holy chic

Holy chic it’s been a week.

Thousands of bright blue glow sticks on the great lawn, the sweetest lunch ladies in the business, old friends, new friends, and friends I haven’t made yet: it’s good to be back at CNU.

In all the craziness that has defined August 23rd to today, I’ve loved every minute of it. Crazy is good and the polar opposite of boring (which is probably the worst thing in the whole entire world).

There is one kinda-boring thing that I do happen to like…

white t-shirts.

Don’t ask why, but I have a little obsession with them. Maybe my “redhead trying to be tan” predicament has something to do with this. Long sleeved, short sleeved, cropped, you name it (I’ve also got stained). But there ARE some ways to make white t-shirts more exciting, besides spilling food on them. My favorite method is done on this cute little crop top. Props to you, American Eagle.

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Here’s to all-you-can-eat dining hall cereal, running to the beach almost every afternoon, being surrounded by my best friends, and another crazy (wonderful) week.



top, sold out (similar here)// skirt// sandals// watch, vintage

P.S. On the topic of boring and not boring, I finally did the ice bucket challenge (but not actually voluntarily). Since getting freezing water dumped on your head isn’t exhilarating enough, I had it done by surprise. My friends are so nice to me…


The past seven days have been glorious. My philosophy on surfing, old bay scented shrimp , and seashell hunting is that you can never have too much of a good thing.

I am infatuated with life on Topsail Island.

And now I will tell you a little tale of a thing I like to call opportunistic shopping.


It begins with a man named Uncle John (who is not really my uncle). He brought his stories of girlfriends past, Dominican cigarllos, and ancient coffee maker all the way from Florida.

He also brought this gem.


I walked into the kitchen after a morning of surfboards and saltwater and spotted it, sitting all by itself. After exclaiming that it was the most perfect bag i’d ever seen, I asked whose it possibly could be.

The only reply better than “Beyonce’s” is “yours”.

John had bought it for my grandma. It wasn’t really her style. It also wasn’t my mom’s style, or my aunt’s for that matter.

It’s a darn good thing it was mine.


Sometimes the very best things are stumbled upon when you aren’t really looking for them.

If you’re very lucky, they also happen to be free. It isn’t every day that a handmade leather bag falls into your arms (literally).


I can’t decide which is better: hand sewn by a long forgotten creator, or hand picked by one of my favorite relatives.

Let’s go with both.



One day a very long time ago, someone somewhere in South America stamped the perfect little gift with intricate designs and lots of love.

bitsOver the past seven days, my summer has been stamped with hundreds of little memories.

My heart has been stamped with happiness.

bitstop// shorts// sandals (similar)