Exhibit A: Gorgeous shibori dyed crop-top by Upstate x Of A Kind. Yup, it's still hot enough in NYC to wear crop tops, and cutoffs, and for bangs to be drenched in sweat (which is why you can't see them in this photo...) The upside is that I still have time to get some wear out of this beauty. Thank you Kalen!
Exhibit B: I found this framed print by Gladys Emerson Cook in Junk a few weeks ago now, but managed to put on a brave face and valiantly fight off temptation. It only took six days for me to realize that I needed it, immediately. Three stops on the L and a panicked ransacking of the store later, and I was sheepishly peeling off its price-tags before bringing it home.
Gone to Earth by Mary Webb, Seventh impression March 1937. I finally finished this book last night after several years worth of false starts and honestly, it deserves a post all its own. It's been a long, long while since a piece of writing spoke to me so completely, so heart-breakingly and heart-achingly. I don't even know where to begin.
How is it possible that I only discovered this incredible trove a few days ago?? For someone who covets a subscription to World of Interiors as intently as I do, An Afternoon With... is like sweet, sweet candy. The obvious comparison would be the Selby, the difference being that just about everyone featured on the site so far lives in the NYC area. The pleasure of feeling like I'm peeping into my neighbors windows is endlessly, perversely delightful.
(All images by Michael Mundy for An Afternoon With... Please provide credit if reposting!)
(I've gotten a bit derailed from sharing photos from my travels this summer, but I still have so many left that it's time I got back on track!)
Waking from fitful plane slumber to find myself peering out through bleary eyes over the fjords of Norway is something I will never, ever forget. Blue water extended like endless fingers into green forests and yellow fields, dotted with tiny islands and disturbed only by the wakes of scattered cruise ships and ferry boats. On the ride from the airport to our hotel in Oslo I couldn't take my eyes off the countryside, as I counted red-roofed barns and tried to catalog flora and fauna (fireweed, just like at home!)
Knowing I had less than 24 hours, not just in Oslo but in Norway as a whole, I fought off jet lag and spent the next few hours wandering around solo. What I found were roses. Roses piled several feet deep all around Oslo Cathedral and in the adjacent park, clogging public fountains and even sprouting from salty piers. Beautiful, but also heavy.
That night after the festival we made the wise decision to skip sleep and instead found our way to an afterparty where I met Fleurette and her amazing friends. One thing I learned on this trip: Scandinavians know how to party. I wish we could have stayed and danced until sunrise, but our 3am lobby call time loomed and soon enough we were on our way to Sandefjord airport--next stop Helsinki.
L.L.Bean Kid's sweater
Revlon Matte lipstick in Wine Not
I could barely believe mine eyes when a late night eBay search turned up the very sweater I had hemmed and hawed over and eventually missed out on scoring last November. LLBean kids, size Large, 50% wool 50% acrylic 100% dreamy. I'm still clinging to the hope that they'll stock it again this year, since if memory serves it comes in navy and grey as well. Bean, baby, Bean!
P.S. I wrote a sweater joke:
Q: What did the traffic cop say to the old lady he saw knitting a sweater while driving?
Yesterday, my new favorite sweater arrived in the mail, and tonight there's a chill in the air as it creeps in past my curtains. No more denying it, fall is happening, despite my complex feelings on the matter. Lena Scheynius and stylist Felipe Mendes did the season justice in the October issue of Numéro Tokyo, and it's the best thing I've seen in ages.
The past week has been equal parts exhausting and exhilarating. Being booked to work all day every day during Fashion Week (on a non-fashion week related project) meant long days followed by long (for me, anyways!) nights and a weekend spent meeting many new yet familiar faces for the first time.
I also attended my very first proper fashion show, having only worked presentations before, and had a taste of that particular magic that exists only for a few minutes, when the lights come up and the music swells and the girls come marching one by one (hurrah, hurrah.) A Détacher S/S 2012 was a thing of beauty, and I can't thank Caitlin enough for inviting me!
(Photos borrowed from Domahoka and Zimbio)
I was a bit of a humbug about Fashion's Night Out this year, since it's always felt to me like a mix of all the worst parts of Halloween and New Years combined with, uh, shopping that I can't afford to do. But this year I made the wise decision to stay in Brooklyn and meet up with some extra fancy friends, new and old. It felt pretty frickin' fantastic (and surreal) to be strutting around town in a pack with none other than Ashley, Emily, Hannah and Frankie, even if some dude did refer to us disparagingly as a "five person lookbook". Oh Billyburg, don't ever change.
(photo swiped from Fancy Fine!)
One of the best parts of going home to the island in summertime is that it means I get to work with flowers again. Above are a couple of my favorite bouquets that I made for sale at the Farmer's Market in Friday Harbor. I was inspired by sunsets, long walks on the beach, and Dag's sweet Hawaiian shirt ;n )
I grew up helping my mother plant, weed, harvest and arrange the cut flowers on our farm, and it's had a lasting effect on my brain and my life. I doodle flowers, I dream about flowers, I obsessively save and dry flowers and stick them in jars and vases and hang them on my walls. There's a special corner of my mind--way in the back where I keep secret, special, important things--reserved for the imaginary corner florist shop I will own someday, somewhere, somehow.
(Click photo for item info)
In a perfect world, this would be my uniform for the long weekend. But seeing as it's too muggy for mohair (the thought alone makes me sweat), I think I'll go to the beach instead. Hello, Rockaway Taco.
Two of my most favorite things to eat while at home: canelés from Café Demeter at the Friday Harbor farmer's market and fresh picked wild blackberries. Preferably while wearing stripes.
The first few days I was in Washington, we went on a camping trip up into the Gulf Islands in B.C. Our boat is an Albin, originally meant for nosing into fjords with families of lithe, blonde Swedes at the helm (it also came with the original 1970's-era manual), but she does a fair job tackling the Salish Sea as well.
The price of an incredible sunset from our campsite that evening was a steady downpour starting at about 3am, but the next morning the clouds slowly broke as we ate our fried potatoes. That day I finally set foot on Saturna Island, a hulk of land that I had spent 26 years gazing at from North Bay, off in the Canadian distance. We slept aboard the Tern that night, Dag and I bedded down in the aft cabin with our National Geographics. When I crept out a few hours later for a midnight bathroom break there were shimmering phosphorescence in the cold salt water all around us.