my life. I could, after a certain age grant you cuteness perhaps, but beauty was as illusive as a unicorn, and I longed to have even an inkling of a sense of what that word - that single little subjective adjective - actually felt like.

I wish I could tell you that reading Thich Nhat Hanh's endlessly wise quote delivered that sensation my way, that I woke up the next morning and felt gorgeous, self-confident, no longer at odds with my appearance, but I didn't - well, not entirely. Something had changed that following day though, because I was suddenly more at peace with the face looking back at me in the mirror (much as I was after I received Lorena's beautiful aforementioned gift). I liked how I looked a whole lot more, and I honestly felt like I cared considerably less if others viewed me as aesthetically pleasing or not (again, I'm absolutely not talking about my fashion choices here, happily, I'm very confident on that front).

I am not shallow, and I try never to judge another person based on their looks, but we all critique both ourselves and each other, if only on a silent, internal level sometimes. In the Hanh's words I found the permission to stop judging myself so harshly, and perhaps just as importantly, had a light bulb moment of realization that being myself is its own kind of profound beauty.

Miss Universe I may never be, but I am my true self, as best and honestly as I know how to be each and every day. I am a wife, a sister, a best friend, a chronically ill individual, a blogger, a crafter, a pet mama, a photographer, a daydreamer, a bookworm, a vintage lover, an Etsy shop owner, a traveler and so very much more, and each of these things conspires to make me beautiful in my own unique way.

Just as the passions, stories and telltale characteristics that make you who you are - who each of us has been since the dawn of time - transforms you into a deeply, perpetually lovely individual, too.

Many months have passed since this quote appeared in my Facebook stream, but it hasn't left my side for a day. I turned it into my desktop background image for nearly a year and have reflected on it scores of times since then, trying to embrace and better live its message on a deeper level each morning, noon and night.

Few snippets of sagely advice has resonated as profoundly with me, and so I knew that the time had come to pass it along to each of you, in case you're also in need of the important reminder it carries, and the powerful feeling that comes with accepting yourself right here, right now, exactly how you are in the moment. Beautiful, in more ways than you will ever possibly know.

Saturday Snapshots: February 8, 2014

       
{Two lovely 1940s ladies - identified as Marie Finberg and Frances Nikstad - enjoying a moment of photo booth fun on what, based on their heavy coats, may very well have been a chilly fall of winter's day.} 


{Sweetness and cuteness abound in equal measures in this darling photo from 1949 of a little girl dressed up in classic Southern Victorian inspired garb for a genteel pageant.} 


{Four yesteryear collage students enjoying a cigarette outside of their (unidentified) school. I really like how in the midst of the other three's more lighthearted expressions, the hat wearing chap in the center is peering dead on into the lens, all straight-faced and serious.} 


{An understatedly beautiful bias cut wedding dress for her and a classic tux and bow tie for him, helped ensure this lovely young couple looked as though might have just stepped out of a magazine or movie of the day, as they posed for their wedding photograph nearly eight years ago to the day (May 6, 1933).}




{With summer just around the corner, it seemed fitting to post this delightful 1950s swimming pool shot in the hopes that it might help bathing suit weather get here even faster (actual wearing of a swimsuit completely optional, of course ;).} 


{I think we can all agree that the cuteness factor here in this lovely vintage snapshot of two little girls and their beautiful pet spaniel is off the charts.}



{A dramatic, dark grey cloud filled sky lends a great depth of interest to this colour taken in 1953 of tourists visiting Moffat Tunnel in Colorado.} 



{A wonderfully pretty springtime vintage portrait of a woman and young girl (likely mother and daughter) posing in front of a blossoming tree, perhaps, I'd venture to guess in their Sunday best.}




{A heartwarmingly precious studio portrait of two young children taken on December 8, 1928.} 



{Saddle shoe, cuffed jeans, plaid shirt, knotted neck scarf vintage causal attire perfection.}


{All images above are from Flickr. To learn more about a specific image, please click on it to be taken to its respective Flickr page.}

♥ ♥ ♥
  Their names were Flo and Fern. He was French Canadian, she was a native daughter of the Okanagan, who had lived in the charming little Edwardian house, with its coffee bean hued roof and faded cream siding, that she’d called home for very nearly her entire life. A life which, at the time I came into the grander picture of it, was well into its eighth decade.

They were spry and friendly, childless, very much in love with each other, and fond of spending summer weekends at their small 1940s wood cabin up at Chute Lake, a stone's throw away from town.

He would sit outside on their classic porch on evenings during the nice weather and take long, thoughtful draws from a classic briar pipe, the almost indescribably lovely scent of vanilla tobacco wafting down the street and filling my young nostrils with delight. She would have us over for tea, her house more akin to a museum - a small, beautifully curated museum of antiques and wonders - in my eyes, and tell tales, made all the more vivid by the framed black and white photographs mounted on walls plastered with paper many decades older than I was, of what life had been like in this town when she and her sisters were young.

Much like Flo and Fern's house, ours was a small Edwardian charmer, complete with everything from original lead glass windows to areas on one wall of the basement designed originally to house a cache of coal. The oldest house on the street (Tennis Street, to be exact, named for the fact that it once held the town's first tennis court), ours had stood there since 1909. It's still there in fact, though my family has long since moved out.

At the time Tennis Street was a blend of turn of the century homes, some from the 20s, 30s and 40s, as well as newer, more modern abodes. It's entire length up one side could be walked in a couple of minutes, and in doing so, one would likely spot at least a few of the street's elderly inhabitants out in their yards or sitting, like Fern and his pipe, on their porches. Not all of the residents had been there for as long as their homes had stood, but all of those with at least a glint of grey in their hair instantly became like multiple sets of surrogate grandparents to my siblings and I, no matter how long they’d resided on that street.

Some were eccentric, some needed far more care than their relatives could provide, some had fantastic tales and yes, cliché as it may sound, hard candies aplenty, both of which they were happy to dispense at a moments notice. We loved them all, these senior citizens, who ranged in age from about sixty to ninety. Retired nurses, school teachers, WW2 soldiers, railway workers, and homemakers, to name but a few of the roles they'd held throughout their venerable lifetimes.

My family wasn't well off (though the true extent of that fact was a carefully guarded secret in our house), but we never ran the risk of going hungry. There were hundreds of peaches, pears, raspberries, tomatoes and green beans growing in our neighbours' gardens, which they were more than happy to let us come over pick each summer. A good many of which, my mother and I would put up each summer, just as the residents of our street had been doing since before the days of colour television.

They were there with a meal, a smile, an understanding ear, a tire jack, a string of Christmas lights, and yes, even the proverbial cup of sugar (which came in especially hand if one ran low while caning all those peaches and pears), as well as the invaluable gift of their wisdom and life experience. I've always held senior citizens, those members of our society who have beat the odds and made into their sixties, seventies, eighties and sometimes even beyond in the highest of regard.

I loved feeling safe and protected by each of these folks who shared our street, and have tried very hard over the years to keep the memories that they shared with me alive in my own mind. Save for one lady (who, like my family, left Tennis Street many years ago), all of these seniors, these adopted grandparents, these preserves of the past - even if they didn't know I saw them at the time as such - have passed. Many of their beautiful little vintage homes have been knocked down and replaced by faceless, dime a dozen duplexes.

A small number of original houses number still exist though, and every now and then, when I'm downtown, I'll take a moment and wander the length of Tennis Street again, where suddenly I'm ten years old, Flo is beckoning me inside to see her family album (it was stunning!) or take a plate of freshly baked cookies home to share with my family, and my young ears are buzzing with soft voices telling priceless stories that I simply could never get enough of hearing.

I think often of these people and the roll they played in shaping who I am today. The morals, manners, insight, and wisdom they imparted. How generously and wholly their gave of their time, their homes, their gardens and their recollections. I learned at their feet, I grew under their caring gaze, and I hold onto the past with the greatest of reverence and love today, in no small part, because I witnessed a handful of neighbours doing the same, in their own unique ways, when I was at the most impressionable of ages.

Flo and Fern - whose surname, sadly, I have long since forgotten and no one else seems to be able to remember either - left this world quite some time ago, and though they never had children of their own, I hope with all my heart they knew, in their own special way that they had grandchildren in me and my siblings. One of whom thinks of them often and will always, for the as long as I live, treasure their memories as though they were my very own.

Saturday Snapshots: December 14, 2013

{One of the season's most enjoyable activities - making snowmen (on a sunny day to boot!) - is captured beautifully on colour film in this c. 1950 image.}




{A million extra style points to you for the wearing of a bowtie while bowling, fashionable 1940s chap.}




{What I would venture to guess was a casual class photo (based on the ages of the youngsters and brick building behind them) from the 1950s. Group shots like this are such a terrific way to see some of the real world youth fashions of the day.}




{Part of me feels like I might have used this snap before, but I can't bring an exact post to mind, and it's possible that I've just looked it so many times over the years that it feels like I've blogged it. No matter if I have, it's so exquisitely rich in 1940s summertime awesomeness that it warrants sharing multiple times.}




{With Christmas just nine days away, there's no way I could omit a festive holiday shot from this edition of Saturday Snapshots. I totally fell for this lovely 1940s photo of a young mom sitting under the tree with an armful of (what I'm guessing are) her kid's new toys in her arms. }




{From the headscarf to the shades, the pair of bracelets to the seriously sleek convertible, there's much to adore about this warm weather 1950s shot.}




{Three young female students from the Kehl School of Dance pose in their pretty ballet outfits, likely during the 1940s (pictured from left to right are Jo Jean Kehl, Joan Batz, and Jo Ann Kehl).}




{A group of Patrons enjoying a refreshing drink at Koecher's Bar in Theresa, Wisconsin on July 7, 1950 (all of whom are identified by name on this photo's Flickr page).}




{This image has a bit of a posed feel to it, though no background information is provided for it, so it could have just been a well timed slice-of-teenage-life shot. Either way, it's tons of fun and has me wishing we still had a good old-fashioned carhop drive-in around these parts.}




{Vintage snowday sweetness at its most blonde curled, rosy cheeked, mid-century adorable.}


{All images above are from Flickr. To learn more about a specific image, please click on it to be taken to its respective Flickr page.}


♥ ♥ ♥


As we open our eyes to another frosty December morn, it's almost hard to believe that this year will be a memory in little more than two weeks time. Though it's a touch early to recap 2013 just yet, I couldn't let another day pass by with out writing about something that I've been keenly aware each and everyday through the past eleven and a half months: The balance of positive and negative.

No, I'm not talking about magnets, nor ying-yang signs, or even pregnancy tests, what I mean might be more akin to karma, but ultimately, I believe, has a lot to do with one's perception of life.

Nearly every day we each encounter good and bad - people, moments, news, discoveries, expenses, you name it. Some days, the bad far outweighs the good, and others the good dominates, but the lingering pain of the bad (recent or distant) can make it challenging to see the positive that is all around us.

This year was not same as the last one for my husband and I. Few years mirror each other blow for blow, and that's ultimately a good thing - one wants newness and change, growth and exploration with each notch they add to their belt of life. No, 2013 was a lot rougher around the edges. It threw plenty of those aforementioned blows; showed little mercy at times, and tried to tap us dry at every corner.

Was it the worst year ever? Goodness no, and thank that very same goodness that it wasn't, but in the light of such a (by and large) incredible year in 2012, it often seemed that 2013 was being a bit harsh. Yet that is only if we go by the headline stories, what one might not see is the many, many times each month there was goodness and happiness, smiles and joy, so often brought about by the unending kindness of others.

By about mid-July, it struck me that for every rough day, eye-rollingly unpleasant moment, or sudden expense that came our way, there was kindness of the greatest caliber just waiting around the corner. This goodness wasn't always related to the tough situation, stress, or worry, sometimes it was a million miles apart and that was awesome, because it meant that I (we) had something else to focus on for a while.

In speaking of kindness, I would be remiss if I didn't touch directly on that which has come, time and time again, from many of my online friends - as well virtual strangers I encountered in the vastness of the interwebs.

It can be all too easy, thanks to media outlets like the evening news, to think that the world is filled with nothing but sinister, cruel or violent people, but the truth is that nothing could be further from reality. There are so, so many wonderful, caring, giving, concerned, resourceful, understanding individuals out there, and I have been blessed by many such folks all throughout this year of ups and downs.

My deepest of heartfelt thanks goes out to each and every one of them, not only for their friendship, support, assistance and/or generosity, but for reminding me again of all of the good, the righteous, the sweet, and the beautiful that exists in humanity (as well as to be extremely thankful of these heartwarming gifts from those I’ve interacted with).

It is not merely the events that happen to us in life that add weight to the constant balance of good and bad, it is those who touch our lives and add an immeasurable amount of positivity to the good side that help make getting through even the rockiest times more bearable.

There will always be sunshine and storms in each of our universes, but I fully believe that if we opt to focus on the good and the kindness bestowed on us by those in our lives, instead of dwelling on the negatives, it is more than possible to end the year feeling like one's cup runneth over with positivity and happiness.

I know mine certainly is as we set our sights on 2014, and I hope dearly that the same is able to ring true for each of you as well, my dear friends.