untitled #1


little inspirations

in an earlier iteration of this space, I used to share Polyvore sets regularly. to me, they’re like an associative daydream conjured by an image, song, or scent. they’re a mood. I love ’em.

I’m going to recycle the old sets here, and then start creating new ones.

paris, sunday morning






beets! lately I have been into beets. shaved some raw chioggias into a salad with kale, dried fruit + nuts, crumbled sharp cheddar & a mustardy vinaigrette. a wintry assemblage–sharp, rich and jewel-toned.

Didion! this piece celebrating her and her recent collaborator/co-conspirator, Celine, is wonderful. (these slingbacks remind me of Didion’s Stingray).

Didion has always been both an artist and a muse. I admit that I, too, have wistfully admired her elegant little packing list.

when I lived in New York years ago, and was young and sylphlike, I wore jersey sweatshirts, a-line skirts and flats almost exclusively, and tromped about the respective Villages even though I lived in Harlem.

when I moved to New York, not from it, my sister gave me a copy of this brilliant essay. it is perfect, applicable to both falling in and out of love with a city.
Didion is a master of writing on the self, about the things we know, the observable and observed, and the things we can only feel.

I wrote more in New York. I wrote about the sun & air on a certain day, a certain street. about eating bagels on stoops, funny old philosophers wandering the Columbia campus, pizza and fruit stands.

I wrote about how by exploring a bright, odorous, loud, difficult, beautiful, ugly, exciting city, I was exploring the self.


image imageimage

I am roasting sweet potatoes, rainbow chard, tomatoes and broccolini until charred and caramelized, smoky and sweet. Plenty of salt and olive oil are really all you need when roasting, but a splash of vinegar brings out the fudgy richness of the sweet potatoes. Some fresh herbs and chile flakes would do well, too.

I am watching Twin Peaks–what a bizarre vision–and I’ve been inspired by the early ’90s aesthetic and the surreal Northwestern backwoods to start dressing like some chain-smoking, pink-haired grandma. You know the type. Chunky, oversized knit cardigans, black tights, boots, silk scarves.

And rings! Lots and lots of delicate rings, stacked upon one another. Like some gypsy, some pink-haired grandma.

Oh and I’ve become obsessed with this gorgeous balm, Olio e Osso. She comes in all sorts of sheer, pretty shades and her design has been masterminded by a mad Francophile typographer. The website is also (quelle surprise!) elegant & charming.