I was running last weekend and ran by a beautiful old church in our neighborhood. Normally when I jog I am so focused on not dying and how much I hate running that I tune out everything around me. For some reason, though, this morning I was aware enough to notice a giant "GARAGE SALE TODAY" banner. I finished my run (not because I have enough will power to pass a garage sale, but because it wasn't open yet), showered, prepared myself mentally, and booked it back over just in time for the doors to open. 

For those who do not garage sale as a verb, there are hierarchies of garage sales. I don't want to over-sell it, but this was the BEST GARAGE SALE OF ALL TIME. The Lord's garage sale. When I learned that you pay $3 for anything you could fit in a paper grocery bag, I almost passed out from excitement and also from the exertion of cramming eleventy billion items in a paper grocery bag.

One of the items I scored was a vintage brooch, which reminded me: I've been meaning to bring brooches back for a while now, but just haven't gotten around to it. This little number is totes adorbs, as my male co-workers shudder to hear me say, and features sparkly rhinestones in addition to being festooned with rust colored feathers. I love rhinestones, and I love feathers, and when the two come together... I shove it into my paper bag faster than you can say "brooches probably aren't ever going to be cool again." I've worn it twice in a week and gotten numerous compliments, though it's not clear whether they're genuine or the kind of comment you get when you're wearing something so weird that people can't stop staring at it and eventually feel like they need to say something about it to break the awkwardness. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Toodles! TLO