We were re-watching an oft re-watched movie of ours last week -- The Notebook.
Ok, and first, a brief emotional history of me and this film. It came out when I was but a wee teen -- slightly pre-dating Robbie phase. I saw it four times in the theatre that exceptionally humid summer. I spent all my money seeing The Notebook over and over again. And then I printed off shoddy stills from the film and photos of Ryan Gosling's face, and plastered them alllllll over the inside front cover of my diary. And I wrote about how he was the dreamiest of dreamboats because he read a lot Walt Whitman, and supported Allie's artistic endeavors. Reclusive boys with predilections for poetry: get at 16 year-old, hopelessly, desperately romantic moi.
So, while we were watching the other night, I became re-enamored of Ms. McAdams' wardrobe. I got a sudden hankering for many a thing -- for a vintage blue dress or two, an old Southern mansion, dwindling summers, a thunderous, swan-speckled rowboat excursion. A few days later, I found this bluey, gingham'd, deep-pocketed thing in my possession. (It reminds me of the Wizard of Oz in equal measure.) I am dreaming of wearing this Shabby Apple dress on summer days filled with summer drives, summer ice cream stops, summer picnics -- all terms prefixed with endless summer. Now let's see about that rowboat.