“remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.” // m. proust
my grandmother likes to talk about the homeland.
she brings it up with a faraway look in her eye, and a lilt in her voice – that speaks of better times and of a better place than this. it is, of course, forever simpler to recall memories and places with a rose-tinted filter when the present isn’t quite what you bargained for, or when nostalgia creeps into your everyday – nostalgia even for a time you never experienced yourself.
i mean, who doesn’t feel like they’re walking around having been born a decade or two off from when they should’ve been? who hasn’t felt nostalgic at least for a moment, for a time or an era wherein they think it could’ve been that much more exciting, that much more of a laugh, that much more stylish?
the reality of course is that if we were in the thick of it, we’d still be thinking about the whatifs and the yesteryears – yet, there’s something a bit seductive about wishing for something you never had; it can never be, but you can pretend, just a little, if you want to. i mean, i’m nostalgic for quadrophenia*, i just want to live it now.
➝ source : olympias via le specs
➝ source : short sleeve monkey tee via ostwald helgason
*the style, not the drugs, shagging in alleyways, or the ditching scooters off cliffs.