Tag Archives: Carey Wodehouse

I am the anvil.

[Maeve stained glass skirt from Anthro + vintage Army t-shirt from VintageTrends.com + Club Monaco hoops (ShopBop) + Motif 99 cuff (ShopBop) + Vanessa Mooney rings and bracelets.] I have started and stopped writing this post so many times over the last 3 months. I’ve written the lines in my head in the shower in […]

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Don’t think twice, it’s all right.

[Staring at Stars fringed tank + jacket, Free People shorts + Luv AJ sheet metal cuff/anklet + Shaashi necklace + vintage turquoise.] The brilliant David Gahan of Depeche Mode once said: “I still hold on to the idea that a record can really change the way I feel.” If that’s true—and I believe it is—I probably […]

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So many nighties, so little time. [+ photo recap.]

I have this little quote snipped from a magazine that I’ve hung onto for years. It’s good advice, and advice I wish I’d inherently understood from ages 15-30. Quick retrospective: Ages 1-7: sport clothes for life that involves crotches full of sand, full days on flats boat baiting shrimps with hooks through their eyeballs in […]

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What butter can’t fix, nothing can.

[Chicken paprikash, a la Wodehouse, a la a really old, run-off copy of a page from Good Housekeeping my mom passed down to me ages ago, with a tiny "Yo!" in the corner I doodled on her recipe sheet while chatting with a friend on the phone in the kitchen circa 7th grade.] There’s a […]

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Adventures of a Fanny.

[VMFA in Richmond, walking distance from my home in The Fan.] Ha ha! Fanny! I’m sorry, my dad came up with that last time they were visiting. And since fanny is one of my favorite words, it stuck. I’m a Fanny. I live in the Fan. Get it?

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Reparations: Chop Suey’s good faith.

[Chop Suey Books in Carytown, Richmond, VA.] The more chances you have to be around people—strangers, in particular—the more opportunities you have to be proven right about them. Or wrong, however you view the glass. I tend to assume every person is both fundamentally kind, and trustworthy. Within certain parameters, of course. Just as likely […]

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Weekend photo journal: it was pho-king awesome.

Testicular metaphors! My specialty. Rob was quite the bacon maker this weekend, so I found myself in need of free entertainment. Emphasis on ‘free.’

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The streets all ripe with jewels.

[Staring at Stars t-shirt and bra, Urban Outfitters + Free People shorts + Sam Edelman booties + Dannijo purse + Low Luv pendant.] My father wasn’t a big man. He was only inches taller than my mother—scrawny, almost, but strong—with hair that was always a little too long, unless it had just been cut, in […]

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Local haunt: Garnett’s Cafe in Richmond, VA.

Homemade pickles, Croque Monsieurs, desserts made fresh daily, and a simple chalkboard wine list—we found our local haunt. Now we just have to become locals—a status that can’t be quantified by a certain number of visits… or mayoral rankings on Foursquare. It’s a sense of belonging; it’s neighborly, it’s taking ownership of the handful of […]

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A fish in a trout stream.

Yesterday, I went for an icy dip in the Battenkill. It was an inexorable request I made to Rob, and not the first time it’s been made, either: I want to swim. There was the arduous process of “getting used to it” that I haven’t had to endure since I was 13 and August had […]

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I’m still here: greetings from Richmond, VA.

[My nephew, Trent at The Black Sheep: I'll take 4 Battleships, two Bloody Mary's, and your best cut lemon.] I breathe—I sleep—I exist—but most importantly, I wear lots of fringe. Reporting live from Richmond, VA, this is your very own Caftans correspondent, Carey! Experimenting with heat rash, the oversight to pack only fringed boots for […]

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Shallow steps v. deep steps: a walk through the woods.

This morning I sat up on the deck alone for a few hours drinking coffee, while Rob slumbered away downstairs where I’d left him. Warm enough for shorts and a sweatshirt, Vermont made an irrevocable promise this morning that she’s agreed to shift into Spring. And in my forgiveness of her grievous wrongs of the […]

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