Outfit details
1950s black and red hat: eBay
1980s does 1940s red and white floral print dress: etsy seller Superelder Vintage
Grey shrug: Fairweather
Vintage silver toned rose brooch: etsy seller Miss Farfalla
White skinny belt: eBay
Bangle bracelets: various sources
Red vintage purse: etsy seller I Love Vintage Stuff
Black vintage gloves: Gift from a dear vintage loving friend
Nude black seamed stockings: eBay
Black shoes: Thrifted (from Salvation Army)
Lip colour: MAC Russian Red
Photography by Antonio Cangiano
♥ ♥ ♥
There's a scene towards the end of the 1960 movie version of the classic story Swiss Family Robinson in which the family, marooned on the island for quite some time now, have to fend off a group of pirates that have come ashore and are up to no good.
In it the family continually fights off the villainous pirates, only to have them spring back to life as if they hadn't just had a boulder hurdled at them or some such. As children, my little brother and I found this scene to be incredibly funny, as it seemed no matter what the Robinsons did, the pirates just would not die. As a result of the enjoyment we got out of this scene, we came to use the term "like the pirates" throughout our youth when something lasted for a comically and/or otherwise unexpectedly long time before running out or dying.
To this day, when something continues to keep going strong far longer than it was excepted to, I crack a smile and think back to those resilient Disney pirates. Over the course of 2012, the battery (technically, batteries, as he uses a grip that houses two batteries) in Tony's Canon DSL did just that. Time and time again we'd whip it out for a shot and they'd still be going strong, despite often shooting a hundred or two image per outing time and time again. It was handy indeed, and while we of course had no qualms with charging the batteries again before they reached the end of their current charge, we were both more than a little curious to see how just how long they would last for.
The answer to that question was delivered last month on Boxing Day when stopped to take a few snaps at Skaha Beach on the south end of town. After just a couple of minutes, the batteries (which, to be fair, had been showing an ever-decreasing amount of charge for a couple of months now) finally gave up their last ounce of life for the day. We were just taking pictures for fun and as this wasn't a particularly important shoot, we didn't mind and had a good laugh over the fact that they'd finally been defeated - or at least in need of another charging.
To grab a couple more photos, Tony whipped out his iPhone, and so two of the photos today were shot with that, whereas the rest were with the Canon. The batteries were charged up again shortly after we got home and it will be fun to see just how many months they give us again this year before they need to be charged once more (neither of us can seem to remember just when they were charged last prior to this, but we estimate eight to twelve months ago).
Throughout 2012 I introduced you to Okanagan Lake (in posts such as
this one about the S.S. Sicamous), the larger of the two lakes between which our town in sandwiched, and discussed the smaller one, Skaha Lake, in
this post, but I haven't shown it to you before today. Skaha is the first thing that greets visitors as they drive (or fly) into Penticton from southern destinations in the province, and while it pales in size to Okanagan, it is still a very respectable lake in its own right.
During the warmer months, just as Okanagan Lake is, Skaha (which means dog in a local First Nations dialect - so hence the original name given to it by early French explorers of the area, Lac Du Chien) is a massive tourist attraction, as well as a familiar haunt for many locals. Then, as now, when I was growing up, my family tended to spend more time at Okanagan, as it was closer to our home, but I've certainly swam at many of the beaches around its perimeters over the years, too.
As with most beaches the world over, Skaha doesn't see too much action during the colder months, which is part of the reason I love spending time there during the fall, winter and early spring. Though the waters are too cold to dunk your toes into (unless you're keen on doing polar bear dips!), there is an unmistakable serenity to the watching the water lap at the toast hued sands, tall (often - as in these photos - snow covered) mountains surrounding you on either side, and few other visitors to interrupt moments of peaceful thought and contemplation.
On this day, there was light snow and an icy wind blowing all around us, and I was very, very careful to watch my footing as I carefully made my way out towards the end of the little boat dock down near the marina, lest I take a tumble and end actually end up doing an unintentional polar bear swim! Thankfully such was not the case, but the exposed skin on my forearms was still mighty chilly, let me tell you!
I'd already been suspecting as much, but once I saw these photos uploaded on the computer, I knew for sure (as I touched on in two posts earlier this month) that I needed to trim the bangs on this wig. For some reason - most likely the hat pushing the whole wig further down on my head - the bands just look comically long (and full) here, so later that night at home I ultra carefully gave them a trim, and now like them a million times more (thus in all future posts featuring this wig, the bangs will be a bit shorter and you can see my eyebrows properly again).
I've never been big on spending Boxing Day out shopping (especially since most stores now have Boxing Week sales, which means you've got ample time to bargain hunt, if you're so inclined), instead I prefer tranquil post-Christmas days like this, spent outdoors or perhaps inside hunkered down in front of a warm fire, holiday feast leftovers and hot cocoa at the ready.
While my arms, ok, all of me, was a bit cold, I was also very happy and content, and didn't mind at all when the camera battery died. It just meant the setting became even more serene without the sound of clicking to interrupt the peacefulness of this little slice of Okanagan winter heaven (with nary a pirate anywhere in sight).
