I miss the L.A. uniform. Slip on a pair of faded jeans, a white gauzy tunic, and some flip-flops and you could blend in anywhere in the city, from the surf shacks of Manhattan Beach to the sidewalk bistros of Robertson Blvd. So easy. Of course, looking good in L.A. has always been about the body, not the clothes. It takes endless hours of hiking in Runyon Canyon to perfect that laid-back style. On second thought, maybe not so easy after all.
I'm sure it will surprise you not in the least to hear that there is a uniform in Boston too. Over the last week, I've been shuttling visiting relatives all over town, and doing some fashion reconnaissance on the sly. So, what are all the cool girls wearing this fall?
#1: Longchamp's Le Pliage
This bag is everywhere. Navy is the most popular, but several girls walking around the Common today sported dark red.
Your torso is ready for the tundra in a down vest. Again, navy rules, but yesterday I saw a beautiful version in burgundy with ruffles down the front at Sara Campbell in Concord.
I am convinced that Une Femme is the only chick in Southern California who understands scarves. So, I'm encouraged to see women wearing circle scarves, like this one from Lilly Pulitzer. No mad origami skillz needed. Even I can pull this look off.
My sister and niece flew out from L.A. yesterday to visit me for a whole week! The little one is currently obsessed with the Fancy Nancy book Apples Galore, so this morning we drove out to Stow to pick apples at Shelburne Farm.
You can walk through the orchards and fill up 10 or 20 pound bags with Macoun, McIntosh, Cortland, Empire, and Fuji apples. You can also pick what's left of the summer peaches, or get a jump on Halloween and buy a pumpkin instead.
We admired the farm animals, which included some donkeys and a llama, and then set out into the orchard.
We took a hay ride.
And we *had* to take a break for cider donuts!
Cider donuts rule.
So, what does 20 pounds of apples look like?
Our haul.
I tried to get my niece to do her best "Desperate Merry Wives" pose, but she went running after a dropped apple like Atalanta.
Tomorrow we head out to the Deerfield Fair in New Hampshire!
Did you see the Harvest Moon last night? I forgot all about it until I took the Merry Dog for an evening walk around Horn Pond and glanced up to see its full white face.
Last year, I didn't decorate for Christmas. The Merry Husband and I spent the holidays in Brooklyn, and it seemed silly to put up decorations if we weren't even going to be in town. I, of course, regretted the decision and have been itching for a do-over for eleven months. So yesterday, MH hauled out the tree for me, and I put on the album my parents always played while decking the halls.
It just wouldn't be Christmas without hearing Tammy Wynette's "(If This is What You Call a Merry Christmas) We Must be Having One."
My tree has seen better days, and I think this year may be its last. It's always been a bit of a Charlie Brown tree, skinny and sparse, but yesterday, no amount of floofing its plastic branches seemed to help.
Nevertheless, I was happy to see my favorite ornaments again, like my Radko hula girl and the miniature Belleek plates from my sister.
As I dug through the decorations, I came across a small embroidered tablecloth that I bought in July at the Long Beach flea market. It is just about the right size for my side table.
Diana Vreeland once said that a little bad taste is like a nice splash of paprika. Well, here's our big heapin' spoonful - the jackalope head that MH just *had* to have when we saw it last October at the Indian Trading Post in Calumet, Oklahoma.
I love vintage and retro Christmas decorations, and am currently on the lookout for a candle carousel similar to this one:
I'd be thrilled to find some vintage bubble lights like these too.
Thanksgiving dinner presents a unique challenge for the cooking enthusiast. Egomaniacs Hostesses like myself jump at the opportunity to amaze our friends and family members with our perfect pie crusts and mad turkey-brining skills. But expectations run high. James Beard used to say, "Anyone who doesn't think the best burgers are to be found in his own hometown is a ninny." So it is with Thanksgiving. Every guest knows in his heart-of-hearts that his beloved Meemaw made the best Jell-O salad ever.
Knowing that we cannot compete with remembrances of meemaws past, is it any surprise that some years we are tempted to ignore tradition and forge our own way forward? Bitter experience has taught me to avoid that landmine-fraught path. In the wake of a family member's health scare in 2001, I insisted on cooking all sides and desserts from my depressingly large collection of heart-friendly cookbooks. I was especially excited about creamed chard with a twist - soy milk and (because my grocery store didn't stock the usual green) red chard. It had not occurred to me that the beet color would leach from the stalks, turning the dish a shade of puce that my sister compared unfavorably to McDonaldland's Grimace.
Then there was 2007, the Year of the Tofurkey. The less said about that year the better.
This year, it's back to the basics. The Merry Husband and I have been invited to join the celebration at my sister's in-laws' home in Incline Village, Nevada. These tried-and-true recipes will make an appearance.
Thanksgiving is *gasp* less than two weeks away, and for many of us the next six weeks will be a blur of potlucks. Casseroles, pies, cookies...we'll make them all, arrange them on pretty platters, and tote them off to our offices, churches, and friends' houses.
On the surface, potlucks seem especially suited to the holiday spirit of sharing and cooperation, like that Stone Soup story come to life. But let's face the ugly truth. These things are a viper's nest of culinary competition. God forbid two ladies somehow sign up to bring the same dish - oh the horror! You'd better avoid them both for the rest of the night, lest one of them discovers you didn't find her chicken salad superior in every way.
With the stakes so high, it's worth considering first impressions. Planning just to walk into the party with tin foil slapped on top of your casserole dish? Well, Vonny has got you covered. Based in Southern California but run by Southerners, this little company makes the cutest casserole, pie, and market totes you've ever seen.
Exhibit A:
Exhibit B:
And if everything you own must be monogrammed, In This Very Room can help (or enable, as the case may be).