H+M coat and scarf
Simply Vera bag
MIA Cadet Booties
I love scuffed shoes. There's something intriguing about a certain hint of dirt and wear on shoes that are well-loved, well-worn. It's evidence that they've fulfilled their purpose, done their job, carried their owner above the grime and silt that lies beneath.
Scuffed shoes have never hurried past the gentle lapping of the water against a rocky shore or missed the heavy scent of musky grass for fear of getting dirty.
They are present for every moment of the scenic path their owner has chosen to travel...
present for each new freckle that appears or the wrinkles that mark a face--
they are tangible evidence of passing time and that a life has been lived.
I have this habit of asking older people I know what they would change about their lives.
" I would have lived less carefully", they say.
So why is it, I wonder, that we relegate our best clothing to special occasions and wait to exercise our capacity for adventure until it is almost too late?
Living only seems an elusive dream because we do not pause to absorb the colors of a rainbow or skip across the grass in our bare feet. In our concern for appearing composed and polished, we constantly miss the most satisfying moments offered to us. We chase after a fulfilling life like it's a coveted trophy rather than a daily experience.