In New York, the literal distance between friends- the few blocks separating a single neighborhood- can be the difference between weekly wine dates and once-a-year-in-review catch ups. You live in Cobble Hill? Are you free next September? You live in Clinton Hill? Come over for cocktails this very minute. Le sigh. It can be daunting. BUT- after much karma, zen real estate, and wise choices in love and loft we find ourselves with four very good households of friends all living within a five minute walk of each other. This seems a New York miracle. Yes, Virginia, Brooklyn sometimes feels like Virginia. Ever since I read this post from Oh Happy Day!- a progressive dinner carousing from arrondissment to arrondissment through the streets of Paris- I’ve been dying to try it. A Progressive Dinner, in short, moves from house to house with each stop serving a different course of a meal. A Moveable Feast of Brooklyn intuition. I’m thinking that the whole shebang will probably look and feel like the above picture from Comet in Moominland- which Eben and I both read as children and made mental notes that we wanted our lives to be like this- as he agrees: so far so good. I’ll let you know how it goes. Cheers to good friends and a lovely weekend to you!
ps. I also made these for tonight. They are so absurd and wonderful!
pps. Love and congratulations to Dear Rav, tying il nodo in Tuscany this very night. My heart is full for you.
Oh, the internet rabbit hole… You know the drill- you start out looking at raw edged wood cutting boards and 38 clicks later you’re inexplicably on a page of Arrested Development gifs feeling hungry or maybe angry. This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful wife, how did I get here? Sometimes, though, all of the clicks seem to lead somewhere, breadcrumbs living up to their name, trailing to a fabulous candy house where the witch plays accordion and doesn’t want to eat you. Such was the case when I stumbled on this awesome image on a life-in-Paris blog that Maman shared with me. As a swarthy accordion player/feather hair-piece wearer myself, I identified with the gentleman in the middle, and, of course, figured Sweetheart for the bearded banjo playing swami on the right. What on earth is this a poster for? When is it from? So… down the rabbit hole (or: dans le trou de lapin) we go. Many clicks later, I discover that “Les Primitifs du Futur” is a sort of gypsy jazz canaille collective featuring various vagabonds on guitar, brass, ukulele, theremin, musical saw, accordion, bandoneon, xylophone, vibraphone, drums… and cult artist (and creator of Mr. Natural) Robert Crumb on banjo. What the wha? Listen here and check out these awesome posters and album art made for the band by R. Crumb hisself.I mean, really? Ce qu’est un voyage dans le trou de lapin, de l’accordéon dans la patte.
How much do you love this Parisian-looking manse on Clinton avenue in Clinton Hill?? I expect a tousle headed woman wearing a silk dressing gown to be leaning out of the window smoking a cigarette every time I pass.
Spring is in the air, New York City!! I feel like the aerie baloons and farie macarons from this divine little short from Sofia Coppola (I don’t care that it’s an ad)… Moi je joue, Moi je joue à joue contre joue!