Late to Breakfast (at Tiffany’s!)

I’ve been late to the party on a lot of movies. I didn’t see “Titanic” until 2006; I didn’t see “Lord of the Rings” until weeks before “Return of the King” came out; I still haven’t seen the complete “Star Wars” series. Since I got my Netflix account a year ago, though, I’ve been trying to fill some of the holes in my “movie education.”

Here at school, every other girl in the dorms has a “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” poster. Two of my three roommates have them! After 2.5 years of looking at her pearls, updo, sunglasses, tiara, giant cigarette and whatever else, I finally decided to check the movie out for myself a few nights ago. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was very different from what I thought it would be, in a good way. I liked it a lot — I laughed, I got sad, I fell in love with the characters.

And, of course, like every other girl in the dorms, I fell a little bit in love with everything Audrey Hepburn/Holly Golightly wore. The dresses! The coats! The skirts! The jewelry! She always looked beautiful, but she made it look so effortless. I just wanted to steal her entire wardrobe.

The next morning, I woke up feeling completely inspired. I took a cue from a simple outfit from the movie that I couldn’t find a picture of because you only see it for a short time: the day she goes to the library with Paul in that awesome reddish pea coat, she wears a polo tucked into a pencil skirt. I didn’t quite want to go all the way to a pencil skirt for my campus job, but I at least put on a formal skirt.

It’s a shamefully amateur attempt, I know, but it made me smile, and all of my coworkers loved it, too (“What are you dressed up for?” “Oh, nothing, just saw ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ last night!”). I don’t think anyone would look at this outfit and say, “Oh, totally inspired by Audrey Hepburn,” but I think I got the overall concept I took away from admiring how she dressed: You don’t need to wait for a formal occasion to break out your formal skirt, and even a basic day should be an opportunity to dress up a little. If Holly Golightly can dress up to go to the library, I can dress up to go to class.

Pants day :( But plenty of pretty pictures!

Starting tomorrow, about 20 girls at my school are going to attempt to go pants-free for as long as they can, ideally until the semester ends on May 13. One of my good friends (and style inspirations!) did it as a personal project last year, and this year she decided to spread it to the rest of us. I’m excited! I have been going mostly pantsless for a few weeks now, anyway, so it shouldn’t be super challenging.

But, because that starts tomorrow, I didn’t want to waste a skirt or dress today. So, because it was hot out but I still needed to look decent for work-related activities, I went with dark-wash capris and a polo. Not an exciting outfit, for sure, so I tried to take interesting pictures to make up for it.

For some reason, I was really feeling an alley shot. Maybe because it was the first time I’ve worn black in a long time? (Thanks for that, Colleen!) Maybe because I’ve been taking so many sunshiney pictures? I don’t know. But, miracle of miracles, I managed to find an alley.

Unfortunately, backpack tripod and I only got one picture before I noticed the sign that said “Private Alley: No Trespassing!” Whoops. So, we ventured to park in a different part of town that I remembered from last year but hadn’t seen in a while. Turns out it’s really pretty this time of year — flowering trees, water in the creek, sunshine. And a bridge, because I take a lot of bridge pictures.

Pretty, right? I’ll definitely be re-using this location. That’s one of the great things that’s come out of this blog so far — it’s taught me to keep an eye out for the beauty in my town. Now that I’m paying attention and looking for it, I’m realizing there’s a lot of it here! Cheers.

PS — What do you think of the sandals I’m wearing in these? I know they have chunky ankle straps, which is generally a no-no for us petite women, but I love them to death and I can’t bring myself to not wear them.