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Pull Out Fashion Guide

Clothes aren’t going to change

the women the world,

who wear

them will. – Anne Klein

June 2015 Priceless

Rosewood Manor House, Circa 1895

Family Owned & Operated • Serving the Grand Strand for Over 46 Years “Quality Repair Service You Can Trust” We Service All Makes and Models Est. 1968

Myrtle Beach (Family Kingdom) 306 N. Kings Hwy. 843-448-TIRE (8473) South (Market Commons) 3414 Macklen Rd. 843-293-4949 Super Store (Carolina Forest) 3454 Waccamaw Blvd. 843-448-5727 Conway (CCU) 3410 Hwy. 544 Overpass 843-347-TIRE (8473) Downtown Conway 312 Elm St. 843-248-2693

John Cunningham is creative director and home furnishings designer for well-known Wildwood/Frederick Cooper lamps and Jonathan Charles fine furniture and co-owner of Rosewood Manor House B&B. He is passionate about his work, travel, art and antiques. John’s keen eye for design shines in each carefully constructed detail of this elegant and sophisticated manor house. “Every day is a creative day”, says Cunningham, when asked about his extensive world travels and illustrious career. Cunningham and his partner, Dr. Gary McKeel, invite you to experience the elegance and grandeur of their beloved Rosewood Manor House. They guarantee you the ultimate in elegant sophistication for your next wedding, social / corporate event or Bed and Breakfast experience.

Experience Rosewood Manor House B&B and escape to a place of Southern elegance and grandeur in lovely Marion, SC. Completely renovated in 2014, this “Grand Southern Belle” offers sophisticated comforts, 21st Century luxuries, yet reflects a profound sense of time and place. Discover the romantic allure and 30 year legacy of gracious, South Carolina hospitality and relaxation.

Wedding Venue • Social • Corporate Venue Your Hosts and Innkeepers, Dr. Gary W. McKeel and Mr. J. Harold Cunningham, welcome you to their “Premiere Wedding and Reception Venue of the South!”

• Tires • Brakes • Oil Change & Lube Service • Alignment • A/C Service • Batteries • Shocks • Struts


336.312.9260 or 417.379.3693 • • (Rosewood Manor House) on Facebook

story Every piece has a

MURRELLS INLET 843.357.1700 MOUNT PLEASANT 843.571.2446 C H D I N T E R I O R S . C O M full ser vice interior design


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Volume 14, Issue 6

who’s who Publisher


Delores Blount

Sales & Marketing Director Susan Bryant


Leslie Moore

Account Executives Amanda Kennedy-Colie Erica Schneider Gay Stackhouse




Art Director Taylor Nelson

Photography Director Patrick Sullivan

Graphic Artist Stephanie Holman

Web Developer Scott Konradt


Stacie Sapochak




Featured A Hopeless “Fashinotta” by Margaret Bishop . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Cooking with Barbara: From Father to Daddy by Barbara Crady Whitley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Southern Snaps by Leslie Moore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 When My Bosom Hit the Big Time by Linda O’Connell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 Sasee Kids . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 The Scales of the Dragon: How I Knew My Father by Selina Kaing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Prom Date by Beth M. Wood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 The Spread and Sag Years by Janey Womeldorf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 A Good Fake by Celina Colby . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 Beauty Shop Blessings by Janeen Lewis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

In This Issue Read It! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Summer 2015 Fashion Guide . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Southern Charm: Eric Callahan, Sea Island Trading Company . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Fashion Forecast: What It’s Like To Be On The Pages Of A Magazine by Whitley Hamlin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Fashion Fun: Glenna Manning, Manager, TAZ Boutique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 Dazzling Style: Doug and Brandi Douglas, Douglas Diamond Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 June Calendar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50


Administrative & Creative Coordinator Celia Wester

Executive Publishers Jim Creel Bill Hennecy

PO Box 1389 Murrells Inlet, SC 29576 fax 843-626-6452 • phone 843-626-8911 • Sasee is published monthly and distributed free along the Grand Strand. For subscription info, visit see page 43. Letters to the editor are welcome, but could be edited for length. Submissions of articles and art are welcome. Visit our website for details on submission. Sasee is a Strand Media Group, Inc. publication.

Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved. Reproduction of any material, in part or in whole, prepared by Strand Media Group, Inc. and appearing within this publication is strictly prohibited. Title “Sasee” is registered with the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office.

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Pen & Brush readers’ comments Thank you for the gift of “My Mother’s Clothes” in the May Sasee. Sharing the memories of your mothers was poignant and the perfect way to honor

these beautiful women.

– Marsha RE: “The Best I Could,” by Erika Hoffman Erika, the love in this story is palpable. I so enjoyed it. – Linda RE: “The Blessings of Being Chosen,” by Sioux Roslawski Brought me to tears…A beautiful tribute to your mom. And yes, blessings all the way around! – Beth RE: “Underneath the Paint and Tarnish,” by Rose Ann Sinay Another great story. You always take us on a visit or road trip down memory lane. I can never wait to read the next article. – Betsy

letter from the editor When we talk about fashion, our focus is mainly on seeing and touching the colors and textures of clothing, shoes and jewelry. And, rightly so, but, for me, another important accessory is fragrance. Even though I love classic scents, for the past few years my “cologne” has been a mixture of natural products and essential oil scented lotions I make myself. And, I adore how they all smell, and even more I love how much less I sneeze when I wear them. Still, once in a while, I get nostalgic and add a splash of a delicious smelling scent to my outfit. I’ve read studies that say smell is the sense most closely associated with memory, and my own experiences confirm it. The crisp, citrusy aroma of White Linen or the classic scent of Chanel No. 5 instantly transport me to a different time and place; it makes me smile just to open the bottle. I’ll never smell Youth Dew without thinking of my mother, and even my hardworking, no frills father, who usually just smelled of soap, would slap on a little bay rum scented aftershave before leaving to go out with his bride. Most of us, I believe, carry fond memories of sweetly-scented hugs from beloved relatives and friends who have passed on, and one whiff of their signature scent brings them back to us. Those pretty bottles of cologne hold much more than exquisitely scented liquid, they contain the magic that helps us remember special times and people. May you enjoy our “All the Rage” issue while sitting on the beach, with the delicious scent of salt air and sunscreen filling your heart with memories to cherish. Happy Summer!

Cover Artist Dyanne Parker

Lady in Red, Lady, 20" x 16" acrylic on wrapped canvas, by Dyanne Parker Dyanne Parker believes that art is the most sustainable possession you can own. She is a self-taught artist, living in Orlando, Florida, who received her initial inspiration from a woman who has been painting for over fifty years. She believes that whatever you do in life, enthusiasm and energy determine how successful you will be. Whether painting portraits of life heroes, capturing once in a lifetime moments or emotion on canvas, art lasts forever. The artist wishes a world be filled with art for everyone. To see more of Dyanne’s work, or to purchase this or other paintings, visit her blog at, her Etsy shop, DyanneParkerArt, or Fine Art America online.

we’d love to hear from you! Love what you’re reading? You can reach us by: Have suggestions? mail: P.O. Box 1389 Murrells Inlet, SC 29576 Let us know! phone: 843.626.8911 email: web:


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Boardroom Elegance

“…it’s a beautiful bank, and we have a great group of dedicated people.”

Barbara Marshall: Senior Vice President, South Atlantic Bank

Tell us a little about yourself. My husband, Greg, and I have been married for 28 years. We’re both from Pennsylvania and lived 20 minutes from each other growing up, but didn’t meet until college. We moved here 24 years ago when Greg took a position with AVX. Today, he works with Sonoco in Hartsville. We both love sports and even named our Shetland Sheepdogs Bogey (3) and Putter (4 months). We’re crazy about the dogs and spend a lot of time playing with them, throwing tennis balls and walking. I also love to garden and am always happy when I’m planting and taking care of the flowers. Greg and I are huge Philadelphia Phillies (and Eagles) fans and are watching a lot of baseball these days while waiting for football season to start. We even have one of the rooms in our home decorated in both of the team colors. Do you have “go-to” outfits in your closet that you know will always work and make you feel your best? What are they? I have several variations of the little black dress that I can use for almost any occasion. It’s always timeless and perfect and makes me feel polished. I also love shoes and hats. Right now, I probably have 100 pairs of shoes and close to 30 hats. My latest hat is a man’s fedora – I love it! I think I was born in the wrong era; I would love to dress like they do on Downton Abbey. How long does it take you to get ready and out of the house in the morning? Usually an hour, but taking care of the dogs takes another hour, so usually two to two and a half.


What does “fashionable” mean to you? Finding a look that you feel good in and looks good on you – a style that’s up to date, but not trendy. My look always includes hats and accessories; I won’t even go to the grocery store unless I’m fairly well put together. I always see someone I know. Tell us a little about your position as a Senior Vice President with South Atlantic Bank? Why do customers love this home town bank? I’ve been in banking for 31 years and moved to South Atlantic Bank five years ago. When I came in the bank the first time, I was greeted so warmly and felt immediately at ease. That’s what we do for all of our customers. We have everything a larger bank has, but with that old time feeling of doing business with a friend.   As Marketing Director, I am involved with a variety of projects. We support a wide range of local charities, and I really admire our philanthropic mindset. Recently, we gave bank tours to nearly 700 2nd and 3rd graders from Myrtle Beach Elementary School! I enjoy coming to work here – it’s a beautiful bank, and we have a great group of dedicated people. Currently we have five branches along the Grand Strand, from North Myrtle Beach to Georgetown, and our sixth location is in Mount Pleasant. We are planning to build a permanent location there and move in late 2016. Barbara is based at South Atlantic Bank’s Myrtle Beach headquarters located at 630 29th Avenue North. For more information about South Atlantic Bank, call 843-839-0100 or visit them online at

Our Bankers Have Murrells Inlet Covered! Veteran bankers and long-time Murrells Inlet residents David Rhodes, Denise Brown, and Scott Plyler share South Atlantic Bank’s commitment to community banking and exemplary customer service. For all your banking needs, you can count on the team at South Atlantic Bank.

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Father’sDay Day Father’s

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Read It! Nicole Says…Read The Summer’s End, by Mary Alice Monroe by Nicole McManus 10




The Summer’s End is the final chapter in the Lowcountry Summer Trilogy. Harper, Dora and Carson, three half-sisters, have been staying in their grandmother’s home, Sea Breeze, on Sullivan’s Island. Separated for years, Mamaw has finagled these women into staying the entire summer with her, as they did when they were girls. It has been a tumultuous few weeks, with the sisters reconnecting and finding not only the bond of sisterhood, but also rediscovering themselves along the way. But now the summer is coming to an end, and the sisters must figure out where and how they will live, as their beloved home will be placed on the market. Will their bond last without Sea Breeze and Mamaw? Mary Alice Monroe is an exquisite author who blends the magnificent Lowcountry setting with human emotions. Sullivan’s Island provides landscapes filled with beautiful wildlife. Though this story works well as a stand-alone, readers will gain more from it if they read

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the trilogy in order. The points of view pivot between the four women, providing a balanced view into the lives affected by Sea Breeze. Teaching important lessons of the dangers humans impose on wildlife, as well as sensitive topics concerning Asperger’s and Wounded Warriors, this is a great choice for reading groups and family discussions. The focus in The Summer’s End is finding oneself, letting go of the past and having confidence to pursue one’s dreams. Though this final book is mostly Harper’s story, as she transitions from a mousey observer to an energetic leader, readers won’t be missing out on any of the sisters’ developments. This is a must read for fans of Southern literature. I enjoyed the ability to relate to each of the characters. I loved their honesty, their fears, and I was rooting for each of them along the way. Harper was a favorite from the beginning for me, because she was the girl who loved to read. She was always quiet, reading and observing. Even her bedroom was the library. To watch her blossom as she reconnects with her southern roots was delightful. This trilogy was the first time I have read Mary Alice Monroe, and it surely won’t be the last.

Nicole McManus Nicole McManus loves to read, to the point that she is sure she was born with a book in her hands. She writes book reviews in the hopes of helping others find the magic found through reading. Contact her at



A Hopeless “Fashinotta” by Margaret Bishop

Every once in a blue moon, I receive a request from one of my more fashionable acquaintances inquiring whether I might be interested in becoming a part of their home sales business. My initial reaction is always, without a doubt, an incredulous feeling of flattery coupled with complete and utter surprise. Me – Margaret Bishop, the representative of anything remotely connected to fashion and beauty? Makeup, jewelry, clothing, etc.; these are all areas of my life where if I was still a student, I would be categorized somewhere comfortably between “needs improvement” to “failing.” I think that it’s apparent to everyone in my close circle that when the genes for style and fashion were distributed, I definitely came up with the short end of the stick. If a woman that has a great sense of style is a “fashionista,” then I’d have to say that I’m a “fashionotta.” In fact, despite a family legacy of enthusiastic shoppers and bargain-hunters on my mother’s side, I don’t even enjoy the process of shopping. Sure, every once in awhile, especially if I’ve lost weight and have extra money, then I, too, can enjoy wandering around a great mall or outlet center for an afternoon. But shopping on a daily basis, or even worse, all day long – ugh! That’s my version of a vaguely unsettling and unpleasant nightmare. Lest you quit reading in disgust at the thought of a grown woman that happily looks and acts like a total slob, please be assured that I have picked up a few fashion tips that help to keep me looking fairly presentable. At least, I hope that I look presentable from time to time! We just won’t mention my state in the school drop off line each morning. Seriously, who are these people that manage to look put together at 7:15 am? Surely, they can’t be mere mortals like the rest of us. When I grew my bangs out in college – totally without thought, but simply because I didn’t have the urge or funds to finance a haircut – I learned a very important lesson that short, fringe-type bangs are not a look that I can wear with confidence. If only I had stumbled onto this important fact before college, I wouldn’t have four year’s worth of terrible high school yearbook photos. Shortly after college, I also became aware that you cannot go wrong with basic black. A little black dress, a great pair of black pants, a sturdy pair of black boots – these are all staples of my wardrobe, and they have served me well over the years. I can honestly say that because basic black has been so good to me, I was almost fooled into thinking that perhaps I did have a limited sense of style after all. That is, I was


fooled until one evening when my wisecracking neighbor astutely commented that he would start referring to me as “Stormy” because I never came to a party not dressed in at least one article of black clothing. Darn – I guess my style wasn’t evolving after all. The last important fashion tip I’ve learned that keeps me from plunging into the depths of despair when I can’t put an outfit together to save my life is that you never look better than when you are comfortable and confident. So what if I’m still wearing last year’s jeans with my white button down from five years ago, I never feel better than when I slip on that uniform. And if you see me at a wedding wearing the same black and white dress that I wore to the last wedding I attended, what can I say? I feel just a little bit like Audrey Hepburn every time I wear that dress. The title of “fashionista” may never be in my cards for this lifetime, but a hopeless “fashionotta” isn’t all that bad of a thing to be as long as I can smile about it.

Margaret Bishop Margaret Bishop and her husband, Matt, reside in Camden, South Carolina, with their three wonderful children (David, Olivia and Thomas) and always entertaining dog, Sugar. In between carpools, Margaret enjoys reading and writing as much as possible.


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BOOKSHELF Over 6,000 books distributed. Books will go on blue bookshelves in the community, available free for families to select and keep. The Bright Blue Sea Bookshelf is a Voices for Children project designed to create a culture of literacy in our community. For more info, please call Cassandra Jackson at 843-520-0875

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• Call to book your birthday parties, showers, team building etc… • Walk-ins are always welcome • Ladies night Thursday June 18th – bring your own wine & snacks! Bring in this ad and receive $3 dollars off your pottery purchase. 4007-B Belle Terre Blvd Myrtle Beach, SC 29579 843-236-3009


Voice Cooking with Barbara

From Father to Daddy by Barbara Crady Whitley

It has been said that any male can father a child, but it takes a special man to become a daddy. In the Crady household, there was never any question as to whom my daddy was: he was the one who would swing me, as a little girl, high on his shoulder when he arrived home from a long day at his sawmill job. He always smelled like freshly cut wood, never like one would think after long hours outside in the sun. In the autumn, I remember him raking up big piles of leaves for me and my four brothers to play in. We thought that doing that was the end result, not-withstanding it was necessary for a tidy yard. Daddy was ever in the process of “doing” something. He was rarely still. He could do anything: repair cars, burn those pesky leaves, make the most horrendously thick chicory coffee, fashion a pine needle doll. In the Crady household, there was a definite division of labor. Daddy provided the means by which his wife and children were able to survive and prosper. Momma provided the sustenance of food, hugs, wiping away of tears, clean sheets, clean bodies and a clean kitchen from which emanated mouth-watering aromas. The only food I recall my father preparing (and this story might be apocryphal) was one evening when my mother was unable to make food for us. Daddy found some cornmeal and fresh corn, mixed the two, and put the concoction into small Mason jar lids for us to eat. We thought this the food of the gods, but the next day was equally as astoundingly painful! That was definitely the last time my mother left Daddy in charge of a meal. I still to this day love the look of Mason jar lids. Grilling was not an acceptable method of cooking in the Crady household, so I was especially delighted when, as a teenager, my new life-long friend, Delores, invited me to her home for steaks cooked on the grill by her father. As the sizzling meat was placed on my plate, my still developing palate was expanded several degrees. And then, to cut into the rare meat and taste the caramelized flavor awakened a desire for grilled food I had not yet known. In the Whitley household, divisions of labor have been somewhat blurred, but one is certain – my husband has always been the “griller.” Generally,


on Father’s Day, even though it is ostensibly a day to honor fathers and give them a day off, Whit (my husband) has never begged off this task. He has become quite a master of knowing just how much charcoal, just how long it will take for the coals to become that perfect deep glowing red, and how many minutes to achieve the desired internal temperature of the meat. One of our favorite grilling recipes is for a Jamaican Jerk pork tenderloin that we always have for Father’s Day. I prepare the marinade, let the meat stand for several hours, and just when the coals are ready, on goes the tenderloin. Generally, it’s best when there is quite a bit of pink internally and when the marinade has been allowed to crust somewhat from the heat. The joy of gathering the family and sharing a meal is a wonderful way to celebrate a special day. I hope you all enjoy Father’s Day this year and take the time to reflect on the special moments you shared with your daddy. Until next time, keep cooking!

Jamaican Jerk Marinade 1 1/2 cups chopped onion 1 1/2 cups chopped green onion 1/2 cup olive oil 1/2 cup orange juice 1/2 cup soy sauce 1/4 cup lemon juice 1/4 cup thyme 1 tbs minced fresh ginger 1 tsp nutmeg 1 tsp allspice 1 tsp cinnamon 1 Serrano chili 1 tsp salt 1/2 tsp black pepper Puree until smooth paste forms. Spread evenly over two 12 oz. pork tenderloins and marinate at least 6 hours.

Barbara Crady Whitley Barbara Crady Whitley is a Master Baker and owner of Crady’s Eclectic Cuisine on Main Street in Conway, South Carolina. She offers cooking classes once a month. For more information visit:, find them on Facebook or call 843-248-3321.

-Yves saint-Laurent

2015 SaSee Fashion Guide


“I’ve never done anything but work with family –”

Southern Charm

Eric Callahan: Sea Island Trading Company

Tell us a little about yourself. I am a native – born and raised in North Myrtle Beach. I’ve seen a lot of changes in our area – I can remember when Broadway at the Beach was only fields! The most important thing in my life is my son, Eric, Jr., now 2 1/2 years old. I am single, but Eric’s mother and I share time with him. On Father’s Day I’ll go out with Eric for lunch, and then we’ll both go see my dad. I’ve always worked in our family business. Callahan’s of Calabash opened in 1978, started by my dad, grandfather and our cousin. Today we have three more businesses; Sea Island Trading Company, The Boundary House Restaurant and Clark’s Seafood & Chop House. Callahan’s is where I spend most of my time as Marketing Director. Do you have “go-to” clothing in your closet? An outfit that always feels comfortable? What is it? [laughing] Jeans and a tee shirt is about as good as it gets with me. I don’t spend a lot of time on my clothing. If I have to dress up, I’ll wear jeans and a button down shirt. But, I do own two suits for weddings or other more formal events. How long does it take you to get ready and get out of the house in the morning? Only about 20 minutes from start to finish, but, if I’m getting my son ready, it takes a little longer. When you come home after a long day, where do you go to relax? Why? My favorite thing to do is hit the couch with my son and watch his favorite cartoons. Being with him is relaxing, and there’s nothing I’d rather do.


What’s the best thing about working with family? What’s new and exciting this season? I’ve never done anything but work with family – it never crossed my mind to do anything else. I like it. You know you can count on family. My dad still comes into the office regularly, and we get to spend a lot of time together. We have built a standard of excellence, and our customers expect the very best from us – and we work very hard to ensure they get it. Our customers come back year after year – at Callahan’s we have generations of the same family shopping with us.

Summer is here, and people are ready to get out of the house for a day of shopping and dinner out. Our highly anticipated spring and summer clothing lines are now available at Sea Island Trading Company – we have a good selection of some beautiful and unique pieces. At Callahan’s and Sea Island Trading Company, we like to say our style is “southern classy.” Our Simply Southern tee shirts are a perennial favorite. At Clark’s we offer fine dining with a waterfront view and have added some great new items to the menu this season. Everyone loves the Calabash-style seafood at The Boundary House, and we are very busy from Memorial Day to until well into the fall. Stop by and see us! Find Sea Island Trading Company (843-273-0248) at 720 Highway 17 North in Little River, right beside Clark’s Seafood and Chop House (843-399-8888). Callahan’s (910-579-2611) is located at 9973 Beach Drive SW, in Calabash, North Carolina and The Boundary House (910-579-8888) is also in Calabash, at 1045 River Road.


See It... Wear It... Love It! Top Designers • Teri John (Daytime & Evening) • Paperwhite • Joseph Rilboff • Caroline Rose • Ming Wang Knits (Washable) • Estelle and Finn • Equestrian Designer • Verena Sleepwear • Kay Unger (Daytime & Evening) • Jacque Levine Slippers • Daymor • Dolce Cabo

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What It’s Like To Be On The Pages Of A Magazine by Whitley Hamlin

I can’t tell you how much I love my writing post here at Sasee. I’ve written for several magazines over the past few years since I began professional pursuit of my passion for fashion, and I can honestly say that Sasee has been my favorite to date. I try to think of the reason why, but there are so many. It’s definitely the people; the people at the magazine, the people of the town, you who are reading this article. It is also due to the fact that I am free to put fingers to keys and share my love about all things style and fashion. I’ve been vacationing at Pawleys Island since I was a baby. I love it just as much as everyone else does, and since I live in Charlotte, North Carolina, and can’t physically be at Pawleys as often as I would like (dare I say all the time), I feel special having a regular connection through Sasee. The weather is warming up as summertime nears; a season all of us by the sea love so dear! I am especially excited about a project for my next article at which time I will be collaborating with several local boutiques to share some of the season’s hottest fashions. While Charlotte has become a regional shopping destination, I still look forward to popping in the many sweet boutiques whenever I visit the Grand Strand. As a little girl and tween, I remember visiting my Dad in the late 1980s when he lived in Georgetown and worked at DeBordieu. Every visit simply had to include a trip to the Joggling Board and the Hammock Shops. Shopping in the Grand Strand has changed over the years. Some stores have come and gone while others have made their mark as retail institutions. As our economy experiences resurgence, I hope Pawleys Island will see some retail growth (not too much!) for the sake of a healthy competition and more business for all.


Fashion Forecast Back in Charlotte, I recently had an amazing experience working on a feature for the May issue of SouthPark Magazine, one of the leading publications in our community. As stated in the opening page of our story in pictures, I was inspired by the famed photography of Slim Aarons, the iconic chic of Olivia Palermo and the gorgeous sprawling home owned by two friends. Interior design, following only fashion, is my second true love as it pertains to great style. The home of my friends Kim and Ernest Ellison is a sprawling mid century modern ranch full of color, pattern and life. My vision for this photographed “collision of style” showcasing the Ellison’s home, paired with a carefully curated wardrobe of star gazing status, inspired by every picture I’ve ever seen of Olivia Palermo left me day dreaming of my own Slim Aarons recreation. If you are not familiar with the work of Mr. Aarons, I highly recommend taking an internet gander to catch a glimpse. Upon conclusion of his work he enlisted in the American Army and later as a reporter during the Second World War, Aarons became a Jet Set photographer dedicating himself to the depiction of Hollywood glamour and luxury. He became known for his work photographing “attractive people doing attractive things in attractive places.” Executed by a team of talented professionals and friends, combined with the interest of an editor, my daydream came to existence on the pages of an award winning magazine. Oh what fun it was to showcase hand selected clothes and accessories from boutiques and businesses as a way to say thank you. I hope you enjoy perusing the fashions and interiors of these photos as much as I enjoyed styling them, and I look forward to doing it again with a number of fantastic retailers on the Grand Strand!

Photography by Zach Alston Hair and Makeup by Deme Fourtounis (Wardrobe by

Whitley Adkins Hamlin Whitley Adkins Hamlin is a three-time winner of Charlotte Magazine’s Best of the Best Voters Choice Award. Her style blog “the Queen City Style” won for Best Blog, and Whitley has won two years in a row for Best Stylist/Personal Shopper. She was also voted one of the Carolina’s 75 Most Stylish by Carolina STYLE in 2015. Her greatest love is the fashion and location styling she does for various local and regional publications. Inspired by her grandmother and her great-grandmother, both working as department store buyers and fashionable women of their times, Whitley believes the early exposure to these glamorous women and their personal styles made fashion a natural pursuit for her. Whitley’s client base includes everyone from working professionals to stay at home moms, corporate executives, published authors, doctors, artists, empty nesters, savvy grandmothers, sports affiliates and more.


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by Leslie Moore Fashion, style and artistry are as much a part of our small community as sand, sun and waves. For our fashion issue, Sasee has highlighted two local artists whose creativity has become “All the Rage!”

Living a Life of Color and Style: Mary Raab

Walking into Mary and Corky Raab’s lovely home in Pawleys Island, it is obvious that this is the home of an artist and creative soul. Gorgeous and colorful, each room is filled with a variety of interesting décor, from found art to priceless antiques. Her love of color and fun come through in signature pieces like a large, framed Ferragamo scarf and a restored, antique barber’s

chair. Carefully planned seating encourages her visitors to sit and just enjoy the surroundings. “I love the unexpected,” Mary told me as she gave me a tour and told stories about pieces in her collection. “My decorating style is completely my own.” Growing up the daughter of a prominent surgeon, in Westchester County, New York, Mary had an idyllic, privileged childhood filled with the best schools, travel and opportunity. Her mother was a well-known socialite, and Mary was always expected to take the same path. But, for her, it just never felt right. “There was no space to be creative,” Mary told me thoughtfully. “Somehow I always knew that was not the life for me.”


After high school, Mary attended Marymount College and Katharine Gibbs Business School, and then took a job in First National City Bank in Manhattan after finishing her education. Mary loved every minute of this time in her life – living in the city was exciting and, it was the 1960s, a time of many tumultuous changes. By 1967, Mary had married, and five years later she had four children. “It was very hard for a while,” Mary laughed. “I didn’t have disposable diapers, nor did I have a diaper service. For the first time in my life I had to clean and cook and take care of four children under the age of five. I had three in diapers at one time!” When the children were toddlers, Mary began to explore her creative side through gardening. “I was outside all the time with the children and it gave me something to do. And, I discovered I was good at it.” Mary’s father had been a prolific gardener. Even with his busy schedule, he always found time to work outside growing his beloved flowers. As Mary raised her family, her life was filled with new experiences, a “baptism of fire,” as she laughingly says. “I had never even eaten spaghetti until I went away to college!” On the surface, Mary was still a traditional housewife, but her artist’s soul was growing day by day. When the children were 19, 20, 21 and 22, tragedy struck, and Mary became a widow. She went back to work and began to rebuild her life. Always a beauty, Mary slowly began dating again, but it wasn’t until a tall, handsome man appeared at her work one day, wearing a tuxedo and carrying a dozen roses, that she decided to open her heart and let love into her life again. Corky and Mary were inseparable from the time of that first date and were married in 1993. Several years later, a health issue caused Corky to retire early, and the couple decided to move south. “We looked up and down the east coast and finally found our home in Pawleys Island. Corky picked the lot and I chose the house plan.” Corky and Mary were soon

Southern Snaps firmly planted in our area, and Mary’s artistic side began to explode. “Here I can do my own thing and be exactly who I am. We have added so much to our original house and made it our own.” Along with filling her home with beautiful, colorful objects, Mary started making purses covered in silk flowers. Each purse is selected for its durability and style, and then the flowers are carefully taken apart and glued back together before being attached to the purse. Hours of work goes into each of her pieces that she and Corky named “KT Creations,” for the “kitchen table” where she works. While she doesn’t sell these one of a kind works of art she does give many away, asking only that the recipient make a donation to their favorite charity. “Wherever you go, if you’re carrying one of my purses, people will come up and talk to you,” says Mary. “They are beautiful, fun and a conversation starter.” Local non-profits have also been the recipient of Mary’s generosity, and her purses bring top dollar at local silent auctions benefitting the charities of her choice. Mary’s other love is hats, and she has dozens, some decorated with her signature flowers and others, chosen for maximum style and color, are left unadorned. Today, Mary and Corky spend as much time as possible with the children and their four granddaughters whom they adore, as well as their five rescued cats, all named for famous designers. “We enjoy taking the girls on trips,” said Mary. “And, of course, they always want to go shopping with me.” Mary’s affection for color and style extends to her wardrobe as well. “I love animals, flowers and color,” Mary told me when asked about her wardrobe. “Living here, I can dress for myself. I like bright, silk tops that flow, paired with black or white slacks or skirts and my favorite Lily Pulitzer flip flops!” Her large, cedar walk in closet is filled with clothes that reflect this artist’s colorful soul. “Being fashionable, to me, is wearing what makes you feel good, that’s also comfortable and appropriate for the occasion. I’d always rather overdress than under dress.” “My home, my garden, my wardrobe and my art all reflect who I am.” Jokingly she added, “I love color – after all, we’re going to be dead a long time and that box is dark!”

Ashley Hoffman: Creating from the Heart

When Grand Strand locals hear the name Ashley Hoffman, or ash hoffman jewelry, most know immediately that this is one of the country’s hottest young jewelry designers, as well as the girl next door who grew up in Myrtle Beach and still lives and works in the area. A natural beauty with an easy going personality, Ashley sat down with Sasee to share a little about her artistic journey.

A love of design first led Ashley to study architecture in college. After completing her studies, she left for an internship in Uganda. “As much as I love the beauty of architecture, I knew my heart just wasn’t in it. While I was in Africa, I lived with a woman who did mission work with the local people. She and I became close friends, and when I returned home, I brought tons of Ugandan paper beads to sell here and help her.” This was Ashley’s start in the world of jewelry. She took the beads door to door and made several thousand dollars for her friend’s mission. “Everyone wanted necklaces, so I began taking the bracelets and earrings apart to make more. I really enjoyed it, and began to investigate jewelry design.” After talking it over with family and friends, Ashley decided to move to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, to study jewelry making and design. After completing the initial course, her teacher, impressed with her skill, recommended that she take the one year master class. “My one year master class turned into two years,” laughed Ashley. She had taken a job with Anthropologie in Miami after finishing school, and even though she enjoyed the excitement and challenge of managing a busy retail store, Ashley had found the work she loved more – working with precious metals and stones, creating pieces that would last a lifetime. On a trip home, Ashley discussed her dream with her father. “He told me to move home for a year, just make jewelry and see what happens” she remembered. “My family has all been so supportive every step of the way.” While living in Florida, Ashley made another discovery of a more personal nature. She met the man who would become the love of her life, Enoel Hidalgo. A Cuban native who had moved to the United States at 14 years old, his love led Enoel to leave Miami and move to Myrtle Beach with Ashley, taking a job teaching Spanish at Conway High School. Ashley went to work at Studio 77 in Myrtle Beach part time and began her jewelry making career. Her designs were an immediate


success, and today Ashley is in her fourth year of making and designing jewelry full time. She sells her work throughout the country on her website and at Studio 77. A small studio in Surfside Beach has become the haven where she creates her signature lines and custom pieces. I asked Ashley if she remembered making her first piece of jewelry. “Yes, I was still living in Florida and going to school. A friend from high school asked me to take her deceased mother’s jewelry and make it into a ring. I was very nervous, but my teacher told me I could do it and my friend believed in me too. The ring turned out beautifully!” Ashley still does this type of custom, repurposing work. “It’s challenging to take someone’s special pieces and rework them, but I just can’t say no to this kind of design. It means something.” In addition to custom designs, Ashley has created several signature lines of jewelry that have become very popular. “My first line was inspired by my Native American great grandmother who gave me my first piece of jewelry, and subsequent lines have all been spiritually inspired in some way.” Inspiration comes from everywhere for Ashley – even a piece


tion with the people who wear my work.” Her online business has skyrocketed, with a waiting list for those wanting custom work. When asked about her recipe for success, Ashley said, “I do my own website, created my own logo and I just try to be real and do what makes me feel good.” Ashley’s philosophy of simple, elegant and meaningful design comes through in her personal style as well. Most days will find her in workout clothes or simple boho outfits – all accented with her personal jewelry collection of course. “I like my clothing to be easy,” she told me, adding, “to me, being fashionable is wearing what makes you feel good and what works for your body type. I love midcentury, vintage clothing, but many of the ’50s and ’60s styles don’t work for me.” On May 8th, Ashley and Enoel were married in an intimate, beautiful ceremony in her mother’s back yard. Ashley chose a traditional, fitted white dress, and wore her own beautiful jewelry. “It was the very best day of my life,” she said. “I wish I could do that day over and over.” The couple will take their honeymoon this of beautiful archi- summer during Enoel’s summer break. When they’re not working, Enoel and Ashley enjoy doing yoga together and both are committed to fitness – Enoel is tectural molding a serious cyclist, and Ashley rises before the sun each day to complete a boot can make its way camp workout. into an earring or Giving back to the community that has supported her is also imporbracelet. Simple, tant to Ashley, and many local non-profits have benefitted from her philaneloquent quotes are also incorporat- thropic mindset. “I donate something every month to help our local charities,” ed into this artist’s said Ashley. “No job is worth doing if I can’t help others. I believe if God blesses you, you should bless others.” appealing work. “My jewelry is very To contact Ashley or see more of her work, visit, find personal – I like her on Facebook, or stop by Studio 77 in Myrtle Beach. having a connec-



“Summer clothing is about color – the drab winter is over!”

Fashion Fun

Glenna Manning: Manager, TAZ Boutique

Tell us a little about yourself. I was born in Nashville, Tennessee, and my family still lives there. People ask me about my name and the story is kind of funny. My mom actually named me for my dad’s former girlfriend! She liked the name, so…My former husband is an ER doctor, and we came to Charleston for him to interview for a job there. While we were in the area, he also interviewed for a job in Georgetown, and we both loved it here.

I have three children and one grandson. Margaret is 28, and married to a wonderful guy, Cameron, and they have a four year old son, Jack. Johnny is 25 and Lydon is 18. We recently adopted a sweet rescued German Shepherd – and he runs the show. Do you have “go-to” outfits in your closet that you know will always work and make you feel your best? What are they? I love what I’m wearing today – a sleeveless tank dress with a sweater. This style looks good on almost everyone. Every woman needs a few basic pieces, including two pairs of jeans, a boot cut and a skinny, a pair of good black pants and a good black dress. You can do almost anything with this combination. How long does it take you to get ready and out of the house in the morning? Usually only 30-40 minutes, but I like my mornings leisurely. I always know what I’m wearing before I get in the shower.


What does “fashionable” mean to you? To me, it’s being comfortable with who you are and how you present yourself with what you’re wearing. It’s more about how you carry yourself than having the latest or most expensive fashions. If you feel secure, others will see it.

Tell us about managing TAZ boutique. What’s new and exciting this season? I was a stay-at-home mom for 20 years and finding something I love to do, and I’m good at doing, is very gratifying. I had shopped here for years and after my divorce was looking for a job. One day I was trying on clothes and chatting, telling the people here I was looking for a job. They hired me! That was 10 1/2 years ago. I went from being a mom to being an accomplished career woman – buying and selling great merchandise. I have found my niche. Now our customers text me and make sure I’ll be here when they’re coming in to shop. This job is fun! Summer clothing is about color – the drab winter is over! It’s fun to buy summer clothes, and your dollar goes further, too. We have gorgeous summer clothing in the store – stop by and see me! Visit Glenna at TAZ, located 11270 Ocean Highway in Pawleys Island, or call 843-235-9646. TAZ is open Monday-Saturday, 10 am-6 pm.



When My Bosom Hit the Big Time by Linda O’Connell

Recently I visited my family physician. I had been experiencing tingling in my left arm and tightness in my chest during the day which inexplicably subsided at bed time. After endless probing and numerous tests, the doctor ruled out impending heart attack and other serious maladies. “Your tests came back negative. Nothing serious. Probably just stress.” The doctor’s diagnosis stressed me even more. Then she said, “Try to relax.” Her professional opinion and advice didn’t do a thing to calm me. In fact, she incited me, and I respectfully disagreed with the white coat. “A woman knows her own body,” I said. “Despite the test results, I know something is wrong. I’ll figure this out myself.” I went home determined to disprove the doctor. I waited until nighttime. In the stillness of my darkened bedroom, I set out to discover why my arm tingled when I stood, and why it didn’t when I slept. With a flick of my wrists, I self-diagnosed with my own two hands. I reached behind me with my left hand and unfastened my bra with my right. My symptoms eased the moment I tossed my bra on the dresser and laid on my back with my chest bared. My husband thought I was in the mood for romance and he rolled toward me. I bounded out of bed and put my bra back on. “What on earth are you doing?” Bill asked. “Research!” I snapped and hooked my bra. After binding and releasing my plump hostages several times, I changed sleeping positions several times. I laid down on my back. I rolled on one side and then the other. AHA! I leaped out of bed. My husband, who had been observing me, finally commented. “Are you undecided about sleeping with me? Is that what your problem is?” “No. I just made a major discovery. The doctor is right; I don’t have a medical problem.” My hard-of-hearing husband said, “You say the doctor says you don’t have a mental problem?” I slipped into a nightgown, climbed into bed, and for the first time in weeks, I slept well, worry-free, no longer concerned about my ticker. I’d have the antidote to my problem in a few hours. In the morning, I headed to the local department store as soon as it opened. Drawn to the clearance signs and two-for-one sales. I passed them by and flitted right to the lingerie apparel. My heart raced when I spied a sale. There was a “twofer” sign attached to a display of my favorite bras. I felt like I’d just hit three sevens on a slot machine. I took my lacey jackpot to the checkout. When the bras scanned full price, I disputed the amount and requested a manager. I did what I detest when other women do it. I held up the line waiting for a price quote.


The manager swished over to the register with authority. She performed a computer check and assured me the bras were scanning correctly. “No. I’m sorry, but there is a huge sign back there that states buy one get one free. I can show you,” I said, as I grabbed my bras and headed to the lingerie department again. The twenty-something manager, with pert little breasts, click-clacked after me in her heels, her pony tail flipping side to side. I indicated with my index finger and a smug face that my price quote was indeed correct. “Right there! See? Two for the price of one.” “Yes, I do see the sign. Now may I see the actual bra you’d like to purchase?” I handed her one of my soon-to-be uplifting brassieres. “Um. Hmm.” She muttered as she fondled the material and compared it to others. She fussed with the clasp and flung that bra wide open. “Aha! Here’s the problem.” She shoved the size tag at me. “See here? This is a FULL-FIGURED BRA.” No! The problem was she spoke so loudly several women in the vicinity took notice. “Extra fabric, additional expense in manufacturing the cup size,” she continued as women congregated, listening to her yap as though she were raffling freebies. I held up both bras side by side, determined to demonstrate that there were equal amounts of fabric in a 36B and a full-figured 38C, but she wasn’t buying it. So I ended up buying both bras at full price. It really was worth the immediate relief I felt when I adjusted the straps and realized that my cups no longer runneth over. Boobs, breasts, hooters, racks…call them what you will. Personally I have named mine and subsequently relieved the tingling in my arm and the tightness in my chest. Mopsy and Flopsy are fully supported in my new full priced, full figured bras, and I am breathing easier these days.

Linda O’Connell Linda O’Connell is an accomplished writer and seasoned teacher from St. Louis, Missouri. Her work appears in several issues of Sasee and 22 Chicken Soup for the Soul anthologies. A positive thinker, she writes from the heart, bares her soul and finds humor in everyday situations. Linda enjoys a hearty laugh, dark chocolate and the beach. She blogs at

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The Scales of the Dragon: How I Knew My Father by Selina Kaing

My father has always been an intimidating figure in the vague recollections of my childhood. Because he worked the overnight shift in the donut shop my family ran, some of my earliest memories consisted of being constantly shushed and quietly tiptoeing around the sofa bed where he slept during the day, exhausted from hours of baking and smelling of fried dough and grease. Sometimes my mom would call home in the morning when the shop would run out of donuts after a particularly busy period. She would tell me to wake my dad to come in and make more, urgency lacing her voice as she hated to disappoint her customers coming in for their morning fix. Yet oddly enough, I always found myself hesitating before doing her bidding, nervously glancing at the sleeping figure of my father as he lightly snored away. This powerful being who literally shaped the future and fortunes of our family with his hands every night was a slumbering giant in my young mind, a fearsome and impatient dragon who could awaken at any moment and show benevolence or displeasure, his humor or temper tugging at the edges of my own disposition. Yet even as my burgeoning independent nature warred with the little girl who wanted to remain the apple of her father’s eye, I continued to bask in the glow of his approval when I was the dutiful daughter, despaired when he passed censure, and held my breath during those moments when I felt the weight of his judgment. Over the years, that moment, that prickly pause, that slight hesitation, has formed and informed the bond between us, the uncertainty of his acceptance over the many life choices I’ve made always lingering in the back of my mind. Where I work, where I live, who I date; the aftermath of these


decisions are often fraught with reservation and ambivalence even as I outwardly scorned the desire for his acceptance while quietly withering in the fires of his disapproval. After the ten long years I was away from home answering the call of my studies and ensuing career, I came back to California to find my father retired after selling the donut shop. It was a young man’s game, he said, his familiar face older now, a little more lined, a little more weary. He spent his days watching the stock market, his nimble mind still tallying numbers like they used to when he would quickly figure out how many donuts he needed to make to meet demand or how much he had to charge for a cup of coffee to at least break even at the end of the month. But what surprised me most was how he spent his afternoons. Once the closing bell signaled the end of the trading day, my father would jauntily emerge from his room and head outside to tend to the veritable mini-farm he had started growing in the front yard. Over the years, our lawn had gradually given way to his new pastime, sprouting everything from

basil, chili peppers, sweet potatoes, and lettuce to more non-traditional fare like taro and kabocha squash. But perhaps the most unexpected thing was the mass of thick cactus-like plants stretching out from large black tubs of soil in our backyard, their weight and length supported by a dizzying maze of PVC pipes and an unused clothesline we had abandoned once my father had been persuaded to invest in a washer and dryer combo. This, he pointed out to me proudly, is my dragon fruit, my khmersror kaa neak. As I gazed at the flowering vines and the growing fruit beginning to take its odd egg-shaped form and distinctly vivid hue, I thought to myself that never had produce been more aptly named. Literally meaning “dragon scales” in English, these fiery red fruits with reptilian-like skin embodied the mythical creatures they were named after and were just as difficult to tame. And indeed, dragon fruit had proven a challenge for my father to grow. That year, a rare cold snap in Southern California prompted him to ask me how to Google greenhouse conditions for protecting his plants. Later on in the summer, when record heat caused the fruit to wither and die on the stem, I found him parking our Honda CRV in front of the vines and propping cardboard to provide a makeshift roof for relief from the sun. For several years, he patiently and contentedly weeded, watered and tended his plants, while I marveled at a side of him I had never seen. When another job called me away from home, I forgot all about my father’s garden until I came back to visit one day. As I walked in the door, my father excitedly handed me a small dragon fruit, one of the first from the year’s harvest that he had saved for my homecoming. It’s red on the inside, he told me, knowing that I preferred the sweeter, ruby colored flesh to the more familiar white pulp. He followed me as I walked to the kitchen and placed the dragon fruit on the cutting board, chatting amiably all the while about the stock market, current events, and if I wanted to bring back any herbs from his garden for my own use. As I looked down at the brightly colored fruit, smiling at his enthusiasm and happy to be home, I paused a moment before slicing through, my fingers gently stroking the scaly-looking skin that in reality was softer and more flexible than it first seemed.

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Selina Kaing Selina Kaing is a closet writer who squeezes in a paragraph or two in between her day job in the tech sector. She currently lives in Northern California.



Prom Date by Beth M. Wood

Back in 1990, my classmates took their high school crush or their closest guy friend to prom. I was dating someone who was away at college, and didn’t want to go with anyone else. I never thought I’d get a second chance to go to prom. But here I was, 25 years later, doing my hair, applying my make up and thinking about the night ahead. Never in a million years could I have guessed that someday I’d get to go to prom, and with a date who means so much to me. I’d fallen for him from the first moment I looked into his honest brown eyes. It was love at first sight and it’s a love that’s lasted almost 18 years now. He loves me too, but I’m certain he doesn’t fully comprehend how unconditionally my love is given. I smile at the thought as I secure my earrings, slip into my heels and walk down the hall. My date is waiting in the living room. As I look up into his familiar, handsome face, I’m struck again at how quickly the years have gone by. He is dressed impeccably in a gray suit; shirt pressed, cufflinks in place. “I’m ready!” I say to this most precious date of mine. My son. As Connor leads me into the ballroom for Senior Mom Prom, I’m taken back in time to another date – our first – sixteen years earlier… He is just two years old, and we are on our way to see Disney’s Tarzan. It’s his first time going to the theater. As we walk in, his head turns every which way, round eyes taking in all the lights, colors and sounds. He’s not much for big crowds, and squeezes my hand a little tighter. I wonder if he’ll ever outgrow this fear. We find the theater and choose our seats, Connor climbing up into the booster seat for little ones. When the movie begins, he hides his eyes in my shoulder through the first scary scene. Then, as the story unfolds, his eyes widen and he leans forward, offers me his popcorn and shares his soda. I remember him taking my hand after the movie, the easy way he held onto mine as walked to the car. I remember holding the door for him as he climbed up into his car seat and reaching over to buckle his belt. I remember keeping the music low and talking with him, glancing at his cherubic face in the rearview mirror as he talked to me the whole way home. He’d peppered his comments with pointed questions, “Which one did you like Mama?” Tilting his head the same way he still does today. “Did the fire part scare you too, Mama?” I’m sure I tucked him in that night. And although I don’t remember my exact words, I’d like to think I remember brushing the hair back from his forehead, planting a kiss in the same spot as always (it’s a wonder there’s no dimple there after eighteen years of kisses), and thanking him for a wonderful evening. It’s been a long time since we’ve spent a Saturday night together, just the two of us. When I think about all the years we’ve spent together, add up all the


days – all the soccer games, all the dinners, holidays, birthday parties and celebrations – I can’t think of another Saturday night I’ve had him all to myself. There’ve been mother/son brunches, of course. And trips to the mall; bookstore excursions, stops at Starbucks. Even when he was sick a few months ago, just sitting up in his bed with him to watch a few episodes of Friends is a memory I’ll treasure. But a date with this boy, this young man of mine, is something I’ll cherish always. The ballroom is filled with senior boys and their moms. Many of the moms have grouped themselves at tables, talking, while their sons are on the dance floor, enjoying the pulse of the music and the energy of each other’s company. My son and I are with a handful of his friends and their mothers, dancing together, taking breaks to sit and talk. He doesn’t leave me for more than a few minutes. He’s a gentleman, this date of mine. As we walk out of the ballroom, he reaches for my hand. I take it, a bit surprised. And he holds it easily all the way to the car. He opens the door for me, holding it as I get in, shuts it behind me and walks around to the driver’s side. He pulls out into traffic and keeps the music on low, talking with me all the way home about our night – the music, his friends, the pictures. Before we walk into the chaos of a busy house, I pull him into a hug and thank him for a great evening. This time I’ll remember exactly what I said. This time, I’ll remember brushing back the hair on his forehead, and kissing him goodnight in that same precious spot. This time I won’t wait another sixteen years to make a date with my son. These years have flown by, with ups and downs, mishaps and milestones of raising this boy and watching him become a man. In the words of Garth Brooks’ lyrics, “I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.” And I’m so incredibly grateful not to have missed this incredible dance. I may have missed my first prom, but back in 1990 I never could have known that the greatest dance of my life – being a mom – was yet to come.

Beth M. Wood Beth M. Wood is an award-winning marketer, freelance writer and mom of three. Her social media addiction pays the bills and steady copywriting gigs feed her shopping habit. She blogs about marketing and social media at, digresses about life and parenting at and tweets @a1972bmw.

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The Spread and Sag Years by Janey Womeldorf

Bra shopping is no longer about what I’m trying to keep in, but what I’m trying to stop spilling out.” I took 18 bras into the fitting room. (I know; I was surprised they let me take in that many too!) My stash consisted of nine white, (dependable), five black, (predictable), three skin-tone (for those t-shirts that are too wide on the neck, routinely expose my bra strap but I wear anyway), and a pink one for fun. Styles spanned two back sizes, three cup sizes, one front fastener, 16 with underwires and two without for curiosity. Ladies, is it just me? I tried getting myself professionally measured once. All I remember is that, one, my jaw dropped when she told me my “correct” size and, two, no stores carried it anyway. She suggested I go online but the returns would have been nightmarish. (Re-read the first sentence.) 44

My delight they let me take in all 18 evaporated when I saw the

been wearing for the last decade no longer cut it – well it did – right into

changing cubicle. I mean, who designs these things? Is the theory of only

my shoulders. My body began spreading and sagging and the only thing

two hooks, one for yes and one for no? (If only shopping were that sim-

tighter than my skin elastic was my bra elastic and even that was on its

ple.) What about the hook for not-sure, or the hook for will buy, but

last legs. Back straps were closer to my neck, burdened cups were resting

return next week? I couldn’t even use the top of the door as the hangers

on my rib cage, and VBLs and overflow bulged out everywhere. Gravity

were those cheap, plastic, white ones with hooks that don’t swivel and

was the new sheriff in town leaving me one choice: Sag or shop.

snap if you try. Fortunately, the door had a regular handle; thank good-

An extra hook, wider straps, and a size larger provided a tempo-

ness, it’s impossible to hang anything on the knob of those silver locks

rary fix – until the next gravity wave hit. When that happened, I tried

you slide back and forth – I’ve tried.

those $2.99 bra extenders that come off in the wash. Even when I would

With bras scattered like confetti, I embarked on my crusade.

find them inside the grungy, rubber seal of my washing machine, I perse-

First up was the front fastener. Not something I would normally try but

vered; I loathe bra shopping that much. The only thing worse is swim-

a desperate woman does desperate things. The problem with front fas-

suit shopping – too much mirror reality.

teners is I have never really mastered that whole twist, slide and snap

Back in the fitting room, my face lit up. Was this a fit? I put my

thing. Not only that, but, one, I don’t always have my glasses on when I

t-shirt on to double check for the ugly, front, cup-line bulge. Lines were

buckle up, and two, certain things block my shot. I try it anyway. It fits

smooth, labels didn’t itch, and the shoulder straps were comfy. Finally, a

okay, but I remember why no front fasteners grace my bra drawer – I

winner. Houston, we have lift up.

keep my bras too long. Translation: When the elastic starts to go, I just

Tired yet inspired, I reached for the last one, the pink one. My

move up to a tighter hook. Front fasteners don’t give you that option –

heart sank. The initial drive-by failed but as I always say, if at first you

they’re a one hook fits all – or not, as in this case. I hang it on the no

don’t succeed, try another hook and adjust the strap. It felt better but not

hook and soldier on.

perfect. Oh well, if you are going to wear ill-fitting bras, at least let them

Six bras and ten minutes later, boredom set in. Twelve bras and fifteen minutes later, frustration was rampant. Despite half my bras being

be pretty. I hung it on the yes hook. Of the 18 I tried on, I ended up buying six: one because it fit;

the same size, every one fit differently. Bits of flabby skin overflowed at

two more of the same but in a different color; one just because it was

the front, spilled out under the armpits and bulged over the back strap,

pink, and three because I couldn’t stand the thought of going through all

and I had yet to find the perfect fit. I found myself moving even the

that malarkey again. I’m just at that shape in my life where bra shopping

imperfect fits to the yes hook. Was it this hard for every woman? My

is too challenging to worry about perfection.

brain reminisced back to easier times – of course, I was about 12 at the time, but back then, I loved bra shopping. (Can you imagine?) I was 12 going on 20 and desperate to be grown up. It didn’t matter that I was flatter than a pancake, I wanted a bra. My first one was a

The way I see it, if the bra fits, buy it; if it doesn’t, force it; and if that fails, come back in five years. You will have entered the next stage of the spread and sag years and will need a new size anyway. Happy shopping ladies.

32AAA, white, with a single hook and dainty pink flowers. It oozed pretty, served no purpose, and I loved it. As my body blossomed, so did my need for bras. At 12, you don’t even need to try them on, you just pick the ones you like off the shelf and hand it to Mum. My bras were scarcely bigger than handker-

Janey Womeldorf

chiefs but each one epitomized delicate and fit with ne’er a bulge in sight.

Janey Womeldorf once went to work wearing different

Life was good.

shoes. She now freelance writes and scribbles away in

Then one day, I woke up and I was 40. Suddenly, the size I’d

Orlando, Florida. It’s probably best.



A Good Fake by Celina Colby

The day starts with me searching for soap. I thought I’d remembered everything, stuffed it all into my faux-leather backpack. I had a towel, had shampoo and conditioner, had flip-flops in case the shower floor was suspect, even had the pepper spray in case my door didn’t lock properly. But the soap, that’s what I’d forgotten. Most of the models, bloggers and hangers on are at the Plaza or the Standard. A few of the less notable may have settled for the Four Seasons. I’m in a hostel and only for a night. This is my first year in the tents, my first year in the fashion trenches. I’m a newbie, and I’m certain it’s written all over my face. New York Fashion Week is every bit as glamorous as you would

almost four years now, I’ve won a few awards, been recognized on the street,

expect. The city is swarming with legs-for-days girls in stilettos, who have

I’ve got cred. At least in Boston I do. In New York everyone is a fashion blogger,

somehow managed to find the perfect text-to-walk ratio. Cataloguing these

and everyone has been named the best of wherever they come from. But the

Amazons of style are the photographers. Dozens of them, everywhere, in black

key seems to be pretending you’re bigger than you are. The key seems to be

and snapping digitals with extension lenses like their lives depend on it.

pretending you’ve done this a thousand times, and if you pretend well enough

I come across a photo shoot on my way to breakfast. The photographer is snapping picture after picture while the model coyly smirks at the cam-

you might pass muster. The first inkling comes at the show. After being bombarded with

era and moves from pose to pose. I wonder if there are ever any outtakes from

wristbands, swag bags and champagne, I’m placed in the front row to wait for

these things. Sure, there are the less-than-perfect shots, but are there ever any

the show. I don’t know whether to feel glamorous or inanimate. Sure I’m front

true screw-ups? Does she ever cough or get hair in her face or is she so used to

row at a fashion show, the top of all style tiers, but I was almost physically

that routine pouty lip that it never wavers? The photographer only needs a few

placed there, another ornament on the stage. Across from me there are two

minutes to get what he wants, and they’re off to another location.

young guys, no doubt there to pick up girls. And are there girls. All around,

It’s not that I’m completely inexperienced. I’ve been blogging for


they’re chattering, comparing outfits and Instagramming their complimentary

beverages. I take up listening to the vodka-bearing, designer brand-wielding

time of day. The pavilion is packed. Photographers are everywhere snapping

woman next to me.

street style pictures, while fashion gurus make their way through the hallowed

“My feet are killing me,” Vodka says. “I knew I should’ve worn the

doors and into the tents. I start heading across the space when there’s a flash of

Michael Kors but the Altuzarra’s are so much sexier.” I feel pretty self satisfied,

light that throws me off kilter. Then another. Then another. Photographers.

since I’ve styled my own heels with socks for a style/comfort combination that

Taking pictures of me. Who do they think I am? I wonder, running through the

is so rarely attainable.

list of celebrity potentials they might have mistaken me for. A young Mary

Vodka’s friend Red Lipstick chimes in. “Tell me about it. I’ve been so paranoid all day that my dress is going to fly up or fall down or something ridiculous. I’d never live that down.” Vodka nods sympathetically, and they take a break from talking to send Snapchats of the crowd to their eagerly awaiting friends. This is a glimmer of hope. Maybe the fashion goddesses aren’t as put together as they seem. Maybe there are outtakes. The next sign is less of an inkling and more of a gunshot in a glass

Kate and Ashley? The piano player from High School Musical? But it doesn’t matter, and I strut towards the entrance backpack and all. Internally I’m thinking about the abundance of bad candids that will be circulating the Internet after this affair, but externally I have my photo taken by paparazzi all the time, no big deal. “Ticket?” The burly security guard at the door asks. He’s impatient and clearly has dealt with too many problems today. I wave my phone at him, bearing the necessary scan code and slip

house. The show is going along fine, the models are tall, the clothes are pretty

through the doors. Inside looks something like I’ve always imagined fashion

and the music is ear shattering. Everything as it should be. Then she falls. No

mecca to be. The enormous entrance tent is covered with booths offering all

warning, her ankle just bends in a completely unnatural way and suddenly she’s

sorts of services, a foot massage booth to rest your feet from those six-inch

on the ground. A model’s worst fear and a blogger’s big break. Everyone gasps

heels, a blowout booth to get your hair done between shows, a Papyrus booth

and wears horrified expressions while they whip out their phones to document

for reasons I’m a little unclear on. The tent itself is actually a series of tents cre-

the moment. In a minute the Internet will be abuzz with the news. Fingers tap

ating a space as large as your standard convention center. In the center is the

frantically against keyboards in a who-can-tweet-it first race.

Mercedes Benz display. Dolled-up women pose against a car they know noth-

But what interests me isn’t the fall. It’s her face. For a brief second,

ing about while friends and boyfriends snap their photo. To my direct left is a

while in motion, this model actually looks like a human. She could’ve ridden in

booth devoted solely to outlets to recharge your phones, cameras and iPads.

on the subway with me, passed me in the halls of my hostel, bought a coffee in

Because what’s a fashion show worth without Instagrams to prove it happened?

front of me at Starbucks. She looks panicked and ashamed and unstable. Her

After a little bit of wandering I head to the Charlotte Ronson tent for

mouth widens into a big “O” as she flies off the ground. But it’s only there for a

my next show. I get in line behind two friends, one dressed for a strip club and

minute. Then, as though she’s suddenly been body snatched, her face reverts to

the other for a bridal shower.

the blank model stare. It comes down over her like a closing shade. She stands

“Ohmygod, I love your skirt. So friggin’ adorable,” says Bridal Shower.

up and continues her loping gate down the rest of the runway. And right then I

I put on a blasé smile. “Thank you, it’s vintage.” True, if you count

realize that that’s what this is all about. Pulling down the shade, and putting on your game face, whether you’re terrified or not. “Oh. My. God” says Vodka at the break. “I feel so bad for her, your career can never recover from the bad press.” She hits “Post” on her video that live-streams the whole event to the world. “Right?” says Red Lipstick. “If that were me I would just die. I would honestly just leave.”

Goodwill as vintage. Bridal Shower and Strip Club exchange glances. “This is kind of embarrassing, but can you tell us how we’re gonna find our seats? It doesn’t say on the ticket,” says Strip Club. I have officially been mistaken for a veteran. All it took was a head held high and an I-could-care-less smile. It occurs to me then that this may be the only time in fashion when you can pass off a good fake.

The next night it starts with the outfit, as always. An enormous crimson tutu, paired with a velvet strapless bodysuit and a gold statement necklace. Some low, nude, snakeskin heels polish off the ensemble. I have to carry my backpack as well, since I checked out of the hostel that morning. But that’s fine: backpacks are in. If anyone asks it was completely intentional. I get to Lincoln Center around six thirty, that perfect evening-glow

Celina Colby Celina Colby is a Boston based writer and the founder of the style blog “Trends and Tolstoy.”



Beauty Shop Blessings by Janeen Lewis

“Mommy, will you pretty please play beauty shop with me?” my four-yearold daughter Gracie begged. Gracie loves experimenting with lip gloss, fingernail polish and hairdos, and her favorite guinea pig to make over is me. I looked into her sweet, blue eyes and found her offer nearly irresistible. But I had chores to do, and honestly, I didn’t feel like playing. “No sweetie. I’m sorry, but Mommy is very busy. Maybe Andrew can play with you.” Gracie walked away, disappointed. All she wanted was some girl time with me. And I had sent her off to play with her brother, an eight-year-old boy who loves video games, zombies and bathroom humor. An eight-year-old boy who changed the words to the Frozen song “Let It Go” into lyrics full of potty puns. I felt a twinge of guilt. But at the same time, I was having a pity party day. A day where I felt overworked and overwhelmed. A day when my tasks, the children’s needs and my own insecurities were all mobilizing forces and ganging up on me. I justified my actions. My kids needed clean laundry, right? What would they eat if I didn’t cook? And if I put off cleaning the toilets any longer, I feared officials from the CDC would bang on my door dressed in full hazmat gear. Despite my bad mood, I tackled my long to-do list. As I carried a load of freshly folded towels to the bathroom, I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror and then stared. Was it my imagination, or was that a new wrinkle? The gray streaks at the crown of my hair had multiplied. I really needed to cover those. And the bags under my eyes were huge. It’s ironic that Gracie wanted to play “beauty shop.” I really needed a makeover. Even more depressed, I consulted my list again. But by then I wanted to slash through every single item and write “escape to spa” instead. After completing more tasks, I peeked in at my budding beauty consultant. Andrew had pushed our living room end table into Gracie’s room, and she had covered it with a white towel. My makeup bag gaped open on the makeshift beauty counter, beauty tools, blusher and eye shadow spilling out. Suddenly, my twinge of guilt grew into a full-fledged pang. Humbly, I walked into Gracie’s room and sat in a small wooden chair in front of the makeup table. “Do you still want to do Mommy’s makeup, honey?” I said. “Yes!” she squealed. Gracie’s room was hardly a posh spa. There were no saunas, no hot tubs, no mud baths and not one single masseur. Instead, our surroundings consisted of a dingy Elmo chair, an assortment of princess paraphernalia strewn across the floor, an unmade bed and a dresser with clothes overflowing from the drawers. I made a mental note to write “help Gracie clean room” on my to-do list. I cringed when she poured out half a bottle of foundation, but I tried to focus on the positive – surely that much makeup would cover my wrinkles. I relaxed while her little fingers massaged my face. She even did my hair, covering it in small ponytails that sprouted from all sides of my head. I became so relaxed I began to doze off when Gracie announced that I


could see her work. “You look beautiful!” she said and held my compact up to my face. I was speechless. A child of the eighties, all I could think when I saw my reflection was Hello, Boy George, meet Cyndi Lauper. When I finally found words, I said, “Oh my goodness! I could be on the cover of a magazine!” (I didn’t say out loud that the magazine would be National Geographic.) Andrew didn’t hide his opinion. “Yeah, Mom, you could be on TV, too – on The Walking Dead.” I shot Andrew a look that said “can it or else,” but inside I laughed, realizing I was more content than I had been all day. I thought that was end of our beauty session, but Gracie had forgotten one tube. “Mommy, what’s this?” “That’s concealer,” I said. “What’s concealer?” she asked. “Well, when you get old like me, you use it to cover bags under your eyes, red splotches on your face and wrinkles on your forehead.” She looked perplexed. “But Mommy, you’re not old!” With those five words, Gracie gave my whole day – my whole attitude really – a much needed perspective. I had been looking at myself in a lopsided way all morning, and Gracie had righted my view. When Gracie looks at me, she doesn’t see crow’s feet. She sees a beauty shop playmate. She doesn’t see gray hair. She sees trust. She doesn’t see wrinkles. She sees love. Aren’t I supposed to be the one teaching her? I want her to grow up to be a confident young woman, focusing on her inside beauty more than her physical appearance. But how can I do that when I’m being so negative and critical of myself?  I often say having young children keeps me young, and Gracie once again reminded me of this. I guess she’s more advanced in her cosmetology career than I thought. That day I learned that what I do is exhausting, wonderful, hard, important work, and that is why I need to schedule some “me” time routinely, maybe even at a spa. But when I need to feel warmth and appreciation, I’ll make time for the beauty shop down the hall. It’s quite distinctive, filled with an Elmo chair, an overflowing jumble of princess paraphernalia and my little girl’s love. It’s the only shop in town where I will be blessed with the makeover I need most.

Janeen Lewis Janeen Lewis is a freelance journalist and mother of two. Between writing and raising a family, she enjoys the beauty lessons she receives from her children.


“I believe pretty jewelry makes every outfit better.”

Dazzling Style

Doug and Brandi Douglas: Douglas Diamond Jewelers

Tell us a little about yourselves. Brandi: We are newlyweds! Our wedding was in March, but we’ve been together for eight years. Doug is originally from Virginia, and I am from from Lexington, North Carolina – Doug has been in the retail jewelry business for nearly 30 years, and we met when I went to work for him in Lexington. We moved to Shallotte and opened Douglas Diamond Jewelers in 2008. Last year, we moved into our new location on Main Street. Doug: We both love it here and have made a lot of good friends in the area. Also, we’ve become involved with quite a few local charities. In May, we participated in a fundraiser for two local cancer patients, and it was a huge success. Do you have “go-to” outfits in your closet that you know will always work and make you feel your best? What are they? Brandi: I love my palazzo pants paired with a long tunic, and would wear leggings and tunics all the time if I could! I did choose an amazing wedding dress; it was very simple and classic.

Doug: I believe pretty jewelry makes every outfit better. We have jewelry that will become your go-to jewelry, as well as those special pieces to match a dressier outfit. How long does it take you to get ready and out of the house in the morning? Brandi: We only live five minutes from the store, so that part is easy. I can be ready in an hour, but I like to have longer in the mornings for my coffee time.

What does “fashionable” mean to you? Brandi: For me, it’s well matched, coordinated outfits and jewelry that suit the occasion. If you feel well dressed, you carry yourself better and project self confidence.

Tell us about Douglas Diamond Jewelers. What is the best thing about running a business with your spouse? Doug: We complement each other, and this has made our marriage and business successful. I have the stability, fine diamond and product knowledge gained from my 30-plus years in the jewelry business, and Brandi is more creative and willing to try new ideas. It works. Brandi: Douglas Diamond Jewelers is not a chain – we live here, work here and are involved with the community. Our customers are also our friends, and we give them one-on-one personal service. I can help you find the perfect piece of jewelry, whether you’re looking for a simple pair of diamond studs for everyday wear or dressier bangles for special occasions. It’s also wedding season, and we have some wonderful bridal jewelry and anniversary pieces. White gold and platinum are still our number one sellers, but yellow and rose gold are making a comeback, along with yellow and cocoa diamonds. Contact Brandi and Doug by calling 910-755-5546 or at 4700 Main Street in Shallotte, North Carolina. Find them online at


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Steve Jameson: Ode to the Grand Strand, The Art Museum of Myrtle

Music on Main, Thursdays, 7-9 pm,

Ocean Isle Concert Series, Fridays,

Beach, Myrtle Beach, 3100 S. Ocean Blvd., 843-238-2510 or visit

6-Main St., 27-Horseshoe on Ocean Blvd, North Myrtle Beach. For more info, call 843-280-5570 or visit

Carolina Country Music Fest, noon-





Cool Summer Evenings, Wednesday-

Moveable Feast, Mary Kay Andrews

Gypsy, Theatre of the Republic, Conway. For more info, call 843-488-0824 or visit




First Book Summer Luncheon, featuring Dorothea Benton Frank discussing All the Single Ladies, 11:30 am-1:30 pm, Prestwick Country Club. For tickets or more info, call 843-349-2728 or email

Riverfest, An American Celebration, Riverfront in Conway, free. For more info, call 843-248-2273 or visit

Art in the Park, Chapin Park, Myrtle Beach, 10am to 5pm. For more info, call 843-446-3830 or visit

32nd Annual Murrells Inlet Boat July 4th with the Winyah Indigo Choral Parade & Fireworks, parade held at high Society, 7 pm, Kaminski House lawn.

Friday, Brookgreen Gardens. Gardens open until 9 pm, live entertainment, free with garden admission. For more info, call 843-235-6000 or visit


discusses Beach Town, 11 am, Kimbel’s, Wachesaw, $25. For more info, call 843-235-9600 or visit


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11:30 pm each day, Myrtle Beach Boardwalk at 8th Ave. North. For more info, call 704-936-5623 or visit

tide, fireworks at 10 pm, spectators welcome on the Marshwalk, For more info, call 843-357-2997 or visit

5-26 6:30-8 pm, Museum of Coastal Carolina parking lot, E. Second St., Ocean Isle Beach, N.C. For more info, call 910-398-2538.


For more info, visit

Named One of the Top 10 Public Gardens in the country by TripAdvisor® A N ATION AL HI S TO RIC L ANDMARK

From beautiful gardens filled with sculpture and the only accredited zoo on the coast of the Carolinas, to boat rides, a butterfly house, and an Enchanted Storybook Forest, there is always something new and exciting at Brookgreen. For more information call

(800) 849-1931

Admission is good for 7 days

YOUR PURCHASES MAKE A DIFFERENCE. All of your purchases help support Brookgreen Gardens, a 501 (c) (3) non-profit organization whose mission is to preserve and display American sculpture and regional plants, animals, and history.

Advertiser Index B. Graham Interiors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 Bright Blue sea Bookshelf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Brookgreen Gardens. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 Burroughs & Chapin Art Museum. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 Carolina Car Care. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 CHD Interiors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 The Citizens Bank. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 The Crab Cake Lady. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 CRC Metal Fabrication. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 David Grabeman, D.D.S., P.A.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Dr. Sattele’s Rapid Weight Loss & Esthetic Centers. . . . 7 Edible Arrangements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Flamingo Porch. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Gordon Hunter’s Custom Painting, Inc.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Grand Strand Plastic Surgery. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Harry the Poter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Heartfelt Calling. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41

Homespun Crafters Mall. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Just Because IYQ. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Paint with a Passion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Palmetto Ace Home Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Pawleys Island Compounding Pharmacy. . . . . . . . . . . 41 Pounds Away. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 RK Consignments. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 Rosewood Manor House. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 Seaside Furniture Gallery & Accents. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Seven Seas Seafood Market. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Shades & Draperies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 South Atlantic Bank. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Swamp Fox Art Gallery. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Tire Town. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 To Your Health. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Two Sisters with Southern Charm. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

WEZV. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Fashion Guide The Accessory Cottage. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Barbara’s Fine Gifts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Bloomingails. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 The Boutique. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Butler Lighting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Callahan’s of Calabash. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 Centro Shoes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Christopher’s Fine Jewelry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Currents. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Doodlebugs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Eleanor Pitts Fine Gifts & Jewelry. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Fabric Decor & More. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Grady’s Jewelers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Harvest Commons. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Island Shoes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Joggling Board . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

The Lamp Niche. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Millie’s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 The Pink Cabana. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 The Pink Cabana. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Plain & Fancy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Rose Arbor Fabrics & Interiors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Rustically Refined. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Sea Island Trading Co.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Shop the Avenues. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 Simply Divine. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Studio 77. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 Taylors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Taz. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Treasures Jewelers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Urban Interiors, Inc.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Vandy Jewelers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 The Walking Company. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38


for the way you live‌

Interiors Antiques Home furnishings Over 250 oil Paintings in stock

Serving The Grand Strand For More Than 35 Years.

John S. Gore, Owner, Designer, Allied ASID Susie Darrah, Designer, Allied ASID

Monday - Friday 9am - 5pm Saturday by Appointment

In House Custom Drapery, Bedding and Monogramming Showroom Location: 1307 Enterprise Ave. between Grissom Pkwy. & Seaboard Street in Myrtle Beach 843-692-7844 Like our new arrivals on

Don’t miss the Bargain Basement at B. Graham Interiors, located next door. Save up to 75% off close-out and discontinued furniture, fabrics, paintings and accessories.

Sasee - June 2015  

"All the Rage"

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