Saturday we arrived in the afternoon and had just enough time to stroll around a bit. The only vintage bits in my ensemble were my 1930s hat from Germany, my scarf, and blouse. Isn't my 1930s celluloid scarf holder adorable? The blazer was made by me for the 2011 festival and the skirt was made at the beginning of the summer for our Maui vacation, which I haven't written about, but really should. The adorable shoes are from Modcloth. (This post contains affiliate links)
Dean Mora's orchestra, again, never failed to please and he was joined this year by our friend Mary as his chanteuse.
It is always lovely to meet readers of my blog, especially when they say something I wrote made a difference for them. In Lisa's case, my posts on prior Art Deco Festivals made her come all the way out from Utah and she's dying to come again. How amazing!
After the ball, we ventured to the Observation Bar and met up with my partner in crime Lily and Brian for drinks and socializing. We shut the place down after 2am when they kicked us out and we moved into the shop galleria area. There was just too much to catch up on!
After sleeping in late (blissful), we did something different this time and enjoyed the champagne brunch the ship offers each Sunday. As we rolled out of the brunch stuffed to the gills it was time to, what?, eat again! This time, our edibles were enjoyed at the festival tea dance, though I was in no mood to eat anything else. But, oh, if you twist my arm I guess I just have an egg salad finger sandwich and scone. It would be rude after all, right? The one drawback to not staying on board Sunday night is I had no place to change, so I had to stay in my day dress for the afternoon tea dance. Quelle horreur! (you can tell I like to throw around my one year of college French here.)
My dress was the 1930s number with the jewelry I wore to see Max Raabe. My '30s hat is the one I resized to fit my head. The scarf is from the '30s as well.
Too soon it was time to leave, for which I was very sad and, once again, experienced PMS (post-moderne syndrome.) Looking forward to next year's ventures, which cannot come soon enough.
'Bye for Now,