Sweet battles savory. Dark and gamey, nutty and bitter. It chips like slate and lets off the most satisfying crack between your teeth—think the exact opposite of a Hersey’s bar. I hate Halloween, and I hate Halloween candy, but, if this was handed out, I would gladly wear a costume and work the neighborhood. This includes the hand-made dirty tampon costume that a girl wore to my high school, resulting in her suspension. Continue Reading »
[H&M lace vest + squash blossom necklace + Made with Love bracelets + A Wang tee + J.Crew cords + Joie lace up boots + Gorjana bracelet and pendant.] Continue Reading »
The 2008 vintage at Vista Hills has scored beautifully in the wine press. Jay Miller of the Wine Advocate scored the entire Pinot Noir lineup—7 wines ranging from 88 to 92 points, a stunning accomplishment. The Piedmont Pinot Noir, made from estate fruit under the supervision of winemaker Jim Sanders of La Cadeau, was the 88-point wine, and yes, the lowest scored wine of the lot. My first impulse was to head straight to it. Here is what I thought.
Beer and bluegrass on Friday; wine and turntables on Saturday. I brought a couple of bottles for our host—a gift that paled in comparison to a pile of vintage records, one of which was a commemorative recording of Charles and Diana’s royal wedding. Top that. When mixed with the right beats, the stuffy drone of Archbishop Robert Runcie can infuse energy into any evening.
This morning I was discussing with Carey whether the video I made could be perceived as offensive, but I decided it was too funny to care:
[Mara Hoffman hooded caftan top + Alice & Olivia leather leggings + Dannijo bag + Sam Edelman booties + Banana jacket + Shopbop hat + YSL ring]
If my potential hoarding tendencies had to manifest themselves in any way, I’d prefer it be the hoarding of Mara Hoffman pieces. This short caftan is so brilliant—the hood is genius, and her prints are always fantastic. I remarked that her past season looked sort of space/tribal influenced; whatever season this baby hailed from was definitely Aztec/Candy Express. I love it.
Did you ever see that documentary where the woman fell in love with bridges, and married one? And waited until the cloak of night to fornicate with it? I don’t love it quite that much.
[Mara Hoffman silk pants + Sam Edelman boots + ASOS jacket + J.Crew scarf and hat + Motif 56 cuff, Low Luv cuff, Made with Love bracelets + Gorjana pendant.]
Happy St Patrick’s Day! I know it’s Irish, but it makes me think of Scottish. Which makes me think of that road near Saratoga called Scotch Bush road. Which I immediately remarked upon seeing: “That’s what Scottish women have.”
I hope you don’t think I’m some sort of degenerate after my last post, dudes… I was really just always in the wrong place at the wrong time. And when you’re 20, you don’t think about things like walking out the front door of a bar with a beer in your hand. Let that be a lesson to you St. Patty’s Day revelers tonight!
This is how I’m celebrating: green tight pants and a beer. We’re really blowing it out. Continue Reading »
Saturday was a good day. It was a sunny spring-like winter day in Brooklyn, and I just walked. My buddy Matt took me on a 4 mile wine store trek that swung us through Green Point at the midpoint, which is where his favorite wine store, Dandelion Wine, is located. Wine shops in BK aren’t big, but boutique by default, and shelf space is at a premium. It’s interesting to see the styles of wine they choose to stock. One thing is certain: France is big, and Burgundy is the star. Old world reigns supreme, California cult cabs hold little appeal, and Australia is relegated to the suburbs. It was fun to see and I was ready to participate.
I picked up 2 half bottles at Dandelion Wine. A Sancerre Pinot Noir and a Domaine Rollin red Burgundy. Continue Reading »
I called my parents at 8:45 am from D.C. this past Saturday to check in. This is what good daughters do; they place regular phone calls home to verify safety and well-being. I was standing on a low brick wall across from an Irish pub in Arlington, VA, hundreds of runners in various shades of green milling around below me as I stuck a finger in one ear and pressed my phone up to the other.
“I’m at a race,” I shouted, “there’s a leprechaun on a scooter bike, I’m having a Guinness for breakfast. How are you guys?”
In the background, I heard my mom: “Washington? She’s not calling from jail again, is she?” Continue Reading »
I just returned from a whirlwind trip to Brooklyn for the weekend. I wore headphones on the car ride down because the salty Vermont roads created a piercingly squeaky wheel that was head-splittingly annoying at all speeds with the exception of less than 3 mph and a slight lull at about 27. This didn’t leave me with much to work with. I managed to turn a lot of heads as I buzzed through the rest areas. I brought the old girl through a carwash in NJ on the way home—peace was reinstated for the trek home.
In a manner consistant with all good visits to BK, I ate great food in excessive quantities, shared in fine spirits with friends, and toured the town by foot. I even bought a vinyl record for Carey, and let my hair look a bit tussled (but not dirty) like a good hipster.
[Dinner at Dressler. Lamb shanks and pork bellies. Pinot Noir, old world and new. We took advantage of the corkage fee and brought our own.]
[ASOS maxi skirt + Torn by Ronny Kobo vest + Shopbop hat + JCrew belt + Pati de St Barth t-shirt + Motif cuff + vintage squash blossom necklace + Dannijo messenger bag + Ugg Adirondack boots.]
[Zara kimono jacket + Alice and Olivia leather leggings + Sam Edelman boots + Kain t-shirt + vintage squash blossom necklace]
We pass a big farm. Its outbuildings are anchored on a sea of swaying wheat, its white clapboard is molten in the late, hazy light. All three of us, even Carlton, keep quite as we pass. There is something familiar about this place… Continue Reading »
The power flickered, but held. The birches bent—like some stupid poem—and the windows glazed. The morning was beautiful and with a blue sky and a little salt on the roads, the storm was over. All was well, and lovely. But all was not well, and had I known that the same storm had killed my cousin’s best friend, I wouldn’t have taken a single picture.
I only met George once and briefly, so I can’t speak of him personally, but 19 is far too young, and he was loved very much by his friends and family.
Been toting this little beauty all over the place, into coffee shops and tiny post offices and across state lines. Ever since I saw m’love Carrie from This Free Bird with one in this post. I mean… tassels. Tassels, hombres.
Get one, or four, before they’re all gone.
-Carey
p.s. I swoon over this image from the March catalog.
Let me just cut right to the chase: we were accosted by a lunatic. In the underwear section. Of Saks Fifth Avenue.
I was aware of what appeared to be some manageable absurdity while I was being rung up for a new bra. (“I don’t know, the underwire seems to have… evaporated,” “Mmhmm, yes, Miss Carey, I sure have had this happen to me before. Now take that old thing off; and don’t worry, I’m a fitter, not a looker.”) I could hear bits and pieces—“I just, I can’t seem to keep my emotions in check, but you are just such a dear, dear girl… someone sent you here to me. A higher power.” Continue Reading »
If you’re someone with a bucket list, put this on it.
Publican
837 W. Fulton Market
Chicago, IL 60607
312-733-9555
[Publican’s dining area, with bar seating. You can sit at one of the gorgeous, communal farm tables, or in booths that line the perimeter of the restaurant, complete with shutter doors. Your very own hog stall.] Continue Reading »
This April, Mumford & Sons, Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, and Old Crow Medicine Show will embark on a tour unlike any in recent memory. Traveling exclusively in vintage rail cars, the three bands will journey across the American Southwest over the course of a week. The aptly titled Railroad Revival Tour will feature the three bands playing concerts at six unique outdoor locations along the route, beginning April 21st in Oakland, California.
Two other minor points of nerdery: as the daughter of a railroad guy, anything train-related has my attention. As the writer of a web company, I am totally digging this little site.
If you’re not familiar with the story behind these little frames, it all started with a cartoon from Paul Noth that my Aunt cut out of The New Yorker, stuck in a little antique frame to give to me as a gift. It went over quite well, with me of course, and to my surprise, 3 more wine-related cartoons have surfaced since. My collection is growing. I realized I forgot to photograph #3, so as soon as it comes out of storage it will be the first thing I do.
I dare you to come up with an argument.
[“When a wine rates over ninety, this is not alcoholism.” by William Hamilton, Mar. 7, 2011, The New Yorker]
Hello, old friend. So nice to see you again. Dear blue line, I poured my heart out to you so many times. We lurched away from things together. Remember?
And here I am again, a different woman, a CTA rookie again (!), and you’re containing for once a person I can’t wait to see!
Looks like we’ve both done well for ourselves.
Proof that miracles do exist, I’m here to see a friend I met through this very blog. Worth every hit of the past 2 years, and more!
At 2,640 feet, the site is covered with black, glassy obsidian rock — surely Cabernet country. So, we planted 105 acres of Bordeaux clones on a piece of land that was formerly an abandoned walnut orchard. –Tricycle Wine Co. Continue Reading »
This is my most combative piece of jewelry. It makes me want to ride a speckled pony across Wyoming. Actually, I feel like I might have mentioned wanting to do just that here on this blog before, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what my damned fascination with it is.
You know, outside of magical circumstances—like scenes in films such as The Unbearable Lightness of Being and others—it ends up being rare that you come across women, totally alone in their own homes, nevertheless adorned with trinkets and baubles and top hats. Just because they felt like it.
For them to do so, though, to me, is a sign of the endurance of the female enchantment; that there still remains, outside of status updates and bathroom mirror photographs, something about women we will never understand.
The last time I was at Hapgood Pond in Peru, VT I was 13 years old. Highlights of the weekend were the multiple bee stings I incurred after one became trapped in my t-shirt, a run-in with a park ranger for carrying around my pellet gun, and a beaver sighting. It was a damn good time, and my trusty canoe took that pond by storm. It’s amazing how big bodies of water tend to be when they’re sitting in your memory—especially those from childhood. Somehow I actually managed to feel pretty independent motoring from shore to shore, reed bank to reed bank—I spent hours not really getting anywhere, like a mouse on a wheel. I should have at least capitalized on my route and smoked a doobie in the weeds… oh, well. Continue Reading »
I’m about to wrap up my 3rd day of iPhone ownership, and I am only now discovering the possibilities of cellar and tasting-note management. I’ve joined a few online wine websites over the years, but never managed to stick with it. Inventories quickly became inaccurate due to laziness and wine I drank away from home was usually overlooked for entry. A simple notebook and pen was just easier—something I could carry with me.
Cellar iPhone is my new best friend.
Instant label cropping and uploads, customizable bottles shapes and colors, and drop-down information fields for quick data entry makes cataloging a wine very quick. Organize the wine you own, want, and want to avoid with ease. Check it out here.
[My first 3 entries—one of which is currently almost empty]
Corks and Caftans 
