Back in Time in Oldschool Lolita

Welcome to my humble abode

The past has an irresistible pull, drawing you deeper into the yellowing pages of a half-open book, or the folds in a fine gown that hasn’t seen a ballroom in centuries, until you find yourself growing nostalgic for a time you never lived in and people you never had a chance to meet. There is something strange and wonderful about old mansions, with their majestic balconies and sweeping staircases, a half-open door like a beckoning glove-clad hand. A few weeks ago, I had the chance to explore an early 18^th century estate on the outskirts of Moscow, perhaps one of the best-kept secrets of the area. Although it was built from wood alone, there are hardly any signs of wear to the structure. Three hundred years later, the estate lives on as a museum and occasional movie set.

Sleeping Beauties: Historical Inspiration for the Dreamy Lolita

For as long as I can remember, sleepwear has been my favourite kind of clothing. As a young girl, I didn’t enjoy shopping one bit, but my eyes would always light up when my mother took me to pick out new pyjamas or nightgowns.  My favourite piece was a Victorian style white nightgown, covered in a sweet butterfly print and adorned with silky ribbons. It came down to my heels and made me feel like a brave young heroine when I awakened from a nightmare in the middle of the night. Before going to bed, I would make up elaborate tales about dashing knights and sinister men in dark cloaks and trees that whispered your name on windy days - the adventures I had in my dreams called for lovelier clothing than the jeans and shirts my parents dressed me in for school.

For the lifestyle lolita, it might not make sense to exchange a beautiful dress for a simple T-shirt at the end of the day. After all, the princesses in your favourite fairy tales look beautiful even when sleeping, and even if you can manage quite well without a prince, there is something poetic about the clothes you wear when there is no one watching. So what is the modern sleeping beauty’s preferred bedtime attire?

Meet Lydia

So I see that you have stumbled upon my blog, and I can only assume that you must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point during your afternoon walk. After walking past rows of abandoned shop windows, down winding streets and narrow alleyways, you gave up all hope of finding your way home before sunset and allowed yourself to be carried by the crawling branches of ivy. Before you could second guess your decision (you are never this careless), you found yourself surrounded by twisted wisteria trees and prickly overgrown rose bushes, and in their midst you barely made out a crumbling three-story mansion covered with vines. That was how you found me, sitting on the front porch with my nose in a book, a half-eaten scone trailing crumbs down the tablecloth.