Seriously LOVING these needlepoints from Maricor/Maricar.
What could be better than double-knotting and stem stitching The Rolling Stones, The Magnetic Fields, and The Pixies together with old fashioned needlepoint skills? Supreme thanks to Njoki, for all.
Saw these amazing succulents growing wild on the sheer walls over the jagged caves of the Oregon coast. They’re like: See? You can make beauty in a hard place, but you’ve just got to go easy on it. Why, thank you, little cactustrees, how did you know I was feeling so introspective? See Also: Dolly Parton.
Coco Chanel tells us that we must remove one bauble before leaving the house in danger of perhaps becoming tacky, or worse, vulgar. Mlle. Coco, we beseech: what if we aren’t leaving the house, per se, but rather have left home for adventure and are now streaming up from the hot spring, leaving the safety of the outcrop for the plunge of the cliff, emerging from the tent, slouching towards sunset, or craning up towards the heavens? On the road, I think, you’re free to bedeck yourself in old Moroccan corals, jet black beads of lost traders, turquoises from Santa Fe, feathers of all shapes and sizes, gilded ropes, chains, abalone strands, and shining winking bangles that ring like bells when you walk into your destiny. I think Coco would be down.
Next on our travels we were blown by a gilded wind into St. Helena at the gracious invitation of the divine Miss Julia Esser. Julia is a kindred spirit with a love for party games, leisure sports, floaty dresses, and making things be as lovely as they possibly can be. Please refer to her utterly stellar blog How To Hostess . We were put into teams. Us, the Road (s)Trippers (image above courtesy of the marvelous Mia Baxter, co-captain and choreographer), the Movie Stars- a group of LA beauties streaming Rickie Lee Jones and smelling of orange blossoms, and the Skidmore Skiddies- a hirsute crew of farmers and bon vivants. We made team dinners, foisted fierce competitions, and generally lolled about amidst grace and beauty. There was lavender and raw sugar to rim our drinks, there was a box full of straw hats, there were homemade elixirs of peach and berries and thyme, there were games and music playing all day and night, and there was the supreme loveliness of the place and its doyenne.
Thank you Miss Esser.
And we bought a delicious case of wine for the road. Perfect!
Every day in the Mission has started out with turkish coffee and gone on to include beautiful things like this typewriter from The Apartment, Noodles to rival Rai Rai Ken at Yamo, and eggs from the chickens from the farm in Ann Marie’s backyard.
So, I have some travels coming up and, of course, instead of thinking of the actual practicalities (why don’t I own a sleeping bag?? two pairs of boots: too many? too few? I don’t have any black tie events on the books… but you never know?) I’m spending my prep time envisioning myself in (and searching for new) large coral necklaces, perfect shorts, striped scarves, and french sunglasses made of real glass. Constructive.
But seriously, folks, the necklace is a pretty good price! And it would be so perfect with my heretofore nonexistant dream outfit! Should I buy it and have it express shipped where I’m going to meet me there? I think probably.
necklace: Melodies Memories.
A few months ago I stood at an important crossroads. I was experiencing a fun new grown-up joy of my skin being both broken out (still?) and incredibly dry (really??). I looked like something out of Mad Magazine. (Sidenote: This underlies the import of the book Ann Marie’s been talking about writing for many years: “What’s Happening to My Body NOW!?: A guide for twenty-somethings who are freaking out”, but I digress). This capitol fugliness also happened to coincide with some life events making a re-up on the Laura Mercier face routine nigh on monetarily impossible. Woe! Rending of clothing! Epic Bummer! But wait… surely there must be something in the humble drugstore aisle to soothe my broken spirit and comfort my broke face?
Deliverance from Duane Reade: Noxzema. $5 (in New York, $3 in VA!) for a gargantuan tub of the miracle cream, and I am fresh and clean as a whistle, smooth as a baby’s little forearm, and I smell delectably old fashioned, like seaside resorts from the 30’s and dressing rooms with beveled mirrors and your grandmother’s jewelry to play with. Perfection!
Now: one thing I did not know. Noxzema was originally conceived in Maryland as a salve for sunburn. Why hadn’t I seen this olde ad or done my research on the possibilities when I was on the business end of this sunburn in June? Man, oh, Man I am their target demographic or what?!
Feather By Feather 
