Evergreens & Feathers

    Of the myriad of reasons to be giddy at Christmas time, the prospect of giving gifts is the singular activity of the season that gets me the most excited and impatient.  I spend a great deal of time contemplating what to get each family member and friend, making sure to get them something they will love, cherish and get some use out of.  It is my most welcomed challenge of the year, though this year added an obvious, though previously overlooked element to that excitement. 
    This holiday season it occurred to me, due to my dearest friends who are unfailingly creative every moment of their lives that if I’m this excited about giving gifts, I should put the effort in making the wrapping just as enticing as what is inside of it!  My idea formed very organically, mum had picked up a few swags to hang on our doors – I love a good swag – and a vision flashed in my head to shrink them down and make a bespoke bow out of the seasons greens and added feathers to mix the media.  Hoping to have these stand out, the usual patterned gift wrap and ribbon was swapped out for simple craft paper and twine.  I love the rustic, Adirondack-y way that they turned out, especially next to the aeriums filled with mosses and succulents and the glass encased feather ornaments.  Incidentally, the bows and string were quickly recycled as stylish necklaces and boutonnières upon being received. Now I have two welcomed challenges of the season, though I cannot guarantee that they will double as accessories each time!

Hue for the Loo

Being someone so vehemently against un-adorned walls (color or frame-age), it’s really a wonder that my bathroom walls stayed white for as long as they did. I suppose I was too busy refreshing and adorning myself to give the space the same attention.  But, eventually the little spots of pepto-pink that the former tenant (a Lilly Pulitzer type, one can only assume) neglected to paint over upon vacation were too much to not wage a war against.  Seeing as my apartment has inadvertently adopted a nautical safari theme, I opted to maintain continuity and go blue, a vibrant contrast to the red coral shower curtain.  Now, I doubt anyone who knows me would do anything but burst into laughter if asked whether I was afraid of color, and seeing as so little time is spent in the bathroom, I don’t see any reason not to go as bold as possible.  Thus, “Nautical Navy” it was, however embarrassingly apropos.  Now that all is said and done -- including but not limited to spilling an entire quart of paint on the floor (I suppose the universe preferred that I have matching grout) -- I must say that I truly love it.  The contrasting white, lime and red against the rich saturation of navy is delightful, and I can’t imagine getting tired of such an amicable color.

In Vino Veritas

A friend recently organized a wine tasting trip along Long Islands North Fork, so, early one saturday morning, we went on a jaunt (I use the term loosely as we dubbed our driver Tommy-tailgate) out along the rich-soiled feilds where the island parts ways with itself. I came away with two bottles of white to thank Mum for watching Toby for the weekend, and a few pictures of the seasons last moments of rich greens before the stark and friendly contrast with the sky turns to a battle of fiery reds.

I stand firm that Chris channeled Tom Ripley today.

Gardener Gone Glam

I have always found such a lovely, quiet playfulness in literal translations.  I believe it stems from my Kindergarten summer reading books of Amelia Bedelia.  I just seem to adore things that have an inherent sense of humor, which is probably why I am entirely smitten with Carolina Hererra’s take on a garden dress, from her Spring 2011 collection, inspired by botanical drawings collected in the eighteenth century. The front panels reminiscence of an old French flower seed packet is such a fantastic way to bring to attention how lovely these packets can often be, and makes me wonder if my grandmother might have any she may have forgotten about.  The taupe skirt offers a lovely ruffled compliment to both the colors of the front panels art and the flatness of the panel, while the cranberry bodice adds the perfect amount of color to remind you that this is a gown, not just a reference to spring activities, while the bow adds a femininity and whimsy that entirely completes the look. The only negative to this dress is that it’s a very specific occasion that you can wear a day-gown with a whimsical nod to gardening, as it’s too formal for a garden party, and too referential to gardening to wear to anything else.  Nonetheless, it is -- contrary to Style.com’s reviews -- my very favorite Spring 2011 piece.

Hiking (Up Lex) Boots

No matter how I may try to assimilate completely as a chic New Yorker, I always find myself arriving back upon the fact that a full transformation is impossible, and I would probably be shortchanging myself if I fully crossed over.  From an upbringing in the country where I often looked upon deer in the field, had to slow down to let turkeys cross the road and would sometimes catch a glimpse of the fox, a country style was inevitable.  Barbour coats and hunter boots ran rampant, and I’m sure visitors may have wondered if they were part of the uniform.  I love this casual, rugged part of my town, which is likely why I was so smitten with Tommy Hilfigers Fall 2010 take on the Bean Boot. 

These sassy-chic boots are the perfect marriage of fashion and a rugged country essence.  The booties are perfect for day to day when the weather might be a bit dodgy, and the red oh-so perfectly contrasts with all of the army green we’re seeing this season.  The knee-highs simply shut it down, expedition style.  They entirely blew me away, and are the reason I was on the wait list since July.  I’ll have no trouble styling these with any piece of mine that’s a bit on the country prep side, and love that they are 5th ave worthy as well.  It looks as if my Hunters will be taking a back seat this upcoming fall season.  

The Farm

Sprawling across 32 acres in Green Village, The Farm is the largest garden center in the Metropolitain area and ultimate experience for those with a green thumb. They sell thousands of different flowers, shrubs, herbs, trees and vines, as well as sculptures, pots, fences, fountains and truly anything anyone might want to accompany nature.  Luckily, they are also only about a 5 minute drive from my house. Mum and I stopped by today to peruse bird baths and pots and I, naturally, got distracted. I'm counting on a visit back tomorrow to snap shots of the swans, ducks and albino peacocks.

Union Square Market

I'm not sure why I didn't conjure this idea earlier. Union square market in the morning is a literal and veritable cornucopia of vibrance in color, flavor and variety. Here are a few shots from this mornings vendors. I'll try to keep updating this as we head into fall and throughout the year.

August 18th

August 18th

August 18th

August 18th

August 18th

August 18th

Weekend Upstate: a photo journal.

Welcome.

Ride.

1 threw his back out on the trail, the other is sympathetic.

Pond Inhabitant No. 1

Pond Inhabitant No. 2

Pond Inhabitant No. 3

Typical trap shooting shell count.

Cacao sacks.

And exactly what were you expecting to happen whilst doing doughnuts in the field?

Bonfire.

 

Trounce Bounce

As mellow as he looks here, he altogether betrays this demeanor the moment he gets outside. trouncing down York Avenue with no intent on forward movement, it is safe to assume that to Toby, the world is his Bouncey Castle.  I think I could learn a lot from him.

The Smith: Undeniable Proof that Fancy is Overrated

My dear friend was up from North Carolina this weekend before heading to Southern Spain for 6 months, and second to seeing all of us, she was more than jazzed about having dinner at The Smith. She spoke nearly ad nauseum about it, raving about the gnocchi (“no-key”, in her unflappable southern accent). When we arrived at the cozy east village eatery, they had just opened all of their doors to allow the freshly-cooled-by-an-afternoon-storm air to waft in over the no-muss wooden tables and no-fuss patrons. Perfect in its simplicity, the atmosphere exudes what the menu offers: wonderful, rustic dishes that don’t try to be too fancy, but satisfy to the core. It is the perfect spot for the nearby NYU dorm residents who might be hankering for some home cooking from mum, and also great for those, like me, who need a break from the cutting edge cuisine that New York always has to offer, in favor of returning to the roots of it all.


Never one to turn them down, the blue point oysters on the half-shell were impeccable, and were they a bit less inherently pricey, I likely would have gotten a couple more orders and called it a day (as I often have with other mollusk enthusiasts). Ms. Dawson’s Fork and Knife Ceasar came in my favorite configuration: a wedge of romaine, dressing poured over, steak knife provided to carve as you wish.

Using the visit as an excuse for indulgence, we opted for Grandpa’s Rigatoni, cooked to the perfect al’ dente with a spicy pulled pork ragout, and the Ricotta Gnocchi (sautéed in butter to the perfect outer crisp) in a truffle cream sauce. Both dishes lent themselves perfectly to the sopping of our bread, wrapped like a candy in wax paper. I was so refreshed to be done without feeling like I needed to head off for a nap, the portions are truly perfect. My Hendrix and tonic was total perfection, and we ended up staying for another drink at the bar while our friends trickled in for a sip and a chat.

All in all, I wish I could find a place like this in my neighborhood. I will definitely be going back often, good friends in tow.

Dog Days

I am a die-hard dog lover, as explained in this previous post about the Tobster. They’re fun, they keep you active and engaged, give the love they get and teach that with responsibility comes reward. Dog owners are proven to have lower blood pressure and cholesterol, less instances of depression, higher survival rates and quicker recovery from illness and longer lives than people without pets. I plan to let my kids each get a dog when they turn ten that they will take care of, and can think of no better way to teach them to become responsible, accountable young adults.

BUT, this week has taught me that I am nowhere close to being a parent or multiple dog owner. In an endeavor to test out what having more than one dog is like, I volunteered to watch my boyfriends dog for the ten days he was away on a bike trip in Montana pretending to be James Dean. You may remember Duke from the short post I did about him a while ago. He is still the collar-tugging, acrobatic master he was when he was little, though he’s given up tail gnawing, as it proved hazardous to his health. He’s instead moved on to more apropos activities, such as wrestling, boxing, and recently discovered what I like to call the “Down dog, hump dog” as well as the “reverse mount employing head lock” and the “old fashioned”.

Thus far, I’ve had destroyed note pads, bath mats, magazines, garbage bags, throw pillows, slobbered bedspreads and chewed-to-a-mangled-mess Ray Bans. This is not to mention the dirtying of every pair of pants I’ve worn thus far, as his boxer jowels are impressively stocked with the awful goop-slime of his special, strangely elastic brand that he shmears on every surface as good as my Jewish friends do on a bagel. Needless to say, my dry cleaners are having a very lucrative week.

Walking is a nightmare. Toby, while much better than he used to be, is still a leash tugger, while duke likes to employ the fervent yank, effectively skinning my arm while nearly dislocating my shoulder. Should they decide to scamper (I say this as if they aren’t 85 and 65 pounds of muscle, respectively) in complete opposite directions for that “perfect pee spot” the effect on me is somewhat like a medieval torture device. This is all to the great amusement of fellow pedestrians.

Meals leave me feeling like Lebron James on the defense, boxing Toby out from intercepting Duke’s food, and later boxing them both out from my supper.

Sleep, or the space to do so, is quite hard to come by…real estate on my bed is about as coveted as a classic six facing the park. I’ve found myself fetal, or with one dog taking up the foot of the bed while the other is between my calves, and have even woken up sleeping entirely parallel to my headboard. My bum has been thought to be an acceptable pillow, and pillows thought to be acceptable slobber wipes. Should I kick them off, they jump back up within 10 minutes, should I kick them out, they cry and wrestle and growl.

I’m on day 7 of 11, and if Chris couldn’t tell from my inability to muster excitement for hearing from him on the cell-service-free, wild roads of the North West, I’m knackered. The warm reception he is hoping for upon his return might be replaced with a warm reception from Duke, while I pour myself a glass of red, belt the chorus of Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin” and point him in the diection of the vacuum.

Oyster Bay Fourth

A minagerie of my favorite shots from the 4th:

American Ingenuity


Sphinx pose


Budwesier Fetch



Muddled Mojito


Pool Fireworks


Hazards of Pool Fireworks


Jacques


Sailors Sunset


Golden Hour


Dusk on the Bay


Goodnight Sun


Fireworks over the Bay


Smoke


Whisps


Great Gatsby