She Sent Postcards

I closed my eyes and I was there — it was so vivid — a wooden house on the beach.

A dream so real it felt as though it were a memory. Or maybe it was a memory — could it possibly be both? She stands before the ocean, the soft breeze sweeps her hair off of her face and the warm sand dances around her feet. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore fills her ears. She lets her head succumb to the weight of gravity as it falls back and opens up her chest toward the sky. Her eyes naturally close. The sun warms her face. She breathes deep into her lungs, exhaling with the sounds of the waves. She stands here quietly for a few minutes. Or maybe it was for hours.

The sun creeps closer to the horizon and she thinks it may be time to head back to the house. She turns, first with her face, to see the house staring back at her — the day’s last few sun rays bouncing off of the windows. She has to squint in order to even see the house, the life radiating so heavily out of the house, she can almost see it, as vibrant as the golden light cascading across the sand. This house has seen a lifetime of romance. It has heard whispered conversations in the dark. It has felt unrestrained love. It is history and the future at the same time. And when she dances to her French records, the wooden floors creak beneath her.  She lowers her head and a smile grows across her face as she lets these memories wash over her. She turns her body and takes her first step back home, to the wooden house on the beach.

The highly anticipated and newly curated Vintage Loves collection debuts today — check it out here!

Photography by Henrik Purienne.

Modeled by Delilah Parillo.