Royalists

The Royal Pair

Ok, I'll watch it.

Anyway, I feel an affection for Kate since she's been all over my TV for the past three weeks. I may know more about her than I know about myself.

Coming Back to Life

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Life is feeling vital once again, always reminded of that vitality by the sudden profusion of first buds, bright patio blooms and the landscape's shift to bright green. I love watching this happen, the first struggles giving over to a complete floral and vegetal coup.

This morning I stepped out. I swept up. I noticed my orange mint and parsley is coming back. So was the pretty wild geranium, the columbine, my strawberries and fig. I've already tossed a load of the chives (growing in three pots) into a green bean hazelnut salad from my new Ottolenghi cookbook. I poked some herb seeds into some pots and planted the little flat of violas given to us by my mom, into the window boxes. I'm excited for summer herbs.

The sun is shining. Inside I made a fast Easter tableau, didn't hide anything, made some Easter matzah ball soup and without much of a plan, I think we might have a picnic later, ingredients and destination unknown.

Happy everything bunny rabbits. Hope the day is full of pleasant surprises.

Koobie Doobie

When it's pouring chats and chiens outside and you decide not to brave the Brooklyn Flea, watch Namasté America. You never know what amazing surprises you will find, usually with a wet sari scene for added value, and then read one blogger's incredible accounts of her life in India, both woman and place, near and dear to my heart. I can't wait til she moves back to New York.

(Non-germy or flu ridden, bubble gum pink and geranium)
kisses to Lily who painted this.

Magic Bundles

I've been out flat and sick with the flu for over almost two weeks. Not a chance to pick my head up much, but many movies were watched. Many many many many movies:
Séraphine
Wasteland
Mesrine: Killer Instinct
These were among my favorites. The rest I can't really remember, an homage to how drugs can really work.

After the 7th day, I started to feel not just feverish and exhausted from coughing, but like a loser for not moving. Not lifting a finger except to down cough syrup or change the channel (Did you know Oprah is ending?) or, when Jim wasn't home, make tea or open a can of soup. By the eighth day the doctor was summoned and he said, " Hey dummy (because we're on a first name basis), it's time for antibiotics. I can't do much for your bruised rib (from coughing a lot) except take a bunch of advil too." Then, Jim finally stopped his work spree and came home with my new prescriptions. And on the same day, as if by magic, a good friend came by and made the most magical of cures, her family recipe and the sentiment and the soup worked wonders.
These are my American Shamans.

On Jim's birthday in Paris we went to the Musée du quai Branly, the museum of anthropology that sits right below the Eiffel Tower. I love this place. I got lost in the mystical, close-to-the-earth adornments from the Pacific rim, the Native Americans, and tribes from all over Africa and South America. Shadow puppets that tell ancient tales, masks and amulets and talismans aka "magic bundles" that ward off sickness and evil spirits.
This moves me to believe I am doing something all wrong. Or maybe that I could be doing something more right. With more care or more attention or maybe more cowbell.

Green bits of London

Our post Paris trip to London gave us verdant-itude peeking out from everywhere. In London we walked and walked, discovering misty parks, little trucks, little Spring bits in the cold.

Color Explosion at the Brooklyn Flea, 2011

Getting ready for our third(!) opening weekend at the Brooklyn Flea this Saturday, April 2nd in Fort Greene and Sunday, April 3rd, and the new Williamsburg location closer to home, with peeks at our new collections for Spring and Summer. Say it with me: COLOR!

Celebrating getting back outside and I couldn't stop myself from designing some new one-of-a-kind necklaces in the midst of getting ready, with some rare old Czech beads I brought back from London, and antique coins & trinkets taken from old Afghani textiles. I wanted to do some long brightly colored pieces and I think these are a good mix of 40's costume fun with a serious tribal edge, hoping they'll make you feel like a proud exotic flower blossoming against all odds on a faraway mountain ledge, the beautiful first moments of Spring release.

Will do more since I brought home oodles of gorgeous colors, yet to be unpacked, and of course will put them on the website soon, I promise, but feel free to email me if you see something you like.

As a tribute to the origins of the materials, we'll be giving $15 from each purchase of these pieces the Central Asia Institute, Greg Mortensen's organization to support community-based education, especially for girls in remote villages in Northern Afghanistan and Pakistan.

A Paris Day

I only have a little time to see Paris. It is the reason why I whip out my camera on the morning walk from the Hôtel de Ville all the way up to the top of the rue du Temple on my way to the showroom.

Though I blow on that I'm not that interested in the romanticized Paris, it's still romantic damnit. This is especially true for me early in the morning, when I can see my breath in the wet chill of the courtyard, where the camellias and forsythias are still blooming in the brisk cold, and I step out through the big doors to the street into the city waking up, this is the city of Paris I know best I guess.

Smells of coffee and smoke from the cafés, and yeast from boulangeries and patisseries exhibiting the first trays of artful gems of the day, I go down into the metro, in love with the large graphic announcements of everything there is to do and see and buy, read the daily paper on the train and emerge into the light if I'm lucky, or a drizzle if I'm not, into a new part of the city. I walk and snap photos until I get to rue Chapon, where I'll spend my morning until we decide if we want to eat Pho nearby in Paris' original Chinois-town or the plat du jour at the Taxi Jaune right across the street. We drink little cafe "noisettes" in the afternoon on a silver platter Taxi Jaune lets us take across and are animated enough for when our afternoon appointments come, and stay until 8pm when we come out again in the dark, lock the doors for the night and decide where to go for a drink. We talk about business and about what we want to eat, which is delicious especially when eaten in the company of friends. Later we say goodbye until the next morning when it happens all over again.

Hearts & Hands and Where I've been

hearts & hands

Hello old friends. I've been gone from here too long. Before I go into why and tell you all about Paris (made greater because doctors still make housecalls in France) and then London (highlighted by an especially oishii lunch at the new Vinoteca in Marlybone and the incroyable Jewelry Collection at the Victoria & Albert Museum), I want to tell you about an incredible project for the victims of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan called Hearts & Hands.

Organized with love by Lynn Russell from Satsuma Press, a $10 purchase of one of Satsuma's letterpress cards will enter you into a drawing in which you can win a handmade piece from any of the 90+ independent designers who have contributed.

100% of the proceeds will go to Shelter Box, an organization which delivers emergency disaster relief, shelter and warmth to people in need. Our donation, my favorite necklace, La Petit Branche, is above but for more and to see all the artist's contributions, visit Hearts & Hands.

Wanderlust: John Kenny and the Omo Valley

Hello chickens! It's P. from What Possessed Me - lowering the tone once again on dearest Deb's blog. I'm so happy to be here and to share with you the work of one of my favorite photographers, John Kenny.

An early source of bonding with Deb was our mutual love of travel - we've both been to some weird and wild places and share the same insatiable wanderlust that has ruined our GI tracts, wiped out our slush funds and generally consumed our waking thoughts.

Perhaps what originally drew me to John Kenny's work is that his own love of exploration and delight in undiscovered beauty come across so clearly in his photographs. Kenny often travels alone or with a guide, trekking into remote regions to shoot his portraits. He avoids using flash and gizmos, preferring instead to work with the dry earth, the sun, and the magnatism of his subjects. The effect is incredibly intimate and intense - particularly in his black and white portraits, which seem illuminated by a silvery, celestial light. If you are interested in travel photography, I'd highly recommend this article on Kenny's methods to achieve this effect with nothing other than his camera and natural sunlight. It's also an interesting commentary on what it's like to pursue photography as a passion alongside a completely unrelated career.

In the meantime, feast your eyes on Kenny's 2010 trip to the Omo Valley in Ethiopia. I'm already plotting my next trip - who's coming with me?