Aftermath: progress.

Hey! I can snap, type, turn the car key, put my bra on by myself, and open water bottles again!

[We're down to a single band-aid.]

I mean, I never had a problem holding a wine glass. Thanks for the sympathy, though, mes amis.

A Willamette Valley Vineyard Lineup

Thanks to our new friends at WVV, Corks + Caftans has an exciting lineup of wines we are going to be getting into over the next couple of weeks. We will be giving the easily upset-able Pinots at least a week to recover from their long trip across the country before the fun begins.

The newly released Dijon Clone Chardonnay will be the first tasted. The Pinot order will start with the Whole Cluster and end with the Elton Vineyard—positioning the Founders’ Reserve in the middle. I decided to leave the spec sheets in the envelope for now. I haven’t had any of these wines before, so I am enjoying heading into these tastings without so much as shelf talker prep.

With reviews continuing to accumulate, C+C will soon be introducing new, more easily navigable categories with a special focus on families of wines, compiling reviews both vertically and horizontally from my favorite producers. Along with categorizing by varietal, we will sort and track the work of the wineries and winemakers in our own libraries—starting with Willamette Valley Vineyards.

2007 Founders' Reserve Pinot Noir

2008 Whole Cluster Fermented Pinot Noir

2007 Dijon Clone Chardonnay

2007 Elton Vineyard Pinot Noir

-Rob

Shuffle: ON, Day 2.

An old favorite started out my beleaguered morning today:

[Joie Refugee boots + Elizabeth and James blouse + Current/Elliott shorts + Juicy chain and cuff.]

Not to hard to dress yourself around this one, but I will say I was more influenced by the weather report today than Clapton’s eerily beautiful cover of this song. Well, I’ve always considered it eerie if only because the band cut this cover only 8 days prior to Jimi Hendrix’s death. Clapton was devastated by the loss of his dear friend, and they included this song on the album as a tribute.

It’s always been one of my favorites. And if I’m not mistaken, Duane Allman (who recorded with D & the D until his death on the eve before they were to begin their first tour in the US) is playing on this track—and we all know how I feel about him. So this album, and this song, have always marked the end of an era for me. And I dressed today to honor it.

But also, it’s nearly 70 degrees outside. Sunny and mild, kind of like “Little Wing.” A twinge of melancholy, too: like how the daylight starts to dwindle these days before the clock even hits 3PM.

[I tied on this silk J.Crew belt I found... I wish I had the nerve to wear it around my forehead, though.]

-Carey

Best husband ever.

Today I got home for lunch sort of irritated and nauseous from my antibiotics. Rob had some soup already warmed up and let Eli run out into the hallway to greet me at the elevator (even though he is still undergoing his 10-day confinement/observation period ordered by the New York State Dept of Health after Bite Gate 2009). This is always a favorite thing of mine because the size of his rear end actually triples when he’s in the hallway. I can’t explain it; his butt hairs get proud or something.

Inside, the following conversation ensued:

Rob: How are you, sweetie?!

Me: Meh…

Rob: You have to see what I’ve done with the closet! You’re going to be so excited.

Me: Did you reorganize or something?

Rob: No… just go look!

Shrieks as I saw this casually draped over a hook:

[Daughters of the Revolution Rainbow dress, @shopbop.com]

We stood around in the closet for a few minutes laughing hysterically after he offered that I “needed a new dress,” since we both know how preposterous the idea of my needing new clothes is.

Needless to say, I cannot wait to wear this. With boots and a big chunky sweater cardigan. Boo-yah!

-Carey

From the Live Desk at C+C.

A typical weekday night at the C+C East coast office (ignore the silly dishtowel!)—besides the reduced pay (as in none) and increased wine consumption, it’s not all that different from any other job we’ve had in the past. With new designs and web layouts in the works, another multi-part, self-imposed fashion challenge for Carey, and an awesome lineup of new wines for the fall, things are going to get exciting over the next few months at C+C. Stay tuned!

Carey watches "Planet Unicorn" while I apply for an ACORN grant to fund Bordeaux futures.

Carey engaged in the tedious task of taking dictation.

-Rob

Model citizens.

Election time, and this is how you go to vote when you’re from C+C: at the very last minute, dressed to the nines, and with a juice glass of Sangiovese.

["Wine in an elevator..."]

It’s exhausting keeping this country in line.

[Dramatics in the lobby when Rob says I must finish before we get in the new car.]

[Sir Alistair Rai scarf + J.Crew jacket + So Low leggings + Pour La Victoire oxfords.]

-Carey

From the right-click archives.

Reason #3,476 to get Hunter boots.

[Kate Moss at a festival.]

-Carey

Photo love.

Photo via one of my favorite photo blogs of all time, New York Shitty.

Wine Review: 2007 · Crociani · Rosso di Montepulciano

I was introduced to a great wine at Purdy’s Friday evening wine tasting—actually there were a few great wines, all very different. I started with an affordable Washington State chardonnay from Barnard Griffin with great acid, minerals, and a shock of expressive fruit, moved to an apple, honey, and apricot-laden Vidal Ice dessert wine from Standing Stone Vineyards from the Fingerlakes region of New York; had a moderately sweet Riesling somewhere in the middle; and finished with the lone red of the group—the Crociani Rosso di Montepulciano.

Obviously, there is no workable correlation between a great label design and the quality of the wine held within—but I can’t help thinking that a great wine deserves a strong, proud label. I loved photographing these bottles, knowing already what they held inside. Uncluttered and uncomplicated, which may just have been a bit more telling than I realized.

For me, wine tastings are only a partial indicator of what’s really in the bottle; swirling around a finger of wine in a tulip-sized wine glass that you can barely fit your nose in can leave me with more questions than answers. I try not to reach firm conclusions beyond: yes, this bottle is definitely worth getting into; or no, I don’t think there is enough about it I enjoy.

But that, of course, is the point—save some secrets for when you get home. I came away from this particular tasting with two bottles knowing that I had an unbelievable value. I kept thinking about this wine’s amazingly heavy, but unaggressive flesh and long fade-to-black finish without a single harsh note or rogue element.

Back at home with Carey, a real fire flickering between fake logs, and a hefty pour sloshing around in an oversized glass, I was back in my tasting element. Cool and peppery on the nose, this Montepulciano displays wonderful aromas of smoked meat and red berries, packed with sweet dried flowers. The first thing I noticed was how well this Sangiovese worked outside the all-important context of food. Gentle earth, perfect ripe readiness of the fruit quality, and easy acid/tannic structure, this wine could balance on the head of a pin. Starting out with unimposing fruit and an amazing fleshy heft that sits low in the sides of your mouth, I was pleasantly surprised by the brighter, juicy transformation that occurs with food.

For $15, this is an awesome wine—I think I found my Tuscan staple.

-Rob

Inspiration + festival riots.

[All aboard the Festival Exprizzy---bring your smokes, bring your instruments, but leave your egos at the station.]

Last night I watched the most amazing music documentary, Festival Express. It’s the story of a 1970 summer train ride making festival stops across Canada—with Janis Joplin, Delaney & Bonnie & Friends, Buddy Guy, The Band, The Flying Burrito Brothers, and more. Pretty much a culmination of everything I worship and daydream about: suede fringe, skinny dudes with facial hair, illegal behavior, jam sessions, free spirits, groovy clothes, and incredible live music.

[Some festival goers.]

Shocker: the train runs out of booze after an all-nighter. Someone working on the train said to the head promoter, “Hey, man, they drank us dry.” An unscheduled stop at a liquor store, $700 raised in a hat, and they leave with a novelty-sized display bottle of Canadian Club.

A member of the Grateful Dead would later spy some empty gel capsules floating around in the bottom of that bottle as it was passed around the train car. Fun stuff.

“This train was not for sleeping. It was for a lot of other things, but not for sleeping. Very few people slept on this train.”

[Danko and Janis conducting a sing-along with Jerry Garcia (unseen to right).]

While we were watching this Rob asked, “Do you wish you had a time machine so you could go back and be there?” Pretty much. It was as much a treat for the musicians as it was for the concert-goers. They were with their kind—geniuses packed on a train for days, partying, and doing what they love. Oh, to soak some of that up…

If I were on that train, I’d be hacking a lot of ciggie butts and probably taking long pulls from a bottle of wine while singing some harmonies as I wandered from car to car. And, as daydreams go, this one is ripe for a wardrobe pickin’. So here are some select favorites, chosen with a few things in mind: anticipated, imminent jealousy over Janis’ amazing wardrobe, comfort, drama, and zero versatility. Because a furry vest would probably end up being way more necessary than a clean pair of undies.

[YSL Denim Tribute platforms, $895 @ bergdorfgoodman.com]

[Haute Hippie furry vest, $895.]

[Rachel Pally Bo Tie Dye Jumpsuit, $308 @ shopbop.com]

[House of Harlow 5-Strand Headpiece, $100 @ shopbop.com]

[Vintage 1970s ethnic dress, $38 @Vintagetrends.com]

“That train was sort of… buzzing down the rails. We achieved lift-off, for sure.”

What a treasure-trove if incredible glimpses, “crystallized moments,” and kick-ass tunes.

Toward the end, up on stage, Janis—with her feather boa headdress and gold crocheted vest—presents the festival organizers with some gifts as a thank-you from the performers. “A genuine train”—model-sized, of course—and a case of tequila.

The train—the train is for rememberin’, man. The tequila—it’s for continuin’, man.

Here’s to continuing.

-Carey

p.s. Janis died just a mere few months after this was filmed. Crazy.

Aruban nights.

Carey: Where are you going?

Rob: Bathroom.

Carey: Oh. To make urine…????!?!?!

Rob: ………. ?

Carey: Urine VAN DER SLOOT?!?!????!?

Never a dull moment.

From the right-click archives.

Via ELLE’s Street Chic blog:

Sigh. This gets filed in the “Recreate This Look” folder. That right there, folks, is my dream ‘fit.

-Carey

Aftermath.

I was the most positive gym-goer today! I was just giving everyone the thumb’s up, the whole time! The enthusiasm! “Hey, you, on the bench press—nice work!” “Lady, your sweat stain…I give it one big thumb up!”

Yeah!

Actually.

I will stop being bitter about this once I can type again. Which may be next month.

Refugee: fleeing from the guilt.

You know that one drinking buddy who was so insanely fun, always ready for a good time, very persuasive, but often left you huddled on the bathroom floor at home wondering if Episcopalians could be allowed into confessional? ”Must… repent…“

That’s sort of how my relationship worked with Saks, back when we were still together. “Oh, hey baby girl! You lookin’ good! You’ve got no work to do today at this hellhole; why don’t you just pull out that sliver of plastico and send yourself a little gift! Girl, you deserve it. Mmm.”

So boxes showed up weekly. The amazing receptionist there used to call me “Label Ho” and would call me up at my desk. “Label ho. You got another package. FROM SAKS. Want me to open it?”

I remember once when I got my SaksFIRST reward points gift card, which, if my math was correct, would indicate I’d spent an entire year’s salary at the Michigan Avenue location.

Well last night, I relapsed. It was a sale. Sue me.

[Joie refugee boots. CANNOT WAIT.]

I wonder if Rob is reading this right now. Maybe the giant bandage on my thumb and the tetanus shot I just got will render him more sympathetic?

-Carey

The price we pay for bad taste.

So, a mere few hours ago, these pictures would have been hilarious, in our opinion:

[Getting some horrible, slutty Christian Dior mules out to sell on eBay. Eli took great interest in my post-it label.]

That is, until later when I thought it’d be a good idea to stick the post-it inside his mouth, via my thumb, which he promptly nommed in half like a wet Slim Jim. That cat has serious jaw power. I bellowed in pain, looked at Rob, then looked back down as blood started splattering on the kitchen floor.

Hey: no hard feelings, E. Mommy just bit back vomit on the floor next to the dishwasher for 30 minutes. No big deal.

Off to the emergency care to locate antibiotics and hopefully something to dull the heartbeat. The irony of my telling Rob about how cats are “apex predators” the other day is really coming back to bite me right now. (Pun. Intended.)

Oh and this was typed one-handed. Eli: Mommy loves you.

-Ow.

Shuffle: ON.

Day 1

 

Today, this song came on first:

[Nina Simone, "My Man's Gone Now"]

The melancholy; God, woman! Can you imagine what and where from she dug up the emotion to sing this? Intensity reigns with Miz Simone, the High Priestess of Soul, so I pulled things from my wardrobe that reminded me of smoky jazz bar singers (fishnets); were bold, soulful, and sultry (high boots, tiger print, Sheba hoops); and anything that reminded me of that late-60s groove (red velvet, roller-disco short silhouette).

I think the Fug girls would say I looked like a lion tamer. I think I prefer the long sweater wrap I changed into after this. Whatevs.

[Cynthia Steffe velvet jacket + Rebecca Taylor shorts + Juicy fishnets + Prada boots + Citrine by the Stones earrings.]

I’m so pumped for tomorrow. Fingers crossed for some Black Crowes. Chances are good; they make up about 70% of my music library.

-Carey

Jimmy Choo + H&M: so, uh… here it is?

Jimmy Choo for H&M Collab: Preview

You know, this has been on my radar, but I have to be honest: I’m really unimpressed with the collection. I’m not going to be fanning my hands about for shoes that look like Jimmy Choo unless you are looking inside at the label. And the inside of shoes are sacred, no-no territory for prying eyes. Don’t you go peeping at my shoes unless they’re on my feet, thankyouverymuch.

[Image via hm.com.]

[Is it just me or were these shoes super cool like 2 years ago? Thanks to these, we're going to have a sea of prostie-looking teenagers roaming the streets.]

For those who are bum-rushing the 5th Ave store on the big day, though, HM.com has helpfully given you a “How to Shop” guide, which details the handing out of 160 bracelets to allow a select few into certain parts of the store (after you’ve waited in line). Do you also receive a quick inoculation in your leather-legginged arse as you enter, prior to staring at Ned Flanders on a big screen where you are hypnotized into some trance of bad taste? [This started to happen to me from the music alone while I was at the microsite.]

I feel like they’re trying to make me gobble up tired trends based on the brand alone. It’s all so… hookerish. I don’t know, this is coming from someone who bought silver and gold maryjanes off of eBay last night. I could be way off base.

What do you think of the H&M/Choo collab?

-Carey

p.s. I loved some of the comments when this post hit The Cut.

Risk taking.

Let’s talk about taking risks:

1. open containers

2. putting a banana peel in my work trash can on Monday (trash goes out on Friday)

3. asking me to remember what time the flight leaves

4. broccoli the night before I meet with my trainer

5. picking out clothes based on the song that first plays on the ipod shuffle

Seeing as how I’m pretty familiar with 1-4, I figured I’d give 5 a go for the next few days.

Here’s the plan: I’m going to groggily stumble into the bathroom, press play, and whatever comes on, I’m going to let that song inspire my outfit. (But I do get veto power just in case, say, Jay Z’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” comes on.)

[In vino veritas: entertaining Rob by making my own music video at 3 am to K.P. & Envyi's "Shorty Swing My Way". Ha!]

Music is my first love. I adore it more than fashion. More than wine. It may not get center stage here, but without it I would be muy boring. The interpretations I come up with may be literal, or—like today—just hints of a tribute.

Stay tuned—after lunch, it’s the big unveiling of Shuffle: ON, Day 1!

-Carey

Blog: Shrimp sandwich (aka. our best bud).

What did you think you were going to spend your tax refund check on? Maybe… pay off some bills? A pair of shoes? She said, “I think I’ll get a keyboard; learn to play. Or a bike.”

Here’s what it’s like getting to know her: sitting at a wide expanse of mahogany bar sipping wine at noon, spilling your guts—next to a giant block of cheese—making fart jokes. Taking turns letting tears well up as you share everything you haven’t had anyone to share this with for so long. Tearing off a piece of the cheese, quietly listening, looking outside to see—it’s gotten dark.

Here’s what she wears, and every time I see her it’s like opening a fashion magazine that’s been edited just for me: a painfully awesome short-sleeved t-shirt, over a long-sleeved t-shirt, with perfect jeans to hug her perfect fanny, sneakers, a scarf, and sometimes, a fedora. It always, always looks effortless.

Here’s what she listens to: everything you know you’ll love but haven’t discovered yet. And she loves to share it. Upbeat, down-tempo, old, and new. And you know if she’s sharing it with you? It means something to her. Be prepared to feel like you’re being let in on a big secret; because essentially, that’s what it is.

Here’s what she loves: writing, a cold beer, a soft cat with a sweet disposition, Louisiana, Texas, family, laughter, fleeting glances at beautiful strangers, daydreams, keeping secrets, seeing the good in people, serious boots, not-so-serious sneaks, comfort food, football, texting, Dr. Pepper, perfectly aligned carpets, movies, dirrrty hip hop (when applicable), books, long drives to think by herself; beautiful, sensitive, mysterious women; chicken nuggets.

Here’s what she doesn’t love: sushi, onions, tomatoes, capers, leeks, green onions, oh, eff—any obtrusive garnish that doesn’t have a home on baked macaroni—close-minded peeps, getting hurt, watching her loved ones get hurt, PC’s (vs. Macs), a crooked frame on the wall, feeling closed in, feeling closed off…

Here’s what she writes about: things that matter, things that make you smile, things she loves, things that are worth every second it takes you to read them. Mostly, you’ll be really lucky because slowly, but surely, you’re going to get to know hands-down one of the most special people ever.

And, shoot, this is just her blog.

My work here is done. And hers has just begun.

Amanda D. Murphy :: Writer

[Me 'n' Murph.]

All dressed up.

I loathe the idea of a “going out” outfit. It’s such a cop-out. And it reminds me of 7 college girls posing in a photo, all with shiny shirts on, cleavage, and jeans. L-a-m-e.

If I’m “hittin’ the streets” I usually don’t do anything different than earlier that day, with the exception of added elements of fringe. I prefer my fringed vest, because it made such an impression last time I wore it “on the town”:

Dude at bar to Murph: So, what’s with your friend in that vest, is she a fortune teller or something?

Murph: Why, yes, she is. Hizzle, come tell this guy his fortune.

Me: Of course! Sir, I’m going to need you to concentrate. No, concentrate harder. Look into my eyes. Are you concentrating?

Dude: Yes…

Me: I see it!

Dude: See what?

Me: You are going to have diarrhea tonight. In your drawers.

Dude: That’s not very funny at all.

Me: I never said that it would be! [dramatic waving of arms] Your fortune has been told!

[Gearing up to see the future with some cranberry and vodkas.]

[Murph actually captured my clairvoyance on film. Here I am telling him to focus his mind's eye.]

[Celebrating a job well done!]

HOWEVER. I’m willing to completely reconsider my somewhat sour take on “night out” get-ups after seeing this photo in an email from ShopBop:

Holy guacamole! I even like her shiny shirt. [To buy all the parts of this whole, go here.]

This is bar none the coolest “in da club” outfit ever, and honestly I don’t think you could get away with wearing it any other time than out at a bar. So I guess I should say, “no pun intended.” [Who am I kidding. I'd wear this to work.] So there: my new “night out,” and whenever else, look.

-Carey

p.s. $7.31 goes to whomever realized I was joking with all the quotation marks. Since that’s all I’ve got in my wallet right now.

Current Vintage: wine and clothes in one store? Yes, please.

File this under the strange and coincidental and awesome…

[Current Vintage on Nantucket.]

If Corks + Caftans were an actual store, I think it’d be reminiscent of this lovely shop tucked away on a cobblestone street near the harbor at 4 Easy Street. The vintage selection is so insane… I almost bought a baby blue sequined tunic with a scalloped hem and am still kicking myself for this lapse in judgment. Walk among carefully selected accessories, dresses, racks of wine, fur-collared coats… it’s like being at Willy frackin’ Wonka’s.

[Apologies for the blur; I was quivering with excitement.]

Plus, to add to the list of reasons I wish I lived on Nantucket: they’re always hosting fun events and wine tastings. I could go fondle garments and sip wine, and Rob could carefully monitor my purchases while also sipping wine. Dudes: Wonka’s.

Follow Current Vintage on Twitter & be a fan on Facebook.

-Carey

Wine Review: 2005 · Seghesio · Sangiovese · Alexander Valley, CA

The 2005 Seghesio Sangiovese begins and ends in two totally different places, and the destination is good. I have been eyeballing a cluster of these particular bottles at a musty little wine shop that smells like wet carpet. Last week, I noted that the stock this Sangio was down to two bottles, so I made my move—with Carey in mind.

She loves Tuscan wines and Italian varietals, so what better a way than to justify the purchase of a wine that is a bit more than I usually like to spend on a whim than to know how happy it will make her—and so far it is working just fine. Gym… what gym?

This wine opens up hot. Big alcohol with fruit that does not have the grip to roll over the top of it like a Zinfandel. But the burn is only temporary, and even so, Carey was sold from sip one:

This isn’t a wine that asks you to dissect it for flavors; it commands your attention on a different level that is not hidden or cerebral—it’s all charisma.

Pretty intuitive, especially now that I’ve had two hours to see how this wine has opened up.

This Sangiovese has a lot of alcohol, acidity, a bit of bite, and strong, ripe fruit expressing its rugged soul. This is a terrain wine, not a terroir wine—that sounds far too weak for an American Badlands version of sun-scorched Tuscan hillsides. That’s what I picture when I close my eyes, sip, and process the dusty flavors. Plum and cherry, cracked pepper and tar, tanned leather and dusty rose, an amazingly fatty flesh that lingers on the finish and a tight heat that settles in the chest.

This is the bottle I would carry in my saddle bag.

Enjoy.

-Rob

Glowing thanks.

… goes out to ShopBop.com’s Shoptalk blog for featuring this blogger Q&A on Corks + Caftans today! I had so much fun answering those questions (namely, the wheel comment) and I am beyond honored: like if Robert Parker conducted a Q&A on Rob, or if Old Deuteronomy asked Eli for an exclusive interview. Seriously; I’m floored.

[I even look happy to be featured. Haha.]

ShopBop is the greatest. Here’s a flashback post on the Most Fashionable Fan contest I won runner-up in that they mentioned.

Oh, and they’re having a monster sale right now… I even managed to snag two T by Alexander Wang pieces, increds.

-Carey

The lost wedding registry item.

Carey and I were married just over one year ago, so we went through the whole gift registry process—monogramed spatulas? Yes. 600 thread count sheets? Of course. Cappuccino maker? Absolutely. 19th century hooked meat scale from the Loire Valley, France? Unfortunately, no. So you can imagine my excitement when I came across that exact item on Nantucket almost one year to the day of our wedding on Nantucket. Now it’s hanging on my wall with 75-lb. drywall anchors.

Bring your beef, bring your pork, bring your horse flesh! We will weigh meat (in kilos).

No small game birds allowed on this heavy hauler.

Balance that ball!

Personally, I think our society relies too heavily on modern technology—there are just too many moving parts, and too much room for error. But this scale doesn’t lie; it can’t! That’s why I love it so much, and also why Carey is going to start bringing it to the meat counter at the grocery store—I have never trusted those digital jobs. Tare? Who needs tare! It’s time to weigh old school.

-Rob

Daylight musings. [Follow-up to Daylight lazings.]

Texting with Rob at work:

R: I can’t wait for you to come home. It feels weird being this dark out already.

C: Yeah. Sucks. Feels like cocktail hour is here and I’m still at work. I need to keep wine at my desk from here on out.

R: Haha. A little Pinot Nushoir!

C: Word. Come get me?