1950s dress - Dear Golden via Eloise
Seamed Stockings - Jonathon Aston
Shoes - Chelsea Crew
Perfume - Roses de Chloé
Roses seem to be consuming my life of late. If you follow my instagram this probably comes as no surprise. There are now so many dried roses adorning my walls that sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and fear/secretly hope that I've been smuggled into a giant potpourri bag. I didn't realise my obsession was so obvious but I think almost everyones caught on. Last weekend whilst out at a concert I even had someone make the connection that I was swilling rosé, wearing a rose coloured dress and had a rose tattoo (I didn't dare mention that the tattoo was a little tribute my mother and I got for my Grandmother, whose maiden name was... Rose)
I thought it only fitting to take some photographs in whats fast become one of my favourite rose gardens in Sydney. I'd only visited the Royal Botanic Gardens once before, in the dead of winter when there wasn't a petal in sight. You can imagine my delight when I arrived to find row after row of the most beautiful sweet smelling blooms. I know I mentioned Brideshead in my last post, but as I teetered in the garden bed with thorns snagging my stockings and rose petals brushing against my cheek I couldn't help but think of this...
"Just the place to bury a crock of gold...
I should like to bury something precious in every place where I've been happy and then,
when I was old and ugly and miserable,
I could come back and dig it up and remember."