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This morning, I did a little Christmas shopping for myself and picked up this Sea Island cotton twinset.

A Sweater Only a Mom Could Love



Oh, the humiliation.

I have a confession to make: I am a huge QVC fan.  At the end of excruciatingly bad weekdays, I flop onto the bed with the Merry Dog, down a dry martini, and watch the overly-animated QVC hosts talk up the pros of heat-treated topaz rings, 15" Dell laptop computers, and patent-pending cellulite creams.

It's all television gold, but my favorite segments are devoted to the Christmas sweaters created by the evil geniuses at Quacker Factory.  By any sartorial standard, these sweaters are just...awful.  In fact, they are so awful that, out of concern for your precious eyeballs, I'm not even going to provide a link to them, lest you be tempted to gaze upon their blinding glory.  Google at your own risk.   

But my reptile brain is entranced by these horrid little sweaters. Is it the gaudy flash of red and green rhinestones? (Sequined evergreen trees! Bedazzled candy canes! LED reindeer noses!) Or maybe the earnest testimonials of call-in guests who gush about their Quaker Factory sweaters of Christmases past and present? ("You won't see yourself coming and going in one of these sweaters!")

I don't know.  I do know, however, that I am not alone in this sick obsession with the Ugly Christmas Sweater.

Over the past several years, the U.C.S. competition has become a popular Yuletide event. In the beginning, it was easy fun.  Raid your mom's closet, grab at random one of the many, many (why, Lord, so many?) red scratchy cotton-acrylic blend crewnecks with seasonally-appropriate 3D appliques, and you were good for at least third place. 

But the competition this year is fierce. Several of my friends have remarked upon the difficulty of obtaining a truly ugly U.C.S.  Previously reliable sources (e.g. Aaardvark's in Redondo Beach) sold all the "good" ones weeks ago to hyper-prepared hipsters. Many a party-goer is resorting to embellishing a not-ugly-enough U.C.S with holiday pins or puffy-paint pens. Is this cheating, or at the very least, not in keeping with the found object spirit of the competition?  Purists say yes.   But you'd be surprised how low people will stoop when a bottle of Bailey's is on the line.    

The Five O'Clock Teaspoon

In 2009, Tiffany & Co. broke the hearts of many a blue box loyalist when it discontinued, seemingly overnight, much of its china and flatware.  Gone were the Audubon china pattern and the best dessert plate ever.

Gone, too, were Tiffany's 1960s-chic Bamboo flatware, its scalloped Wave Edge pattern designed in 1884, and its elaborate Olympian, whose every piece depicted a different scene from Greek mythology.  And with them vanished many of the more obscure pieces, like the five o'clock teaspoon.

So, I was surprised and thrilled (thrilled!) this weekend to see that Tiffany is again offering an "afternoon teaspoon" in several of its remaining silver patterns.  We Americans now get our caffeine fixes in 16, 20, and (shudder) 30-ounce paper buckets cups, but there was a time when we drank from delicate porcelain cups so thin that they were almost translucent.   A regular teaspoon would overpower such a cup, so a slightly smaller spoon was needed.

Generally speaking, a teaspoon is 6 inches long, give or take a quarter of an inch.  A five o'clock teaspoon is typically between 5 1/4 and 5 1/2 inches.  This may not seem like much of a difference until you see the two together.  For illustration, below are three Tiffany spoons: an 6 1/8-inch Olympian teaspoon, a 5 3/8-inch Faneuil five o'clock teaspoon, and a 4-inch Chrysanthemum demitasse spoon.

Here, the Olympian and Faneuil spoons are shown with a Belleek teacup produced between 1891 and 1926.  You can see that the Olympian looks much too big.

Now, if only Tiffany would bring back the berry spoon...

EDITED ON MONDAY, DEC. 12, 2012:

It seems I spoke too soon.  Tiffany has broken my heart once again.  Yesterday, I emailed the good people at the customer service department to find out the exact sizes of the Faneuil spoons listed as "afternoon teaspoon" and "coffee spoon" on their website.  The response was prompt, but disappointing.  Sadly, the afternoon teaspoon is a mere 4 1/2 inches long.  The coffee spoon is a teensy 4 inches.

What this tells me is that Tiffany is passing off an after-dinner coffee spoon as five o'clock teaspoon, and a demitasse spoon as a coffee spoon.  So much for buying shiny new five o'clock teaspoons in happy blue boxes!  Looks like I'll still be trawling eBay.  \sigh

Speaking of Brits...

I finally got around to seeing the latest installment of the James Bond franchise, Skyfall.  It would have been completely unremarkable except for these two scene-stealers: the insanely gorgeous French-Cambodian-Chinese actress, Bérénice Lim Marlohe

and this little guy by Royal Doulton, tragically sold out everywhere.

Jack, as he's known, sat on M's desk throughout much of the movie.  Turns out, he has a refined pedigree - in the 1940s, Royal Doulton made "Churchill" bulldogs as patriotic symbols.

Perhaps the original was a bit more charming, but this time around Jack has his own James Bond intro.

If you are in love, fear not.  Like James Bond, Jack will be back - in February 2013.

Royal Babies and Electro Birthdays

I heard the wonderful news this morning that Will & Kate are expecting a baby.  I am beyond excited.  Yes, yes, it's wonderful news for the happy and beautiful couple.  But more importantly, this means...new commemorative china!

Now don't get me wrong, I adore Kate, but I spend more time thinking about the House of Pies than about the House of Windsor.  I do, however, appreciate a family that documents all its major milestones in porcelain.  My favorite source for these fancy yet tacky souvenirs is the Royal Collection Shop.  Over the years, I've bought more plates, tankards, and bric-a-brac emblazoned with shiny crowns and shiny faces than I care to admit.  In the mornings, I often get a caffeine-fueled ego boost from this cup. 

Long may I reign.

I never got around to buying a Royal Wedding plate because I was too busy blowing the budget on getting ready for our own distinctly non-U wedding in June.  I do wish, though, that I had snagged this one.


Plate by KK Outlet

In other news, today is the 20th birthday of the text message.  In case you were wondering, the very first text read simply, "Merry Christmas."  I am tempted to wax poetic on the decline of good manners, fountain pens, and carrier pigeons, but I'll spare you.  Instead, I will leave you with this text message from a gentler time.

A Rainy Morning in Windemere

Wishing for a vacation day, a good book, and hot cup of cocoa...

Mario Batali Bistro Clogs

My dad was half-Japanese, and growing up, my sister and I always removed our shoes before walking into the house.  Now I'm married to a Chinese guy, so the tradition continues.  It never occurred to me that walking around barefoot in the kitchen might pose any problems.  Then two weeks ago, I dropped my box of food processor blades and spent the next 4 hours in the ER waiting for someone to stitch up my right toe.

Suddenly, kitchen clogs sounded like a really good idea.

After reading way too many message board discussions about the pros and cons of Dansko and Sanitas clogs, I decided to go with the much, much cheaper Crocs favored by the chef Mario Batali, seen here in all his fashionable glory:

Yes, I am now the proud owner of obnoxious orange kitchen clogs.

They are hideous, but I love them!  It's impossible for me not to feel cheerful and energetic when I look down at them, which is exactly what I need first thing in the morning.