Her Story.

Brunch shift at Addie Camp: also known as the guaranteed one day a week I have the opportunity to dress up. I have a closet (which is more like a store) full of delightful treasures, most of them old (and therefore used), and because my job at Brew requires a uniform of denim shirt and work pants, there are very few occasions left for me to wear them.

Addie Camp is old, over 104 years old, and so the combination of getting to dress up and wear some of my vintage treats makes me a very happy woman.

So I’m working brunch the other day, and a recurring customer asks me if the dress I had on that day was new.

“New, but old,” I responded, the most polite way to explain that though the dress was new to my closet, it was old and rich in history.

Clocking in at nearly sixty years old, it was an old Hawaiian dress I picked up in San Francisco during my short (but very rewarding) stint working at Relic Vintage (only the BEST vintage store in all of San Francisco, or maybe the whole world).

It wasn’t just a dress I picked up though.

This little number had a far more exciting tale woven between her floral folds.

See, how I came about this dress is a funny story, a story that only adds to her life’s story since her birth in the early ‘60’s.

It was last year, mid May. I was living in Walnut Creek at the time, travelling to San Francisco for my part time job at Relic. The commute in total took me four hours: two there, and two back. It also included nearly 7 miles of walking.

Not wanting to soil my vintage delicacies, and not looking forward to the idea of being sweaty in my nice clothes, I packed them in my gym bag and wore my workout clothes during the strenuous commute up those iconic San Francisco streets.

I also traveled with my coffee mug, which I made the mistake of carrying in that same bag.

You can put two and two together.

I arrived at Relic to find that though my bag smelled nicely of fresh ground french press, my clothes had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of said spillage.

Allllllll over my vintage ensemble: big fat wet coffee stains.

Luckily, I worked at a vintage clothing store, so I had a plethora of options to chose from, including a pile of items I had set aside to try on.

In this pile was the Hawaiian dress that just so happened to match the accessories and shoes I had brought for my (now stained) outfit.

It fit like a glove and I can say with certainty that at that time, I needed it.

May have been the only time in my life I needed a dress!

One more story for this little dress’ history.

Or should I say, “herstory?”

See, part of why I love old things, especially clothing, is being part of the continuation of this garment’s story. Old clothes have personality, they’ve been through decades of time and there’s no telling what they went through before they’ve landed in my possession.

Aside from the fact that they’re also made better, more stylish, and one of a kind, they’re a piece of history, and I always look forward to opportunities where I can add my own chapter, in a new decade.

It’s also about saving the life of the dress, from misfortunes such as the landfill, or moth damage from being locked in a closet. It’s reusing and recycling.

In this dress’s particular story, I saved her, but ironically, she also saved me.

Too Hot.

It’s too hot.

This is a phrase not often muttered by Alaskans. In fact, it’s a sentiment so rarely used because historically, there have never been temperatures that warranted such a complaint, seeing as how we’re used to negative degree winters.

But recently, it seems as if I’m hearing more and more of these comments in regards to our abnormal toasty temperatures.

Back in the day, summers here typically involved mostly rainy days and a rare cliche summer’s day. I remember we used to have this family convertible, was it a 1969 Ford Galaxy? It became so dusty from lack of use that we ended up selling it because back then, there just weren’t enough days in the summer that provided the type of weather to take her top off.

(of the car)

(silly goose, get your mind out of the gutter)

But the past few years, and this year in particular, it seems as if we have flip flopped on the weather up north.

Honestly, I feel like I’m back in California.

There’s the warmer temperatures, the forecasts with sunny emojis and no sign of rain, tourist traffic crowding up our roads that were never intended to house an influx of visitors, and the Swan Lake Fire currently depositing smoke in our small city.

Sounds like California, right?

Except when it’s warmer up north, it’s hot.

It’s agreed upon by Alaskans and out of towners alike that the temperatures that read on our thermometers actually feel about ten degrees hotter. Due to factors like proximity to the sun (whose rays hit our entire bodies as opposed to just one spot), when it says 75 out, it really feels like 85.

Despite this rise in heat, Alaskans like myself still take advantage of the sunsational (pun intended) weather and use it to our advantage.

Take yesterday, the Fourth of July.

With temperatures in Homer clocking in at a whopping 77 degrees (which again, really feels like 87 degrees), my family and I decided to hit the water in shorts and enjoy the holiday fishing for dinner, whilst also escaping the crowds.

There’s nothing like fresh caught ‘but on the ‘cue to get you in the festive spirit.

We picked an excellent day to get out of Soldotna too, for weather on the water was slightly cooler and a stiff breeze kept us comfortable as we reeled in pink salmon, halibut, and our fair share of cod, sharks, and skates (which one does not keep).

We came upon a sighting of minke whales and orcas, a raft of otterly adorable otters, we got to use the boom stick (an underwater firearm), and it was a fabulous day to be out fishing.

Alaska may very well be turning into Southern California at the rate our temperatures are rising, but hot or not, you’ll still find us outside and sailing the seas.

We’re not known for letting a little drastic weather stop us from doing what we do best: enjoying the great outdoors, of which we still have an abundance of.