In the very early days of this blog, I told, anonymously, stories of what I called “High WASP” culture. Never mind if I had anything
Why on earth would anyone wear this? I don’t know. My excuse is that last weekend I attended my 44th Class Reunion at Princeton, and
I really meant to start 2021 with a light-hearted post about sofas, or decluttering, or sweatpants. We’re all frayed and we deserve some fun. I
Imagine our holidays from the perspective of someone who grew up elsewhere. Thanksgiving can be difficult to decode, much less make meaningful. So many dishes,
After ten years of blogging, 54 years of writing (yes I still have my 3rd grade storybook), and 57 years of nigh-on obsessive reading, here’s
Just in case you hadn’t been wholly saturated by the Met “Camp”-themed Gala I have been asked to discuss. I shall oblige. What am I
On Wednesday, in the midst of commemorative ceremonies for President George H. W. Bush, the New York Times published an op-ed by Ross Douthat entitled “Why
We might say that this time of my particular life has been about befriending my inner Artsy Cousin. Born Sturdy, trained in Grande Dame where
Transcendence stayed home. When planning to take my mom to the sea I was driven by an image. Something to do with a horizon. Me and Mom.
Here in North America, we’ve just emerged from a brief flurry of national insignia-waving. (Hey there, Canada!) Which made me think, what are the signs
If you look back at this week you will see that my plan to keep blogging as though my mother weren’t moving into assisted living,
I was thinking about Christmas, which, for those of us who celebrate, is imminent. (Not immanent. By correctness shall ye know I’m in High WASP
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