This past weekend was spent in a wallow, my lazy butt wedged between my dog and the back of the couch, the TV tuned to a Harry Potter marathon on the Family Channel. It was worth the repetitiveness of cable channel commercials. I needed a little magic, I needed to fall asleep and dream in a British accent.
And now I’m looking forward to next weekend, when my friends will host a ’60s themed holiday party at their apartment, an apartment that has been just BEGGING for a party. Come Saturday, the only thing I’ll need to worry about is the crust of snow on my thigh-high boots.
To get into the spirit, I did a little digging for some keen nostalgia this morning. I have to say, if you’re opting for a soiree this holiday season, consider ditching the been-there-done-that Ugly Sweater idea (so 2006) for the old time capsule option.
The holidays play on our nostalgic hearts to begin with. Go for overload, I say.
Kitsch and glitter.
And, of course, the first photo I found brought me here to Ultra Swank, which I immediately bookmarked. Anyone who’s willing to devote themselves to the ’50s and ’60s is a-ok in my book. We were happier, then, weren’t we? Or at least can’t we pretend we were?
The cheerful header alone caused me to break into cooing noises. Chris from Sweden, if I had a job and money in my sad little bank account, I would immediately send you a bottle of vermouth and one of those little martini shakers. I hope you’ll settle for a toast with a capful of Canadian whiskey instead.