New Year And New Washing Machine, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:16am

There’s a concept, in fiction, of “writing yourself into the story.” Doesn’t mean writing about yourself per se, more like writing a bunch of detail that the readers won’t need or even want to know but you the writer need to access before the actual story reveals itself to you. Like hemming and hawing before you speak, or wiggling your arms before you dive into a big swim race. (How are you?) Here are some details. In these past 30 days our 18-year old washing machine broke; I finished my home repair projects, as best I could; I had the 20-year old water-damaged floors refinished. I lit the

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In The Bleak Midwinter Shelter From The Storm, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:43 am

It’s winter in California. There’s frost on my neighbor’s roof most mornings and the leaves have fallen from our alder, leaving only spring green catkins. Time to turn inwards; time to get quiet. Time to welcome family; time to get loud! I’ll be off until mid-January. Until then, let me just say thank you for showing up to this loud quiet space as you do, thoughtful, funny, and highly original. Sending you all my best wishes for this year’s close and the opening of the next. Yr fren, Lisa (title reference is to this, and yes, it was hardly like to have been bleak in Jerusalem in December but

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Not Flattery But Proportion, Or Saturday Morning at 8:48am

Yesterday I had the great pleasure of lunching in San Francisco with a blogger friend and her husband. Tablecloths! Halibut! Consequently I had to doff my sweatpants. How to dress when you want to celebrate but you’d also like to walk a lot of city blocks with your feet intact on arrival? decide you can push the definition of fancy a bit by wearing your good sneakers. This is California, after all. remember that often what matters most is looking like you meant to put on these clothes, AKA impunity decide you owe the world no figure flattery and can substitute the proportion of your clothes for your

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Now It’s Time To Decorate For Christmas, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:25am

OK, so NOW I will start decorating for Christmas. Mostly I want light and a balance of peace and pattern as far as the eye can see. I think I planned the table first. I have pined after new salad plates for ages, as I’m rough on our red and white Cornishware. Many chips tell the story; Replacements Ltd. to the rescue. Does everyone know about them? They sell used-but-excellent-condition tableware, and now I’m the proud new owner of 6 red Fiestaware and 6 different mostly red, approximately holiday-themed, salad plates. Great customer service, by the way. Festive ‘R Us! (yes, that’s a rug in the background. expeditious for photos on

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The Evolution Of Family, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:03am

I hope your Thanksgiving, if you celebrate, shone. For the first time ever my family gathered neither at my mother’s house nor my father’s, with what we are now calling The Level One and Level Two adults. By which I mean we four siblings and our partners, our children and their partners. Most of us are adults, hence the term. In this configuration, we are in some ways a whole new family. As any of you longtime readers know, and maybe all of you because although I try to respect other people’s privacy I have not been shy about sharing my own experience, it’s been a rough several

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The Joys Of Doing It Yourself Very Badly, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:47am

  I am performing small touchups to my house, very badly also with glee upon glee upon glee. Backing up, it may come as no surprise that I know nothing about fixing much of anything, having over the years done much more inventing than repairing. When one has a certain talent, by which I mean nothing glamorous, just a methodology that seems to produce success, one uses it. The point is that getting older can allow for growth. Growth, for me at least, requires not minding non-catastrophic mistakes. You? If we’re lucky, even enjoying them. That’s a doorknob. You’d guessed. But the wood around this doorknob had rotted,

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What We Imagine And What We Must Sense, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:21am

I want to test an idea with you. But first a brief digression for context. 1) My family of origin has the concept of “Carnochan science,” which means that we–probably mostly me– have been prone to positing frameworks for how the world (writ large) works, based on what we (writ small) see and feel. Like, what’s elegant must be right! 2) Given my previous post on videos of 100-year old people jumping out of planes, and then the post on memory, it feels as though in our community is interested in quirky perspectives on aging. OK then. On the one hand, experientially, getting older feels like pieces of

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As Discussed, Silk Blouse, Jacquard Pants, And Crystal-Toed Pumps, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:53am

Because one has, after all, responsibilities, and one has, after all, a deep love for information, here’s what my silk blouse outfit looked like in situ. Or, in medias res, if you prefer. All archaic phrases welcome. Also, I have blue eyes. Blouse: Vince Pants: Dries van Noten, 2020 Shoes: Jimmy Choo, 2013 (similar, with higher heel) Necklace: Unknown enamel artist, some century that is not this one. My mother’s, and possibly a grandmother’s but that provenance is lost in the sands of time Earrings: Hiding in my hair, decades old, similar here Pants in a jacquard weave; necklace features a drawing of two people with strange limbs

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Toward A Fuller, Richer Set Of Western Rituals, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:18am

I don’t find my culture to be very good at mourning. Too many subjunctives. Other cultures, to my way of thinking, are better with loss. What do I mean by my culture? Let’s call us Anglo-Americans, as I feel I’ve talked enough about WASPs to last a lifetime. What do I mean by we aren’t terribly good at it? Well, what was the last time you went to an Anglo-American funeral or memorial service and everyone shared a full expression of grief, howsoever they were moved? Perhaps my experience with buttoning-up is unique? Boy oh boy, I’d be glad to hear that. Anyway, I’ve been thinking lately that

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Festivities Both Lovely And Sensible, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:44am

As light lowers here in the Northern Hemisphere, we gather by the hearth. In modern parlance, I’m talking parties. In less modern speech, we might discuss party clothes. Nobody says party clothes any more, right? In years gone by I bought new outfits every year to mark our winter holidays. Many of them hang in my closet still, because I’m unlikely to wear a tight-bodiced Prada dress while I write, or garden, or walk, or cook dinner. Last year I wised up, if you can call pearl-studded gold booties wise, which I can and will. This year, all I wanted for Christmas, and Diwali, and Thanksgiving or any

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In The Face Of It All, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:46am

I’ve spent a lot of the week wondering how to post today, in light of the attacks and counter-attacks in Israel and Gaza. The answer is I can only tell you how I respond in the face of complex, terrible, historical, geopolitical, unknown territory events. In other words, I have nothing to say–except I have to. First I always try to abstract out the universal. (Probably as a protective instinct, oh my mind, can you save me?) On the one hand, here I see power and greed, rage and despair. There’s a line somewhere defining what we as humans can condone in ourselves and for everyone I know

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Catch And Release, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:21am

Truly, although I have ordered the Uggs Ansely slippers and happily await their arrival, I have not been buying clothes. Oh, I’ve looked at them, I’ve even coveted them, but the inner voice saying, “You really don’t need that,” is far louder than the imp that whispers, “Ooooooooo…” I suppose the first thing I had an urge for and then let go of was a pair of Repetto ballet slippers. About a year ago. They are now cool again. Am I prescient? Let’s pretend. Subsequently, here’s what has caught my eye: Eileen Fisher ponte pants, in Burgundy. The color is the whole point. And the stretch. I’d love

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The Red Pin Of Memory, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:01am

  You all have some strong and intelligent opinions about aging. So, I thought, as a newly minted 67-year old, I might talk about my experience of my changing memory. This feels very intimate, to discuss the inner working of my mind, but also useful for me, so thank you in advance. A few facts. As a teenager, I could memorize like a queen. As an indicator, I was cast in Jean Anouilh’s Antigone, as Antigone, and I memorized my entire part (so many lines) in one weekend, pretty much just by reading it. Twenty years later, with young kids, and a full time job, I had begun

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Slippers Are Life, Or, Saturday Morning at Some Point

It’s time for a critical decision. (hold breath) I need new slippers. But seriously, autumn is in the air and in the floors and my old Glerups have given up the ghost. What do you wear on your cold toes? I loved my Glerups when new. My hesitation in getting a new pair comes from the way they stretch out before they wear out. Once the wool felt is stretched, the slippers get too big. I tried a couple of methods to shrink them; I failed. My primary needs are warmth, softness for cranky feet, breathability, enough durabiltyas to soles that I can walk through my garage to

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This Is The Way, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:13am

Well that was not fun. I highly recommend not catching COVID, in case you wondered. To recap, I have had every vaccine known to mankind (although my last was in April; protection therefore waning), was in reasonably good health with no underlying conditions except my age, had never been infected, decided to fly to the UK for a quick trip, wore my mask except to eat (inside and on the airplane), and proceeded to get quite sick. Not the respiratory miseries of early COVID days, but good golly miss molly I felt awful. Paxlovid helped. Soup helped. Sleep helped. Television didn’t help, but it did pass the days.

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COVID, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:00am

Hi all. I took a whirlwind trip to England for a friend’s book event and returned, despite masking, with my first case of COVID. Brain fog is real. Respiratory stuff is fine so far. And I’m on Paxlovid. So I hope to see you here next week. Any tips for healing welcome. Have a good weekend.

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August, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:08am

Welcome to September! I hope you all had a lovely August. My extended family traveled up to the Eastern Sierra to spread my father’s ashes, as he wanted. We stayed here, as he did most summers for 50 years. We made our way up to a high meadow. Some of us in an ATV, (that is not my guitar, I was merely the guitar transporter, but it was fun to hold), and the rest on horseback, to here. We said our goodbyes. One way, or another, in a wild place where small flowers grow and peaks laze about. Then we traveled back down the mountain. I think we

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What Needs To Be Always New, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:23am

Having always, always sought novelty, I do believe I’m starting to repeat myself. This is good, when it comes to life accoutrements, and I’m happy to have settled on what to wear and where to find it. A short list below. (I’ve linked to the currently available products from above, and also my new sneakers not seen. If you’re curious about any of the other items below, just put the terms into the blog search up there in the top right hand corner and past posts with examples should magically appear. I appreciate your interest in my style. We do like to see how our cohort ornaments, do

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In Which I Permit Myself A Rant Because We Are Allowed Crabbiness With Age, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:13am

Something I’ve been meaning to get off my chest for a long time: I strongly do not care for most articles about old people. Aging is hard, and also, in my experience, quite beautiful in its own weird way. But mostly it’s not nothing; centenarians in downward dog are rare; 90-year old mathematicians likely get achy feet; dementia, real. Yeah, maybe old people are too fond of the semicolon etc. but we’ve earned it. I believe much of what gets written about the aging wants either to let the young believe the process isn’t hard or to create clickbait for those of olds still hoping for insight. I

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How ChatGPT Thinks Jane Austen Would Wish You A Nice Weekend, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:33am

I understand and even celebrate that it’s possible to feel contented with the domestic life. However, the actuality seems to escape me. Simplicity, repetition, silence—not my strong points. Which is not to say I am unhappy. I’m talking about the emotional state of the time I spend alone in my house, because I can’t knit and can consume only so many cups of tea. While a great book will appease me, I would need an unending stream of them to find contentment. I can’t complain. I mean, I can, but I understand that it’s not necessary. As compensation for such general mental squirminess, I find a near-ecstasy in the

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For The First Time In 28 Years, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:35am

I went camping! I exclaim because it felt completely new. I haven’t camped anywhere since my son’s kindergarten class organized a weekend for all the families. It was lovely. He turned 33 in April. So. My first time was the summer before my senior year of high school, as participating in Outward Bound was part of the requirements for graduation. Talk about starting at the advanced level. I cried a lot. The second was with a boyfriend, one night by the side of a trail that had proved too difficult for me. The kindergarten trip was the third try. Not a camper! At least until now. And I

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Gleeful Dressing, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:10am

(and yes I did publish this early, but hey, the political news is pretty grim and at least we have each other) We probably all have outfits that make us gleeful, sometimes even if strictly speaking one might do it better. This week one day I found myself in three autumn colors, mustard, chocolate, a darkened green, just as summer began. The proportions of the 10-year old forest green Superegas were not quite right; I would have liked a thicker sole. But still, fall in summer thrilled my subversive aesthetic soul and close-fitting top/widest pants are my jam. (In actuality, we want want to do the opposite of

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Chaptering, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:59am

To what extent does living a life resemble writing a book? How’s that for a tiny, precise, yes-or-no question on a Saturday morning? Booyah. (tl;dr layers+iterations, drafting+editing.  a distillation a cover blurb) The other week I was sitting with a group of people who have deep experience in loss, and life, and one of them said she has learned to think in terms of new life chapters. I heard her with that certain ping inspired by valuable new ideas. “Oh yes,” I thought, “That’s what I’m doing.” I tend to resist facile similes, clichés, platitudes. But having spent much of the past five years writing two books, the process

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Cheap(ish) Dress, Not-Cheap Shoes, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:30am

Thursday night, I went to the theater. That wasn’t me on the stage. This was, in front of a clothes hanger hanging on my shoe closet. That closet might deserve its own Instagram account except that these days nothing much changes inside it. This is the navy blue sheath I wore to both my mother’s and my father’s memorial services. Time enough has passed. From that selfsame closet I dug out a pair of slingbacks that hadn’t seen the light of day since I bought them six years ago, and added simple platinum drop bead earrings that are hiding in my hair. A sunburst of crystals, a kitten

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Delicious Books About Family Three Ways, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:42am

In pursuit of understanding how to write genre fiction, I have read very much of it these past few years. I now know that I like any fiction, as long as it’s well written. Give me an ordinary tale well told over an extraordinary tale poorly done, any day. I also now know that books about families are a thing unto themselves. Here are three books I’ve read and liked recently, from found family to extended nuclear, from robustly commercial to memorably literary (defined in my own particular taxonomy by how much of the experienced story and meaning is on the page, and how much is off). Commercial=On

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When Sturdy Gals Think Back, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:12am

One of the things about being 66 is memories. Flocks and layers. We the older humans perhaps discovered palimpsests, rather than the art historians who own the concept now. There are memories that surface as fragments of events, vivid. The feel of the skin on my mother’s cheekbones, my unfettered happiness the day of my second wedding, the smell of Sea and Ski sunscreen, my best friend’s phone greeting, the first night in the hospital with my daughter after her birth, the sound of my son’s cries and quieting in his plastic bassinet 7 hours after he was born in the selfsame place. One beach in Barbados. There

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There’s Nothing Quite Like Linen Dresses In Summertime, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:30am

Remember this dress? Well, I pretty much lived in it last summer. The linen floats, you can curl up on a sofa without a thigh reveal, and the color made me feel like I am the kind of person who travels on a whim to Morocco. Which I am not. Recently, Grae Cove got in touch to ask if I’d like two more dresses to review, as well a discount code for my readers. Reader, as we say, I did. Witness Georgina (same dress as I have in Caramel) in Ocean Blue, my favorite color in the entire universe. I’m grinning because I like it so much. A

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Three Gold Chains And A Great Big Outfit, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:39am

Sometimes I think I watch overmuch TV. That’s Jennifer Garner, above, in The Last Thing She Told Me. I love Garner as a presence on my screen. I was enthralled by The Diplomat, with Keri Russell and David Gyasi. Classic, classic binge watch. And did we know from the git-go what a cultural phenomena Succession would become, and how much of its appeal, like White Lotus, is perhaps pre-conditioned by the brilliant soundtrack and then reinforced by editing? I would think Sarah Snook might find it painful to play Siobhan Roy. But I would most likely be wrong. When I watch these shows with strong women main characters

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If Shonda Rhimes Had “Coronated” Charles, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:47am

I’ve never understood American’s fascination with the British royalty. While all countries enjoy ritual — we have the Met Gala, and the NBA All-Star game after all — why so much interest in London’s variety? Doesn’t seem to be political, as one of my avowed socialist acquaintances is the most fervent fan I know. In any case, I’m neither a historian nor a sociologist and therefore have no particularly insightful, well, insights into the phenomena. But I’ve been watching Queen Charlotte, the most recent of the Bridgerton series. Absent overt analysis, without any spoilers for your Netflix experience, let me present my interpretation of today’s coronation fashions. In

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Gone Hiking

As it turns out, I am leaving the house very early this morning to go for a hike with some Princeton classmates. It’s part of my Meet More People Nearby project. I have one post in the works on jewelry, and another on summer dresses, but for today I give you forest and seawater from other hikes and walks in the Bay Area. I hope your local world, human and otherwise, piney or salt, treats you well today. Have a wonderful weekend.

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White Flowers In The Front Yard On A Spring Morning, Or, Saturday at 8:29am

Boo-yah for Spring! My front yard is preparing for the yearly white rose display. In May those bushes you see between the white iris-shaped flowers in the foreground (they are irises, surprise!), and the tall bush in the back covered with what look like snowballs (it’s a snowball viburnum, surprise!), will do their cosseted rose thing. For now, I poke around what’s growing in the early morning light. The empty spot on the fence used to support a climbing rose. But the conjunction of its dark red petals and chartreuse viburnum leaves reminded me of Christmas so I took it out. BTW, there’s a young magnolia to the

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What If Dianne Feinstein Was Your Mother? Or, Saturday Morning at 8:29am

As you may know, Dianne Feinstein is one of California’s two senators. As you may also know, she’s 89, reportedly suffering from pretty severe short-term memory loss, and recovering from a case of shingles. She hasn’t attended Senate votes since February-ish. As a result, a California congressman, Ro Khanna, called for her to resign. What do we think? The public discussion includes setting age limits in Congress, the need for Gen X representation, and all the insults you might imagine. I wonder, what if Feinstein were my mom? As you may also know, my mother died of Alzheimer’s in 2019, having first shown undeniable signs of memory loss–that

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Skincare At 66.5, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:45am

Some can’t resist new shoes. Some collect lipsticks, small coral tubes of cheer in a drawer. Me, skincare. Love it. I am made nearly unruly by Sephora’s “Bazaar,” for example, that program whereby if you sign up and buy stuff they give you more stuff. Since at the moment I’m quite happy with the products on my bathroom countertop, I thought I might share them with you. No, I don’t put them away. They make me happy, why would I? Cleaning Both Sue at Une Femme and Alison at Wardrobe Oxygen recommend Colleen Rothschild’s Cleansing Balm, so I tried it. What a joy (shipping is very slow, but

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When To Break And When To Embrace, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:52am

Words don’t link sound directly to import, of their own accord. That’s down to us humans. But enough self-evident abstraction. Also known as, “Yeah, so?” Take, “senior citizen,” often truncated to simply, “senior.” Which is what I am at 66 here in the USA. It would be silly to deny that I’m getting older, but I have resisted the appellation. For one thing, I’m still a renegade in my heart. Seniors should surely shouldn’t feel everything as strongly as I do. For another, I walk fast. But also, I haven’t wanted to take unfair advantage of discounts and programs offered to those who need them. Well, as it

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At The Edge Of Seawater, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:30am

From inside out. And outside in. I love an estuary. When is it water and when is it dirt? When an ocean, when a marsh and when a river? When is that sound you hear wind rushing through treetops, when a full creek running? One might even say, we are all each other. When we love someone we permeate each other at the margins, the edges. What I mean is that my husband and I stayed at the most wonderful local place last month. Nick’s Cove, in Marshall, California, just up from Pt. Reyes Station. I cannot imagine a more perfect view. It’s as though I’d invented the moon for

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Still Here, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:55am

I quite like the redwood hue of this shirt (J. Crew), and the coffee-color of the pants (Eileen Fisher) and loafers (Paul Green). To say nothing of the light as it falls on my old wood floor. But none of that is probably worth a blog post per se. To be worth posting, I’d want to add a jacket, maybe a scarf.  To be be honest I just haven’t found the perfect brown topper for these warm-toned outfits, and my only possible scarf has black in it too. My color sense abhors a black with brown and that redwood. I can’t say why. All ideas welcome, for both

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Shouting Out Our Friends, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:14am

Let’s revisit the age-old practice of a Shout Out. Remember? Remember always making sure we supported our Internet friends and colleagues? Why yes, I do get nostalgic for the halcyon days of blogging, back when we were all journaling in public and the twin towers of monetization and ego production hadn’t yet cast their long shadows. (I hasten to add, as I have said before, I actually enjoy the monetized blogs/influencers I follow, Une Femme, Emily Henderson, Northern California Style, Carmeon Hamilton, etc. The weight of industry has not distorted their aesthetic or voice one whit. And I use monetized links myself, sometimes, as the service I belong

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Novelty In What We Know Already, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:58am

On a scale of love for novelty, 1-5, I’d put myself at a 4, even though I’ve lived in the same house for 35 years. This long stay has been one of circumstance, but in 1982 nobody went to India by themselves for more of the same, and the trip was a choice. However, when we’re young, novelty requires the actual new. Good thing about our 60s is we can do things we’ve done before and they can feel new. Sometimes because 15 years have passed.   I spent last week with my daughter skiing in Park City, Utah. To be precise, she skied and I slid down hills

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Wednesday News: Saturday’s Post Should Be Coming To You From A New Site

  Hello all. If things go as expected, Saturday’s post should look different. Recognizable, but different. Most importantly, comments should work and mobile devices should be supported. If you happen to read this via a feed reader, like Feedly, you may need to change the blog address you’ve been using. We shall see! Also, I went skiing. Details to follow.  

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Last Week For Patrick Carroll’s Los Angeles Gallery Show, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:55pm

First things first, as I want you to see this show if you are so inclined. My son’s gallery exhibition, “Reading,” runs through next Saturday the 25th of February. Giovanni’s Room 850 S Broadway Suite 600, Los Angeles, CA 90014 (9th and Broadway) Wednesday-Saturday 11am-6pm 310-985-1983 Now’s the time. We always like our kids’ stuff, true, but I was surprised (briefly stunned) by how much I liked the works in person. I’d loved them on Patrick’s Instagram account, sure, but walls are not phone screens. Those who spend lots of time in galleries should feel free to say now, “Duh.” In person, these pieces break the consciousness’s usual

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And After Color We Want What, Or, Saturday Morning at 12:42am

Even I tire of wistful musing on the meaning of life. Instead, let’s wonder what we might wear when the weather warms. In your case this might be spring, although in my neck of the woods we just take off our jackets come March or April, all “Fare-thee-well, winter!” but don’t switch out wardrobes altogether ’til summer. I’m thinking all white. I have no idea why. I lied. I do have an idea. Maybe this year we need to reflect light. To beam. No matter how many windows, inside is always darker than out, and we might be looking forward to the out-of-doors, more free as the pandemic

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Green In The Fog, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:47am

It’s foggy here. My daphne with its lemon-sweet smell is in full flower. Small catkins and tiny cones hang from the tall alder in the middle of our back lawn. They’re pale green; the branches red-brown; leaves just budding. This spring the pale pink and white hellebores nigh-on burgeon. And yes I say spring because in California although a frost may yet come, the season starts soon. February, when it all begins in my neighborhood, is almost upon us. The roses are pruned, viburnum flowering, ferns unfurling a frond or two. Having lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for a full 56 of my 66 years, I

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Elasticity, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:57am

This is how you know we’re friends. That’s my sweatshirt, those are my sweatpants, and yes, my dilapidated slippers (on sale here for 25% off). (Also a shoe closet with pearl-studded booties gleaming goldly.) All, my friends, is not glamor. You know that already. It does feels new to have proven to myself that I dress solely for comfort. Comfort in its more expansive form. By this I mean, well, back when I was meeting the man who blogged as Reggie Darling, and with his husband, at a tony East Side restaurant in New York City, comfort was Prada or nada. In that case comfort was social; appeasing the High

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January Wet And Dry, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:05am

I can tell you exactly the point where drinking less alcohol did it for me: no more two days/week, no more than a total of four glasses/week. The tipping point. Right there I started sleeping better, I could let a night or two go by without missing it, and, funnily enough, more than two glasses made me feel terrible. As long-time readers know, I’ve been cutting back on drinking for many years. Fifteen, to be precise. I don’t want to stop altogether, but have been determined to retool a bad habit that was this close to disaster. At one point I drank 2-3 glasses of wine a night. In

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So Then What Happened, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:07am

Well hello! I am still the same person I was on December 31st, albeit even more bemused by America’s political shenanigans. You? Let’s talk about what’s next. Not in politics, I would not even aspire to predict where that’s going, and anyway I don’t plan to do anything different. I’ll just keep on donating, writing voter letters, and reading the newspapers and professorial/professional commentary who know better. In terms of my own teeny-tiny sandbox, here’s what’s up: Continuing: Spanish classes resume next week. Our teacher is Argentinian; I am expecting a great discussion of the World Cup victory when next we meet. Grief counseling. I still have not

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Over-The-Top, Gold, Pearl-Ornamented Booties Worn 3 Ways, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:42am

Happy almost-New Gregorian Year! I have finished 2022 by doing as one of you suggested, i.e. buying and wearing a pair of pearl-ornamented gold leather booties. What? You say I cannot blame this on you all? I beg to differ. Nancy, thank you. So, if, and I get it’s a big “if,” but IF if you’re going to get yourself a pair of gold boots you have to wear them as much as possible. Rules are rules. My family spent the Christmas weekend at the Ritz-Carlton in Half Moon Bay. I’ve been there before you may remember, more than once. We had a really nice time. The weather was

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If It’s Your First Time Hosting Christmas, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:56am

Yesterday, as I strung lights around our tree, a task I loathe, it occurred to me that I must have been the Christmas grownup at least 30 times in my life. Which is to say, either hosting at my house, or in charge of a big chunk at my mother’s. (As I’m not Superwoman, I’m sure I outsourced it more than once, hence 30 even though my oldest child is now 35.) To heck with metrics. I said yesterday, as I taped over a broken bulb, “I finally know how to do this.” In sum: A Christmas Veteran Tells You What She Wishes She Had Known 30 Years

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Knees Touching/Words In The Air, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:58am

The other night I went to a remembrance ceremony held by the grief counseling organization where I’ll be volunteering. So close on the heels of my father’s service, I couldn’t help but look for patterns. The mind grinds when faced with inexplicable, upper case. My father’s service was, through absolutely no efforts of my own so there is no boast here, a work of art. The professors were brilliant, but everyone was eloquent or witty or original or provocative or narrated history with thought and care. Or, last box in the list, all of the above.The shared remembrance service was mostly much simpler in speech and concept. But

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Minimalism +/-, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:30am

Time to think about clothes for Christmas. Only me? In any case, back in the early 90s I bought a dark brown columnar silk and rayon velvet dress by Harriet Selwyn. Still have it. Still fits, mas o meno. I’ve been wanting to wear it again, but it had ripped in the back. I had it mended. Brilliant! And I really wanted to wear these gold boots avec. (Yes, we are mixing our Romance languages, and why not, we might ask?) Minimal with a hit of kapow. But, when I retrieved the dress from the seamstress and tried it on with the shoes, nope. Boo. They were even

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The Art Of Recovery, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:30am

I slept in this morning, and have dawdled through the day. I will not recover this time, but it’s in my belly or maybe behind my eyes. Time: unrecoverable, but embodied. Anyway, I meant to be talking about the quiet after a holiday, or during for that matter, in the face of the absolute fungal chaos of these last few years. I use the term “fungal” to mean connected underground, flying through the air, and popping up where you least expect it. Inexact, but hey, we’re all friends here. Wow it’s been a hard time. I am deeply thankful for every moment of okayness. Thanksgiving this year was

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My Father’s Memorial Service, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:01am

Today is my father’s memorial service. I thought of posting what I will read, but, no. I thought of showing you what I’ll wear, but, definitely no. It won’t be pink? Is that sufficient? Memorial services are, for me, already a particular straddle between public and private. My temperament lends itself either to intimate gatherings of wholehearted sharing, or public events where we communicate ideas about Topics with a capital T. A service is neither and both. I loved my father like a map of the world. I knew him for a very long time. In a rare act of restraint, I’m going to stop before I’m done. Have

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Scamp Style, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:15am

I was asked a couple of weeks ago what I wear to the market. Good question, not because going to the market is a big style opp per se, but it is something most of us must do. The Eileen Fisher pants are for dinners out. In the house I wear sweatpants and sweatshirt. I have quite the collection by now. For exercise, i.e. walking fast with an audiobook playing in my ear, or doing various physical therapy squirming, I wear yoga tights. Occasionally those slip into my errands, but only because it’s that or no exercise for the day. So to the market we go and it

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Weight-Bearing, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:26am

Diagnosed with my fifth type of tendinitis in nine years, I suspected something other than oops was in play. Meaning, nobody serially injures their biceps tendon, Achilles, outer elbow, thumb and both knee tendons unless they are a high-powered athlete. I am not. Sure, I’m getting older, but it felt suspiciously as though my body were ticking in distress around something, like the hands of a clock. I have a useful nugget, if you can bear with me through a few hundred words. I began to ask for help. Such a brilliant strategy. So many of us neglect to do this, seduced by our own competence. Just me?

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Where To Stay The Third Time You Come To San Francisco, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:14am

The next time you come to San Francisco, you might not want to stay here. By which I don’t mean arms-crossed-in-an-X, get-the-heck-out-of-Dodge kind of way, I mean essay a slightly different perspective. Essay used as a verb is our unusual word of the day. For my birthday weekend we stayed at Cavallo Point, just across the San Francisco Bay via the Golden Gate Bridge. Doesn’t get much more iconic than this. Cavallo Point isn’t a place for city thrills, urban hills, or glamor. It sits in the Fort Baker National Park, and several of its buildings were original to the fort itself. The history is here. Complex, as is

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Small Things To Large, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:40am

This morning I was briefly seized by the spirit of my mother. I am happy to report that, yes, in fact, I do have all the bedding required to house people in our second guest room. Took me a few minutes to find everything, as it was scattered around my closets. That has been rectified. Something you hear a lot in women’s writing is the joy of simple things, or small things. Small things make me unhappy, unless they can be expanded one way or another. Some background. Small motor work explodes my nervous system; knitting, calligraphy, screwdrivers. But gross motor work is a tonic. I can hammer

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Brown Pants, Brown Shoes, And More Than One Top, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:36am

I did some shopping in September. That’s a photo I took recently to text to a friend. Feet up! I’d asked her about brown thick-soled lace-ups that weren’t boots like my Timberlands, and she said “Grensons” and I listened. Just had to show her the results. Backing up. As I’m sure you remember, in July I took advantage of my friend Sue’s color analysis services pre-launch and found out my skin is well-suited by warm, dusty tones. AKA Autumn colors. (I don’t say I “am” an Autumn, because I believe I can also wear cool dusty tones, but let’s just say the door has opened wider to browns, tans,

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September, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:43am

Well, hello:) Feels a little boisterous to hit you with my face right away, but it’s a nice photo and I was really having fun and I hope that’s infectious. When you come back from a trip, do you unpack everything right away, restoring order, or do you wheel your suitcase inside, prop it against a wall, and read your mail? I’m the second sort. Please consider this post the sound of the wheels of my roller board, clunkity, clunkity, across the floor. I’ll unpack next week. For now, here’s a list of what I did in September. If my comments are even remotely functional, and you feel

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Handing Over The September Baton, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:29am

Good morning! It’s September, a month for which I have a particular fondness. The 30th is my birthday. Hooray for me! (Excuse me, if aging can’t give us permission to celebrate ourselves, what gives, universe?) As Sue and Frances return, I will in turn take a month off. Not that we planned this, not that I’ve even informed them of my thinking, but hey, we’re all friends here. Enjoy the weekend. Enjoy the week. Enjoy the month. Today I am excited about life.

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My New Favorite Piece Of Clothing And It’s Not Navy Blue, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:24am

A few weeks back, in our conversation about color, I mentioned ordering this dress. Elle est arrivée. (Details: I ordered a Medium, I could have gotten a Small. But I don’t mind the over-sized look.) It took a long time to get here, as it turns out the company just started up, ships from China and has been more enthusiastically received than the founders predicted, but the brand was good about communicating via Instagram. I now feel more fondness than I have for a piece of clothing in a very long time. Tere’s a picture of the seaming at the bodice. Also the veins on my hands, but

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What We Might Plan, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:24am

Planning. This summer, exhausted and gritty–as are we all after 2+ years of pandemic–and determined to See People, I made plans. First, Princeton reunions with my son. Then Laguna Beach with good friends. Then a long weekend in LA, where Sue worked with me on a color palette for my skin tone (so much more precise than having my colors “done,” don’t you think?”) And on that same long weekend, I spent time with my two kids. My son, who lives in LA now, found us an Airbnb in Silver Lake; my daughter flew down from the Pacific Northwest. This place was way cooler than me, that’s for sure. There

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Temperate Glimmers Of Hope, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:13am

Note: If you were intrigued by the Grae Cove dress I posted about last week, I want to let you know they tell me they are getting a lot of orders and it’s now taking them about 10 days to ship out. Transit time is extra. That said, they’ve been responsive to my inquiries, so I am looking forward to showing you the dress when it arrives. I’m wondering how you are feeling about the bill that’s on its way to President Biden’s desk. Officially named (in an example of political absurdity, the results of which in this case I do not object but still, please, come on) the Inflation

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Points Of Exploration, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:10am

I wanted to expand a little on having Sue “do” my colors. (Are things like this ever “done?” No, no they are not. They are examined and explored.) I had developed a core set of colors that look good on me. But how much navy and cognac can one woman wear? I wanted a better sense of which ordinal points would best guide me in going beyond dark blue. And I was making one very wrong assumption, now that kept landing me in lavender, all bilious and everything. I thought that looking good in blue meant I should wear cool colors, whereas in fact there are dozens of “navies”

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No Need To Get Big For Your Britches Missy, Or, Saturday Morning 8:01am

I started to call this post Banishing Arrogance, but multi-syllable words are a poor way to avoid that pride/fall thing. Let’s try this: I’m working on understanding that I don’t know what I don’t know. Bit of background, in which “you” should be read as “I.” If you deconstruct your way through a complex problem once, your mind might be dumb enough to decide that wasn’t just luck, and sneaky enough to whisper, “I’ve got your back,” in hopes of future world domination. Spoiler: not 100% reliable. So, recently I’ve reopened the door to topics I had thought I understood. Can I just say that humility is hard? First, I’m

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Rediscovering Imagination, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:23am

Right after I finish this blog post, I’m going to upload a PDF of my in-process second novel to a service that will send it out to three “beta” readers. In other words, three people who like this kind of book and don’t know me in the slightest will read it. They will then give feedback, which I will read. Then I will know more than I know now. I have “finished” two novels. Hilarious. Because what is “finished?” For my first novel, finished meant I wrote it, friends read it, I edited it, got into a critique group, edited it again, queried ~25 agents, and realized that

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A Jaunt, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:54am

I have gone South, to spend the weekend with dear girlfriends. We are staying in a suite. The past 24 hours have been full of  joy, and opportunities to understand that people always have something new to reveal, even when you’ve known them forever. Maybe I mean that relationships are infinite. It’s good thing we leave so much of our brains unused, because it’s like having an extra closet that you can open up when needed, to make room for new perspectives. Here’s where we are staying. Orange County is not the Bay Area. Although apparently we do share summer coastal fog. Generally I don’t find a snack

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Walk Like An Optimist, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:56am

Recently I read this article in the Washington Post, Why Optimists Live Longer than the Rest of Us. Briefly, it made a good case that optimists fare well, and took a stab at why this is so. Some excerpts: …the(se) results remained even after accounting for other factors known to predict a long life — including education level and economic status, ethnicity and whether a person suffered from depression or other chronic health conditions. …The latest study found that lifestyle only accounted for 24 percent of the link between optimism and longevity, which suggests a number of other factors affect longevity for optimists. …Another possible reason could be

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Trucker Jacket And Chanel Flats, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:27am

While I don’t care much for the term, “date night,” I’m quite fond of the phenomena itself and am therefore prepared to Move On from High WASP disdain. Which is a good approach to life in general. Anyway. We went out to dinner last weekend. I wore a black Madewell denim jacket (cuffs folded back because a little wrist action makes a fab accessory), a white ribbed UNIQLO tee, cropped Eileen Fisher lantern pants, cap-toe Chanel ballerina flats, and the Loewe Flamenco bag. All from years past, except the bag. (Yes, both those pairs of hiking boots in the background are mine. If you see me taking a

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Floodlight On The Unexamined Center, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:57am

It wasn’t a good night for sleep. If I could write about anything other than the United States’ Supreme Court decision on Roe v. Wade, I would. But I have two reactions I haven’t seen anywhere else, so here goes. Feel free to click away. It is all too much, and the last thing I want is to be a burden. If you’re online these days, you already know marginalized women will suffer most, you understand the costs society will face–economic and other– from no-exemption bans, and you see the irony in our how we treat children in our healthcare, guns, and immigration policies. You know to donate

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News! Or, Saturday Morning at 9:13am

Tomorrow night in Milan the JW Anderson show will feature an installation of my son’s clothing/art. The announcement is here. That was a really great sentence to write. Understatement. Jonathan Anderson is an astonishing creator. He designs the JW Anderson and all of Loewe too.He collaborates with UNIQLO. He’s on the board of the Victoria and Albert museum, and has birthed so many other projects I can’t even hold them all in my mind at the same time. Including generous and sustained support for emerging artists and small businesses. Here are a couple of things from the JW Anderson women’s line. The “Bumper” bag, Moon variant. Comes in

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Life Is Just A Bowl But Not Cherries, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:12am

I’m prone to unprovoked swells of joy. Have been all my life. Probably a side effect of a nervous system that makes me anxious, and has over time caused me to erupt when I might have wished to keep my own counsel. A booby prize. The thing is, these swells had always been brought on by novelty, or at least complete immersion in my surroundings until recently. Now I find that just remembering events of my life can do the same. Is this weird? Huge swells of joy. I mean, it applies even to the painful. The sheer fact that I have lived through it, that this time

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Tiaras And Timberlands, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:12am

Not literal tiaras. We’ll let other countries put jewels on their heads. But a neck tiara, well, yes. Remember the necklace Wendy Brandes made for me? Remember the discussion about how to wear it? One answer: as though it’s nothing special despite all evidence to the contrary. See, I was going to dinner with some former colleagues, but I wanted to walk to the restaurant. So, Timberlands. If Timberlands, these old Citizen of Humanity jeans are the only pants I have that are narrow, comfortable at the seat, and not wholly ridiculous with working boots. If COH jeans, must elevate, somehow. Enter Wendy’s necklace. I also wore these

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Why Would Anyone Wear This, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:21am

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 absurd costumes are part of our tradition. Behold the glorious details. Another question. Why would anyone go to a gathering of 35,000+ people in the trailing days of a global pandemic? I don’t know. I went because for the past couple of years I’ve worked with members of our class on programmed Zoom events, and I wanted to finally meet my colleagues-become-friends in person. Besides, my son was there. Here are a few of his classmates in their 10th Reunion costumes. I am

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One Of The Most Beautiful House Designs I’ve Ever Seen, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:22am

I will be surprised if there are many of you who don’t already follow Amy Beth Cupp on Instagram. You are people of taste. But her eye is so wonderful, her work so compelling, I’ll post this for you and we who are already familiar won’t mind. That’s her kitchen above. Those are checkerboard marble floors and walnut cabinets, but that’s also just the beginning. Amy has been redesigning and renovating her house in northwest Connecticut for a while. A longish while, given COVID. She’s now about to move in. And I find her design(s) to be remarkable both singularly (the flow and use pattern of the house), and

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Mothers’ Day, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:44am

I am finally the mother of adult children. I mean, that’s been technically true for over a decade, if 21 marks an adult. But it’s only now, my son having turned 32 in April and my daughter heading toward 35 in July, that they feel like full-on grownups to me. What I mean is that they have the cognitive and emotional structures of beings to whom I would turn for friendship. Even counsel. And yet I imagine that I am for them, as my mother was for me, a bringer of memories and the comfort that comes before thinking, nestled in among the adult conversations. It’s been a

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The Great Charm Of A World Beyond Blue, Or Saturday Morning at 10:05am

Two years and a couple of months ago I bought a little ice blue wristlet pouch from Hobo. Quite loved it. Good for dashing out of the car, packing into a tote for the single flight I’ve taken in this time, etc. However, as I have moved away from jeans (forever known now as “hard pants) to Eileen Fisher and her forgiving elastic waists, I’ve felt my style quotient fall. I cannot give up the desire to present as someone a little quirky, a little artistic, perhaps prone to indulgence. Also tough but squishy. Perhaps because I am all of the above. Style for me has always been

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In Which We Shadow Our Seeing, or, Saturday Morning at 9:58 AM

How is it that in all this time of masks, the only type of makeup I’ve worn has been tinted sunscreen and lip balms. Nobody sees either. Foolishness? Denial? An abiding love of printing my lips on the inside of PPE? Mysteries of selfhood. But let’s talk eyeshadow. For context, consider that I hope to take a few little trips this summer. They will by both necessity and good fortune involve meeting with people. I’m still masking, and plan to do so until Long COVID is figured out. Hence, eye makeup. Given that we’ve been locked up for two years, all my old stuff is now somewhere in

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Happy Green Things, Or, Saturday Morning At 9:56 am

One thing about living in the same house for 35 years is exquisite familiarity with what it looks like at particular and specific times of the year. I have always said that if I were to sell this place, I’d do it at Easter. Please excuse the venality. It’s a convenient way of saying, “Wow, everything sure looks beautiful today. Might even be the most beautiful day of the year.” The flowers in the ground are happy. The flowers in the pots are happy. I don’t believe they know that they’ll be replaced, in the not too far distant future, by something orange. Maybe zinnias. Happy for now.

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Is “Severance” What Life In A Corporation Is Really Like, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:29am

I’ve recently watched a spate of television about corporate power. Having survived adventures in corporate life myself, it’s impossible not to deconstruct. There must be a million possible axes for this, but what if we look at How Real The Show Is, and How Much Does It Hate/Love Its World? (Actually I’m writing this because a lot of people are talking about Severance and I have Something to Say but I have to set it up first. As true as I can make this for you, my friends.) A List Of Shows With One-Word Titles About Big Corporations Billions (Realism: low except architecture/great staircase; H/L: loves its simple

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The Enduring Joy Of Neutrals, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:54am

Contrary to what you might with reason assume, this is not a post about why my heads looks so big, nor on how I need a haircut to prevent the dreaded Pinhead Ponytail, nor, (but thanks for asking) am I updating you on my tendonitis and arm brace. No my friends, this is another panegyric to the joy of layered neutrals. I’m wearing a tan corduroy jacket from Société Anonyme (brand. I love the spot-print t-shirt dress), a black ribbed UNIQLO tee, Eileen Fisher lantern pants (not the cropped ones) in Graphite, and Chanel captoe ballerinas (pre-owned). Below, some outfits you’ve seen before. 2011. That’s over a decade

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Let’s Just Say Tuesday, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:03am

I am sure I have told you that the women in my family enjoy, and are generally good at, making group decisions. To the point where one of us was nicknamed by her loving husband, “Plannerina.” We all like to review information, just deeply enough, mind you, as to see patterns emerge. We enjoy sourcing others’ opinions, albeit quickly so as to maintain a glorious momentum towards the Time for Action When Nattering Has Ceased. One could say that we have liked to take the reins. But the pandemic has brought a secondary epidemic of I Don’t Care You Decide, accompanied by her craven handmaiden, Oh To Heck

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A Sortie In Bona Fide Clothing, or, Saturday Morning at 10:33am

I’ve been out to dinner the past two nights. This feels remarkable. Here in the Bay Area, we are experiencing a few halcyon days of COVID, i.e. cases down and good weather for outdoor eating. I’m living in the moment. Which meant, unsurprisingly, I also had to put clothes on. From last night. Eileen Fisher cropped lantern pants in Barley (I also own Black and Graphite, size XS), Gucci Princetown slides of several years back, arm brace, the Doubt knit top by PatSport, and a decades-old Hello Kitty necklace by Kimora Lee Stevens. Remember frivolity? Later I added my black UNIQLO down jacket to go with the slides

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Sorrow As Substance, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:31am

Although I don’t want to write much about death (not having a large enough spirit to embrace the idea) I was thinking. Sadness on the loss of a loved one, when they were ready and clear, is different than grief over someone who left in other circumstances. Not brilliant, but deeply felt. I mourn the loss of my father. I loved him very much. He was with me all my life, and in the last few years became one of my closer companions. But he was 91, and clear and ready. That loss feels like sad water; a pool in a forest, reflecting light. My best friend died

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More Annoying Garden Lessons, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:44am

When new is scarce, gotta find surprise in the old. Last November I divided the last clump of daffodils from bulbs I planted over 30 years ago. The others had died and this one had just about stopped blooming. So I separated and replanted. And forgot. When the green tips pushed up, I thought, “Oh no! They’ll never flower. I didn’t water!” Lo and behold, they didn’t care. I imagine them wiggling daffodil toes in new dirt. Last year I planted a manzanita shrub in front of this Fountain o’ Phormium. When the pink manzanita flowers showed up this year, I thought, “Hey, they match the hellebore.” Then

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Nigh-Fingerless Speech, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:00am

Today I am writing with my voice. This is not easy. However, if you think about it, there’s not a lot of ease in the world right now. So, since community matters, I am sitting on my sofa engaged in the complex cognitive task of talking in such a way as to be legible. Phew. In the end, I’m always glad to learn something new in a way that lets me feel that I still can meet the world as a young person. Wait. My mind may meet the world like a young person. My elbow would like to sit down. I am on strict arm rest for

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A 200-Word Challenge, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:09am

Here’s something new. Through the end of March, I’m writing 200-word blog posts. No more; less if needs be. I’m not usually one for challenges (excepting Dry January, which matters). For example, I’ve never poured a tub of ice water over my head. But: I have persistent and unruly tendonitis of the elbow. “Tennis elbow,” as they call it, although I haven’t picked up a tennis racket since I was 11. It’s hard to type at length. My father died not quite a month ago. I write these Saturday posts on the day they are published, about whatever crosses my mind or has bubbled up in the past

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Two Shows For The Times, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:36am

It’s hard to know, these days, the role of hope, and if hope is appropriate, where? I don’t have the answers. However, I do have two television shows for you that address the question, from absolute opposite corners of the conceptual universe. On the one hand, zoom. On the other, LOL. First, Snowpiercer. Seasons One and Two are on HBO. Three, currently in progress, can be seen on TNT. Think Season 11 post-apocalyptic (except more bad guys) meets Speed (except on a train not a bus). Seriously, seven years after climate change causes an unprecedented Ice Age, human beings sustain life by riding on a train that never

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The Eternal Bliss of the Great Pacific, Or, Saturday Morning at 9am

My husband and I spent Thanksgiving last year, which now seems like a long time ago but wasn’t, at the Post Ranch Inn in Big Sur. This was a serious splurge; it is also perhaps the most beautiful place I’ve ever stayed, so if it’s possible, on balance, worth it. (A few notes on chipping away at cost/value–join iPrefer, use the American Express Platinum, drive a Lexus, become a repeat guest. Also, nearby Ventana is a Hyatt hotel, so, points, and Deetjens, less expensive, looks pretty cool. Big Sur is a wonder.) The first thing that happened was they upgraded us to a house. Yikes. It had a

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And In Conclusion, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:58am

So, my dad died early Monday morning. I wanted to tell you now, not to make a fuss, but because I’d told you it was coming. And because I wanted to thank you all for reading, some of you for years and years. Some of you, a decade. I am so grateful to have a community built on words. If I had to tell you how I’m feeling, which I don’t, I know, but I will, I come to write here every Saturday because I love the process of making and finding meaning with words. And that process, in my life, came from (was inspired by? is a

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Brief, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:34am

My father, known here and beloved as Professor C., is in his last days. Eventually, when it’s written, I’ll post his obituary. Soon, I hope to be back as your usual friend and Saturday morning company. For now, if you’d like to read my father’s writing, you can search for Professor C. in the search box to the right, and I think his posts will come up. See you all soon. Lisa

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What I Did To My Doors In The Pandemic, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:45am

There are those who have made their houses more beautiful in the pandemic. Before we begin today’s exegesis, let me direct you to Northern California Style. I get happily lost in Kim’s aesthetic; it soothes me and delights me on sight. Her blog is here. Now, back to Mrs. Serious AKA me. I need to show you two tiny projects. They gave me joy in the process. Which is by way of saying, they’re infinitely more personal than presentable. My sister gave me a doorstop for Christmas, as I had asked. It was beautiful; marble with leather strap. Then I painted it. Why, you may wonder? Because it’s

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Princesses Of Our Own Lives, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:13am

Happy 2022! Shall we begin with a searing re-examination of life and meaning in these times? Or, instead, a teeny jaunt through the re-making of shiny stuff? I thought so. Over the years I had accumulated a lot of unworn jewelry. But even though I kept it locked up, I felt it. A gold chain from my college boyfriend. A pearl from my stepsister at her wedding. A bracelet from a friend I no longer speak to. My first engagement ring, sapphire and two pear-shaped diamonds, from a now-closed jeweler in San Francisco. A white gold and diamond bracelet from my husband. Bits and bobs of metal and

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In The Deep Midwinter, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:56am

‘Tis  the season of flickering lights, whether you celebrate a major winter holiday, a minor one, or only a short line of squares on the endless digital calendar. We acknowledge darkness during Diwali, Hanukkah, Christmas, and on to the Lunar New Year. Then, ostensibly, we find hope. Which can be hard to find, but also very hard to do without. This week I have in fact felt hopeful. Today I wanted to recognize the women, albeit not by name, who are giving me hope. I hasten to add, it’s not that men never give me hope; they have, they do, they will. But today, Spero in mulieribus I

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Hiking (And Taking Steps) At 65, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:26am

My longtime primary care physician retired this past April, so I met with a new one, just to say hi. We talked about the thises and thats of health, but I had one specific question. I wondered, how I am doing for my age? These various waning capacities, are they to be expected and accepted, or addressed and mitigated? I told her I got tired in the afternoons, and that sometimes just hurrying about making myself a cup of tea winded me. Was this terrible? “Ah, no,” she said, or something of the sort, “You are simply deconditioned.” Deconditioned! What a great idea. For surely what has been de-

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Is This Common Knowledge, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:58am

Toward the goal of dimming my unwarranted distresses to the glow of one–probably–orange bulb I’ve been thinking about “being in the moment.” I understand that living in the past makes you sad, and living in the future, afraid. I appreciate the freedom of a zen flash of naked consciousness. I like the clarity of our senses. But I’ve been practicing something lately, with maybe a different perspective on time and self? I am no teacher, no spiritual nothing, got nothing to sell. Here it is. I’m imagining I live all the life I have lived, at once. I just pretend I’m every person I’ve ever been in my

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An Unprecedented But Benign Saturday Becomes Sunday Turns Into Monday, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:33am

When we started out, Saturday, my hiking shirt was rumpled, the terrain, in order. To end any pretense of mystery, my sister, my brother-in-law, my husband and I spent the weekend on what we called The Great Inaugural Hiking Foray. I’ve been venturing on small local hikes lately, and walking on my treadmill a lot, and decided to make a first real attempt at a hike in Pinnacles National Park. The newest national park, as of 2013, and the smallest at 2600 acres, Pinnacles is about 2.5 hours south of the SF Peninsula, just east of the town of Soledad. It’s also a whole other world, but luckily

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Lisa’s Luxurious Christmas List, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:54am

Good morning, all! I have in years past done a “Friendsmas” list, and today I do so again. This year we are using the term “friend,” somewhat broadly, but hey ho. The intent is to offer ideas for gift shopping (Christmas, Hanukkah, the Lunar New Year), while also supporting artisans,  and, let’s face it, people I just plain like. We’re starting early because things will take longer these days. We’ll kick it off with a bang. I am pretty sure by now you are all familiar with the photography of my stepmother, Brigitte Carnochan. Well, she has a new project, Still Beauty. Behold. *STILL BEAUTY* Bowl of Cherries

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What Is It With Moods, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:27am

Are you placid? I guess what I’m trying to figure out, net-net, is happiness. I have a seismic capacity for joy, and I’m lifelong grateful. But it eludes me, I can’t just call it up, like, “Hey babe, joy time! Get up and keep me company.” Alternative question: moods? A reasonable number of us have just spent a year and a half in which our daily physical lives (shall we say in an understated way) lacked variety? And yet who among us did not ride waves of rage and irritation and anxiety and awe and contentment and sorrow and fear? If that was just me I need to

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A New Knitwear Artist, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:38am

The Sturdy Gal didn’t expect this. That someone, who in fact she raised, as much as one person can raise the mystery of another, would call those flat shoes “Stalwart.” The drudge ennobled, zero ballgown. That’s me, pretty obviously, in a shirt knit, on a machine, less obviously, by my son, in his clothing/art/project, Summon-Elemental. The shirt is made of silk yarn: cornsilk-colored body, forest green lettering. I’m also wearing a blue-green apatite bead bracelet, white UNIQLO jeans, and a still-decent haircut. Patrick (for that is my son’s name) wrote up the origin of the project in the note for his inclusion in a now-running exhibition at the

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Short And Sweet, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:31am

The day has happily gotten away from me. I can also happily imagine that you are well busy, but if not, please don’t worry. Things can get better. I will say that having adult children has been been a true adventure, one for which I had no map. My generation of my culture did not have, in my experience, real relationships with their parents until quite late in life. If at all. In 2021, we have the opportunity and the understanding to do otherwise with our own grown children. I don’t mean real as in 100% raw everything is told all at once and forever. I mean simply

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Decorating Your House With Your Values, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:24am

What this is not: a perfectly decorated, knock-your-socks-off, Internet-setting-on-fire anything. What this is: one small way to fix up your living spaces and support your values. I’ve spent the pandemic freaking out, setting up a room for myself to write and work out in, and “finishing” the decoration of this house I’ve owned since 1986. For the final touches, as they say, I wanted to put my money where my mouth so often is, in support of Black-, women- and LGBTQ-owned businesses. I thought you all might appreciate these sources, despite your socks remaining firmly on your feet. Here are a couple of photos. First, for a while

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Absolutely Nothing That Makes Any Sense, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:58am

This morning it’s been really noisy outside. My neighbor’s child is not practicing his trumpet, nor is my other neighbor holding business calls by his pool. Thee nearby construction project’s things-that-grind and other-things-that-bang have been mercifully stilled. Instead, the crows and squirrels were yelling. I mean, really yelling. And suddenly, just as I begin to write, they fall silent. I mean, really silent. I love mornings. Everything feels so signifying. In the afternoon, if the creatures of nature caucus in the trees, I probably just close the window. In the morning, I listen to the quiet with as much attention as I do cawing. Even of the raucous

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When You Turn 65 Suddenly It’s Time For Eileen, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:44am

I wore jeans for (wait, I’m counting,) starting in 1968 (wait, math,) 53 years. But even before the pandemic I’d begun to winnow the horde. These were too tight across the hips, these too short and tight in the rise, these too baggy and tattered. Then, after 18 months home in sweatpants, finding myself somewhat unhappy at the prospect of an hour’s drive in denim and excessively unhappy at the thought of three hours on an airplane followed by three days of three-hour writing classes, I complained to one of my sisters. Sisters are great. Being great, she listened for a minute but also, being great, almost immediately

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What Is It About New Mexico, Or, Saturday Morning 8:02am

I am in Albuquerque. Whoa. Crazy. The Women’s Fiction Writers’ Association, or at least 80+ of the 1000+ member association, have gathered here for the annual retreat. I thought long and very hard about attending in the time of COVID. To wit, in case you’re faced any time soon with a similar calculation: I am trying to write fiction and it is not easy. So hard that I have put my “completed” first book aside and am halfway through the first draft of a second. It’s a romance. Whoa. Crazy. This association has been invaluable to my learning process so far AKA such as it has been AKA

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Why I Ask You To Watch Carmeon Hamilton’s New Discovery+/HGTV Show, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:09am

In the early days of blogging, an entire decade ago, I read my peers widely. In those days, I made friends I am bonded to even now. The Era of Instagram has been different. I hover on the doorstep, scrolling, watching Stories, posting only now and again, consuming content, as they say. Never mind TikTok, at least not yet. But when I began to follow Carmeon Hamilton several years ago, for the first time I understood how an influencer, one who maybe doesn’t even know your name, can feel like a friend. Over time, I’ve found myself invested in Carmeon’s life and growing success. I’m going to come

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When The Day Compels, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:12am

Occasionally when you have nothing to add, you still have to write. On 9/11, 2001, I started to drive to work. Crossing over the freeway the music station began to report the news. My kids were at home, their father would be driving them to school. Except I turned my car around and walked back in my front door to say that nobody could go anywhere. My daughter rolled her eyes because I was over-reacting. She was a teenager. Just another day, in many ways, as is often true of tragedies. The best thing I’ve read about 9/11 is this story in the Atlantic,  probably because it stays

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Hello, September Friends, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:23am

Good gray morning to you, my friends. This August the coast of Northern California, in contrast to the incinerating Eastern and Central regions, has been relatively cool. Our sun will shine today in a couple of hours (and I call it ours because something about California makes us feel that the sunlight is ours alone) but for now it’s a little chilly. Very nice. Although I have enjoyed these less-committed days, taking August off from blogging, it’s remarkably nice to be back. I hadn’t realized how time to write exactly and only what I’m thinking about, exactly and only in these morning hours, clears my mind. As though

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A Writing Room With Space For Life, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:36am

It’s almost finished! This is my writing/guest/exercise/conscious purchasing/life space. Ta-da! A while back, I made my son’s old room look nice. That was satisfying in the moment, but ultimately not fully useful. So over the pandemic I’ve: Bought a new sofa bed for guests Bought a new sofa for me to write on, in solitude, with a view of undisciplined vegetation and frolicking butterflies. (Trick question; it’s the same sofa. Wasn’t even a question, but never mind.) Bought a treadmill Bought a throw blanket, pillow, woven basket, a table lamp and a lampshade in alignment with my stated values Collected and displayed life artifacts that bring joy in

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New Mirror Same Person, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:01am

Good morning. If you remember, I am prone to caveats when posting my outfits. I’ve been concerned about the inaccuracy of my mirror. So, we got a new one. I still don’t think I look like this but really, doesn’t that bring up the fundamental question of what do we look like, and to whom, from what perspective? And, having brought it up, aren’t we well advised to say, “That’s nice, dear,” and talk about our favorite jeans instead? These are my 100% cotton barrel-legs from UNIQLO. I wore jeans this shape in the 80s. I loved them then and still do. Here, with a Ted Baker floral

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A Feverish Imagination And Cutting Boards, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:32am

The other day I had the most vivid and sudden image of aging. (It was the morning I came down with vertigo; I hypothesize a correlation. By the way, I’m much better. Thank you all so much for your support and suggestions.) I was in the car with my husband. I seemed to have had a whole idea in an instant, and I spoke in paragraphs as though a large iridescent bubble had popped and thought was released entire. Anyway, I said that to me aging feels as though our membranes–the separators of cell from cell, neuron from pathway–start to fray and become porous. This may mean that

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Interesting Maladies, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:02am

No full post today, as I’ve been hit with a bout of vertigo. Did you know we have microscopic crystals in our ears that help us maintain our balance, and sometimes, due to viruses, or impact, or they don’t even know what, the crystals dislodge? Now you do. The human body is full of surprises. This is called Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. The series of exercises I need to do in correction are absolutely silly. See: the human body is full of surprises. Anyway, it makes it hard to focus my eyes, so, with any luck, see you next week. Have a weekend in balance;).

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Oh Canada Oh History, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:40am

Today I’d like to ask you to go read my friend Frances’s recent post on her blog, Materfamilias. (If, of course, you have not already.) She writes about her experience growing up in Canada, and about her mother, in light of recent discoveries in their residential schools. And then I’d ask you, if you are so moved, to donate to a fund building an Urban Indigenous school in the area where she used to live. Frances’s post resonated with me for many reasons, but let me just refer to something personal. My mom was like Frances’s mom; committed to anti-racism and working to mitigate racism’s effects. Frances carried

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Has Eileen Fisher Changed Or Have I?, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:29am

As it turns out, my favorite outfit for serious heat remains a simple jersey skirt that falls well below my knees, and a t-shirt. Surprise;). Which is to say, when it’s too hot for jeans and shorts don’t feel like me any more, well, here we are. I am surprised that both top and skirt are from Eileen Fisher, not a brand I’d not been able to wear until I found this skirt several years ago. When it occurred to me last week that I might want to own TWO such skirts, in case one was covered in flour or pollen or lint as has happened, it was

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Four Nights Near Guerneville; All The Blues And Greens, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:25am

Somewhere between cabañas with a beloved husband and the backyard with fountain lies a house stay on the Russian River. Less cryptically, I just got back from four nights with my two adult children. And I mean adult. 31 and going on 34. We stayed at an Airbnb in the trees above Guerneville. Here’s the little outside deck. There was also a grill, so one night we cooked and ate dinner right here. Seen from the living/dining/kitchen area, ever present forest. At night ravens cronked furiously but I didn’t mind. The house was nicely decorated. Two bedrooms, so I shared a king bed with my daughter, and two

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Tiny And Immediate Glory, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:01am

My comments have been fixed. Is that not wonderful? You all are a gift.   We can travel, now. Also as was always possible, we can expand our worlds on the axis of tiny and immediate. Without spending a whole bunch of money. Which is to say on Shavonda Gardner’s recommendation, I bought a solar-powered fountain, and now have an itty bitty water feature in my side yard. While this planter may only rarely be touched as above by the hand of the sky, it’s often bubbling. I plugged up the drainage hole with duct tape. It works well enough. The fountain floats on water and sprays water

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Getting Away To The Wine Country, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:15am

We got away for the Memorial Day long weekend. Got out.  I had to sit and stare at that sentence for a long time. I imagine the peeling bark of a birch tree. That’s kind of how it felt; the past 15 months flaking off in fragments. Who knows what lies below, and all that. We stayed at the newly-opened Montage Healdsburg. Up front let me say it was a serious splurge. Also shockingly wonderful. The rooms are housed in single story buildings around the resort, 2-3 rooms per building. The architecture is so incredibly Northern Californian, I don’t have the vocabulary for it, just the emotion.   

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Testing

As you can imagine, I am testing various parts of the blog site that might have broken the comments. So far it seems like there’s nothing that can be fixed without an actual developer writing actual code. I plan to continue writing posts, opening up my Facebook follows to blog readers, and answering my skyepeale emails until I can get this fixed. Thank you all so much for you patience. See you Saturday. Still testing. And have begun the process of looking to hire someone. Found a way to display the comments in the sidebar, but still don’t know how to get more than one comment in before

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San Francisco Garden Up A Hill, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:59am

After four tech support help sessions, comments are still broken. I have one more trouble-shooting process to try and then it’s a site rewrite, I fear. So for today I’ll keep it simple. My husband and I went to San Francisco yesterday, and while he did some errands, I went up a hill. I’d never seen this vertical pocket garden before, up above Sansome, a little north of Green. It was lovely. Steep, but lovely. Also apparently a labor of love, as I shared yesterday on Instagram. And people live in apartments and condos on the adjacent hillside terraces, bringing home their groceries of a weekend afternoon. The

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Skin Care Indulgent And Thrifty, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:51am

I am enjoying my current skin care products. I shall share here, as you may enjoy them too. First, as the easiest first step towards reducing plastic containers I could imagine, I now wash my face with bar soap. This has a nice, faint scent, and does not tighten my skin across my cheekbones like a vise. Check. Next, a host of different serums and, what should we call them, activators? Potions? Perhaps best understood as a list of items rather than a category: peptides, hyaluronic acid, retinol. I spend very little money on these, as I am buying ingredients, not magic. Hyaluronic acid apparently attracts moisture. The

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An Ineffable Parking Lot, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:39am

Usually I leave flowers in my garden but this year I am cutting them and bringing them inside. I mean, not all the time, but more often. As of Thursday I was fully immunized so I did errands. This year I like to gather huge bundles of one sort of flower and cram them into one very large vase and see where they fall. As you know, I have a lot of white in the garden. Viburnum cut well, and persist in their glass cylinder. They even drop their blossoms prettily. Glamis Castle, on the other hand, absolutely terrible vegetation. Late bloomer, covered in thorns, smells bad, prone

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Turns Out, Press-On Nails Are Fun, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:18am

I rarely get manicures. After all, I spend a fair amount of time pulling weeds and lopping branches, not good for nails. Sure, when I know something fancy’s coming up–a wedding, a party, a spiffy vacation–I’ll go to the nail place. 99% of the time their efforts last for maybe a day or two, but since that’s long enough for the event, eh. The only time my lackadaisicality annoys is surprise events when I aim for something between black peacock feathers and comic sweatpants, but my gardening fingernails hold me back. The line between Sturdy Gal and Artsy Cousin can be hard to tread. And that’s why, when

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Under The Weather For Good Reason, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:57am

Good morning to all. Here, have some viburnum. Somewhat blurry, but then so am I. I am happy to have gotten my second shot Thursday, however I am still a little under the weather and therefore must beg off today’s post. I’ll be back next week. That is, with any luck as I see my blog hosting site is performing maintenance tonight. Cross your fingers that the maintenance does only that–maintain. For today, I did want to pass two online events on to you. They were in turn recommended to me by a Princeton classmate and friend, Sarah Finnie Robinson, who has been working on the health of

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All Is Well And How Will All Be Well? Or, Saturday Morning at 9:21am

In my little house surrounded by my little garden, all is well. The new sleeper sofa for the guest room/study/workout space arrived (I’ll show you all once the space is all set up), the stovetop is clean, and one of several loads of laundry just slowed to a stop. Outside, the native iris are in flower. They’re very short, mostly white, and bloom profusely, looking therefore for all the world like tiny flocks of seagulls caught by tiny threads. The roses are budding and I’ll be able to smell them soon, the dogwood are popping, and forget-me-nots, bleeding hearts and miniature strawberries cover the garden floor. But our

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First Rose First Girl, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:36am

The first rose has bloomed in my garden. Nothing special. A garden variety one might even say, red rose. Doesn’t even smell like much of anything except generic flower. Vegetal. But she seems like someone I’d want for a friend. Someone audacious. The girl who goes to a party in a group, and as her friends buzz under the portico, fretting about it being too early and the terrible possibility that they have all Worn The Wrong Clothes, she presses on the doorbell with two fingers for emphasis, once, twice, “What the hell you idiots, I’m going in!” And they have the time of their lives. I love

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One Step Up From Sweatpants Is Farther Than One Expected, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:44am

So one morning I had to go to the post office or something and I put clothes on and they didn’t look terrible. This startled me. So I took a picture. Might we derive some useful constructs? I do not know but let’s try. A good if accidental haircut can deliver 60% of your style Your best sunglasses handle the next 15% The remainder can be managed through silhouette (these trousers and cropped jacket make me look long-legged; I am decidedly not), and a color scheme that works for both the hue of your skin (navy and tan are good for a mostly cool-toned human) and for your

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Elegant Waistlines, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:15am

Today marks three hundred and seventy-something days of all elastic waistbands all the time. That’s not quite true, on the rare occasions I’ve ventured out beyond my neighborhood streets I have attempted oversized, non-stretch jeans. But still, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel the same about my beltline again. And summer is coming. Vaccines are coming. We in California open to 50+ on Thursday and I see that groups are calling for the US to use the big production pipeline we’ve built to supply the rest of the world, soon. All of which to say, it doesn’t feel completely unreasonable to imagine a coming season of walking around

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The Other Side Of Forgiveness, Or, Saturday Morning 10:09am

To all in the Asian community, I feel for your fear and sorrow and rage and I am thinking of you   I have exhausted my capacity for outrage, in the dead middle of events that deserve it. Absent outrage, what? Sometimes we find an electoral solution, and therefore a clear course of action for change. But sometimes the problem is broader and deeper than the power of any one elected official. Then we enter the realm of culture and currents, and struggle and demonstrations, and thousands and thousands of opposing attempts to define evil. And in that place? What about forgiveness? An obdurate forgiveness, if you will,

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Fitness Of Another Sort, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:24am

Some have put the question of fitness to the side, during the pandemic. Perfectly reasonable. Some have taken their fitness to new heights. Also reasonable. Me I’ve just been trying to do something about my goldarn anxiety. Said phenomena, born of neurons and hormones and forces I know not which, has become more important to address as it seems I cannot drink alcohol=, my prior medication of choice, except in small and fairly infrequent amounts. This year I took on Dry January, as I’ve done before, and when I emerged my body chemistry seemed to have changed and I can now enjoy a glass or two once a

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Imaginary Travel As The Time Draws Closer, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:27am

I know some of you, maybe many, are beginning to plan real travel. I’m not there yet. But in the way of pandemic mood swings, today I’m optimistic and ready for vistas. I think about Africa, having never been. While I’d like to see the creatures, I am also curious about the terrain and the trees and the light. In other words, this. And how about Montenegro? Some of the people I follow went there before the pandemic and I was struck by its beauty and the feel of hidden history. I’ve never been drawn to Japan, as many are, but South Korea? I’m so curious. And to

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The Board Of Hope, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:34am

Confession. I am finding this pandemic home stretch harder than our deepest lockdown. In California, everyone 65 and over is now eligible for vaccination, as are healthcare workers and teachers. This means several of my family members are all set. I’m 64, not 65 until September, and also retired, which means I am so close but yet so far. I’m good at enduring, but not waiting. What to do? I don’t like this anxious state of I Am Not Getting Mine And Everyone Else Is, and I especially don’t like being the person who feels that way. I hung a bulletin board. I’d saved cards from friends and

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Passing On Fashion And Its Memories, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:45am

Hello. In spirit of my recent clearing stuff out, both my mother’s possessions and my son’s old room to prepare a writing spot, I also took a look at my closet. I’ve been prone to scoffing at Marie Kondo, which isn’t very nice, and was also probably a defensive reaction because I didn’t WANT to get rid of anything. Isn’t it great the way we humans can evolve and move beyond our self-confusion? Sometimes? So, spark joy it is. While these two dresses do their joyful job on the hanger–they are quite simply, beautiful– I no longer enjoy them on me. The brown and black Prada has no

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Something About Red And Pink, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:32am

Let’s party like it’s 2015. By which I mean, let’s go for some frivolity and sweatpants. ‘Tis the season of red and pink, my friends, what with the Lunar New Year and Valentine’s Day so close together. In many Asian cultures, red is the color of good fortune. In America, red in February means love. (Of course I may revert to pink, being a High WASP and all that.) Let’s double down. I promise, I am truly considering a pair of these joggers (I have them in size S in gray and black and they are in fact streamlined and cute), to be worn most likely with this

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#Bookstagram You Say? Or, Saturday Morning at 7:54am

I would like to invite you to follow me on my second Instagram account, @lisa.carnochan.writes. Ironically, although both my @amidprivilege Instagram and Twitter accounts are named for the blog where I do almost all my writing you have ever read, to write books I need a new name. intstagram.com/lisa.carnochan.writes it is. There I shall post the books I read and the books my writer colleagues publish. “Read” being a kind word, that covers both present and past. For example, since I am not one to reread, I have been winnowing my collection of high school Fitzgeralds and young 30s Anne Tylers to include only works that I in

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Yes We Will Yes We Will, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:13am

Today is January 30th. In about six weeks, we will have quarantined for a year. By “quarantined,” which is a fluid term, I mean all groceries delivered, masking at all times when within 20 feet of other people (except last summer when California was doing well and we ate outside twice), and avoiding public interiors except three retail moments. I write this not to complain. Not that I might not complain another day, but this morning I was instead asking myself what I might have done differently 11 months ago, had I known how long we’d be in. Do you ever wonder? I would have visited my best friend.

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If Pearls Become Power, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:18am

Imagine I write this post with no trace of anger in my voice. It’s true. This year the American media covered Inaugural fashion in perhaps more depth than usual. We read about which designers Kamala Harris and Dr. Jill Biden wore to the COVID Memorial ceremony; we watched as the Biden family, the Harrises and the Emhoffs, and Hillary Clinton came down the steps of the Capitol, in purple, plum, lavender, pink, and goldenrod. JLo and Lady Gaga and Amanda Gorman performed in a white pantsuit, embellished black dress, and yellow blazer with a red headband, respectively. And oh yeah Joe Biden wore Ralph Lauren and Garth Brooks

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A Beautiful Morning, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:13am

We had a beautiful sunrise this morning; I could see it from bed when I woke. Last week our gardeners pruned my front yard rose bed. This week I asked them to cut back the red climbing rose, the miniature bamboo, and the leggy, leggy salvia. Now I just have to clean up the yellowed leaves that fell as their branches were cut, and put down compost. In the back yard, hellebores are raising through last year’s detritus, and I sense the incense cedar preparing for another year of growth. Such a happy, friendly tree. My aunt, my mother’s baby sister and my friend, gave us this bowl

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A Memorial To My Friend And A Manifesto, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:05am

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 could have done it, even though my long-distance best friend died this past Saturday. She was diagnosed with glioblastoma in May on her 60th birthday. Despite surgery, chemo, and radiation, the standard of care, as they say, she never recovered her health. She leaves behind five children, a grieving husband, her mother, two sisters, me, and my son, for whom she was a sort of second mother. But I still could have written something about warm socks. Liz was a private woman, and

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The Lights Of A Pandemic Christmas, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:36am

We are entering the season of Christmas. It’s a big deal, in the USA. Although I did not grow up in a observant religion per se, I’ve always loved this holiday. For my family with resources, it meant private abundance and public quiet. Presents and twinkling and tablecloths; no cars on the street, few airplanes above. Everyone home. This year, of course, everyone’s not home. But we’re celebrating. I put up a tree. Bought it Saturday and stood it in water but didn’t finish decorating until Thursday. Good enough.   The angel belonged to my grandmother, via her Austro-Hungarian second husband if I’m not mistaken. The wings are

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On The Other Side Of Known, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:05am

During a pandemic, one thing you can do is think a whole awful lot about things you previously took for granted. This can be human beings that you love, or, a possibility, rainbows. It rained a few weeks ago, once, briefly, and when I walked into the front yard thinking simply to smell the clean air I found this. A rainbow. Bingo. And I thought about how, having of course nothing else to do, when we use the word “rainbow” as an adjective, we are referring the signature bands of color. (BTW, did you know that the rainbow is said to have seven bands in all? Red, orange,

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Who Would Be Wearing This, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:51am

I cannot get this dress out of my mind. That trailing festoon on the side? Peacock feathers, dyed black, traces of the original blue and green iridescence. See, I wore my 12-year old little black Narciso Rodriguez for our Thursday Thanksgiving a deux, and I noticed that it felt perhaps too body-focused for me now, at 64. It’s not that I feel ashamed of my silhouette, more that I might want to present with less skin, to communicate how more of how I feel in that selfsame skin than how I look. I then of course indulged in recreationally browsing black dresses yesterday, only to meet the Peacock

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Dust On The Mirror, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:48am

Some people like to dress up at home. Susan at Une Femme, and Sue at High Heels in the Wilderness, for example, both do it very well. But I have learned that I truly don’t care. This is in no way a dismissal of the  concept. It’s just that dressing, for me, is about communicating in a social context. If my sofa had opinions, or changed clothes herself to indicate her mood, aesthetic, or politics, I’d probably pay some attention. So, as I sit here now in over-sized jeans and a flowered turtleneck, I have photos for you from earlier this morning. I put on the clothes my

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Pandemic OK, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:45am

Well. Here we are. I would love to hear about your Thanksgiving plans this year. A judgment-free zone, if we might, because I am going to trust that you all will do what you must to keep everyone safe. My husband and I are staying in. We will order takeout, from a local business, either a family-owned supermarket or a restaurant we used to patronize when we went anywhere. We will not have visitors. Now that I think about it, we will probably do an extended family Zoom call, as we have every Saturday evening almost since the pandemic began. I hope everyone remembers that if things are

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Some Events Need Rhetoric, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:36am

Yesterday we woke up to something blowing through the branches of my young trees. Being well beyond judgment by that point, I could have sworn I heard the question, “The winds of change?” Last night as I went to sleep, it began to rain for the first time since last spring. I remained wary of the sign, reluctant to count on anything, trying with my wildly firing neurons to create the outcome I wanted. Create? Enforce? Enchant? The anxiety of superstition. But today it’s done. Today is for breathing, crying a little, group chatting with friends and family, and for coming here to say I feel love for

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No Surprise Here, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:36am

I imagine every single person reading this post knows the US’s presidential election is Tuesday. I imagine that almost every single person reading also knows who I’ve voted for. Now, I’m not going to exhort you about anything, anything at all, because I also imagine we are exhorted into exhaustion. But I did want to say something about why I voted as I did. I grew up believing that if you have a lot you owe a lot. Not that anyone ever said this out loud. High WASPs, remember, don’t do overt. But the example was set, that one must give in one way or another, and, I

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A Guest Post On More Than Gardening, From Marchelle, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:14am

Today we’ve got the good fortune and privilege of a guest post from my friend, Marchelle. AKA @afroliage on Instagram, she writes from her garden in the English countryside, and is a wonderful essayist. I’m so happy to have her on this blog. Spoiler alert: this is about more than gardening. How to garden How did you learn how to garden? The question throws me and I realise I don’t know the answer. Yes, I bought and borrowed books, most of which I have never fully read. Certainly, I have imbibed seasons of comforting British gardening television, mostly when I had no garden. Without doubt I grew up

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The Cup Spilleth Over, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:14am

Somewhere on the blogosphere, in a place I can no longer find, I defined luxury as when the cup of both function and beauty overflows. Meaning that both beauty and function are packed so thoroughly into an object or experience that we plain ol’ get more good than we expect. The surprise adds to our enjoyment; cost is incidental. In that spirit; things. A Thank You From My Siblings As I have said, I am the executor for my mother’s estate. This has involved a lot of work, especially of the fighting-with-people-who-charge-too-much and keeping-track-of-myriad-annoying-details varieties. When my siblings and I gathered last weekend (in person and virtually) to

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A Magpie Sendoff, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:21am

This morning my siblings and I will engage in the singular High WASP ritual: “The Final Disposition Of Silver And Jewelry When Your Mother Has Died.” I am prepared for disquisitions on monogrammed bread trays and the virtues of rose cut diamonds. At least, I am prepared to imagine such. For in truth, 11 1/2 years after I began to write this blog, the Carnochan siblings have moved on. The locus of our identity, and I suppose I should say mine, since it was really me holding on to it all, as eldest children will, has shifted. Picked up lacy underskirts and faille overskirts and run off to

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When Friends Say It Better, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:20am

Occasionally someone articulates how you are feeling so well that you give them your voice in thanks. The photo above, and the words below, are by my friend Cara, from her Instagram feed, caratakesphotos. (Note that she is on hiatus just at the moment but her archives are a pleasure.) *** equinox /ˈiːkwɪnɒks,ˈɛkwɪnɒks/ aequi nox Equal Night.The world held in balance, day equaling night. The last of summer’s harvest, the tipping point into the darkness of winter. Persephone’s return to Hades. Yesterday was Autumn Equinox in the northern hemisphere, the official end of summer. Yesterday was too dark (literally, metaphorically, emotionally, physically) to post but I wanted to

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That One Thing You Simply Cannot Do Come Heck Or High Water, or, Saturday Morning at 8:35am

Yes, we’re still in quarantine, and yes, the nation rages around us, but there’s a time for roaring and howling, and a time to sit. Today is the latter. (Tuesday, we phone bank. Will not howl.) I am proceeding on the plan to furnish my “workroom” so that I can in fact “work” in it. The room that currently looks like this, and this, will lose the 15-year old Pottery Barn daybed, a 20-year old Ikea dresser and desk, and the don’t-know-how-old-it-is-but-I-bought-it-in-high-school rocking chair (the rug is staying as is the bookcase) to make way for this New England desk from my mother (that panel opens down and

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What Is Your Community, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:14am

Our air has cleared; our weather is beautiful. I deadheaded my roses a bit this morning, which I like to do intermittently in between writing and dishes and other strategic initiatives. That was a joke. All around my suburban neighborhood, people have opened their windows. Flung widely, I imagine. We have lost a great woman. This morning I had a hard time thinking of what to write that would be true to how I feel but neither electoral nor partisan. Look to the source. Here’s what Ginsburg said: “…do something outside yourself. Something to repair tears in your community.” Granted, she made the remark in the context of

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Furnishing The Apocalypse, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:40am

That’s my sky this morning. No longer orange (excellent article on the extreme angst of that phenomenon), now toxic (a good article on the facts. because the angst of truly poisoned air is something for philosophers and science fiction, not the news. I think of that Ray Bradbury story, The Martian Chronicles.) People are kind, sending their condolences on the fires. But in truth, as a garden-variety self-absorbed person, I can ignore the conflagrations. They are miles away. I can’t ignore breathing. I just want to tell you one thing, urgently. Our weather has always been temperate. You know that movie, LA Story? The bit when Steve Martin

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What To Kindly Burn, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:02am

Welcome to the great Candle Community Collaboration. Some may recall I used to do candle burnoffs, but competition doesn’t feel right just now. So. In June I ordered a Discovery Set from the Bright Black candle company. Six tiny candles, with six different scents. I had planned to compare them but I abandoned that plan right about when I stopped wearing pants. Behold my notes. Much of July and August have been hot and smoky without my burning anything additional *in* my house, but for a couple of weeks candles after dinner were possible. And in that time, I rediscovered the joy of simple novelty; the abundance of

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All My Roses Die Differently, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:30am

All my roses die differently. I have, I am counting in my mind, six cultivars. My one tea rose, Honor, it’s called, holds on with great dignity. Determined to look like a flower come hell or high water until all’s done. Glamis Castle, on the other hand, becomes translucent, petals leaning in upon each other as the blossoms collapse into something resembling tiny rose puddings. Neurasthenia, one might say. The variety is no longer offered commercially, which is a clue, but I appreciate her unabashed failure amidst sturdier compatriots. My most recent purchase, Susan Williams-Elliot, above, grows tiny little blooms with pointy petals and a fragrance that’s out

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A Quiet Vroom, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:24am

Starting back after a break reminds me of those movies scenes. You know the ones? A youth, or a grumpy old man, removes the dust cover from an old car hidden in a garage. He turns the key in the ignition, and the engine roars in approval. We’re on! We can redeem whatever we must! Were I wearing a fedora, I’d tip it right about now. Hello, everyone. Welcome to the apocalypse. As you may know, here in Northern California we’re entering our second week of a serious heat wave. On one of the nights following one of those days, lightning struck hills all around the Bay, for

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I’ll Be Back In August, Not That I’m Actually GOING Anywhere Of Course, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:53am

Well hi my friends. I’m going to take a couple weeks off from posting. I’ll be back in early August. This is not really a vacation because in the first place I’m retired, and besides we can’t travel. But I’ve fallen behind on a few obligations, and I won’t feel right until I catch up. Sometimes you need to stare out across the ocean to feel peace, and sometimes you need to pick up your hoe. What obligations might a retired lady of the suburbs have? A few. My mother’s house is for sale and I have to support that process. I owe reading and comments to other

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Hanging Tough And Not-So-Tough In The Time Of Pandemic, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:56am

Sunglasses/Tee/Jeans (similar)/Shoes/Bracelet (mine is smaller, with a white gold hamsa charm)/Existential Panic (similar) Some days in this pandemic I still wake up fragile. I hope you guys are OK. Above is a morning when I felt, even if briefly, strong. We were driving up to the city to fetch something. I put on clothes, even though I wouldn’t be getting out of the car. The sight of my upper arms, muscular by nature all my life, supported by lifting light weights now and again, cheered me. As did the Ray-Bans, and comfortable shoes. We find our solace where we can. I also wore my Valentine’s Day present bracelet,

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Some Fourths of July, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:03am

In years past, I’ve marked July 4th several ways here on Privilege. Above, with red, white and blue (OK, fine, a little yellow too) plantings. Another year with a discussion of regional High WASP variants. And another, via red, white and blue apparel and accoutrements. (Also on my mother’s driveway, slightly tipsy, laughing.) As you can imagine, this year those traditional colors don’t feel festive. But I can’t bring myself to grieve. We have a hard job to do but Sturdy Gals are optimists and we believe in that Yes We Can business. However. If we want to continue as America in concept and actuality, we also have to

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Incremental Beautiful, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:13am

It appears, nationally, that we’re in for a long, hard summer. If you are in any of the places suffering in what we now call “spikes,” i.e. increases in COVID-19 cases, I am so sorry. If you are in one of the lucky places where caseload is stable, and the community has agreed on how to cope–masks, distancing, testing, tracing–well, me too. Lucky in comparison, but I still find it blindingly hard. Even as a Sturdy Gal. Having relied on native cheer all my life, I am unused to this feeling of constant peripheral distress. I spend a lot of time talking myself down from, wait, what? I

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At The Edge Of What We Water, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:35am

As the world has both stood still and erupted on its axis, my garden has kept going. Persistent little noodge. In the long view, several things of import have occurred. The world got warmer, while California had one of its historical droughts, so trees fell down. Then my neighborhood got hotter still. My plants needed more water in the resultant sun and heat; I ran my sprinklers more often. Everyone in the Bay Area who grows anything other than scrub and cacti needs sprinklers. But the additional overhead water, I’m pretty sure, brought fungus. As a result, in my front yard alone I lost a horizontal cypress, a

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Proximity, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:20am

Let’s do lifestyle, yes? I love these denim tie-waist pants. Seems like the perfect option for the loose seat I prefer, but, fashion. Currently sold out. Maybe to return? Aliya Wanek is a designer here in San Francisco but new to me. How about more small and simple earrings? Can one have too many? I think not. These tiny concave discs also come in white and rose gold. Surprisingly affordable, made of recycled precious metals. I always love a simple but Artsy sweatshirt. Made from cotton and hemp and navy besides. Also from Aliya Wanek, size 2X still available. How about a supplier of linen sheets for our

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When The Universe Tells You To Stop Talking, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:47am

  Hello, dear friends. I write to you, ruefully shaking my head at the universe and my bandaged finger. Last night I closed a door on my hand. Although nothing is broken and I will probably just lose a fingernail, typing is uncomfortable. Next week I’ll return with full-on beautiful goods, impetus for social change in the direction of compassion, and blather about the meaning of life. But today, before I go, I want to say thank you. This blog has helped me enormously with one of the tasks of my somatic being; listening. Listening and remembering that everyone wants and needs to be seen and heard. And

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Inalienable, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:47am

It’s a tough day. I am not able to write without reference to what’s happening in America. A man died. A Black man died after a policeman kneeled on his neck for many minutes. The event was captured on video and seen over and over again around America. People protested in the streets. People and their belongings and their livelihoods were damaged. I don’t have a brain large enough to absorb and comprehend what has happened or why. None of the available conceptual models–neither economics, psychology, social welfare, nor politics–at least no single model in any of these disciplines, explains it all to me. Which means that I

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The Uniform, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:52am

All I want to wear these days are sweatpants, tees, sweatshirts. Enormous caveat, they have to contain a large percentage of cotton and they have to be Sturdy, not slippery. Viscose need not apply. To these I add teeny tiny earrings that won’t get yanked from my ears, when I’m up a ladder lopping off flowering tree branches by a fall of stamens and other vegetal debris. I want cotton, precious metals and precious stones, and ideally I want sumptuous and striking color because absent the beauty of the vast world I have to crowd as much as I can into this small life. If I lived in

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May Is The Month Of Roses, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:32am

I do not remember exactly when I planted my white roses. This is the first post I could find on the blog, but given the finicky nature of my search function, who knows when it all began. Feel free to search for “white roses” in my sidebar if you are so inclined. In any case, it’s May again. Luckily. This year for some reason the roses grew so tall, that when we got a rare rain, many fell right over. I had no choice but to bring them into the house and put them on the hearth. It became difficult to tell where flowers ended and shadows began.

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Settling On A Skin Care Routine, Or, Pandemic Saturday Morning at 9:32am

If I were to look for one good thing about this enforced homestay, I’d say it’s getting better at what I already know. Not that I’m necessarily doing anything better, but I might be knowing how. My grocery shopping wastes less, roses bear more blooms, measuring spoons nest neatly in their drawer. Also I realized I’ve pretty much figured out skin care. The big moment came when I found my favorite cleanser. (And yes I just said that and ah well, my dears, ah well.) I have never enjoyed face-washing. Somehow I can never keep the water off the counter, the mirror, even the floor. Natural exuberance? So

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The Best Analogy I Could Muster For Coronavirus Life, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:06am

In retirement, I have changed my approach to accomplishment. I moved from a detailed to-do list, to simply trying to hit a few defined marks every day. I’ve talked about this before, but, here’s a reminder of my goals, because who among us does not love the minutiae of another being’s life? “Marks” In The Before Eat vegetables Avoid saturated fat Work on my writing (revising my novel, reading other people’s work, blog, etc.) Do some administrative tasks (taxes, Mom’s estate, house refinancing, car insurance etc.) Get physical activity (walk, garden, clean house) Do something to take care of the house (garden, clean–love a dual purpose task;)) Be

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Finding Durable Linen Bedding Turns Out To Be Tricky, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:13am

Just when comfort really matters, my duvet cover frays. Eight weeks in to shelter-in-place, I am finding shreds on the floor by the bed and poking my toes through linen tatters. Have you also read that sleep is the most important thing you can do to strengthen your immune system? New bedding it is. Let me first explain why I will stick with linen. First, the colors of my bedroom are almost completely neutral. And linen adds the texture that saves me from an art gallery look. Second, I find I sleep better on linen, at least linen for pillowcases and duvet cover. (Don’t much like the wrinkles

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Your Perspective On What’s Boring Changes, Or, Sunday Morning at 8:48am

I had thought to see the Bay. But from where I live it’s a winding and hilly road to the ocean, and that felt like too much driving for my broken toe. The Bay sounded good. But the Bay is flanked by roads, and you need an open parking lot to get close enough for short rather than long walking. Again, the toe. No open lots were to be found. At least none by the water. So we improvised. Most of all I wanted something new. We take what we can get. I had never seen this place, close to Google’s campus and a concert venue as it

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In Fact Today I Shall Be Leaving My House (Safely), Or, Saturday Morning at 9:20am

Today, essentially, I must see something that’s new to me or risk implosion. This will require leaving my house this morning. Here’s the plan. Go somewhere. Get out of car (I’d walk but believe it or not I have a broken toe). Look around. Get back in car. Come back. I will take pictures when I arrive where ever it is I will have gone and I’ll post evidence tomorrow morning. I will be wearing a mask. I will be responsible. See you soon!  

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How To Escape Quarantine Brain Without Doing Any Work, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:38am

So I was putting together a post on linen bedding, because I need a new duvet cover, and I suddenly knew with overwhelming certainty that today was not that day. Have you all become more erratic in this time of quarantine? Me, yes. And I cannot control my well-being. One day I might do everything right: exercise; eat lots of fiber and not too much sugar; log an alcohol-free evening, dig holes and fill out forms as planned; but the next morning rise wholly uninspired. Or maybe I wallow in anxiety, olive oil and red wine all day long, only to wake up full of talent. Anyway, never

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Gardening In The Time Of Coronavirus, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:47am

And so it continues. My house is messier, what with two people home, but also cleaner, because I can’t ignore the dust and grease when I am here all day. My garden is also getting more attention. Although we just missed the quarantine window for any significant spring planting (gardeners are not allowed to work here and I cannot plant trees by myself), I’m hunting down fungus and weeds with mild vengeance. The native iris has joined us. Purple up baby, purple up. The dicentra has made an appearance, falling into the arms of surrounding ferns. The loropetalum, what a mellifluous name, kicked off its bloom early this

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Lady Clothes And Glitter Sweatpants, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:16am

What is the best possible thing I can give you now? (Were I a skilled maker I’d surely make something for you but we know that’s just not the case.) I suppose the best I can do is try for two sides of story-telling: pretending and telling the truth. Here’s something pretend. Imaginary shopping. Do you know Ann Mashburn? An independent retailer who started up in Atlanta, Georgie. Expensive, but  they’re having a 20% sale right now and besides, imagination. One of my imaginary selves dresses like this. She wears the Tretorns because she’s spunky, the small earrings (not from Ann, also on sale) every day because they’re

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How To Make A Mediocre Baguette, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:33am

Everyone reacts a little differently to a crisis, and their reaction changes over time. This I know. I also know that all of California is under a shelter-at-home order, that there are currently 306 cases of Covid-19, in my county and the one right next door to me and their combined population of 2.76M, and that I and my beloveds are currently well. I keep track of the data. I know that I hope that you and your loved ones are also well. Other than that, really, I a few days ago I became possessed by the idea of making baguettes, and therefore did so last night. I

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I Hope You Are All Well, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:19am

I am sure that, by now you, know what you need to know about the coronavirus pandemic. You’ve watched several musical hand-washing videos, and, I hope, some lovely clips of Italians singing in unison from their balconies. (Siena did it best, in my humble opinion.) With any luck you’ve also stocked up on canned tomatoes, frozen peas, and maybe some pasta. Frozen shrimp. Onions, garlic, root vegetables. Oh, and you’re well-provided with books and movies; the people you love are nearby. Now we wait and hope that our medical infrastructure and the remarkably optimistic and persistent American people can carry us forward into stability. I wish you all

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A Trip To Southern California With Some Surprises, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:07am

The first thing a Northern Californian notices when driving south is an increase in what we might call, “Palmage.” Up North, we have palms, we do. We plant them, but generally as statements, and they take work to maintain. Down South, palms are weeds. Also Southern California has better Mexican food. On the whole. More variety. This week I ate shrimp in Bakersfield. Let me be the first to admit, although I’ve lived in California for 49 of my 63 years, I don’t understand Southern California at all. I travel there as an alien, looking out windows in confusion and wonder, attempting at every turn to wrestle sense

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Find Pretty Good Style On The Pretty Cheap With The Help Of Color And Geometry, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:20am

  As you know, much of this winter I have been wearing UNIQLO curved leg jeans, Timberland boots, and turtlenecks. As you also know, the boots then insisted I buy a cognac tote. So for spring and the non-brutally hot days of summer, my first purchase was a pair of the selfsame jeans in white. My second was an inexpensive ice blue crossbody bag, by a brand called, somewhat ironically, Hobo. But wait, don’t I still own a brown Bottega Veneta crossbody? Yes. But it’s darker and doesn’t work with cognac and the Hobo was <$200. Hear me out. Now all I need for hot weather 2020 is

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How Far From Myth To Reality, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:08am

A few notes on entertainment. What’s myth? What’s reality? What do those terms mean in the context of narrative? Oh never mind theory. I have read a book that I can endorse 100%. I’m referring to Circe, by Madeline Miller. It is, as you’d expect, a retelling of the myth of Circe, the enchantress with whom Odysseus, well, spent some time on his way home to Ithaca. It’s been a long time since I read a book that made me feel this seen. All along I read passages aloud in an passionate voice, I shouted, virtually, “Yes!” throughout the narrative. And yet as far as I know I

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We Get No Practice, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:42am

So it was Valentine’s Day yesterday and this morning I had a weird thought. It seems to me that we most commonly know we have fallen in love when we feel that we love someone more than ourselves and/or we will be lost if they leave us. Yes? No? Let’s say yes. If that’s right, isn’t it odd that so many of us fall in love before we’ve experienced what I believe to be the strongest versions of those feelings? We truly love our children more than ourselves. But most of us fall in love before we have had any children, some may never have them. We truly

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The Good In Retail Work, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:16am

So what’s good about working in retail? People. Stuff. And getting paid, but today let’s focus on the first two. The people you work with. I loved being part of a team again. It’s wonderful when those who truly, madly, deeply know what they are doing help you out, without begrudging your ignorance. The people you serve. I refer to those the moments when customers laugh with you in little sparks of life, even briefly joining you in a shared understanding of humanity. A home goods store is fertile ground for stories of families, and traditions, and as an American with many generations of the same behind me,

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Three Things To Remember For A Reasonable Retail Customer, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:59am

Last November, on somewhat of a lark, I took a “holiday employee” position at a well-known home goods retailer. This Tuesday will be the last day; it’s inventory time. I have almost no idea what I will be doing, but I will find out. Which has been the template for my whole experience. Why do it? I’d always been curious about this kind of work, I thought my extroverted self would enjoy being around a lot of people, and I figured I could sell their products pretty well. And it was doable, I only put in 16 hours/week, in 4 hour shifts. Eyes, opened. People, most of you

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To Notice Time, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:18am

Yesterday I was standing on my back patio in bare feet and I could tell then that California’s winter would pass. Not now but soon enough. I could take off my shoes, temperatures had risen just past 65, I am not completely nuts. We always get a kind of pre-spring in January, maybe even a really warm week in February, before settling into our unsettled March and April. Then comes summer, mid-May, and roses. One of my favorite things about retirement has been the time to notice time passing. I can see my daphne opening day to day, the buds forming on the alder, the cotoneaster berries ripening,

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A Review Of The Ritz Carlton At Half Moon Bay, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:44am

Christmas was quiet this year. No trip to Hawaii with my children, not family gathering except to celebrate my father’s 89th birthday on the 20th. Which was well worth a party, of course, but wasn’t quite a holiday. So my husband and I went away for a few days around the New Year, to the Ritz Carlton in Half Moon Bay. Where’s that? Mexico? Hawaii? A remote island in an even more remote sea? Nope. Northern California, just over the hills from us, on the coastline between San Francisco and, well, beach and agricultural towns that trail south until Hearst Castle. It was restorative. Our room was very,

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Queer Eye And The Bearable Sprezzatura Of Cloth, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:25am

In the New Year we try to understand what we care about. However, as one who can care too much, I’d like to also consider insouciance. The careless flap, the nonchalant tuck, malleable pieces of cloth. Consider the dishtowel, or “tea towel” as our British–and perhaps Australian and Canadian–friends, call them. At some point over the holidays I decided to resurrect my faith in humanity by watching every episode of Queer Eye. It almost worked. And, in the process, I found out about throwing rag-like object over your shoulder while you cook. How did I not know? I’d been wondering whether I was weird, rinsing and wiping my

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Well OK Then, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:18am

Yes, my blog was down. For an entire week, during which I told at least five people that this was my life’s work and could they please promise that it wasn’t lost forever. But yes, we think, now, it’s back. Hello! As it happens, today is also the winter solstice. I refuse to draw shady connections between my very small writings and the very big sun, not to mention the Earth and the relationship of one to the other. So don’t make me. To help us back into the saddle I shall focus on the particular, and on personal, persisting time. Brought to you by the letter “P.”

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When The Rain Comes, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:39am

Today is the world’s chance. I only mean it’s raining in this part of Northern California. For all we’re a state of relative hedonists, eating cheese, drinking wine, embracing change, we know how to wait. Summers, as I’ve said, are dry. By autumn, we’ve begun to wait. Our ecosystem needs water. Some years rain won’t come, some several years it won’t come, droughts ensure. Winter arrives, we wait more. This week it’s raining. Let us all dance. Have a wonderful weekend, under the sun or clouds or covered in snow. The world has a chance.  

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The Privilege Of A Gravy Boat, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:31am

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, so many tools, so many accoutrements. What is required? Must I cook it all myself? I mean think about it. Potatoes; white, orange, purple? Greens; roasted with citrus, or in casserole? What about tiny green peas straight from a bag in your freezer? Desserts; pies, pies, pies. Oh wait, a cheesecake! Sauces, jellies, savory, sweet. Surely turkey will be safe. And then you’re sitting on your sofa as a commercial plays for Honey-Baked Hams and you throw your hands up in exasperation. Fully

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The Kit Is Like Dries, For Less Than $100, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:58am

I do not remember when The Kit began following me around Instagram. Usually I’m there to see what my friends and often their cute children are up to. Oh, and my children. In any case, this turtleneck refused to leave me alone. So I bought it. In person it’s not at all blurry, nor does it have that apparent shoulder horn, but is close-fitting and extremely stretchy. Perfect with wide-legged, high-waisted jeans. Might wear nothing else until May. Should I should get a second? After all, it’s only $68. Not the most inexpensive, like this from J. Crew, for example, but compared to Dries, wholly affordable. Black and

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A Frank Clegg Tote, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:36am

I have found my cognac bag. Remember this post? I looked at several possibilities. But I chose the Frank Clegg Handbag Tote. Below you see it closed by the internal buckled strap, which folds the sides in, and then fastened a little more by the short top strap. I ordered two sizes, the Large and the Medium; I find that Medium is plenty big enough so I will return the Large. I even considered returning both and getting the Small, but, in this size I can fit a laptop which is useful for travel and trips to SF, so I’m staying with what I’ve got. Here they are

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Día de los Muertos, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:54am

Today is both All Soul’s Day, in the Catholic calendar, and the second and final day of the Latin American Día de los Muertos. I’ve been following celebrations from the second holiday, Celia Catalino, a family photographer here in Northern California, reports on Instagram from Oaxaca, as does Elaine del Cerro Yao. Gorgeous and moving. I used to find it gruesome; why would a culture want to put death front and center? But this year, after my mother’s death, I thought I more nearly understood. How lovely and warm to celebrate all together, not the loss itself, but those who have lived and moved on. As it happens,

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How To Look Thin When You Are 63, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:51am

Let me first say that nobody has any obligation whatsoever to look thin. If you have landed here for the first time, let me also say that the title of this post is semi-ironic. (As my father might say, I’m using a loose construction for the term, irony.) Sandra Salin however, did ask me a few weeks ago, “Could you write about how you stay so slim, please?” Kelly then speculated that I’d beaten middle-age middle-bulge. So here goes. Oh, wait, first, here’s an unvarnished photo that I took this week, in the mirror at the tailor. With that in mind, here goes for real. Get a mirror

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Un-Domesticated Haircuts at 63, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:45am

A couple of weeks ago, I had very long hair.   Now I don’t. This is better. You can see that my hair’s now about 2/3 of the length it was (looks a few inches longer in the photo because I am bending my head to look at my phone.) What you probably can’t see is that I’m now carrying only 1/3 of the hair weight, because the stylist used thinning shears. Why? I have a lot of hairs on my head, natively, and they are heavy and stubborn with tendencies to flip outward and cheer like the early 1960s. Not my aesthetic. This way the hairs hang

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An Unpopular Opinion Of The Sturdy Gal, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:54am

This morning I offer you an alternative to the highly-praised television series, Fleabag, that I myself, Lisa Carnochan, did not particularly like. May I direct you to GameFace on Hulu? Both shows were written by and star young(ish) British actresses, Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Fleabag, and Roisin Conaty in GameFace. Both stories follow witty, even brilliant women with impulse control problems. Fleabag tends dark, GameFace to the sunny. I have thought and thought about why I prefer GameFace. In the end, Conaty’s character, Marcella, is just plain nicer to the people she loves. Waller-Bridge’s eponymous “Fleabag” hurts too many people’s feelings, and yet remains irresistible to all. This is

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Reporting Back On Fall Shopping, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:10am

A few weeks ago, I thought about a couple of purchases. Hey presto. Above are the UNIQLO jeans we discussed.  So 80s and so great for the long of waist and broad of shoulder. Rolled up for a punk affect if not the attitude. I’m considering this floral tee for contrast. I considered Doc Martin combat boots but I tried them on and yikes way too stiff for this 63-year old. I happened by a Timberland store and got these instead. Perfect for my walking needs. In the first day or three they are comfortable for 15 minutes, I add heel lifts for my Achilles if it’s complaining.

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9 Lessons For Life From An Amateur Gardener, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:42am

I garden. While I garden, despite my best intentions, I think. Herewith: In gardens, as in life, some people love research. Some, do not. If, for example, you like to build mental models from 20% of all relevant information, and act on that, you’ll run into a lot you don’t know and you won’t know you don’t know it until you get there. But, you won’t be bored and I hate boredom the way others do confinement, or the spotlight. All approaches cost. Patience rewards. Remember when I planted a little milkweed in my side yard? (A project for which I will point out I did very little

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The Value Of Contrast For Balance, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:54am

Color is one thing–contrast, another, and possibly more complex. Through contrast, we communicate our measure of balance. Layers become more evident, both in clothes and, at least for me, the persona. Well, hey, that was theoretical. OK, more concrete. Sue’s post (excellent comme toujours) got me thinking. I’ve  known which colors to wear–no yellow or orange, only certain greens–forever. I have been happy in blues, with various neutrals and a little pink, olive, tobacco, or rust, as above, forever. (Added purple as my hair went gray.) Wasn’t cultural, either, my mother wore yellow, celadon and coral with ease, my middle sister is brilliant in sage. But contrast. That’s

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The Bratty Reader, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:28am

I’ve been trying to read more books. I’ve always been always reading, which is to say, if there’s no open book on my bedside table I twitch. But recently I’ve been trying to read more broadly, across genres, with intent to learn as much as lose myself. Write one, read a lot? Anyway I am reminded that I’m picky. Read a lot of books, run into a fair number that you don’t care for. In what I now know is called “upmarket commercial fiction,” I essayed Where The Crawdads Sing and Little Fires Everywhere, with great expectations. Nope. Both widely-read, sold, praised but I felt somehow manipulated –

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Irish Matchmakers And A Eulogy Of Sorts, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:30am

Good morning. It’s going on six months since my mom died. I am not preoccupied by her death, not mourning all the time. But I notice. In particular, at the moment, I’m needing to finish the unfinished. I’ve been contacting several people I needed to talk to about old issues, including not inconsequentially, me. I’ve been talking to myself in a different voice. I couldn’t even begin to say I understand being a person but I do feel acutely aware of the way I have tied some choices and behaviors together, and that, somehow, they’ve been linked to my experience of Mom. As she keeps on taking her

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Utopia, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:35am

I was talking to my son, a good man, about Utopia. In fact, he was talking about the vision he and his friends have for the future of human society and I started thinking about Utopia. Simply put, in in my opinion to get there the people of this world would need to be happier before we even had a chance. No matter what system we construct, if people are unhappy, won’t they find a way to use the system to get theirs? And then some? But rather than fret about the cheaters, the grifters and the bullies, maybe we imagine how everyone grows up happier. In fact

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Veering Eccentric In The Autumn, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:35am

Even though temperatures here hit 99° this week I can tell fall is coming. The light has changed, a few leaves on my alder tree have turned tan and dropped. Should we do a seasonal shop? And, as though it were a trip and we packing our bags, shall we begin with the shoes? Here’s what I remember from last fall: No. More. Suede. With any luck it will rain at which point I will prefer to keep my feet dry and will not want to worry about shoe materials. Here’s what I remember from the past 6 months: I must contend with a (very, very, exceptionally, ridiculously)

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Garden Hubbub, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:03am

My garden’s super chaotic these days. I’m into it. I especially like the side yard, which I used to say was for butterflies, then more globally “pollinators,” and has now evolved into, as my wonderful landscape designer would say, a “habitat.” Such a generous concept. Those are aphids on the the white-flowered milkweeds (do NOT Google milkweed aphids I implore you for your own sake), and they sometimes kill whole stalks of their vegetal prey. That said, they in turn become a smorgasbörd for ladybugs, so, balance. How about prickles? I glammed these up for you with modern phone camera technology. Painted Lady butterflies loved them last summer

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Cream Blush And Spray Paint, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:07am

More and more I experience retirement as a quest to balance the small against the large. Or the large against the small, either way, equivalence. It is a real luxury. I am deeply, deeply grateful–for the gentle outcomes of course, but even more for the chance to sit in the balancer’s seat. Right there in my own identity, making decisions. See, free time allows for big projects. Writing a novel. Canvassing for candidates. Caring for family. Volunteering in school. Planting trees–which they now believe is one of the most useful things we can do for our planet. Also ever so green and so pretty. Also small projects, like

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A Little Peace And Quiet, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:46am

It’s gray and overcast this morning. I couldn’t be more pleased. I don’t know if the sun was so strong when I was young, but these days I find myself holding my hand over my head in protection when I go out without a hat. My hair is warm to the touch and I worry about my scalp. Anyone else? It’s also possible I am just plain content right now. Today marks four months exactly since my mother died. The new fence along one side of my yard was finished up just yesterday. The second draft of my novel is polished, and out and about in the world.

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A True And Mortifying Story Of Writing That First Novel, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:25am

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 what I discovered about writing a novel. There are requirements. I thought I’d deconstruct a few for those who feel that the endeavor must be impossible. It’s not. (Here I should tell you what my book is about. The genre is what’s known as “women’s fiction,” so unsurprisingly, it’s about two women. One is older, one younger, one professional and reserved, one open and enthusiastic, they work together on a project in the tech industry, with elements of a workplace suspense plot including

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Blue, Blue, And Blue, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:44am

So this is just a little outfit I wore up to San Francisco yesterday. Nothing particularly special. But it had some virtues. First, the colors. Navy and cadet blue, layered in with cognac shoes, a black, white and taupe scarf, gold dangling earrings Three neutrals, plus a metal, to my mind, gets interesting. Especially if one of them is your best-ever color, as cadet blue is for me. It might be rust, or neon yellow, or lavender for you. Second, the silhouette/geometry. High-waisted pants cuffed at the ankle, platform sandals, a semi-cropped jacket, a high-wrapped scarf. Oh, and I usually fold back the cuffs of the jacket but

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Taking A Bye, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:33am

Hi all. I’m writing my thoughts for Mom’s memorial service tomorrow. As we might have suspected previously and have now proven conclusively, that’s all I can do in one morning. See you all next week. Have a spectacular weekend.

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9 Things We Needed To Think About Again, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:49am

Blogging is episodic; life continues. Let us revisit some issues. Slippers. I considered them here, I bought the Glerups as recommended by Mater, Saga and Dani, I am deeply in love. Seriously, they’re better than barefoot. Buy at least a size smaller than usual, maybe two, the wool stretches and conforms to your dimensions. Feels like someone’s kissing my feet. Huh. That’s a nice image. Pajamas. We scoffed at expensive sweatpants here, I bought a cohort of colorful flannel pajamas like these instead. They are now all gone  I’ve moved on to neutral UNIQLO sweatpants and matching tees. I feel chic and minimalist because, apparently, I satisfy very

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Looking At A Lake, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:13am

My best friend’s daughter is having her wedding party, up in South Lake Tahoe. I’m looking forward to the wedding today–she let me help her customize her wedding dress, and I’ll do her makeup. A very fun privilege. My son and I drove up yesterday. Actually, technically, he drove, I sat there. One of the many benefits of adult children. You notice you’re ascending especially when pines suddenly take over from oaks. There was still snow by the side of the road, here and there. And you can smell it in the air, that mineral scent of frozen water. The rehearsal dinner overlooked a row of boats. It

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Back In The Water With Trepidation, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:20am

It has come to my attention that I have spent far too much time sitting on the sofa. Don’t get me wrong. I like where I sit, I can see my garden. But I like it much better when I can return after long spells of walking very, very fast. Walking is off the list as my Achilles tendon heals. So, and I shudder even to think of it (but I must tend to my cardiovascular capacity because I do love to breathe), I am going to try lap swimming. Oh dear, oh dear. You guys I grew up swimming. Let’s talk about the good sort. Ducking under

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Praise, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:02am

I tend to resist easy praise. When I gave my manuscript (I’ve learned this is what to call it, not yet a book) to a couple of people to read, I asked them to tell me every possible bad thing. Almost as though I can’t trust encouragement until I’ve dug around for every possible criticism, and lived it first. But I’ve been reminded recently what a good thing real support is. (Verbal support, I mean, I never forget how great it is to have others share life’s tasks.) Recently, Frances, who is very frank about her bouts of depression, wrote about feeling blue on vacation. Her readers rallied.

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Should We Talk About Slippers, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:42am

Have we ever talked about slippers? (Yes. At least I did, almost 10 years ago, in my first year of blogging. Never mind.) Mine, as you can see, have worn out. They were a present from my son, Christmas of 2017 – lavender, because that’s the color that’s available by the end of December. They have reminded me happily of my family ever since. But the time has come. On beyond sentiment to feet. For a well-considered choice, of course, we turn to Use Cases. Let us examine key parameters; when, where and how do I wear said slippers? Most mornings. Walking around the house. Out into the

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Wholly Undeserved Rainbows, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:41am

My garden’s still kind of a mess. Somehow I’m not too bothered. It’s easy to find reasons for good cheer. The front yard is worst off, it’s got two big bare spots. My Pieris Japonica up and died a couple of months ago (for no reason that I could determine), as did my pink Cecile Brunner (because very clearly I let it get overrun by aphids and fungus). I’m planning to replace Ms. Brunner this fall, meanwhile I’m splashing biological fungicides around like gin in a pub on a summer night. An imaginary pub, that is. Also we had a hard rain just recently, very unusual for May

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Do High WASPs Do “Camp?” Or, Saturday Morning at 8:53am

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 talking about? Every year the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City throws a big party. People dress up to attend. Other people take their picture. Or, these days, PICTURES. What used to be a conventional socialite event has become a piece of theater for celebrities, fashion, and celebrities who wear fashion. The question is (and has been thwacked about like a squash ball on Sundays in Connecticut), “What is ‘Camp’?” I have some thoughts. Let’s first say what it’s not. It’s

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The Demands Of Our Feet And The Vicinity Of Our Feet, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:35am

My Achilles tendon continues to heal, very slowly. And so it has come to pass that after years in flats I have to make a change. For now, and perhaps always on the days my injury bedevils, I need a wedge. I shake my head at past Lisa, so sure she’d figured this out. Also, I got the COS button-front chinos, I like them very much, but let’s be honest, they’re kind of weird. And weird pants (trousers for you across the various ponds) demand simplicity. Worn with graphic tops and boy-look sneakers, my usual choices, they’d just read messy. We have to balance the amount of visual

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And Then One Day You Need New Clothes, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:34am

We all know the “Hey, what’s new this year, gimme inspiration” kind of shopping. I suspect you’re also familiar with my far less glamorous companion, “All my shirts are ripped or warped and I no longer countenance the waistband of my jeans.” Also those Vince sneakers are worn down at the heels and my Bottega Veneta hobo is quite, um, age-discolored around the inside of the handle. What to do? Especially as I am not currently in the mood or circumstances to sail into Neiman Marcus. Start small. I have ordered these Keds. What can I say but butterflies? Oddly, I’m bored with jeans. Too constraining, and too

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Baselines, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:22am

In the week of February 20th I strained my Achilles tendon. On March 20th my mom died. Both events hurt, both are fully survivable. I don’t mean to sound heartless–I understand they may twinge for the rest of my life. I’m just one of those people who has only two gears, cheerful, logical, albeit prone to hurry and irritation – or overwhelmed with emotion so strong I can barely talk. Life demands Gear One. Today is April 20th. What I want most right now is to get back to baseline. I’m hoping all of you have a baseline, a regular. A rhythm to your days that feels comfortable,

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Thank You

You have written me such wonderful replies to Thursday’s post. I can’t reply, I am still not very wordful, but I want you to know how much I appreciate each one and that I am learning from what you are saying. See you soon. Much love, Lisa

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It’s Thursday And Yesterday My Mother Died

My mother died yesterday, early in the morning, in her room at her memory care home. It had become home. We started to understand that she might be dying this Saturday afternoon, no, I guess that was Sunday morning. My sister who lives in Los Angeles flew up, we began what became a vigil. From then on someone was always with her. At the end, as it happened, all three of her daughters were there at the end, mostly lying next to her on her bed. Her sister and son had visited the night before. It was a death that might have been as good as it could

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Are We Over-60 Obsessed With Health? Or, Saturday Morning at 10:24am

A few weeks ago, when I wrote that post about eating more vegetables, a reader commented as follows: I’ve noticed the same pattern in all the lifestyle bloggers. Once they hit 60 it’s boom, health obsession. I never managed all the replies that week, I apologize, I think I got really focused on editing the middle section of my book and used up my words. But I do want to respond now to the question of why people over-60 might start to talk about health – and hear your thoughts. When I was young, my body worked with very few glitches. Aside from childhood croup, standard hay fever,

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Can I Wear Black And Brown Together? Or, Saturday Morning at 8:32am

Yes. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Sorry. Sorry, sorry. Let’s review some slightly more compelling evidence. Black and brown outfits from trusted sources, i.e. Frances at Materfamilias Writes in black and gray with a beloved French camel scarf, And That’s Not My Age (this blog gets better and better), but also random Instagram people, and bloggers I do not know. We do not lack for high level endorsements, my friends. In Vogue last month (which I promise I did not know before deciding to write this post) and from Miuccia Prada over several decades. I myself now fly lower in the fashion skies, so I

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Change In Plans, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:10am

If you had planned to meet up at Themes+Projects tonight I am so very sorry but I’ve strained my Achilles tendon and won’t be there. I hope anyone who wanted to go to the opening does anyway  – as I said I’m the least of the reasons to attend. As for how it happened, take one “quick yoga” video that jumps you into downward dog without warmup, one hike up and down several hills, and a somewhat belligerent attitudes toward one’s own weaknesses – tada! here we find ourselves. Or just me. Here I find myself. They say it will take 4-6 weeks to heal, and the treatment

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See You At The Opening? Or, Saturday Morning at 9:08am

My stepmother has a show opening next weekend, at Themes+Projects gallery in San Francisco. I plan to be there, if anyone’s in town and thinking of stopping by, let’s say hello? However, I’m nowhere near the first reason to attend. Brigitte, or Gitta as we call her, has a new collection that will be on display. It’s called “Emily’s Garden” – I’ll let her explain. “My first photographs were of flowers and I suspect my last will be as well. I have been drawn to gardens and to flowers, their exotic geometry and sensuous rigor, as long as I can remember. It is a rare day that there

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4 Non-Einsteinian Ways To Eat More Vegetables, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:28am

First I cut back on alcohol. Here, here, and here. Next to go, thanks to rising cholesterol levels, saturated fat. Finally, everyone got worried about sugar, no more than 25 grams/day, hasta la vista whole bags of M&Ms of an afternoon. But then a funny thing happened. If I cut back on sugar I wanted more alcohol, if I constrained my alcohol I wanted saturated fat, if I gave up fat, well, you get the idea. Then I had a routine colonoscopy. Short story: prep is horrid, procedure is fine. Longer story: I had a polyp that needed removal; I have to go back in 6 years rather

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Alzheimer’s In The Rain, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:58am

My relationship with my mother in her Alzheimer’s is the best evidence for Freud I’ve yet found. I might mean a million things, but I’m only thinking about one, that we remain who we are as children. Or more accurately, retain. Somewhere inside the storm of creature that is me lives little Lisa. And she wakes up for my mother. My adult self has Mom’s situation pretty well figured out. I made an infinite number of mistakes to get here, but she’s now got the right medical care and place to live, along with appropriate pearls and good shoes. Maybe close enough. Oh and I can’t forget that

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Winning A Basket, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:49am

I invite you to take a deep breath and imagine a quiet world. Having done so myself, I now see two ways to take this. We can focus on stuff and/or we can consider something important about being human. Or both. Not kidding. In the world of stuff, I have a new bathrobe. Last week I told you I was going to a Coyuchi pop-up to support Kim of Northern California Style, right? Well I won a giveaway! Which I hadn’t even known was happening! I won a big woven basket filled with a couple of bottles of wine, some Sacher chocolate cake, Sugar Scrub from Fresh (I’ve

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3 Worthy Enterprises, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:45am

As part of a New Year process, and in a continued attempt to deserve my retirement by feeling happy as often as possible, I have come to understand that I like to help people. Or at the very least, offer support –  my actions might not have an effect but I can at least try. So, in that vein, three worthy enterprises for your consideration. First, a college friend and her husband run Fine Antique Prints, out on the East Coast. These are not inexpensive pieces,  especially when you get into the 17th century, so to buy online you need to trust the dealer. You can. Or you

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Where They Grow Up, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:30am

I went to visit my daughter last weekend. She had two consecutive days off, which is, in the world of surgical residencies, rare. She’s working crazy hours, she keeps her apartment clean, she’s 31. I can’t imagine why I was then surprised to find she participates in her municipal composting program. Seemed so adult – but wouldn’t medical school and a place of her own have proved already she’s grown? I was surprised in the same way when my son organized his move from Brooklyn to Southern California. He used media mail to send his books to our house in advance. He’s 28 and probably not unfamiliar with

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Two Quite Cute Things, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:41am

January in the Northern Hemisphere is a teeny time of year. We abstain, we center, we consider. On the other hand, some things are cute. And I like to share. When we were in Hawaii last month, my daughter and I were hanging out in the hot tub by the pool, when we were joined by two women wearing identical bathing suits. Turned out they were mother and daughter, and, furthermore, that the daughter had designed their garments. Who could resist? But even minus the backstory we had noticed the suit on the daughter before, and exclaimed to each other how much we liked it. The brand is

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All The Clothes I Bought In 2018, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:50am

I was inspired this week by Sue’s post about her intent to buy fewer pieces of clothing in 2018, and how that worked for her or didn’t. Something I’d not thought of trying ’til now. Never too late. I found the quick inventory quite interesting. You all might, with a nudge, remember that at one point last year I thought I might avoid buying anything at all. Not quite. Leaving out underwear, which after a detour into Cosabella I continue to buy at Target, I managed to acquire 19 new things. Here’s the list. Five Pairs of Shoes    Chanel ballet flats Common Goods sneakers Black ECCOs just

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Rainbow Good Wishes, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:07am

I’ve started volunteering at school again, working with kindergarteners on literacy. Most of them speak Spanish at home. Some of them in any given moment can’t tell whether they are speaking English or Spanish, some still speak very little English at all. However, when I give them words to copy, almost all like to write in rainbow letters. So here you are, multicolor advance Happy New Year, with rudimentary fireworks and child-inspired hearts. I sincerely hope everyone has as happy a 2019 as is humanly possible, and also a very good weekend. Signed, Your friend Lisa

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Hualalai Encore, Or, Saturday Morning at 9am

This year we returned to Hualalai. We flew home last night, I have photos to share. First of all, here’s the dress I finally bought (in light of this post), to be worn henceforth to all daytime celebrations but not wrong for a night out at a Hawaii steakhouse. Dries van Noten. Is it my usual style? As we age, must we remain our usual self? Chanel ballet slippers, quizzical smile attempt my own and simply an artifact of posing. I felt wholly unquizzical. The hotel on the other hand seems always to be its usual and beautiful self. From the lobby, along the walkways, to the pools.

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Christmas Flying Away Home, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:21am

For those of us who celebrate, OK, me, Christmas is both so centered and so fly-away. Someone I follow on Instagram (it’s a private account so I won’t attribute the quote) said they imagine this time to be about holding each other close through the bleak midwinter. Yes. And also about flying around and making lists and forgetting lists and packing up and wrapping up and sitting down, exhausted, sometimes in tatters. My mother always squirreled away some present or other and forgot where she put it. Yesterday she actually remembered that the hospice nurse had come to see her previously. “You came to my bed,” she said,

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A Response To Ross Douthat’s “Why We Miss WASPs” From A High WASP, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:43am

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 Miss WASPs.” My first objection might have been, “Hey, we’re still right here.” My second perhaps more pedantic, “Could you please be specific about which WASPs?” except he made that clear in his subheading, “Their more meritocratic, diverse and secular successors rule us neither as wisely nor as well.” He meant Ivy League white men of the 50s, most of whom were admittedly WASPs. Here’s my true objection. How dare he use my culture to make a point with which many of

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Christmas Presents, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:30am

I have been quite cranky lately. I know I am not alone, as a couple of my friends and family say the same, but I may be the only one of us who has pouted on Twitter. Said I, “At this point I am refusing to read any gift guides solely on principle. Unless written by friends of course because manners.” At which point @jacqb very nicely asked me if I planned to write a gift guide myself, which I hadn’t, but she used the “fingers crossed” emoji. And so here we are. (Right about now I send significant holiday wishes in both arrears and going forward to

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Every Year “Holiday Spirit” Means Something Different, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:44am

On Thanksgiving we had dinner with my father and stepmother. My sisters and brother were elsewhere. My daughter is up in the Pacific Northwest, my son is home. Can’t say we’re doubling down on tradition this year: we ate out for Thanksgiving; we’re going to have, for the first time in my life, an artificial Christmas tree. With colored lights: High WASP sacrilege. Despite our untraditional plans I feel quite familied-up. Although my mom flickers in and out of her Alzheimer’s, my father and stepmother are as present and thoughtful and fun as ever. I have siblings and step-siblings, I feel like their personalities keep me company even

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The Camp Fire From 200 Miles Away, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:42am

This morning we’ve had a blueish sort of sky. I think it’s turning taupe but that might just be me projecting. In any case, the air quality is Unhealthy but that’s better than yesterday when it was Very Unhealthy. I live 200+ miles from Paradise, California–the most populated town affected by the Camp wildfire. I should say, formerly most populated because it has entirely burned down. The fire has destroyed close to 10,000 houses, over 70 people confirmed dead, hundreds more are missing. Their air is Hazardous. From one perspective, the bad air in the SF Bay Area is just a side note to a true and terrible

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Check And Balances, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:37am

This morning most of all I feel a swell towards normalcy. I grew up believing in systems, that rules were generally fair and the responsibility to follow, mine. I’d already woken up lighter and more quiet on Wednesday. As though I’d absorbed the country’s conflict, and could now let it go. If we indulge in fancy, we might say that I had been experiencing a battle which has now settled back down into a loud but not lethal ball sport. Baring of teeth; no deaths. Checks and balances. I’m pretty sure that’s what has come to be meant by “privilege.” When “normal” means “safe.” I suppose now, after staring

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Should I Chop It, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:47am

After close to 10 years of long hair I am suddenly tempted by short. Why? I find that more and more often (as in almost always) I default to a braid down my back. And it appears that, absent hair to fluff or float around my face, all I can see is lines and wrinkles. I don’t want to be defined by the crevasse between my eyebrows. So I went to Pinterest and searched for short haircuts and the third photo up sent me to a piece called, in the language of 2018, 100 Mind-Blowing Short Hairstyles for Fine Hair. That was easy. I mean, I don’t really

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What Can Be Said, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:17am

Hello I have some trees and I have some dirt. This is an incense cedar. She is quite embarrassed that we caught her in bad lighting. So here’s a quick iPhone portrait mode glamor shot to mend fences. Here’s our new White Alder. He was very picky about his lighting too. We gave him several options; he chose “All.” 8am. 8:30am. 4:30pm.   He still insisted on a closeup. And now I’ve just read the news about the shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh and I can’t continue. I’m sorry. I plant trees and write blog posts both because it makes me happy to do

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Early In The Morning, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:02am

Am I alone, liking to wake up in the dark? I swing my legs over the side of the bed, quietly, so as not to wake anyone but myself. I am always reassured by my capacity to do that. Then I fumble a bit for my phone and earbuds, which will have tangled with my glasses, carry it all to the kitchen. I do like the sound of the soles of my feet on the floor. I make tea. To be fair, I think any time before 5 am is unholy. That’s night. Night-waking is only good when it passed unnoticed. But early morning, especially when you’ve allowed

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Geological Formations In New Mexico, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:24am

I just got back from two nights at an old friend’s house, in the hills above Santa Fe. I keep predicting high desert outside my window; it will take a while longer for my imagination to come home. You can see why. The day after I arrived we went hiking in the Tent Rocks national park. At the entrance, cacti, and erosion in apricot stone. Once you get up into what they call the “slot canyons,” you can really see the formations known as “hoodoos.” They look like people. That’s one of my friends, taking a photo of her own. She is in fact a person. Not long

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Writing Partners, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:05am

The past few days I’ve had a houseguest. Frances, of Materfamilias, came to stay. Time to explain that she’s my writing partner. For the past year we’ve been sending each other sections of our longform writing projects. I won’t speak for her, but I’ve relied on the structure of our timeline, the sharing, and the feedback to get this phase done. I doubt I’d have finished the novel’s first draft without our relationship. I wanted to work with Frances for the same reasons I read her blog – she’s thoughtful, well-read, questioning, and loves a good metallic oxford. Seemed we’d be well-suited. And with the goal being simply

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Adventures With A Parent Who Has Alzheimer’s, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:04am

I visited my mom this week. We had an adventure. These days she can hardly talk. When she’s having what I can only call delusional memories, talking to someone who isn’t there, she’ll say more than usual. At other times she will remember social phrases, “I should think so,” “Marvelous!”  But if you ask her a question about the here and now most often she responds with one or two words, and then devolves into what I will call gibberish. When you have a parent with Alzheimer’s you use words that used to feel bad but have become OK. On Tuesday when I greeted her she looked up

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The Quieting Mind, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:02am

Tell me a story, I do believe my words are worn out. Are you busy? It’s so funny, I can go three months without talking in-depth and in-person to anyone but my husband and family. Maybe even half a year. But these past few weeks people have been visiting and I’ve had conversations – some profound, some companionable, some both, all wonderful – full of in-depth talk. Is it fall? Is this the retired person’s version of Back To School? Goodness knows I’ve been learning. Also I’m in a place, maybe some of you have been here too, where a longtime online group is at a turning point.

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Retirement Is (Often) Not A Vacation, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:02am

You might think this post unnecessary. We work, we retire. What’s to deconstruct? And yet in the last couple of months I’ve had some pretty deep conversations with thoughtful women about how hard this can be. They’ve all had demanding careers, been successful by most measures, yet all have been surprised by retirement. I think of how society portrays this time as equivalent to commercial about child-rearing. I remember raging at those Gerber babies sitting happily in a crib, in a room, by themselves, having apparently just slept peacefully for 3 hours. Such was not my experience. Same for retirement. In the mythic old days, men, for it

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Happy Gardening Accidents, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:00am

Fall, in Northern California, is planting time. After a dry summer come autumn and winter rains, we plant while the earth is warm and waiting for water. My well-conceptualized ideal garden will have three zones: Right out the back door – a large stone patio with pots of things that smell amazing and can be used for cooking and sometimes sport bright pink flowers In the very close vicinity – a swimming pool, and maybe one border with gorgeous perennials to be poked at, encouraged, replaced in case of failure Everything else – an endless vista of oaks and gold hills, signs of humanity in the distance, maybe

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What Are You Balancing In Your Personal Style, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:55am

When I get dressed for style I do so in front of a mirror. I can’t lay an outfit down on my bed and be sure it’s what I want. Usually I start with shoes, or jeans (I am almost always in jeans), then pick a shirt that works – length, silhouette, color – then jewelry. To dangle or not to dangle. Finally, lipstick. The key accessory for fading lips. I am guessing I’m by no means unusual? And do you all feel, as I do, a sort of click when you’ve got it right? Right being subjective of course. My friend Sue at Une Femme wrote a

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How To Write The Rough First Draft Of A Novel For The First Time In Your Life

On Thursday morning I saved a file of 75,575 words called “First Draft ACM 8.23.2018.” That overly portentous phrase means, First Draft All Changes Merged August 23rd 2018. In other words, over the past year I have written 75K words, and merged all previous changes into the first draft of a novel. It’s extremely rough, I mean, let’s just say that right up front. By the end I was simply throwing words at a page. There are still notes inline like WRITE MORE HERE. I have to spend next week cleaning it up to send to my writing partner. But since my original goal was only to write 75K words

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See You Tomorrow, Or, Saturday Morning Running Too Late To Publish

I have a draft post in process but my sister and I are canvassing again today and I have to leave my house soon and while I meant to get up at 5:30 this morning I got two spam texts last night at 2:32 and 2:34am respectively and then catastrophised as is only possible in that window between 2-4am so when my alarm went off I did not leap from my bed but instead reset my alarm for 6:30am and although I in fact woke up at 6:15am I could not have breakfast and do you all justice in the 75 available minutes so instead I plan to

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Thanking The 80s For High-Waisted Baggy Jeans, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:29am

Remember the 80s? Best era ever, at least for for my body type. High-waisted pants with baggy legs. Broad-shouldered tops. My hair was big enough of its own accord that I never bothered with a perm. I still remember wearing a pair of khakis in the “paper bag” shape, a dark pink short-sleeved “camp” shirt, with narrow white stripes, a khaki belt with gold buckle, and tan fisherman’s sandals. Remember fisherman’s sandals? I am not sure those shoes could be found today, but the pants, yup. This summer I bought a pair of AGOLDE baggy jeans. I’ve been enjoying them worn with stuff from the past five years.

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On The Fifth Anniversary Of My Second Marriage, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:46am

I would like to take this opportunity to say Happy Anniversary to my husband. On Monday we will have been married for five years. When my children, or other young people, struggle with careers, I feel confident that I can give good counsel. Or good enough to be useful one way or another. But I am always aware that I know very little about how to choose a partner. When it comes to marriage and choosing someone to love and be loved by I rarely feel qualified to opine. Opine, what a funny word. I mean that my reaction to people flirting and courting and falling in love and

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Lace Come Lately, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:17am

We’re planning a winter beach trip; I bought a new bathing suit? Why now? Come winter, good suits are a little tricky to come by. Why a new one, at all? I don’t feel like wearing bikinis any more. I do not dislike my body. But my age, and my priorities, have affected my belly. I’m 61. We may get stomachy in our 60s, more importantly, I’m trying to write a novel. This takes up much of my focus and intent, to say nothing of the large part of my mornings. I exercise only enough to be able to approximate health – if my walks and at-home yoga

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The Big Red Buckets, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:39am

I have a certain capacity for self-discipline and self-denial, but, it gets used up. How? Sadly, on self-maintenance. Eating less sugar than I want to, less saturated fat, eating less all around. Drinking less alcohol than I would like. And so on. What remains for virtue? I can manage  generosity pretty well – I like to give presents and compliments. Doesn’t require any chiding from my inner voices, except when occasionally I get caught up in telling my own stories and forget to listen to what others need to say. But the kind of virtue where you put your needs aside? Not my strong point. So I have

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Some Things I Have Truly Enjoyed Despite The Apocalypse, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:40am

Hello. Hold on, let me go close the door on  the evils of the world. Be right back. Lacuna. OK, hi. How goes this Saturday morning in the summer of 2018? Here in California I see  blue skies, our morning marine layer burned off early. Probably temps will get up over 80 today, would be nice to spend time by the water. I may or may not get there. But before the weekend accelerates I wanted to recommend some nice things. I can hear the snorting and stomping of warhorses through that closed door, it’s time to draw friends nigh and share. Books I’ve just finished “Less,” by

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Furnishing An Apartment In The Pacific Northwest On A Budget, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:44am

My daughter has moved north to start her neurosurgical residency. She’s got an apartment, and furnishings as a graduation present. She and I collaborated on the furniture shopping by texting and pinning links to affordable stuff – it was fun. That’s an understatement. She’s living in a newish apartment building, one I’m fairly sure was built with young professionals in mind. I don’t like that term, much, “young professionals,” but it’s efficient. Conveys a lot of meaning. Her place is smallish: an alcove with a sleeping area closed off by glass doors; modern finishes; tall windows. She’s chosen warm and muted colors for living and eating areas, which

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A Sun In Full Force, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:05am

It’s proper summer, as the British might say. You may be struggling through a heat wave, or, in the Southern Hemisphere, fierce cold. Here in the San Francisco Bay Area the days of blue sky after blue sky after blue sky are upon us. Except when the fires burn. Which, yes, we’re burning and sometimes smoke colors everything slightly tan. In my back yard I feel our region’s hotter temperatures acutely. You may remember that in the last two years we’ve lost the shade of two 70-year-old trees, one a cedar belonging to my neighbor that grew along a shared fence, the other a Chinese elm that shaded our

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When To Build Routine And When To Break It All Down, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:25am

Recently two bloggers I respect have published simple posts about how we spend our days. First Ronni, of Time Goes By, wrote about “relaxed retirement.” Then Janet, of The Gardener’s Cottage, described her daily routine, particularly now that her husband has been diagnosed with cancer. I highly recommend you read both. I have found routine to be a great help in managing anxiety, and in making my way to enjoying retirement. I know some people like to do whatever they please any given moment. My issue is that at any given moment I would probably want to drink wine, eat chocolate, and lie down on the sofa to

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A Lipstick Wardrobe, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:12am

Do you all have a lipstick wardrobe? I think I do. So what was there to do but deconstruct it? Here is my profound analysis. I have not changed color in the past 40 years. I’m neither all the way “cool” nor all the way “warm.” I am therefore forever looking for a not-too-blue but not-too-yellow something-or-other. However, as a white woman, I can get there with  a little trial-and-error. (I believe that makeup companies are now serving women of all skin shades; I hope I’m right.) Lipstick formulations, however, have changed. And I’m a true fan of our modern options. Because you are my friends, this morning

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The World Cup For An Older American Woman, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:34am

So this morning I am sitting in front of the television as World Cup coverage plays. I use those words advisedly; no one’s actually playing right now, men are just bouncing around on a field in brightly colored shorts. America doesn’t do soccer as well as the rest of the world, for reasons I’m sure experts have discussed ad nauseam. Let’s just say by the time this country found the sport we’d already coopted the word “football” for something completely different and leave it at that. Even so, I’ve got memories of World Cups past. As a little guy my son was obsessed with the tournament chart. One

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What A Polished Tomboy Wants To Wear To Those Daytime Events, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:01am

(Note: Although I no longer monetize new posts on this blog, the images below are pay-per-click. That’s because the tool I use to search for ideas, ShopStyle Collective, automatically includes their links in generating the widget. It would take me forever to try and replicate this what with Photoshopping and cutting and pasting. Please forgive my inertia.) So, daytime events? My issue is as follows: Flowing or floral dresses are not me; fancy structured trousers are for work, not parties. Which lands me, paradoxically, for daytime celebrations, in a world of structured dresses and flowing or floral trousers. Well all right then! Here are some dresses I quite like.

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Capsule Personas, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:41am (Xanax edition)

I have so many style posts I want to write! The story of my daughter’s new blue sofa. Musings on the right lipstick wardrobe in 2018. The burning question, why don’t I have any clothes that work for non-casual daytime events? All fully compelling, at least to my way of thinking. Instead here I sit, again, at the Centurion Lounge at SFO, making a breakfast of eggs, tea, and Xanax. No champions required. I’m on my way to Southern California. My nephew graduates from high school today, my daughter from medical school tomorrow. In retail they call this season Dads and Grads. Did you know? Hence the issue

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Charitable Has To Be Good, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:49am

Today once again I will be heading inland to help inform voters in a California congressional district. I confess to a fairly bossy tone informing people of this, over on Twitter. So this weekend I’m going out to distribute literature in a neighboring red Congressional district, in the lead up to the California “jungle primary” on June 5th. What are you doing, if I can be so blunt? @swingleft — Lisa Carnochan (@AmidPrivilege) May 25, 2018 Someone replied to my tweet, saying they would be volunteering, to a different end. This was someone I imagine has different political values than I, but also someone I know to be

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Thank You For Your Work, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:09am

On my way to Seattle last weekend I stopped at the American Express lounge in the San Francisco airport. The place almost justifies that Platinum card fee – the food includes stuff like fresh farro and mint salad, Filipino pulled pork, free Prosecco – you get my drift. On this visit, on beyond and better yet than the buffet, a reader recognized me and asked, “Do you write a blog?” We talked only briefly, she had just finished a big event, and also I suspect wanted to be considerate of my time. But before we went to our separate tables she said something to me that I’ve been

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Waving From Afar With Roses, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:49am

Good morning:). Today I am up in the Pacific Northwest, either helping or along for the ride (you decide) with my daughter, as she looks for an apartment. I would prefer to mention the exact city, as then I could say things about said city that would make sense, but I do not know that I should be so direct. After all, would my daughter want to be so direct linked to all this folderol? In any case, here we are. We will set out on the hunt this morning. I have no idea how this will go, I haven’t looked for an apartment since 1979. Whoa. If

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I Am In The Process Of Writing A Novel, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:47am

What to do when your boss has set two conflicting policies? And, in particular, what to do when that boss is you? To wit, today’s post. I have policies for Saturday posts. Two Carpe Diems: Must all be written in one day, and finished before noon. I should write what I want to write about. One Superstition. I to try not to jinx anything I care about by making declarative statements about an attractive but speculative train of thought. In other words, I watch myself for premature extrapolation. Which leads us here. I am in the process of writing a novel. I hope that no matter what happens

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It’s Never Too Late To Participate, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:11am

Today’s post will necessarily be short. In about an hour and a half I’ll be getting into my car to drive across San Francisco Bay, to meet my sister in a BART parking lot. From there we will drive to Tracy, a town a little east of the Bay Area. We’re registering voters. I haven’t been to Tracy since I was 17, when I visited my then-boyfriend’s home town for the Miss San Joaquin Valley pageant. I remember some of the costumes – flounced skirts, maybe vegetable ornamentation? In those days it was the moral equivalent of a trip to Thailand. It has always been home for others,

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Very Sincere Thank Yous From My Dad And Me

Here is a note from my father. Dear Everyone: I’m quite overcome by your kindness and good wishes, very many thanks.  (And I am feeling better.) You are a far flung lot.  I esp. enjoyed learning of your very many locations, With thanks again, Bliss (aka Prof. C.) And here is one from me. Thank you all enormously for your well wishes for my father. Also, I am beyond impressed at your capabilities to find the right words. You give me faith. xoxox. Lisa    

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A Small Favor, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:54am

I have a small favor to ask. Many will remember my father, Professor C. from his posts here on the blog. (You can find them by searching on “Professor C.” in the side search bar.) Professor C. spent a few days in the hospital this week. What we might call a heart “event.” Difficult to call it an attack, nothing so pronounced. But hospitals can be unpleasant, so we are all happy he’s home and on the mend. Perhaps none so happy as he himself. The food was dreadful. Here’s the favor. By now you know my family of origin weren’t big on displays of unfettered feeling. But

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6 Little Happinesses, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:30am

Here are five things I’ve particularly enjoyed this week. Match boxes my sister gave me as a Christmas stocking present. That’s one at the top of this page. I like these for the imaginative imagery; I also enjoy the strike, flare and sulphur. I use them to light candles; by the way these are still my favorite. The comments on last week’s blog post,  along with some emails people sent me. Mothers, daughters, aging. Not easy topics, but I appreciate a challenge. I’d rather face difficult emotions than look away. Photos my friend Jamie Street took of my daughter and me. I showed two on Instagram, here. You

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The Scope Of Old Ignorance, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:34am

So far I find my 60s to be distinguished not by wisdom but discovering the scope of my ignorance. The blog is partly responsible. In order to write a post, I pretty much have to have an opinion. To have an opinion, I pretty much have to think I know something, which means I now have a 9-year record of me being quite wrong. That hasn’t mattered much around style or personal history. Who cared if I said it was about big plaid and then it wasn’t? (Although, to be fair, my track record on trends is not so bad.) Who can know if High WASP houses are

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Something I Wish I Could Design, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:12am

So I broke my iPhone 6s Plus screen, but it still worked. Then I rebroke it beyond use. I did not subsequently embark on a rediscovery of the joys of life undigital. Instead we put my SIM card into an old 5s until we could get my phone up and going again. And I loved it. So teeny tiny! So easy to hold! So not taking over my entire perceived universe! I’ve got my 6S working, but I took it back only because the 5S can’t support my apps. All of which made me kind of wish I were still working so I could design the Teeny Phone For

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Purple Flowers As A Trojan Horse, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:51am

Here’s what’s blooming in my garden; dicentra, commonly known as Bleeding Heart. This I believe is dicentra formosa. Here’s what’s not blooming, iris douglasiana, commonly called Native Pacific Iris. We’re backwards guys. The iris has bloomed around Easter ever since it was planted 20 years ago. To bring it back to flowering I need to dig up my plants, divide them into multiplied bunches, relocate. I knew this had to happen soon, turns out soon was last year. The dicentra on the other hand, has hardly bloomed recently and it’s profuse. I haven’t changed much on purpose – only moving a couple of hydrangeas closer to the lawn

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Cheer At The Ceremony, Cry At The Airport, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:52am

News. Yesterday medical students all across the country participated in the culmination of a process known as the National Resident Matching Program. I went down to Southern California to be with my daughter for the event. Today I am very happy that she has matched into a top-notch neurosurgical residency program; sad, however, that her next seven years will be spent in the Pacific Northwest rather than the Bay Area. This is what happens when you give birth to and raise someone with these particular abilities. You celebrate loudly at all appropriate moments, afterwards maybe you cry a little bit in the airport. Her happiness, however, is encouraging

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Counsel Me On Framing Two Pieces of Art Please, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:48am

Guys, I’m trying to hang my Christmas presents. I got not one but three new pieces of art, and I love them all and I want to put them on my walls. From my husband, a family portrait by Ian Gallagher. Not my family, mind you, but one of his Families. Second, from my sister, a print of trees, which are sort of a theme in this house. Third, from myself, one of Kathy Leed’s domestic still lives. You might think that I appreciate each piece less because they all arrived at the same time, but it worked the other way around. They make each other more meaningful, like

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What Is Your Neighborhood Soup Place? Or, Saturday Morning at 9:22am

I imagine many of you love where you live – me too. I’ve probably made that pretty clear. But I’ve mostly talked about the landscape. The color of the skies, rain puddles, a brief and early spring. I may love my local pho place as much as the weather. Pho, as I’m guessing you know, is a Vietnamese noodle soup and it is pronounced, “Fuh.” The restaurant is owned by a woman who looks to be in her early 30s. I have to point out that she’s beautiful because the place is very small and her presence felt, but I should also tell you she is on top of every

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18 Of My Favorite Photos From 7 Years Of Style Blogging, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:13am

I got nostalgic the other day and looked through old style posts. Above you see my first attempt at a decent outfit photo. Vintage Chanel jacket, Tory Burch top, Seven for All Mankind Jeans, and some Manolo Blahnik flats. Floating against a paper backdrop in all my best. Well-dressed, well-focused, self-conscious. Several years later, when a reader said my photos made her feel sad, I tried again. Here, anchored by an orange car and orange shoes, my embarassment battled with the adrenaline required to dash into the street and pose before my self-timer went off. I hoped nobody would run into the tripod I’d stationed on the sidewalk.

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What You Can Ignore And What You Cannot, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:39am

Yesterday I woke up with a shoulder so sore I said “Ow!” out loud, repeatedly, even when I wasn’t moving. I had injured it 3-4 years ago by, get this, trying to shrug on a tight leather jacket. And now the pain was back. It really hurt. Adding ridiculousness to injury, I think I re-irritated it by lying in bed in the morning, holding my phone to read it/type. (Also I just looked up “ridiculousness” because I thought there must be a better word that I couldn’t remember, but there isn’t.) Who gets injured by their clothes and their information devices? I could wander off into a consideration

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What Do You Do When You Are Cranky? Or, Saturday Morning at 9:15am

I am oddly cranky. I suspect this is due a host of things out of my control. I prefer to solve external problems for fixes but this time I’ll have to work on my attitude. My mood? Whatever. Cranky people haven’t got enough patience to find the right words. Totally going to have to take a long walk. Probably see about not cooking, eating out instead. Hope to confirm that I’m making progress on my long form writing project. But I can also dream about trees. Yup, trees. I often use my potential garden as a mood enhancer. The actual one too, of course, but right now I’m

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Astonishing Celestialities Of Profound Import, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:38am

Yeah. That’s the moon. And it was in fact teeny, that’s not just the effect of my iPhone. On the morning of the recent lunar eclipse I woke up at 4:45 am hoping to find a giant blood red moon in my back yard. Nope. I love celestial events, I will never forget last year’s super moon, it shone like a silver dinner plate right over my neighbor’s house. Or a meteor shower above the Eastern Sierra, August, 1975. I love the feeling of mystery in the universe, of being small and lost in the glorious overhead. This, however, was not that. Thank heavens for small earthly surprises. The hellebore

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The Daphne Is Blooming And My Christmas Decorations Are Still On The Floor, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:20am

I still hate housecleaning. Just needed to put that out here. Four and a half years of retirement haven’t made me a fan of household chores. Drat. I know some of you love what some call “the domestics.” I find myself wondering, as I mop the floor, “This? Love?” But I also know that some of you have a housecleaner, which might help. I have not been able to find someone, and don’t plan to pursue it any more because it seems silly for two adults in a small house to have help when one them has free time and needs every possible opportunity to move around. Also

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Fiction That Deserves Our Time, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:26am

When you have a job, recreation is simple – it happens in the time left over. By the way, I’ve never been one to recreate with sports or hobbies. Exercise is effort; knitting would kill me. Hotel stays are good, especially with a spa onsite, but my tastes are sadly fancy and therefore unsustainable. I amuse myself, therefore, primarily with narrative – both printed word, and those images that flicker by which can’t quite be called television if you watch a streaming service on a laptop. When I worked, I held these narratives to no standard at all. All the junk stories fit to consume, a motto. Supermarket

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An Unexpected Benefit Of Style Blogging, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:20am

It’s quite possible I will not add a single piece of clothing to my wardrobe this year. I’m not making any promises; no vows or 365-day challenge. (Dani’s doing one if you want to follow.) But when people asked me what I wanted for Christmas all I could think was that I might need a new pair of sneakers. On further consideration, I allowed as how I might want a new  t-shirt from UNIQLO this summer, and that I’d quite likely need some new underwear. But in truth, I’m closet-satisfied. This doesn’t mean I’ve ceased to care, or that I suddenly lost my taste for luxury – more’s

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Happy New Year in 2018, or, Saturday Morning at 7:13am

I read Bumble Ward’s blog, Miss Whistle, and I follow her on Instagram. Bumble practices a kind of yoga that focuses on love. She’ll post the words, Only Love. Often some skeptical part of me responds, “Yeah, it’s not that easy.” There was a Facebook meme going around that asked you to post a word of good feeling that began with the first letter of your name, as wishes for the New Year. I refrained. But on New Year’s Day my husband and I were up in San Francisco and I saw this out a window and figured, well, OK, even a Sturdy Gal knows when to bow

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Full To The Brim, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:15am

Christmas has been held and had, full to the brim of my favorite humans. I hope, if you celebrate, yours was good. And that if Christmas is not your holiday, you enjoyed the empty streets left as many of us burrowed into houses full of wrapping paper. My task for the day is getting my mother out of the hospital. It’s an odd ongoing process to care for an elderly person, particularly one with Alzheimers. Surgery sets my mom so far back it’s not worth it, even more routine hospital stays exact a toll on her abilities to think and regulate her emotions. The American medical system, however,

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In The Still Of Christmas, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:28am

For all the counting down, the rushing to a day, my favorite part of Christmas is in fact timelessness. By which I don’t mean the quasi-timeless – America’s historical reverence for snow-tipped pine cones, glittered Santas, sugar. I mean, literally, the way time can stop on the day. I am not sure why I feel so. I do know that as I sit on my sofa right now, looking directly at our tree (which is kind of feeble as I experimented with gold and silver and I’m missing gaudy red glass balls), two presents (they arrived wrapped in Amazon navy and gray aspiring to be silver), and the

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Collaborating With An Artist For Friendsmas, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:59am

As a nod to Friendsmases of years past (last year’s is here, for example), I wanted to show you the quilt I commissioned from my cousin Linda. I needed a present for a young British friend of mine and her first baby, and thought something custom-made would be really special. The family likes black and white, and strong colors. Also animal prints. So Linda and I collaborated:). She sent me to her Pinterest page to choose a design. We both liked the Kaleidoscope. Then she pinned together what I can only call prototypes, and sent me photos, so we could decide on a color scheme. We went from

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Many Things That Are Squishy And Plush And Brightly Colored, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:34am

Oh my gosh you guys I apologize but I am going to have to clarify my post from yesterday. I cringe because if I don’t watch out this is going to turn into a blog about blogging about blogs and I Do. Not. Want. That. At all. So I need to say I will still post about style things if I wake up on Saturday morning and think about style. For example, “Hmm, I want to tell the crew about my new sofa pillows!” Or say I’m heading out the door during the week and think, “Hey, this outfit works, I’ll share it with everyone on Saturday.” It’s

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A Little Moment Of It’s Not That Bad, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:56am

  Come December my back yard used to disappoint my living room. If I snuggled up to nandina I could find a little berry cheer but my beloved now-departed elm tree blocked much of the view from indoors. Even with the leaves had fallen, what I could see through bare branches was often splotched with elm detritus I couldn’t be bothered to remove. Nothing stirred or salved my soul. Now the elm is gone I can see autumn itself. Which, contrary to popular belief, does come to Northern California. Our temperatures get cold enough to flip the chlorophyll switches – it’s just that our low-water ecosystems require either leathered leaves too

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Leave The Leaves Alone, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:46am

I hope all of you who celebrate had a good Thanksgiving. It was just me and my husband this year. So we walked to a local restaurant, arm in arm, dressed up. I even wore boots. Big fancy. We were seated in the backroom, where harvest gold tablecloths reminded me of Thanksgiving with my grandmother at the Longmeadow country club. Inauspicious. But the food was surprisingly, extraordinarily, good. Like when you turn the corner on a boring walk to a valley view. They even let me substitute creme brulée for pumpkin pie. Applause. And then we walked home. We’d done the same thing last year. Arm in arm

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A Good Week Of Retirement, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:50am

Prepare to have the socks bored right off your feet. Lately I’ve been considering the idea of a Good Week. As someone who is wired by goals and plans and achievement, as I’ve said before, retirement poses a conundrum. Very little of what I do is big enough to need my full machine. Revving up just to, say, take used hangers to the dry cleaners/return library books/get to a yoga class generates enough adrenaline to negate the yoga. Seems dumb. Retirement is a privilege. I want to organize my time so that at the end of a week I can look back and say, “That was a Good

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Piece By Piece, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:03am

You may remember a while back I started repurposing my kids’ spaces. My son’s room became my “workroom” (in quotation marks because in fact I just keep stuff there and cart it out to my sofa for actual working); my daughter’s room became the guest room. However, that was 2015, and in January of 2016 we began the process of moving my mother to memory care. My time and intent disappeared into the subsequent chaos. Now, with chaos at bay and the end of 2017 approaching, I’m slowly, slowly finishing up. Guest room, meet your chaise longue. I don’t expect much lounging, but the long chair makes great clothing storage

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Even California Decorates For The Seasons, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:22am

I woke up early this morning, as usual. Today was darker than yesterday. Not just the infinitesimal shortening of winter daylight – our rain has arrived. The San Francisco Bay Area has a “summer dry” climate. Everything browns from June to October. Sometimes we have long, long droughts, but in a normal year, rain falls off and on from December through April. This is our winter, our green time. So in California, we grow and cocoon at the same time. Huh. I think that’s something I will need to consider, now that I’ve said it. It’s like we run to ground in our houses, but the natural world flourishes

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Big Chicken, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:41am

I cannot write long non-fiction to save my life. Like gluing beads on fabric, too many small but important things to track. My fingers get in the way. Fortunately for the world, others pick up that slack. For example, Maryn McKenna has published a new book. Big Chicken. The title! Maryn has commented here, she and I have met a couple of times. She’s elegant and smart and direct. Also the kind of writer who provokes an involuntary response, “Woman knows what she is doing.” In any case, Big Chicken tells the story of how modern agriculture came to rely on antibiotics to supply us with animal protein. I

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Comfort Or The Fight, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:06am

I have a weekend full of children to enjoy. A friend of mine in London just gave birth, and I am encouraging her to distribute lots of “baby spam.” Today I’m going to the 4th birthday of two cute twins I met in their first week of life and have celebrated ever since. It’s possible one of my own children might stop by later. Motherhood works for me. Sometimes I’d like to mother an entire town. Or at least a neighborhood. I wonder, what would it be like to live in a matriarchy? A society in which the skills of mothering – not the actual requirement to be

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Invisible Smoke, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:29am

It’s a full 80 minutes drive from my house to the southernmost tip of fires now burning in the Wine Country. And yet yesterday morning I woke up with a nose bleed. Today again. Our air smells of smoke, is full of tiny invisible particulate, and alternates between Unhealthy and Unhealthy for Select Groups on the Air Quality Index. We bought a new air filter and are staying inside but will want to buy masks if we go out. I tell you these details of little consequence, in the scheme of things, simply to give you a small and maybe more vivid impression of the Wine Country fires in Napa,

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The Artsy Cousin Quilts, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:55am

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 required, cozying up to Artsy takes time. Worth the wait, if it’s a dream of yours. As you know, I didn’t make these High WASP archetypes up. The Grande Dame exists, the Sturdy Gal is real, and now I’d like to introduce one of my actual Artsy Cousins. This is Linda, my uncle Win’s oldest daughter. She made this quilt. I think it’s startlingly beautiful. Look at the detail on one of the poppies. And not to shock anyone’s system too badly, but

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Copying Texts Like Monks Illuminating, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:17am

Today is my birthday, as it happens, I am 61. I thought of something yesterday or the day before. The world likes to characterize aging simplistically – we’re either slumped in despair at our upper arms, or dancing as gray hair streams down our oh-so-supple backs. Neither true. Many of us who are this age have seen as many good changes as bad, and as many bad as good. Also known as you win some you lose some. My college professors taught me that the Renaissance happened in part because the monks discovered Greek and Latin history. The theory is that transcribing the texts of a rich past civilization

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I Am Not Linda Rodin, But, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:44am

(J. Crew shirt worn at the end of this post on New York Fashion Week, Madewell jeans and Ecco sneakers worn here, gold hoop earrings shown here, Bare Minerals GenNude lipstick reviewed here) I am not Linda Rodin. Isn’t she cool? And yet, when I read this interview with her on Cup of Jo, I felt a little spark of recognition. Linda says, Q: Was there a time in your life when you felt really beautiful? A: Right now. Truly, more than ever. Getting old gives you freedom. You can be cranky; people just say, oh, well, you’re a doddering old lady. You don’t have to make excuses.

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Fending Off Solutions, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:49am

I know I told you my tall old Chinese elm fell over this spring. Not that you needed to remember, of course. It kneeled down as I was looking out the window. No damage to our house, very little damage to anything, but we were suddenly treeless. That tree had defined the yard, and to an extent, the house. I have so many windows that used to look out on leaves, through which the sun now streams and streams. My garden also depended on the shade. Hydrangeas, ferns, dogwood, phormium, dicentra, myosotis. Lots of plants have burned. But I am not primarily sad. At first, yes. The tree was

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Searching For The Rewards Of Patience, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:15am

I know that when reading a blog I generally don’t want to hear about its inner workings. How often people write, their thought process about topics, oof, some part of me needs to suspend disbelief and expect magic.  With that acknowledgement, I’m going to go right ahead and turn on the klieg lights. Imagine a clank and whirr as they illuminate. Greasepaint in evidence. Sorry in advance. Although you guys are probably nicer than I and will forgive. OK. So. Going forward I’ll be blogging on Saturdays only. That doesn’t mean I will only write the kind of posts Saturdays have most often produced. I’ll keep up the

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Looking Heat Square In The Face, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:56am

As you may have heard San Francisco broke heat records yesterday, with temperatures of 106℉. Down here on the Peninsula we went even higher, to 108, but I was still happy to be in my suburban house. At least here we can open the front door (the back door the bedroom doors the windows) and hose down the patio to cool ourselves as black slate steams. And no, we don’t have air conditioning. Until this year it has never felt necessary. I’ve lived in this house since 1986, in the Bay Area off and on since 1960. While we’d always have 3 days here and there over 90℉,

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I Kinda Had To, Right?

Along with the new skirt, my birthday loot included a couple of pretty shirts that unfortunately didn’t fit. So I returned them to Nordstrom and came home with this in their stead. I kind of had to, right? Butterflies, on a cotton/silk blend that is my favorite kind of fabric almost in the whole world. I didn’t think the colors would work, but the lepidoptera is more brown than orange and I squeaked in under my personal yellow-hues percentage. With brown Dickers and an Étoile Isabel Marant jacket? Oh yeah. And I haven’t actually even had my birthday. Nice work family, thank you very much. Links may generate

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What To Wear When You Are Over 60 And It’s Too Hot For Jeans

As must be evident, I mostly wear jeans. The thing is, it’s gotten too hot to wear them in summer, at least around here. Long dresses are great, but, what if you just want something to throw on with a t-shirt? And if you’re thinking, wait, it’s fall, not here. In California we often get some of our hottest days in September. Enter a jersey tube skirt. This is what I asked my sister to give me as a birthday present, lo and behold her success. Some would wear this with a long shirt, on me I think it’s best with an adult crop top, AKA a short

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When Eyelids Behave Badly, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:38am

I had the weirdest illness this week. At least I think it was an illness but I’m not quite sure. One night I was lying on the sofa watching television on my laptop and something flew into my eye. Or so it felt. Not sure what it was, a bug, a feather, or whether indeed it was anything other than a body tantrum. Next thing I knew my eyelid had swollen dramatically. Stayed that way for a few days. My throat got sore, I got tired. I went to the doctor, she gave me antibiotic eyedrops, they are helping. But I do feel a bit as though I

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Humanity, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:58am

This is one of those moments when I don’t think I have an apolitical Saturday post in me. I could tell you that a Monarch finally visited my milkweed patch. I was thrilled, yes, but given the other events of this week in America I can’t do butterflies this morning. Let me leave you with a thought. An American I know who is married to a Swede and lives in Sweden told me there Southern Europeans aren’t considered “white.” What does that tell us? What then is “white?” What does this mean for the idea of “white” in America? Why is there “white?” You guys are smart. I’m

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Two Weeks In Scotland And England With My Adult Son: Part 2, England

England Actually let’s finish up Scotland. Because when you and I last spoke, my son and I hadn’t yet departed. Guess what happened when we tried to check in at the Edinburgh airport? Cancelled plane. Minxish conveyances! We had had tickets to Gatwick, final destination Brighton. Due to “an incident on the Gatwick runway,” and resultant shutdown of afternoon flights, British Airways had rebooked us to Heathrow. It’s only an hour from Gatwick to Brighton but Heathrow meant an hour+ ride into London and then another hour+ down to Brighton. Sigh. My son did an excellent job of talking me down. As did the Xanax I take to cope

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The Real True Circadian Rhythm Of One Retired Middle-Aged Woman, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:11am

Retirement is teaching me about my self, absent structure. Some lessons are grandly philosophical. “Where do I end and the world begin?” Some not so much. What are my circadian rhythms, for example, when I don’t have to be much of anywhere if I don’t really want to? Very early morning: Wake up. Isn’t life grand? So happy I have white walls. Gee whiz my down pillows are awesome. Early morning: Have breakfast at the kitchen counter and read the Internet. Ah, the tea, toast, and peanut butter + chocolate hazelnut butter I have been looking forward to since last night. There is no reason to ever change this

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Two Weeks In Scotland And England With My Adult Son, Part 1: Scotland

I’ve recently returned from two weeks travel with my adult son in Scotland and England. Having drafted this post and watched it get longer and longer, I’ll publish in two parts. Scotland below, England to follow as soon as I can manage. I’ve bolded each day, like this, because if it’s hard for me to remember and track what we did I can only imagine how confusing it might be for you. Tally-ho! Scotland was a revelation. That legendary land of dour people, terrible food, and worse weather? It doesn’t exist. Well, the weather is real. But the people are lovely, warm, funny, personal. The food is incredible –

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Late Summer Fritillaries In Loops And Circles, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:43am

Well hello August. It’s late summer. Not at all fall. But here in Northern California the sun seems to sigh, “Never mind.” It’s still hot, it will be hot for a few more weeks, maybe even months. But everything radiates less. However, in the Bay Area it’s also butterfly time. In anticipation, I’ve planted a passiflora, or Passionflower vine, I’ve grown a thistle up over my head, I’ve cleaned orange aphids off milkweed plans, with my fingers. That’s better done in gloves. Now I wait. The butterflies, if they come, are few and mostly solo. A Gulf Fritillary, whom I hope will have laid eggs on the passiflora. A

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Summer Break

In honor of summer, that blue-eyed 40-year old dancing under a pergola who throws back her head to feel her hair on her shoulders, I’m taking a few weeks off. See you in August, I wish you all possible fun under the sun.

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Regrouping And Reconnecting In Napa Valley

Sunday morning I realized I had completely forgotten to publish anything the day before. That’s the first time I’ve skipped a Saturday post, unaware. Why? A family gathering! Last weekend many of us went back up to the spot now re-branded as the Carneros Resort and Spa. My husband and I had been several times when it was the Carneros Inn. This time we took my father, my stepmother, all my siblings and most of their children too. My kids, sadly and happily, were both busy being grownups. Next time we will make sure they can come too. We rented two houses. With courtyards full of vegetation, dining tables, sun

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Other People’s Good Words, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:29am

Right now I like what other people are writing so much that I think I’ll stay quiet and post their links. From Mardel, about clearing out her closet, optimizing, finding the sweet spot for where she lives now. From Brenda, an over-60 blogger new to me, becoming more visible over-65. (I think about writing a post on how I’m loving my invisibility-at-will, but, maybe another day.) From Drew Myron, poetic short piece about the small things in bigger life. (She spends some time with elders.) From Sue at High Heels In The Wilderness, empathy and reading, and how they are linked. The Committee For A Responsible Federal Budget

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The Salubrious Effect Of Someone Else’s Friendly Eyes And Someone Else’s Stories

Here’s an excellent Vancouver wall! Oh, and I’m wearing a cheap old black trench, brown Bottega Veneta messenger, a new pair of cropped black Vince pants (cuffed! 60% off on sale!), tiger-printed Gucci slides, gold hoops, and a vintage silk Ferragamo blouse that was an early birthday present from my son. He bought it on eBay. I have never before worn vintage, unless we count those pieces I bought myself 15 years ago. My son thought the big cats on the blouse, and its coloring, would go well with my shoes. How right he was. Photo credit, BTW, to the ineffable Susan at Une Femme. Evolving That Personal

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Just A Simple Thank You, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:19am

  I’ve just returned from a trip. Do you all remember that Sue from Une Femme and I attended New York Fashion Week together last year? As it happened, we got along so swimmingly, and found ourselves to be such well-suited travel companions, that we thought we’d go somewhere together again. And then, ages and ages ago, I had met Frances of Materfamilias, with her husband, in San Francisco, and so enjoyed our conversation that I’d vowed to visit her in Vancouver some day. And so it came to pass. Sue and I flew up, Sue from Southern California, me from the Bay Area.   Let me reveal that I haven’t felt

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The Best Month In My Home Town, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:58am

June is California’s best month. Wait, I mean northern coast-adjacent California. Oh, to be precise, the San Francisco Peninsula (by the Bay, not the hills or the coast.) We have so many micro-climates, I can only speak to my own. So, here, June is a drug. Champagne. Eyes-roll-back-into-head beautiful. Sure, March has hellebores, native iris, forget-me-nots, all the shy flowers. May brings hedonistic roses. And it is also true that by June magnolia petals are browning, lawns yellowing, things that grow are preparing for summer sleep. But for we humans our June weather is almost too gorgeous to talk about. Sky blue like crayons, cool mornings and cool enough evenings, the smell

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Blue Nile’s 18th Anniversary Sale Is On

Blue Nile is offering 20% off some customer favorites, with code 18YEARS. It must be their 18th anniversary, good job guys! This discount is not nothing when it comes to a quite beautiful “garland” infinity ring originally priced at $4000+. And subtracts a couple hundred dollars off fancy basics like a diamond solitaire pendant. Just in case you’re pining for a few  twinkles, or hunting for a graduation present.   Links may generate commissions.

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Upside Down Backwards Right Way Round, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:02am

Two things happened in yoga this week. Don’t worry, the stories don’t require that you know the practice, or, if you know it, that you like it. So first, a teacher substituted in my Wednesday beginning class, and taught at an intermediate level. I was fine, I’m ready to edge forward. But there was a woman attending her first session at this studio, and I could see she had trouble following along. After class I went up to her and said, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to be intrusive, but I wanted to tell you, that was not a beginning class.” She thanked me. I thought I was helping, an

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How The Polished Tomboy Does Layers And Avoids Flapping Fabric

Layering. An excellent strategy to add interest to the extremely casual wardrobe. But tomboys (AKA Sturdy Gals) hate excess fabric. This is partly because it’s hard to carry heavy stuff around when our coats keep getting caught up, and partly because when long cloth panels hang from our broad shoulders we start to look like old-fashioned voting booths. Or superheroes. Enter short-over-long layers. You may remember that UNIQLO “Jasper Johns” tank from two summers back, as well as the short cadet blue UNIQLO field jacket from close to always. Add my new brown Dickers (alert alert these are on sale for 40% off at net-a-porter!), narrow-for-boyfriend 3 year-old Citizen of Humanity jeans (teeny

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American Writing, British Television, Travels, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:51am

It’s been a quiet week. I published a new post on Medium, here, in full awareness of my limitations. I first wrote the piece very simply, as a simple but preposterous proposal. For better or worse I couldn’t leave it that way. My internal voice of reason spoke too loudly. Retirement seems to be about having the time to help others and to understand yourself. I am who I am, even when I can see what rough hooks could do, I have to smooth the edges. I am unable to leave emotion alone without logic. There you have it. Speaking of smooth edges, here are two British television series I have loved to pieces.

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Sale at Perennial Usually Pricey Favorite, Net-a-Porter, Up To 50% Off

So, if you were wanting some patterned slides, you might try Net-a-Porter’s sale, which started this morning. These are from Sam Edelman, and are knocked down to $66.00. Or you might just need a cute little black ribbed cotton jacket. Or, wait, this navy cotton DKNY dress just kills me! So excellent! Please excuse the morning exclamation marks. But if I lived in New York I do believe I’d buy that dress right now. In any case, public service announcement now completed. Links may generate commissions.

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Looking Out To Sea, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:32am

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. She sits in her wheelchair or stands with my help, the wind blows her silver and gold hair against those big sunglasses. Me, standing with her, bent over to put my face next to hers and align our eyes. The two of us sharing a view. In fact, something else happened. I’d made a timetable. My siblings being the people they are, people arrived at Mom’s memory care place on time. We left, on time. All in one car, my mother, my brother, my two sisters, my

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The Best Summer Pedicure(s)

A post shared by Lisa Carnochan (@amidprivilege) on May 12, 2017 at 7:06pm PDT I have never cared for painted fingernails – I’m perhaps a brutal keyboarder but a) polish always chips and b) I’m startled by hand decor. Pedicures, I endorse. “Ah the feet of summer,”  one might sigh. I didn’t discover the joy of painted toes until my late 30s, but, I haven’t looked back. The only problem being how to ensure you like the color you choose. We’ve all found ourselves in Cement Gray, Day-Old Open Bottle Of Cabernet, or Lavender Dirtied By Woody Lavender Plants, at least once. So I’ve developed a reliable palette; polishes to own and bring along.

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To See The Sea Again, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:10am

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day here in the US. It’s also just about a year since we moved my mother to an assisted living facility. There she fell, broke her hip, had surgery, and moved to skilled nursing in the throes of post-operative delirium. Tomorrow my three siblings and I are taking my mom to the ocean for a picnic. Of course, given Northern California’s marine fog, it might be too cold to do much more than get out of the car, feel the salt wind, squint at the sky, and get back in. That’s OK. We can eat lunch in one of the small coastal towns. My mom has had a

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What To Wear To An Afternoon Wedding In A Tropical “Country Club” Setting

My daughter’s roommate got married a couple of weeks ago. Cue mother-daughter texting and phone calls, and texting and emailing, and texting and online shopping. Because, what does one wear to a summer afternoon wedding in a “country club” setting? A mother should know. I use those quotation marks because we’re talking about a deconstructed “country club.” Peel off the membership, a possible legacy of exclusion and privilege. Keep the sunlit ceremony with cocktails and dinner  outside, the nice indoor reception and rain default room. Add a layer of community and access because this is probably in fact a community center. But it’s not a barn or a farm. And it’s

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Down Here In The Flatlands, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:11am

It’s windy here this morning. I can see branches in my backyard whipped about and fluttering. It’s also a little chilly. Makes me think of the mountains, which is so odd, because I haven’t been to high altitudes since 2013. But if you’ve ever traveled to the Sierras you know what I mean, that thin air through evergreens. No layer between. But nothing quite so rarefied is happening here. Just a suburban morning with cool weather after three days of 90 degree temperatures. My stars it was hot. We’ve always had our little heatwaves in June or July, but I think this is the first time I can remember one in May. The heat was even harder

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Grinning At The Window With My Face Near The Floor, Or, Saturday Morning At 9:59am

My legs hurt. To be precise, my hips and the inside of my left thigh are sore because I took a hard yoga class. Yoga has begun to define a not small part of my retirement. I don’t go every day. I’m not good at extremes; moderation in all things means twice-a-week classes. But they resonate beyond my joints. You all know I’ve struggled with anxiety much of my life. Ever since college I’ve managed it by retreating like a bunny to a warren. Snuggled up against an ungiving wall, the reassurance of that which does not move. Including myself – some animals freeze instead of running. I have by no means turned

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A Few Really Pretty Pieces Of Jewelry For You Or A Dear One

Every now and again I feel we need a pretty jewelry post. For bonus ooh-ing and ah-ing. My sweet spot is small precious metal pieces that manage, by intelligent use of what we might call “jewelry white space” and good design, to act bigger than they are. And sometimes cost less than you expect. This pearl and diamond bar necklace from Catbird might explain what I’m trying to say. Without blather. See? The long bar occupies space, but mostly highlights what it doesn’t cover.  I.e. you.  Catbird has a lot of beautiful stuff. I gave this necklace to my sister one Christmas. I also love this from Blue Nile, an asymmetrical circle pendant

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Determined Hope, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:20am

I finally managed to post that piece about how I came to my political beliefs. It’s here. I’m now enjoying the relief of having done as I promised myself. And in the pause before I begin the next block of Things To Do, which includes everything from planting another abelia bush for putative butterflies to taking my car to the shop, I’ve been poking around the web. Other people have wonderful things to say: fun, moving, highly informative. Sue is at a style blogging conference, meeting other bloggers she’s long known online. If you’re on Instagram, here’s her feed. And if you’d like to see more photos from the conference, which

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Sale At Sephora Today And Tomorrow

Sephora is having what is apparently a bi-annual 15% off sale. I did not even know this was a thing. They tier it with their loyalty program (which I recommend, the rewards are frequent and fun). Today only, if you are VIB level (depends on how much you’ve spent, thank you Christmas 2016!) you get 15% off with code VIBSPRING. Tomorrow it’s 10% with code BISPRING for all Beauty Insiders (register online for membership) . My current replenish-on-outage items, i.e. the things I bought once and will buy again and should therefore have waited to stock until this sale but lesson learned, are the tarte BB cream (it is so silky

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Mostly Gadgets Complicate Life But Every Now And Then They Actually Simplify It

My 50s were quite turbulent, now that I think about it. Divorcing, misplacing a job, starting this blog, taking another job, remarrying, leaving a job. Children graduating college and finding their ways into the world of grownups. My mother moving to memory care and all those emergencies. So I am perhaps more focused on streamlining, on finding calm, than many people my age. Or maybe it’s universal in our 60s? I don’t know? Anyway, white roses and butterflies are pretty good for transcendent joy but for Zen give me a nifty appliance any day. I never expected to become a late night commercial but here we are. First, my Instant Pot. For all

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Digging For Origins, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:01am

So. For the past couple of weeks I’ve been drafting a piece for my Medium page about how I developed my political beliefs. Let me admit, it’s been hard. Super hard. Once I dug in I realized that I believed several things about politics and the economy without any more grounding than personal experience and emotional inclination. This writing is an iterative process. I write down what I believe – about the safety net, for example – and then I sit and try to figure out my thinking. Occasionally I remember some data I used, but not often. And then, this is the hardest part, I try to locate the origin of my belief in my past.

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Links To My 8 Favorites Among Victoria Beckham’s Collaboration With Target

And here are links to my 8 favorites in the Beckham/Target lookbook. Am very curious to see how these work when implemented in real fabrics in real life. All polyesters are not the same. Note that most pieces are available in both plus and standard sizes. White shift with kooky black flowers Shiny calla lily top and pants Embroidered “Marigold” tank Bee jacket Scalloped tank (lotta lotta scallops as decorative motifs) Black dress with white collar Little girl 100% cotton dress in a tea party print Baby black and white daisies on 100% cotton jammies I might just like the kids’ clothes best, now that I think about it.

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Victoria Beckham X Target Collaboration, Yes, You Read That Right And May Cheer

This Sunday the products of Victoria Beckham’s collaboration with Target go live on Target’s site. Possibly at midnight tonight – I haven’t gotten an answer about timing. The goods will be in stores too, although I hope not at midnight. I love Beckham’s stuff. Lady, meet Edge. At Barney’s, her stuff looks like this and costs >$2000. And here’s a sampling of what you will find at Target. For less than $2000. Nifty 50’s-type prints on a shift. Which is supposed to be “knee-length” on regular people, BTW. Calla lilies, times two. One could just get the shirt and wear it with jeans or a black skirt. Lots of this color, Beckham calls

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A Sense Of Purpose, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:58am

I was talking to my best friend yesterday (we raised our kids together, first she moved to Belgium, then to New Jersey, now we talk on the phone 3-4 times a week, but I digress), and we wound up at the topic of purpose. Research shows that people who feel a sense of purpose are better off. So as I sat in my car outside the yoga studio (I leave early for class so I can call my friend from the car, and often wind up sitting in a parking space, still chatting, as I wait for class to start, but I digress again) I tried to parse

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Polished Tomboy In A San Francisco Spring And Princetown Slides

The Uniform, in another guise. The moto jacket with black bag and bright patterned shoes is perhaps not as perfectly balanced as I’d like. (BTW no graphic tee, the shoes were enough.) But who among us is perfect every day? I felt fantastically cool whether I was or was not. And yes, I did succumb to the Gucci slides. The designers are doing such amazing accessories, almost like limited print editions. Scrolling through these options gives you an idea of what to my eye verges on mass artistry. Fortunately, as Sue shows with her customary aplomb, here, Jeffrey Campbell is giving us reasonably priced alternatives. Finally, I must

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Blue Berries Is Come The Stars, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:04am

I continue to volunteer in a local first grade classroom, twice a week. I am surprised by how much is expected of the children, and by the good will with which they attempt to comply. I’m there to help with literacy. What that means exactly has evolved over the year. There are 23 kids in the class, all but four of them speak only Spanish at home. Two of the Spanish-speakers haven’t yet learned English. And yet they are all starting to read and write in this new language. Can you imagine? Is this a primary marker of the immigrant experience? Home is one thing, your future in

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The Polished Tomboy’s 2017 Spring & Summer Uniform

I didn’t set out to build a Spring uniform, but here we are. Any time I want to leave the house looking put together I find I reach for my high-waisted cropped/ankle jeans (try 100% denim, you might be surprised how good it feels), a graphic/patterned tee, excellent shoes, and a light functional (AKA derived from a piece of clothing previously wore for a certain function, not meaning “non-broken”) jacket. Example. A post shared by Lisa Carnochan (@amidprivilege) on Mar 10, 2017 at 4:12pm PST The brown Marants have proven to be quite versatile. They’ll work for fall and winter too. Here are some other options, at a

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Out And About In The Virtual World, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:23am

This week in the world on our screens. I posted an open letter to Jeff Bezos, the CEO of Amazon, on Medium. A Medium editor liked it and put it in the top few recommended for that day. I was quite gratified. I went to a yoga class and emerged blissful, on Twitter. My heart may not be peaceful but it can surely access joy. — Lisa Carnochan (@AmidPrivilege) March 17, 2017 Fran, of the blog Franish, matched for her residency program in a couples match with her new fiancé. All the congratulations. And Sue of Une Femme d’un Certain Age and Allyson Walsh of That’s Not My

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Bandanas Of The Heart And Hearth

As the USA moves into spring we applaud the sun and light (even as we shiver in the evening or wake up to a blanket of March snow.) Is sky blue and cozy the perfect spring pairing? I recently bought this small “lace” cashmere scarf.   Perfect for spring days when the wind is colder than the sky would suggest. Worn under my Barbour, or J. Crew field jacket, a Northern California layering strategy par excellence.  Unfortunately Bompard sold out, but similar options are legion. Winter will come again. I might also replace the throw blanket I bought this winter. As the weather lightens, tobacco-colored wool feels heavy.

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When You Learn You Don’t Know As Much As You Might Have Thought You Did, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:13am

Since I announced I’d be changing my writing practice, moving to Medium to write about politics, I’ve been reminded of two little truths. First, learning something new presents difficulties you won’t foresee. Second, habits matter as much or more than intent. Leaning something new, well, I’ve learned that politics are hard. Ha! Cue riotous laughter all around. I should be more specific. Politics are hard to write about. See, while I can develop a political opinion pretty quickly – see a pattern and make an observation – this snap judgment methodology takes me only about 80% of the way to a substantive thought. In style, 80% works. The

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Local Girl Makes Good, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:23am

Remember these tights, from this post on same? By Marilyn Pollack Naron, the drawing is practical and charming at once. Happily, you can now browse a whole website of Marilyn’s work. So endearing. Want to be cheered up, or, alternatively, add to your already broad smile? Go look. Wait, there’s more, she has also illustrated a cookbook about meatloaf, authored by Frank Bruni and Jennifer Steinhauer. In other, sadder news, Leslie at Hostess Of The Simple Bungalow has lost her mother. She might feel support in condolences. Me I’ve done nothing lately except host a presumably quite robust rhinovirus. Cough. Am recovering. I hope you’re all healthy and

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A Proposed Methodology For Lips Over 50

I’ve written about lipstick before, here, and here. But I stumbled upon my current favorite when shopping with my daughter. Motivated by a desire for safer ingredients, we found this, by Bare Minerals. A matte liquid lipstick, it’s quickly kicked all my other lip colorants to the curb. The first application surprises, this stuff slips on like liquid clay. But it’s also surprisingly easy to use precisely, so no need for pencil outlining. I let it dry, then add lip balm on top. This is the most natural look I’ve ever found – not cake-y like some lipsticks, not overly shiny like a gloss. In fact, I’ll go

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Out And About In The Virtual World, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:27am

Morning. On Instagram, some spinners. The whirligigs of Year of the Rooster. A post shared by Lisa Carnochan (@amidprivilege) on Feb 12, 2017 at 3:34pm PST On Medium, my struggle to understand the emotional infrastructure of political positions. On Twitter, two book recommendations. And other voices. Dani at Mop Philosopher gives us a couple of recent posts full of outfit color for a trip to Italy. The perfect Saturday morning browse. I do miss you guys. Hope all is well.  

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That Same Dress, Yes, Again, New Boots

#TBT, as they say, Throwback Thursday, to Valentine’s Day night. A post shared by Lisa Carnochan (@amidprivilege) on Feb 16, 2017 at 8:52am PST As we see I succumbed to the brown boots, and having done so, realized I longed for a little blue to liven the look. Luckily, I’m blue-endowed. And so it went. Blue MaxMara three-quarters coat, same Prada dress I plan to keep wearing as long as I can, brown Dickers, and the earrings I had customized on Etsy for my brother’s wedding. The brown boots and fishnet stockings are infinitely more playful and less classic than black boots and black tights, but that felt

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If You Give A Style Sort Some Black Boots She’s Going To Want The Brown Ones Too

The other night we went out to dinner at Boulevard, a San Francisco institution. I wanted to get fancy, although it’s never required here, so I wore my Prada dress. Also black Isabel Marant Dickers, black Wolford tights, Blue Nile earrings, and this MaxMara camel coat. As I looked in the mirror, I realized I’d get a lot of use out of brown shoes to wear with that same dress. A photo posted by Lisa Carnochan (@amidprivilege) on Jan 27, 2017 at 5:03pm PST After all, Prada is not inexpensive, and the fabric is woven to last another decade – at least. It would be only sensible to

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Some Days You Want To Save The World, Some Days You Just Want Pretty

In the midst of storms both political and thunderish, I’ve found myself drawn to pretty things. We were at the Stanford Shopping Center the other day and I saw this, from Stella McCartney. Beautiful. But expensive. I noticed Anthropologie is also offering decorative, almost painterly goods. Less expensive. Still pretty and a balance to passion. Links may generate commissions Save Save Save Save

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When You Just Can’t Be A Lifestyle Blogger Any More

Bear with me. Or not. I always appreciate your time. 2016 hit hard. We moved Mom as best we could, she has settled in, but Donald Trump became president. In my eyes that puts our most needy citizens at risk. I have to do something. For those who already know they won’t survive all ~1400 words below, and I do understand, let’s cut to the chase. I’m shifting my writing practice. In Brief I plan to write, for the most part, on new topics in a new venue. I won’t close up what we’ve built here, but I’ll be cutting back. Privilege becomes something more like Kim French’s

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The Sturdy Gal Hears The Call Of The Moors And Succumbs

I meant to get a J. Crew field jacket in black, but they discontinued the color. So, here I am now that California is raining. And raining. And raining. We shall call this Queen Elizabeth tromps the moors and then gets on a motorcycle. A photo posted by Lisa Carnochan (@amidprivilege) on Jan 12, 2017 at 11:33am PST A Barbour Beadnell in waxed cotton. Classic, meaning boxy as heck. Meant to last for eons, if you send it back for rewaxing now and again. Worn with these Aquatalia boots, Citizens of Humanity jeans, a Stutterheim hat, and an old, old, grommeted belt. A little moto always saves the

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Twinning Round The World

I’m friends with a group of young women in the UK, and one of them wore this Boden sweatshirt in a selfie. So I got one too. Mostly cotton, comfortable, gold polka dots. Surely you would have done the same. Especially since it’s on sale for under $50. Surely you would have. Links may generate commissions

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Blue Nile End Of Year Sale With Bows On

Blue Nile is having their end of year sale. These bows are on back order – but try a phone call if you love them as I do. Good for a bride, traditionally, but even better with a motorcycle jacket. In fact, right now Blue Nile is offering some pretty good savings on diamond jewelry in general. If diamonds can be said to be “in general,” ever. Links may generate commissions.  

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When You Didn’t Know You Needed A Sequin Bomber Jacket But You Did

My Christmas present in this years draw. Thank you to my stepmother, who knew I needed this when I did not. Worn here on Instagram, on sale 40% off here. Note: I usually wear a size 6 or 8 in American jackets. I’m wearing this in a 34  – small, in other words, which makes it way better. Links may generate commissions Save Save

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Christmas, Happily, To Within An Inch Of Its Life

This year, as I predicted here, I went all out for Christmas. Or, as I say in the High WASP sardonic dialect we use around sentiment, to within an inch of its life. Having poked all manner of craft items into my front door cyclamen, I lit them. Burlap bow rimmed with gold; the same ribbon rumpled in the pot. Having purchased not one, not two, but three gaudy fake, um, I think, poinsettia garlands (oh, wait, Pier One tells me they are fake amaryllis, not remotely the same), I hung them. Next to two very cute and cold small children, courtesy my stepmother, 1992-ish. Up close. Any

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Taking Stock Of Online Life, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:01am

This morning I was poking around on Facebook. I decided, then and there, to winnow my “friend” pool. Why? I never meant to be on Facebook, I joined back when I was blogging in an anonymous High WASP way, I was connected to several people I don’t actually know and with whom I share very little. So I posted about my intentions, hoping in a non-anonymous High WASP way not to hurt anyone’s feelings. Then I “unfriended.” All this was, as I said there, pretty inconsequential. But it did make me want to ask you guys, how’s your online life these days? This is me. I blog here.

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The Books Of 2016 Were The Best Part Of The Year, But Some I Hated And Some I Simply Couldn’t Remember

Lucky for humanity, even the most awful of years give us good books. Thank you writers. I will confess that I have come to think about reading in terms of Use Cases, i.e. when, and in what form, I will read what. This is perhaps not the pure approach literature deserves. I would apologize but I’ve used up my store of sorries for the year and I hope a weak smile suffices. In any case, we’ve got: Books you want to live in. These you are going to want to page back into and back up out of. You will want to revisit the early chapters to see

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La Garçonne, Thoughtfully On Sale

A good sale’s on at La Garçonne, site for Polished Tomboy gear. While I’ve never enjoyed the models’ deadpan stares, and find some of the clothes too-too, they do very well at upleveled basics. Which Polished Tomboys appreciate beyond measure. Red tartan from from Comme des Garçons anyone? Isabel Marant also offers a gorgeous red wool moto jacket, Chimala’s got your 100% cotton selvedge denim, Julien Terry your anime-illustrated sweatshirt – oh, wait, maybe that’s mine. And, in the kind of creative retailing touch I enjoy, La Garçonne throws in a tartan Barbour scarf. We all can use a little help mixing it up. Oh, actually wait, socks

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Things I Know And Things I Don’t Know, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:33am

All this week I’ve been feeling anxious. Seriously so, for no discernible reason. I ran through the usual suspects; Mom’s affairs, preparations for teaching, blog posting schedule, life administration, the well-being of my children. Although there’s stuff, there’s always stuff, nothing warranted the deep cold dread I felt. Then yesterday, having crossed two particularly time-consequential tasks off my list, I knew. My mother’s Alzheimer’s has me rehearsing the future day after day after day. I worry so much about forgetting that I treat my obligations like beads on a string and run them through my mind’s equivalent of fingers, over and over again. Black beads, I think, volcanic

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Giving Presents Of Experience Is Like Giving Power

I remember last year, during the Christmas season, several of you commented that you prefer to give presents of experience. (And before I go any farther, let me just say to those who don’t celebrate Christmas the hubbub I know it can feel intrusive and exclusive and I do apologize but this year I need cheer and something to focus on.) But experience. I received an inheritance when I turned 21. I was still in college. I had no interest in fancy shoes, or diamonds beyond the ones in my mother’s jewelry box. But I still wished. My first splurges; I bought an impractical Alfa Romeo sports sedan

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Real Life Presents For Women From Bouncing Babies All The Way To Elders

Presents. We High WASPs we call them presents, even though the word “Present” doesn’t sound as good with “Guide,” as the word “Gift” does.  Let’s think about the women we might be giving to of all ages. For me, that means from 84 years to 5 months.     For my mother: Alzheimer’s appreciates repetition. The concept of a uniform takes on new meaning, supporting self-recognition. Without much thought, we packed Mom’s striped shirts for the move. Now we stick with that design to help her orient. Ease of dressing is also critical, someone is always helping. I’ve found the petite washable crepe pants from Eileen Fisher work

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Take Back Our Ray-Bans And Show Them What We’ve Got

This post is sponsored by Ray-Ban. All opinions are assuredly my own. Today I have one message for my fellow baby boomers; remind the young ones we’ve still got it. We still think and feel. We still style it out. But we’ve also been around too long to try too hard. You know what’s easy? Let’s take back our sunglasses. Yes, sunglasses. As I have said before, there’s no quicker way to add a little edge than a pair of Ray-Bans. Sturdy Gals rejoice. Why should the young define what’s cool? I’ve worn iconic Ray-Bans off and on my whole adult life. Here, blurry, blissful, in the Swedish

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Wrapping Up The Presents And Your House

Seems like a year to double down on Christmas wrapping. And I don’t just mean presents. I wish Christo would come wrap my whole house in crinkle foil and twinkle lights. Or red felt if the crew were so inspired. No, I haven’t bought even one present. I’ll do my shopping in a rush next week or the week after that. But decorating beckons, “Red me, green me, let me sparkle to my hearts content!” OK then. Accoutrements required? Lights I need new outdoor lights. I like to mix white icicles and individual red lights for a candy cane effect. It’s ever so tasteful. I’ve resisted LEDs so

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Believe The Rain Or The Drought Or Both, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:48am

It’s raining. This has been a terribly difficult year, personally with my mom, in public given the election. And yet I’m optimistic. Not in the way of platitudes, the gloss in which civilized people excel. But optimistic when you  admit everything’s been awful. Awful with teeth. You face it and fight it and believe anyway. I believe that people are good. I believe that life is good. I believe this because of the irregular splatting of raindrops and because joy. Joy. How could joy be so powerful if we were not good? If life were not good? It’s raining. We had years of drought, and today it’s raining.

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Black Friday And Cyber Monday Sales, A Giveaway Winner, And, No, I Won’t Be Going Into Stores If I Can Help It

I hope all the readers in the USA in had a great Thanksgiving, and that everyone else had a great, well, Thursday. Below is my list of Thanksgiving weekend sales and deals.These are all retailers or services I’ve shopped at, been in contact with, or coveted from, over the years. I will update this post with any new information as Cyber Monday arrives. Charity Let’s kick off with the news that Patagonia is donating 100% of their Black Friday sales to grassroots environmental groups. Thank you Patagonia, it’s good to have a planet. Clothing On to our core shared interest. What to wear? What to give to people

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Bootvana For A Rainy City

Do you know what drought does to a shoe collection? Encourages a preponderance of suede. And shoes perforated all which ways. So we’d been having a little rain in Northern California and I needed boots to wear in the city. Boots without perforations. Boots that repel water. Boots that do not bring to mind mucking about on the moors. Welcome to Bootvana. And an iPhone photo. I felt so cool I was willing to let my belly show. Those are the the Aquatalia “Yulia” Waterproof Chelsea boots for women. Classic, modern, comfortable, a little sexy. And yes I know water can seep through the gusset despite Aquatalia’s weatherproofing

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And For My Friends Here, Today For Those Who Comment, Guest Towels In A Giveaway From Samuel Scheuer Linens

Fun story with an even better ending. I ordered a whole slew of these Henry Handwork embroidered guest towels, and posted about them here. I admit I want to ornament the holidays this year, to gather my loved ones close in a fairy tale house of High WASP fripperies. The store, Samuel Scheuer Linens in San Francisco, must have noticed all you nice people visiting their site, because their rep got in touch with me and offered to send me either another pair of towels or a set of cocktail napkins, as a thank you present. Wasn’t that unexpected and nice? But since I had already ordered abundantly

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Volunteering To Teach, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:51am

I went back to school on Wednesday. Not as student, but volunteering again as I did last year. The teacher was finally ready to open her class to helpers. This is first grade, in a well-to-do suburb on the San Francisco Bay Area Peninsula. Kids from the east side of town comprise most of its pupils. And on this particular east side, almost all the families have come from Latin America. Some just last week. Parents speak Spanish. Children speak Spanish too, but only the most recently arrived speak no English. Kids learn very quickly. I work with them on reading, in groups of four. There are 24

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Friendsmas Has To Come Early Because Friends Make Presents By Hand

Here’s an early thought about Christmas. Why early? I’m a last minuter myself, and here in the USA we need to take time for Thanksgiving. But today we’re celebrating Friendsmas, in which I let you know who in this community is making goods, or offering services, that you or someone you know might like. And the Friends, small businesses all, really appreciate some time to schedule your photo shoot or make up your order. Meg at Pigtown*Designs, household sundries Last year Meg brought us mother-of-pearl flatware. That’s still on offer, but here’s the real news. Tea towels! Designed by Meg, printed in on a cotton/linen blend with non-toxic

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Can I Wear Navy And Black Together? Yes, And Even For Holiday Parties

Today, Sue of Une Femme and I are giving you our take on black and navy, unappreciated color combination that it is, and dressing up for the holidays. While navy and black may not give you the punch of, say, red and green, or black and silver, for those of us who like our style subtle the combination can be fun to play with. Just remember, because the two colors are so visually similar, you want to use texture and layout to amp up the look. Layout? What am I talking about? I’m pretending you’re a magazine and I mean a pronounced silhouette and white space, i.e. your

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The Ideal Thanksgiving Kitchen Tools For The Meal I Don’t Have To Cook This Year

This Thanksgiving I’m not cooking. And I’m thankful. In past years I’ve gone to town with various menus. This year both kids will be elsewhere, and my husband and I, as we did in 2014, are going out to eat. Let us hope the food is better this time. As we enjoy the lacuna, for one must grace quiet moments with their own Big Words, I’ve been wondering, what might be the ideal set of Thanksgiving kitchen tools? If one were to start from scratch? Let’s define ideal as a) suited to function b) no more than needed but as good-looking as possible, and, c) as often as

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Your Emergency Response Is Your Mirror, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:50am

Let’s see, today is Saturday, right? So, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, four days since the US election. You all may be elated, you may be in mourning, maybe angry, maybe trying to calm down. You’ve been bombarded by news about this event and by other people’s difficult feelings about it. So today I am not going to discuss America’s election directly. However. When you are 60 you develop a certain capacity for self-observation. As though your blood and guts and feelings shrink away from the racing neurons of thought, leaving space. I’ve been observing my reaction to the events of November 8th and I’ve learned something about myself.

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A Review Of Leota Dresses, Made In New York City, Perfect For The Working Woman

“Ilana” dress in “Argyle” print c/o Leota || MaxMara wool and cashmere camel coat (similar) || Stuart Weitzman kitten heels (suede in multiple colors) || Georg Jensen Mobius strip bracelet from my maternal grandmother (yes the house makes more than household goods) || Birthstone necklace from Rachel Jackson || Bottega Veneta crossbody bag A couple of months ago, as I stood in the checkout line at Whole Foods, vaguely annoyed for no good reason (it happens), I was cheered by a few passers-by. Across our Silicon Valley landscape of All Pants All The Time, suddenly, a flock of jersey dresses. Several young women so attired, moving with a

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On The Edge Of A Boom

Where do you sit – on the edge of a wave, on the crest, sliding down the back as the height passes, or down in the trough? What on earth am I talking about? Your relationship to population booms and busts. Where do you sit? Just recently I read The Girls, by Emma Cline. It’s a story of a teenager who becomes part of a group that resembles the cult led by Charles Manson. Very well written, well enough that I wished it had told a longer story. I was brought back quite sharply to my teenage years. And yet not quite. In 1969 the protagonist is 14.

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Surprisingly Full Of Energy, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:17am

For superstitious reasons I hesitate to tell you, but, this past week I’ve had a burst of energy. I almost don’t know what to do! Except use a rare exclamation mark in a blog post. Does this happen to you? I used to buzz at a high frequency all the time. Until I’d collapse, spent, for a day on the sofa reading magazines, (remember magazines?) watching television, and eating snacks. All at once. But the past couple of years I’ve been decidedly tired. In 2015, 6 months of hormonally-driven health problems left me prone way more often than reasonable. In 2016, of course, my mother’s transition from her

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And For Your Friday Amusement, Special Blue Nile Discounts Just For Privilege Readers

The week is winding down. Or done. You’re at your desk, hearing the sound of the customer service people gathering for an in-office happy hour. You’re 30 years older than all of them. You’ll go, it’s what leaders do, but you take a moment to clear your mind with retail recreation. Or the week is winding down. Or done. You’re on your sofa, children fed, bathed and in bed with your dear one reading them stories. You’ll go in to sing lullabies in a minute, but you’re just browsing. Almost without thought. And lo and behold, a couple of Blue Nile discount codes just for Privilege readers. Oh

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Can A Mother And Her Daughter Wear The Same Sequined Skirt?

You already know the answer to the headlined question. Back in 2012 I bought a sequined skirt at All Saints. I wore it to the office holiday party with a black cotton button-front shirt, black Louboutins (these days you might prefer the pointy-toed version), dark red nails, gold bangles, and a family diamond-embellished cuff (I think this modern one’s similar in feeling). I colored my hair in those days. There are lots of sequin options this year, if you’d like to follow suit. Sequined Skirts For Mother And Daughter (scroll right) I wore the skirt again that Christmas night, with a white Anne Fontaine shirt and seriously tacky

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Have You Ever Wondered What Austin Is Like?

I’m just back from from my first trip ever to Austin, Texas. I’d happily go again. I was visiting two of my college roommates. Such a pleasure. They picked me up at the airport on Thursday night, took me to dinner here, then housed me, then fed me some more. In short, whole hog hospitality. Oh, and showed me the city. Friday morning we walked around and over Lady Bird Lake. Gorgeous weather. Then we went to lunch at Zocalo, for Tex Mex. Here’s the exterior of the restaurant – which seems, despite the ordinariness of the image, to capture something of the city. Rangy greens, outdoor tables,

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Wondering What Sixty Is, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:10am Central Time

I’ve had the occasion these past few days to see old friends. As I’ve told them, I’m researching. They both had their 60th birthdays earlier this year, and I want to benchmark our age. I find myself asking them all kinds of questions. “What is your dream of the future? In that future where will you live?” “Are you ready for grandchildren?” “What is the hardest thing you have gone through to date? Do any effects linger?” “Do you have beauty secrets?” “How about Botox or injectables?” “What percentage of your day is spent content? How much disturbed, or blissful?” “Do you get tired more easily these days?”

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Picking Up A Few Household Items That Just Might Help Prepare For Guests Who Just Might Be Coming For Holidays

We’ve been feathering the nest, a tad. I know nobody wants to talk holidays yet, so I won’t mention Thanksgiving, or Hanukah, or Christmas. We’re safe as far as Diwali, since I don’t celebrate it, although these days I see its lights around town more often. How about we call today Investing In Our Hospitality Infrastructure? Guests, no matter when or why, are expected. Cooking Gizmo With Loads Of Promise For example, we’re now the owners of an Instant Pot. I’m kind of embarrassed, as though I didn’t know late night television ads are bunk. We bought it because I wanted a rice cooker with a stainless steel

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How To Build A Simple But Powerful Work Wardrobe, From Scratch

A couple of weeks ago, one of you asked for my thoughts on how to build a work wardrobe from scratch. Ah, work clothes. I remember them well. Above, the garb I wore to present to the New York Stock Exchange in 2008, just before the bottom dropped out of the market. I don’t think that was my fault. Here’s an outfit from my 2011-2013 gig at a San Francisco Internet company. Context is all. Wasn’t showing a lot of bustline at the stock exchange, to be honest. So, were I starting again, everything brand new, what to do? I’d want my clothes to be enjoyable and useful,

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Falling Digital Flowers, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:37am

Way back in 1960 my family moved from Cambridge, Massachusetts to the San Francisco Bay Area. Although I spent my college, grad school and early career years in New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania, and my family’s from the Northeast, I feel quite rooted here. Over the past 6 decades my home, now often known as “Silicon Valley,” has changed almost beyond recognition. Mostly I would rather it were otherwise. I miss our open spaces, a small town feel, the departed general shabbiness. Mostly. Last weekend, however, I was reminded again to stay open to growth. Fairly recently PACE Gallery opened an outpost on the former site of a

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Did Everybody Else Already Know This?

I have a secret to tell you. Or maybe I’m the last to know? Men’s wallets are better than women’s. At least if you carry a small bag and/or are looking to jettison carrying weight. I made this astonishing discovery in September. I wanted to bring my Céline bag on the trip to New York Fashion Week, but it’s way smaller than the Bottega Veneta large hobo that I usually carry. So I bought myself a new wallet. I stuck with BV, but I picked a man’s version. It’s gray, which I love. Neutral but not black. Also works with my brown messenger crossbody. I wondered, at first,

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The Small Fall Of The San Francisco Bay Area

In the USA, Fall has been usurped. The Northeast rules our iconography, and yet. Sweaters, boots? It’s still in the 70s where I live. Waves of forest red? We’re still growing roses. I’m here to represent other autumns. We know when the oleander drops. You see, contrary to popular mythology, California does have a fall. It’s just small. It comes when summer has passed, when the concrete of our driveways cools down. Before winter, when it rains. Or doesn’t rain, so we gather at the dinner table worrying about whether it will rain. Our light changes. But we have to pay attention. In summer we close our eyes

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The Winner Of The Blue Nile Mini-Birthstone Pendant, And, Thank You For Your Stories

Cat won the draw for the birthstone pendant. She wrote, “Although my birthstone is peridot, green has never been my color. I would opt for aquamarine to bring a touch of the sea to my decidedly earthbound day-to-day.” Congrats, Cat! Please ping me at my skyepeale email, with your mailing address, and Blue Nile will send you the necklace. I’ll probably say hi too:). A few of the other comments on our seasons and times, real and in dreams. Anita Jenkins wrote: “In Edmonton Alberta Canada where I live, my birth month of May is one of the best times of the year. The leaves are coming out

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Thank You Internet For Growing My Ideas On Friendship, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:16am

I know we often bemoan the state of the Internet. Surely it’s been a home for some of the least civil, most bullying words we’ve ever heard in broad company. But let’s take a balanced view. That’s how we find our way. The Internet has also opened up whole new ways of finding and having friends. On the blogosphere we talk mostly about kindred spirits. Whether for surfaces – someone else who loves butterflies! someone else with broad shoulders! someone else who grew up with iced tea spoons! – or depths – you too divorced, lost your temper, lied and felt terrible about it and hoped to be

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The Key Motif Of 2016, And Maybe 2017

In these days where fashion welcomes, nay proliferates, all kinds of silhouettes, we find ourselves designating “It” items to replace absent mandates. The It bag, those shoes, or, occasionally, that “motif.” Do you remember a couple of years ago – bird prints everywhere? This year, I’m noticing butterflies. Which pleases me to no end. As a fan of the actual creatures, I’m happy to see them figured in home and on persons. I know some people are scared of them. I get it. They are bugs. They do have scary legs. But the symbolism is lovely. In China it means young love that never dies. Let us not

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Shopbop 25% Sale On All Kinds Of Stuff Starts Today

Hi guys. Shopbop, an online retailer that specializes in not-cheap but not-always-too-much modern-but-not-neessarily-cutting-edge will be running a sale for the next three days. 25% if you buy up to $500, 30% off if you haven’t gotten around to fall wardrobe updates and want to dive in deep. Code is MAINEVENT16, I suppose because this is the site’s main sale event of the year. There are a few brands and items not included, but the sale runs pretty broadly. I know I’d wear this sweatshirt 2-3 times/week, because a) sweatshirt b) randomly distributed embroidered stars. If only they had it in a Medium. Lucky you Larges. And Shopbop is

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Are Birthstones Only For The Birthday Girl? And Is Your Birth Stone The Only One You Get With Meaning?

After all the posts about my birthday, you guys deserve a present. When Blue Nile got in touch with me about another giveaway recently, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I confess, Part One involved something for me. As you may know, I rely on chandelier earrings to elevate my Extreme Casual. As you may also know, most days I wear this necklace, two diamond solitaires dangling from one chain. The second stone, invisible in this photo, is round. I love the necklace, it has sentimental value and occupies my favorite casual luxury space. But it doesn’t go with these chandeliers. I knew a big necklace

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Introducing “Dearly Beloved: Millennial Mother Love,” The Series, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:30am

I want you to meet someone. Privilege buddies, meet Sarah Finnie Robinson. Sarah, meet Privilege. Why the introduction you may wonder? This week Sarah started a blog series at the Huffington Post. She calls it, Dearly Beloved: Millennial Mother Love. I will let her explain in her first post. By the way, she is writing to her three grown children. Hi kids, I’ve decided to launch a blog series for you. Before you cringe, consider this: You are all grown up and gainfully employed, married even, and living in cities all over the country, busy doing all sorts of wonderful things in the world. But I am still

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A Review Of The Auberge du Soleil In Napa Valley, With A Whole Slew Of Photos

My husband really wanted to do something special for my 60th. I dithered, but did not resist. Most of all I wanted to go away with him somewhere new. So we spent the weekend of my birthday at Auberge du Soleil in Napa Valley. You check in at the top of a hill. The building houses the dining room, the bar, the reception and, hey, sculpture! But you are well-advised to let yourself go downhill from there. The rooms are housed in many small buildings. Clusters of rooms, I suppose one might say, or bunches, like grapes, since we’re in Napa. All of them open directly to the

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Thank You Everyone, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:36am

Turned 60. Up, up, and away. Am still celebrating, albeit with feet firmly par terre. I’m not one to say it’s just a number, a birthday of this moment and magnitude. Milestones mark passages, even if we don’t know quite where we’re going. My goal is to merit the journey. Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes yesterday, and for reading whenever. Your presence matters. As always, have a wonderful weekend.

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When Fuchsias Wander And Anemones Erupt

I like gardens for some of the same reasons I like middle-aged cities. Buildings and shrubs hunker down in place; although things change year to year and season to season, you can find your way around. Just recently I moved my pot of fuchsias. Now if that isn’t one of the silliest English sentences ever written I don’t know what is. But, my fuchsias are different in their new place. I see them differently, they interact with the green background in new ways, I imagine even they are surprised. The marigolds and alyssum trailed along, as younger kids will. While this new spot felt very right, at the

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A Few Singular Pieces Make Retirement Style Very, Very Simple

In a suburban retirement, one really doesn’t need all that many clothes. Unless one volunteers at a high level and attends glam events. The rest of us can live pretty simply. This doesn’t preclude style. I find that the best way to enjoy dressing simply is to find best-in-class pieces that I can wear over and again. So, as a jeans, tees, and flat shoes kind of person, I mostly want: Jeans that suit my body, in both comfort and aesthetics. Exactly what this means will differ for everyone. I like a medium wash with straight legs. You may prefer dark wash low-waisted skinnies. Or stretch leggings. Tees

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How I’m Voting And Why, Even If We Disagree On Several Things, You Might Do The Same, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:17am

Just when we can’t bear to listen to any more politics, it seems we must. I am voting for Hillary Clinton. I tell you this because it appears that many more voters are undecided than I would have hoped. There are many reasons why you might vote for Trump which will render my thoughts meaningless. I understand. In particular, your feelings about social issues, particularly issues with religious import such as gay marriage, women’s rights, abortion. Also your feelings about open borders, both inside and between countries, by which I mean (broadly) immigration, race, national defense, trade agreements. Those opinions will tend to narrow choices. They narrow mine.

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A Review Of The Lotte New York Palace Hotel In Midtown Manhattan, A Surprise Bonus Budget Hotel, And Four Exemplary Restaurants

I lived in Manhattan from 1979 until 1984. I’ve visited as often as possible since I left. But to this day I can’t say I have a favorite place to stay in the city. Or a favorite restaurant. Every trip is new. However, I do have some recommendations, and photos of where I stayed for Fashion Week, and what we ate. For a city so big, and so open to growth, sometimes that which we have experienced most recently is the best On to the details. The New York Palace Hotel (now prefixed with “Lotte,” was “Helmsley” back in the day) Last week I stayed at the New

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Brief Internet Support-A-Friend Request Which Involves Looking At 4 Photos Of People Caught In Actions

My friend Laura, the photographer at Baby Picture This, is in the running for a Canon photography prize. I wrote about her work here, and here, these days her career is expanding. I know it’s kind of a big favor, I don’t take these things lightly, but if you could possibly go vote for her picture here on Facebook, I’d appreciate it – enormously. No additional Liking or Signing Up to do, just comment on the post with the number of her photo. (Update: let’s vote even if Germany is done;)) Which is 4. There are in fact 4 photos to review, theme is Pursuit Of The Shot.

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Bringing Home Fashion Inspiration From #NYFW2016 And Liking A Big Plaid

Often we who live lower-case suburban lives wonder what on earth upper-case Fashion has to do with us. We don’t see ourselves easily in the Big Trends – shirts without shoulders, coats covered in jewels, heels that tilt so far forward we need a strong headwind as scaffold. So how to incorporate just enough of something new in our wardrobes that we can feel current? Not trendy, not cutting-edge, just of this era? We pick and choose. This year, I’m considering the Big Plaid. I do not know why it looked so interesting, perhaps in contrast to the stripes and florals prevalent in recent years? In any case,

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Who Is Feeling Autumnal? Or, Saturday Morning at 8:20am

Feeling autumnal? Wait, what does that term even mean? In California, a cooler sun, a hope of rain. More brown than green, more red than pink, no yellow in sight. We use “autumnal” to talk about our lives, too, right? We can feel autumnal, even in the bright sun. Particularly as we age. Here’s what Shakespeare thought. I’ve always loved those first four lines. That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day

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How To Attend New York Fashion Week When You Don’t Have An Invitation Or Even Much Of A Clue

Dress: MaxMara | Shoes: Stuart Weitzman | Earrings: Blue Nile | Bag: Céline | Watch: Apple | Exceedingly rare curled hair: CONAIR I’ve always wanted to go to Fashion Week. Well, not always. It’s so hard to avoid hyperbole in this kleig-lit era. Let’s say I’ve wanted to attend ever since I started blogging, and NYFW became a thing, and then eventually a hashtag. #NYFW2016, ain’t we modern. Dress: OAK | Shoes: Birkenstock | Hat: Nordstrom | Bag: Céline When Sue at Une Femme asked me to make a trip to NYC with her this September, I was tempted. But I was also deep in the throes of

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Going For It, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:10am Eastern Time

New York has been extraordinary. And I’m ready to go home. It was a quick trip but full and audacious. Sue of Une Femme d’un Certain Age and I managed to see the whole Tom Ford show from outside the back window of the Four Seasons. My best friend and I took a pedicab tour of New York, rode the subway on a 90 degree day in a car without air-conditioning, and ate at Katz’s Deli. My son and I got seated at Lisa Hoang’s show, as walk-ins. I’ll tell you all about it next week. This week. Where are we in the calendar again? And if I’ve

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Choosing A New House Number For A Modern Slash Traditional Slash California Slash Ranch

You may remember, we had our house repainted about two years ago. What I haven’t yet told you is that we subsequently began to receive a lot of postal mail that wasn’t ours. Did I understand the root cause immediately? No I did not. I’ll wait here while you infinitely smarter people figure it out. Notice anything missing in the photo below? Under the pyracantha berries, interlaced with white oleander for that one-two midcentury California landscape punch? We’d removed the house number and never put it back. To make things worse, our curb stencil had faded almost beyond recognition. Occam’s Razor at work. But, I didn’t want to

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25 Things I Did On My Summer Vacation

Well hi everyone! Yes, that was a whole month off. Seems like nothing, right? Here’s what I did. Learned things. As it turns out, August is butterfly time in my neighborhood. Sighted, a Gulf Fritillary, Common Buckeye, Painted Lady, one possible Monarch, innumerable and varied Skippers. Also learned that planting milkweed does not guarantee Monarch colonies. Mourned. Held out hope for next year. Watched the long hot summer finally cool down. Bought some new t-shirts at Barney’s, UNIQLO and J. Crew. Got more new t-shirts from UNIQLO Japan as a present from my son who’d been in Asia for the summer. One is printed with Winnie the Pooh.

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Back After Labor Day Leaving Some Older Posts For Your Review, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:42am

Hi my cute buddies. I have kept blogging through the events of my mother’s care, rather than taking my usual quarterly week-long breaks.  But I’ve reached the time to take a deep breath and recover. Nothing is perfect. Mom’s not going to get better, per se. But I have high hopes that her new facility is a place for her to experience as happiness as is possible. Signs indicate so. Me, I’m going to lie low and urge my adrenaline to do the same. Several metaphors have come to mind about recent months. For example, I’ve been in Afghanistan. Now I’m still in the desert, but at least

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Choosing Makeup For Your Adult Daughter, Especially When You Are Looking For Non-Controversial Ingredients

Over the years I have often bought my daughter new makeup. It’s so fun, gilding a lily. In college, gold eye shadow. Last year, red lipstick. And last week, for her 29th birthday, new all around – this time focused on minimizing controversial ingredients.* I took her to Sephora for a free mini-makeover. You pick one feature for the makeup artist, we chose eyes. (Never fear, fierce mama managed to get advice on the full gamut.) The artist recommended the Tarte line, for both aesthetics and ingredients. (And I know they use a lower case T in their branding but in a blog post that just makes me

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Get Out Get Going Have A Birthday, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:08am

This week my daughter turned 29. Hoo boy. She also came home, as all her friends are getting married this summer, some of  them in Northern California. On her birthday itself, we went hiking. In Huddart Park, in case you are familiar with the Bay Area. She, as always, since birth even, a glorious creature. Me proving that yes, there is an outfit Ray-Bans can’t fix. Water bottle in hand. And both of us dusty, hot, peaceful and happy. Surrounded by trees. Exclaiming at three pileated woodpeckers and a California Sister butterfly we didn’t even bother to photograph. Happy birthday honey. It is a pleasure and constant honor

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How To Grow A Gardenia In The San Francisco Bay Area, And Other Dialogues

Harbor a hidden guilty love of gardenia fragrance, for 30 years In November, hire your fabulously talented garden designer to redo your backyard Respond, “Yes,” when he asks if you’d like him to put a gardenia in a pot, hidden from sight around a corner of your house Stare blankly at the resultant green and bloomless plant for months. It will stare blankly back at you. This is now your relationship. Cheer when a bunch of buds burst out Curse when said buds brown and wither and drop, not a flower in sight Go google everything you can about Why Won’t My Gardenia Flower San Francisco Bay Peninsula

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The Joy Of Non-Misery At This Moment, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:41am

I moved Mom Thursday. Currently having a non-awful Saturday morning. It’s astonishing how much one can learn from sheer dreadfulness. Horribility. Having often proceeded with one foot in the present and one foot in a shiny future vision, I’m now looking at, well, now. Turns out that an imagined happy future gilds the present, but, if it doesn’t come true, everything gets really bleak. Lowering expectations doesn’t have to be depressing. There may be a different, smaller, grainier joy in a skeptical reality. In any case, in this particular now, I wish you a wonderful, in-the-moment weekend. Or at least a Saturday morning. Deep breath.

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What Shelter Magazine Are You? (And Wait, What Is A Shelter Magazine Anymore?)

Having examined, in the recent past, cultural identity, I thought we might move on to house style. As one does. Who among us has not undertaken Cosmopolitan and Glamour quizzes purporting to explain ourselves to ourselves? Who among us has never succumbed to a Facebook slideshow in an attempt at the same? So, What Shelter Magazine Are You, v.2? (We’ve done this before, a while back) How about Dwell? I love the minimal, rustic, craggy-vistaed look, but, since I don’t have a pristine grassy plateau available at the moment, I can’t say this is me. Impractical. Elle Decor? I love the photo below, but I realize that in

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If I Were Shopping At Nordstrom Today

A long time ago I bought this dress. It’s by Eileen Fisher, the only piece from that line I’ve ever owned. (It’s not dissimilar to this, available today.) I still have it. But it’s self-belted, and looks one notch below polished. Recently, no longer feeling like someone who wants to wear seersucker ankle-tied wedges, I bought these shoes. (Marked down now from $395 to $264) I still have them. They are perfectly polished, in a naked leather 70s-referent kind of way. So finally, I feel ready for the dress to come into its own, and get ironed for heaven’s sake. I want it to act like a lady,

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The Alarms Of Care, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:32am

On Thursday, we moved Mom’s furniture, again. Why? Well, we’d originally set up a room in the Memory Care unit of her current facility. We kept it while Mom’s been on the Skilled Nursing side, as we hoped she’d move back in. Instead, this week we will be moving Mom to another place altogether. Never mind. I wanted to tell you about beeping. Moving the furniture required that we prop open not one, not two, but three alarmed doors. When open, the doors beeped, or chirped, or buzzed. Loudly. So loudly. There were three of them, all with slightly different sounds, all on slightly different timers. You could

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Even High WASPs Hug Sometimes, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:44am

The world is on fire. Or so it seems. Anything I can say that isn’t political is just a truism. Why don’t people like each other better? Are we not all human? Life is sacred. Oh I wish. I do know that pockets of humanity remain. Are probably prevalent. Neighbors stop by and volunteer to care for toddlers, people hug strangers, we sing happy birthday. You here are one of my pockets of humanity. I hope you feel the same. I’d say have a good weekend, but that does feel like a singular privilege this morning. So how about a big virtual totally non-High WASP hug? Communal sorrow.

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Estate Sale In Santa Barbara This Weekend, And Then A Large House With A Beautiful View To Rent

If you like estate sales, and live close to or in Santa Barbara, the estate sale for the furnishings of my mom’s house is being held this weekend, July 9-10. I use the passive voice, against my writerly preferences, because it’s accurate. We are not holding the sale ourselves, we the children. We’ve hired a firm to do it. As such, the firm will sell the house goods along with some other pieces they’ve collected from other sales. That’s how the living room looked, the last time everything was still in place. That’s an upstairs guest room. The prints are illustrations from Alice in Wonderland. My stepfather took

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Cultural Signifiers, Whatcha Got?

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 of our micro-cultures? Forthwith, the High WASP Cultural Directory, Northern California Regional Variant Color: Navy blue. As I told you, early on. Accents in pale pink, spring green or a sophisticated mustard. Your choice. The pursuit of happiness and all that. Fabric: Cashmere, cotton poplin, and, judging from my mother’s closet and the wardrobes of my Eastern cousins, dupioni silk. Shoes: Usually expensive. Often elegant. But they had dang sure better be comfortable. Scents: Lavender, bay laurel. Astringency is us. Food: Here geography

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Whither Civility, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:52am

I don’t miss formal much at all. I don’t really care what fork someone uses for their fish, nor in what direction they scoop their soup. I never wanted my kids’ friends to call me Mrs. So-and-So because Lisa is just fine. But I miss civility. And I miss the grace notes of civility, augmented civility, often conflated with formality but not the same thing. There’s so much yelling these days. I refuse to talk politics here, not because they don’t matter, they do, but because for whatever reason we seem to have lost the ability to speak in civil tones about civic matters. There’s virtue in kindness

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A Small But Abundant Garden Party, In Green, Pink And Aqua – With A Bit Of Gold

The party for my stepmother was beautiful. A little gem of a fête. Spring green tablecloths, white chairs, turquoise and mint Chinese lanterns in the bright, bright sun. Gold-rimmed chargers. Low-power wires courtesy our telephone company, I have suggested they bury them, many a time, for some reason no ones’s jumped at the chance. Below, a well-stocked bar with a bartender to come. I moved the fuchsia into the corner of doom. The blossoms put their heads down and best feet forward as good sports must. Catering. For 17 people. So wonderfully abundant, thanks to my father. I made Nigella Lawson’s Chocolate Olive Oil Cake. Baking is not

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Happy Birthday Brigitte, Or, Saturday Morning At 7:28am

Today we’re hosting a back yard party for my stepmother. She turned 75 a couple of weeks ago, and while someone may deserve a fête more than she, it’s no one I know. I post the magnolia above in her honor. I was hoping it would still be blooming creamy white today, alas, it’s browned in the heat. As a photographer, with a history of flowers, I know she’ll understand. Happy birthday, Brigitte. And all the love of the decades. You all have a good weekend. Save Save Save

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Meanwhile, In The Garden, Light Comes And Goes

The back yard is green. It’s hydrangea time. Yeah, they are leggy, pruning mistake. Lesson learned. Leslie asked me how my white roses are doing. In truth I neglected them to deal with my mother’s Alzheimer’s-provoked move. The poor guys responded by sinking into a despair of black spot, rust, and unnamable blight. But a couple of good sprayings with oil from Indian tree seeds and back they’ve come. A little bitten, a little cock-eyed, but still roses and on the whole white. You might also remember I had planted a butterfly garden. The plants are flourishing, the butterflies scarce to date but welcome. By the way, it’s not called milkWEED

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Everyone Thinks They Are The Good Guys, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:45am

It has come to my attention that everyone thinks they’re the good guys. I ran across this video, which is political, so let me sum it up more personally – all sides to any conflict believe they are in the right. This plays out for individuals too. When I was young, if I thought about people who did bad things, I suppose I assumed they thought of themselves as Wicked. They don’t. Over and over again I’ve seen, it, enough times now that I get what’s going on. People who do bad things are telling themselves an internal story that they are OK. That their actions are Correct, at least Justifiable.

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What A Very Tired Person Who Needs To Recuperate Wears For Three Days And Nights In Napa

Last week my husband and I went up to Napa for a few nights. We stayed, as we have before, at the Carneros Inn. I was so tired. What I haven’t yet explained is that eight days after my mother moved into her assisted living facility she fell and fractured her hip. Ever since, we’ve been living through hospital stays and transfers of health care power of attorney and new medications and new doctors and more new medications and the ongoing vicissitudes of dementia. My husband and I had thought that by last week Mom would be settling down and making friends. Not so. But, since our hotel reservations

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And One More Happy Thing: Cheekie Winner

Ann Beverly, the Julie Hewett Cheekie blush is yours! Send me an email at the skyepeale address, with your mailing address, and I’ll send it off. Congratulations, and I hope you like it as much as I do.

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Volunteering, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:26am

So here’s something happy. Back in 2015 I watched all of The Wire, and decided I needed to volunteer in a challenged school district. As my son told me later, such a white person thing to do. But, good acts may rescue poor intentions. In any case, early this year I finally organized the paperwork to work in one of our local grammar schools. It’s just down the street from me, but serves a nearby community made up primarily of Latin American immigrants. Spanish is the first language, English the second. The school underperforms the California metrics by a large margin, and California has poor public schools to

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Makeup For Running Out The Door Every Day, If You So Choose, Especially When You Are Over 50

Prepare for a strange but true linkage. The effects from stress of my mother’s move and care have surprised me. One of the most pronounced – my need to clean up. Not just my house but also emotional detritus. If that makes sense. Sorting through relationships that have foundered, speaking up in places where I’d been silent. And, like today, delivering on commitments that have trailed for years. A long time ago on this blog, a commenter who goes by HHH (I have met her in person, she is also a Princeton alumna) asked me to do a post on everyday makeup. In her place of work, she

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Can’t Even Come Up With A Title, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:44am

Just sitting here on the sofa, listening to the Pandora Worldbeat station. Vaguely-Argentine guitar played by a guy named Johannes Linstead. I thought he might be Swedish, given the name, but no. Canadian. I watch my hands, the veins that run between my knuckles are rising. Age. I’ll be 60 in September – I look forward to new adventures. Although California’s in a heat wave, our marine layer persists. The sky is overcast, as of 8:24am. The night was cool, you can feel it still. The garden wet from the sprinklers that ran last night at 5pm; it was too hot to cook. I ate paté on sourdough,

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Net-A-Porter, The Sale

Hi guys. As we’ve learned, now is possibly the best time of the year for a bargain. In that vein, Net-a-porter, the best high-end online retailer in the business, has a sale on. Up to 50% off. From maxidresses with sleeves, to chambray field jackets, to bathing suits, to block heeled sandals. Not to mention denim in all its guises I’m not buying anything, no budget right now. But, the browsing in and of itself entertains and even inspires me. I’m highly unlikely to wear this Current/Elliot coverall, for example, but it’s a teeny tiny breakfast adventure to imagine.   Links may generate commissions

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The Perfect Set Of Outdoor Furnishings – For This Part Of The World

I generally prefer my gardens unfurnished. No statues or windchimes, no mirror balls. That way I can pretend I live on a high lonely hill, looking out. This isn’t an actively narrated pretense, just the kind that mutters when denied. But summer beats fictions. Live outside we must, cook outside we will. You gotta sit down. Outdoor furnishings vary between geographies, I assume. In cold climates you either cover or store your stuff, in winter, right? In the South, do you use outdoor furnishing much, or just stay inside in the air conditioning? You can tell, I’m a big baby about heat and humidity. By the sea, you’re thinking

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The Greatest Privilege, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:23am

I keep a manual to-do list. Today I look forward to rewriting it. Maybe that’s just foolish morning optimism, as often on waking I feel joy for no clear reason. But maybe it’s just been a difficult few months. When I’m neither overwhelmed nor enraged some part of me likes managing hard projects. The greatest privilege, it seems to me, is having enough reserve capacity – either from genetics or experience or extended family and friends – to observe and infer. Even during very bad times. Ah, I am sure the greatest privilege is never to face impossible times. But I do feel lucky to be learning from

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USA Memorial Day Weekend Is Upon Us And Sales Are A-Sale-ing

Summer. This is my favorite time of year in Northern California – the upswing to solstice, the blue skies, the grasses beginning to burn. I’ve read that Memorial Day sales are in fact better than Black Thursday’s. Not sure why that is, time to shed inventory, or an observed tendency for consumers to buy for summer, but whatever, we can take advantage. So here are a few options. From up to 40% at designer goods at department stores like Nordstrom, [show_boutique_widget id=”398952″] and my pals, Neiman Marcus, [show_boutique_widget id=”398951″] or plus sizes at Saks (sorry these images are blurry, it’s a Saks quirk and I cannot seem to

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The Great Candle Burn-Off #3: Jo Malone Grapefruit vs. P.F. Candle Company Sweet Grapefruit

Time for the third in this epic series of Candle Burn-Offs (#1 and #2.) We’re getting closer to true competition, I feel, fewer random retail pickups, increased intention. Anything worth doing is worth doing well. That sounds arrogant. OK, anything worth doing is worth trying to do well. More subjunctive in feeling, and therefore High WASP-appropriate. Enter the amphitheatre, British candle queen Jo Malone! Cheers! Duck under the ropes, Los Angeles indie brand, P.F. Candle Co., to howls of approval. Let the burning begin. This time, tangy, tongue-tingling citrus. Jo Malone Grapefruit vs. P.F. Candle Co. Sweet Grapefruit. Provenance I bought the Jo Malone candle with a Neiman

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To Feel Relief Or Not, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:43am

Well. I hired someone to come every other week and clean my house. I managed two good walks. I cooked an actual dinner, twice. And so life flirts with normal. I am in no way ready to say we’re clear, my mom is not yet stabilized, too many factors in flux. I’ll take one moment. Which brings up a question –  how to approach life when you’ve just been through a series of emergencies? Better to focus on optimism? Enjoy the calm even if it may disappear like grass on fire? Or better to wake up in a state of high alert, imagining the worst cases and living

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Possibly The Coolest Sturdy Gal Sunglasses In The World?

Yes, I am standing in a field of dry grass, in front of a trailer park. Yes, that is my 59-year old stomach. Good detective skills, my friend. However, I’m wearing new Ray-Bans, so I look more cool than idiotic. I am perhaps exaggerating. Let’s back up. It is an almost universal tenet of personal style that accessories, or a concerted lack thereof, make the woman. The Grande Dame, even in casual mode, must sport her silk scarf, a luxurious bag, a strand of pearls. Reggie Darling knows her well. The Artsy Cousin may wear a scarf, but it will be woven, may carry a bag, but it

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We Are Not Flightless Birds On Stairways, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:36am

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, her house did not need to be shown to property management companies, the furniture did not need to be reviewed for an estate sale, failed. You are not dummies. We won’t go into details. The stories don’t belong to me. However. I have learned that a series of pretty dang awful things can happen, that one should never say, “It’s going as well as can be expected” because then it won’t. And yet one foot can still be put in front of the

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Silk Flowers Turn Out To Be OK, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:26am

So, Mom. You all know it’s Mother’s Day tomorrow, here in the USA. So, Mom. I am by no means the world’s best daughter. Never was. But this is my time to make sure the deal’s even. That Mom is repaid for all the work she did and all the worry she felt trying to do a Good Job. Repaid sounds venal. I don’t exactly mean repaid. The work of motherhood is most demanding in the days when our children are least capable of thanks. I remember my first thank you. I put my 3-month old daughter in her car seat, buckled her in, closed the door, and

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The Privilege Annual Report To The Board – Wrapping Up 2015

Over the years I’ve habitually reported on the workings of this blog to the “board.” That means you. Doing so feels right, it’s a way to retain transparency without cluttering my writings with this kind of statement; “If you click HERE I will earn $0.16, if you buy THIS I will earn $4.05.” Or, on the other hand, “THIS has no monetization, your click will generates no profit of any sort.” And, as always when one summarizes one’s efforts for a kind audience, the act of reviewing is useful to the worker herself. No further ado. The Statistics of “Privilege” The Blog 65,100 page views/month – holding steady

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Winner Of The Blue Nile Diamond Necklace Giveaway

Claire H! Congratulations! Your first Mother’s Day, congratulations on that too! Please send me an email at skyepeale (@) yahoo (dot) com with your mailing address, and I will put it in the post to you tout de suite. I loved the comments. You are all such stylish women, it’s a pleasure to envision your outfits. Meanwhile, I’m still thinking about these earrings. But how many pairs of danglers does one woman really need? Thank you so much for playing along, and for contributing your stories.   Links may generate commissions

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Everything I Now Believe About The Long-Term Project Of Cooking For Two People

You asked me to report back with findings about how to cook for two, in retirement. OK then! Cooking isn’t my usual writing realm, but I do love a high level analysis of a carefully observed process. To optimize anything, one must first understand both the desired outcomes and the constraints. Desired Outcomes, AKA What We Like In This House One of us prefers a main dish + sides model, the other would rather multiple smalls One enjoys meat fat, the other does not, both try to avoid it for the most part One of us wants to reduce meat consumption to save the planet One insists on

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Into The Sky, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:34am

I have a long day ahead. But, it promises the long California sky so out I go into the blue. I’ve added Katura Designs’ Mother’s Day discount to yesterday’s post – river pearls and rough diamonds, that much closer. Have a wonderful weekend. Sustain each other as best you can.  

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A Mother’s Day Memento (Don’t You Kind Of Want To Spell It “Momento?”) In The Making

On Mother’s Day, I’ve always given my mom either flowers or jewelry. That is, once I started giving her presents – we didn’t celebrate when I was young. She still loves flowers and jewelry. On the other hand, maybe a meal together would be better this year. Cupcakes. As I’ve said before, while I don’t feel that I need presents on the day, I do like the occasion, the recognition, the celebration. And my kids have heard me and are very good about cards and calls. If I did want an enduring present, it’d be jewelry. It so easily becomes a memento, something to sort through with grandchildren.

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I Just Want Your Extra Time, And, Saturday Morning at 7:34am

Prince, the American R&B artists famous for songs like “Purple Rain,” “1999,” and “Let’s Go Crazy,” died last Thursday. Cause yet unknown, suicide not suspected. Although I have always loved his music, I have no particular insight about his place in the pantheon. I saw him only once in concert and it was during a time when he was struggling terribly and, unusually, could barely perform. But I have a story. When I first got out of business school I worked for a Fortune 250 chemical company. I spent 11 months in headquarters analyzing who knows what, and then flew off to Silicon Valley to become a salesperson.

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An Enduring Love Affair With My Fuchsia, And Its Friend, A Small Haws Copper Watering Can

My fuchsia has grown and is blooming. It’s such a pleasure to watch the buds swell over days. Then one morning you wake up and they’ve opened, little triangular petals curving away from purple centers.   Right now the fuchsia is surrounded by primulas, violas and heuchera (burgundy leaves forever!). Also a ratty alyssum falling down the side of one pot. I’ll probably replant the supporting cast soon, I like an orange kalanchoe or two in the hot summer, against the fuchsia’s purple and, well, fuchsia. Fuchsias want humidity, and the San Francisco Bay Area is semi-arid. Recently I ordered a watering can. It was on my Christmas

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Super<3Mega<3Most<3Casual<3Ever

Last Tuesday, having returned from Santa Barbara the night before, and having spent the bulk of the day on administrative tasks for my mother, I went to Whole Foods. I thought to myself, as I checked the full-length mirror, “I’m probably going to run into someone I know.” Decided I didn’t mind. My hair was in a messy braid. “Ah,” I thought, “Do I brush my hair? Oh never mind. That’ll just give me pinhead.” And out I went, like this. ***** Sweatshirt: Mine is from Isabel Marant’s 2013 collection at H&M. It looks a lot like this but is all-cotton || Tee: Any long gray will do.

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I Seriously, Honestly, Wish I Didn’t But I Do, Hate Housework, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:26am

So guys, tell me, how does one come to enjoy housework? In all seriousness, I hate it. And I read, around the blogosphere, that others feel otherwise. Faux Fuchsia, Dani at the Mop Philosopher, Leslie at the Humble Bungalow, all enjoy what they term “domestics.” Not to mention another blog, Down to Earth, written by an Australian woman. It’s all about the joys of a home-centered life – sewing, baking, making your own cleaning products. She even wrote two books. Help me out. Must one be born with this predilection? Or does it result from secret tricks, an excellent system? When I worked, I was either gone from

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Searching For Sale Sneakers

I looked down at my shoes yesterday and thought, “Hmm, I’d like sneakers in different colors.” That’s what happens when you find a uniform. Jeans and sneakers, sneakers and jeans. But they have to be the RIGHT sneakers. Not too flashy, not too boring. Preferably on sale, for we retired Polished Tomboys. (By the way, not to take credit for my finds, the Shopstyle search engine is really good) A few notes from experience. New Balance run narrow, the wide of metatarsal won’t be well-fit. Nike’s heel cup gets annoying when it’s high. And Supergas are really comfortable when they have a memory foam insole. Spring on!  

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A Different Kind Of Adult Coloring, Without A Book

I just got back from a few days in Santa Barbara. The trips are very full and tiring, 5 hour drive down (I’m afraid of airplanes, small ones in particular), 2 days helping tend to someone in stage 5-6 Alzheimer’s, 5 hour drive back. So, a short post. On one of my previous trips, I brought Mom colored pencils. We sat out on her back patio, I drew a small part of her garden, roughly, and talked about it as I scribbled. Then I asked her to tell me what colors to use for the detail. She did. She darkened the palm fronds, colored the trunk of the

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Announcing Rare Fiber, A New Kind Of Consultancy Deeply Rooted In Design And Culture

The Internet is a wondrous thing. At some point it introduced me to Grace O’Sullivan, connector par excellence, charismatic as heck. At some point, Grace asked if I’d join her in a new consultancy, Rare Fiber. Yes. I would. Here’s what we’re doing, and when I say “we” I’m one of 19 contributors. From the website. We are passionate about advancing excellent people, organizations, and ideas. We believe in listening and pushing boundaries with style and design. We do this by weaving fresh, authentic perspectives through the fabric of our partners’ culture. We help forward-thinking organizations innovate through a collaborative, human-centered design process. From an email Grace sent me

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If You Plant It They Will Come, Or At Least You Hope They Will

I’ve planted a butterfly garden. At least I’ve planted my side yard with flowers, mostly natives, that butterflies are said to enjoy. This is what the space used to look like. Overgrown with thistles, here seen through a shrubby plum tree, a mock orange, and bamboo. Thistles, filling the space in sunlight. Thistles, finally cut down. Then I drew that little pencil sketch above. Plotting sage, milkweed, yarrow, mint, checking for height and color. Then, last November, we planted. Imagine you walked through that plum tunnel above, this is what you see now. Lining the fence, and accompanied by a horde of volunteer myosotis along the wall of

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How To Choose Earrings For Jeans’ Styles

High WASPs (n.b. California regional variant) dress for balance. We love the cautious subjunctive;  it’s all about the IF statements (and the semi-colon). IF you are wearing navy you want to complement it with something bright. IF your shoes sparkle something else must be matte. IF your pants are tight your top must be loose. And, the subject of today’s post, IF your jeans are one shape, your earrings must be another. Note: I choose earrings here because they are my primary accessory. One can apply the same principle to shoes, if you’re podiatrically exploratory, or scarves, if you don’t mind all the tying and flapping. As a

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That Which We Avoid We Cannot Resolve, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:30am

We spend a lot of time teaching our kids how to get along. How to share, use their words, take a break when things get hot. I’m wondering, now, looking back, whether we should also be teaching them to fight. Maybe fight is the wrong word. I mean work through conflict. Particularly the blood-boiling sort. I see now that one of my greatest failings is an inability to stand firm when very angry. It’s not that I back down, as do the timid. Blurters blurt angrily, they throw wine glasses and storm out of conference rooms. But I’m prone to navigate with reason, moving along at 10mph, 40mph,

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A Few Sale Items From J. Crew That Are Worth A Look

Sales are weird these days. Seems like something’s always on, somewhere. In the face of overwhelming choice, lean on experience. In other words, sale shop your tried and true brands. In my case, that’s J. Crew. They are currently offering an additional 25-30% off their Spring Sale section with code SHOPNOW. Shipping is free for any order over $150. I know their cashmere isn’t the sturdy Scottish sort, but for not too much more than $100, you can be the lucky wearer of an orange featherweight cardigan. Cheery for transitional weather, killer paired with navy blue. Comes in pink too. Purple and mint are discounted further. Or a

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More Options For The Midlife Midriff, Date Night California Style

Last weekend we took my father and stepmother out to dinner at a local restaurant. I couldn’t quite figure out what to wear because my blue shoes were in San Francisco. As will happen. Rummaging through my closet I found this pink linen tunic, from UNIQLO, and threw it on over a pair of 7 For All Mankind bootleg jeans and old pinkish-red suede Stuart Weitzman kitten heel pumps. A pair of gold, opal and diamond earrings from Hawaii, the Céline bag, straight hair and out I went. (Side note: I did not plan this as an outfit post, my husband obliged me with an iPhone snap on

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What The Heck Am I Even Watching On “TV?” Or, Saturday Morning at 10:37am

Broadcast Networks Big Bang Theory – Thursdays Blacklist – Hiatus You Me And The Apocalypse – Thursdays Mr. Robot – Hiatus Scandal – Thursday Modern Family – Wednesdays American Crime – Hiatus Better Call Saul – Mondays Blind Spot – Mondays Suits – Wednesdays The Good Wife – Sundays Fresh Off The Boat – Tuesdays War and Peace – PBS – Miniseries completed The Magicians – Monday (kind of love this one, I read the books) Cable Networks Girls – HBO – Sundays Games of Thrones – HBO – Sundays Silicon Valley – HBO – Sundays Homeland – Showtime – Hiatus Billions – Showtime -Sundays Outlander – Starz

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Small Interior Tweaks For Fun (Prettiness, Interest) Without A Lot Of Fuss

As I sort out larger furnishing choices, i.e. fabrics for my guest room and master bedroom, I’m amusing myself with small tweaks. Anyone remember these doves? They’re now living a well-lit life on our Pottery Barn Extra-Wide Valencia dresser. And yeah, it’s dusty. I’m way better at beauty than I am at daily cleaning. Those of you who will tell me cleaning is beauty, I hear you, I understand conceptually, and I cannot feel that way to save my life. The doves tolerate disorder. In any case, having read Emily Henderson’s book Styled, I now realize that I want just a little more framing, a little more intention,

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A Personal History Of Fashion In Zagreb: Guest Post From Dottoressa

A guest post by the commenter known as Dottoressa. She is a citizen of Zagreb, with a love of fashion, and this is her personal fashion history in context. In light of the bombings in Brussels, we discussed delaying this post, but in the spirit of carrying on, of being undaunted, decided to publish. She sends her thoughts and condolences to the citizens of that beautiful city. Thank you Lisa for your invitation to be a guest once again at Amid Privilege. This time it will be a journey through the history of fashion in Zagreb. Before WWI, Zagreb was part of the K and K Habsburg monarchy.

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Muscles And Poetry, Poetry And Muscles, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:42am

I had a great yoga class yesterday. Which is by no means a veiled attempt to get you to start yogatating. I have learned over the years that while everyone ought to do some kind of physical activity, exactly what kind is right for whom one cannot know unless one is that whom. I made the change to yoga and walking in place of a personal trainer, because I felt that the gym was done. More sessions would only grow more musculature and life is not all about muscles. I also hypothesized that weight-lifting was increasing my testosterone at a time when I really needed estrogen. That’s what

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Fashion Logos, The Good, The Bad, And The Downright Ugly

I apologize to any upon the toes of whom I am about to step. Were I still writing as a High WASP I’d assume tones of disapproving authority. But let’s talk like regular people. OK. I just hate Michael Kors’s logos. And yet I’ve come to appreciate the shenanigans of Louis Vuitton, and occasionally Chanel. Why? Because these are luxury goods? Is it all about the brand? Or is it something else? A little deconstruction. I think logos need a broad conceptual category to clear up why one might like some and hate others. How about “Brand Recognition Devices and Details?” So catchy. But in that framework we

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It’s Just Water, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:57am

We finally got a few days of old-school rain. Large drops, audible splashing. Made me think about water all over everywhere. I am not sure why suddenly a thing of nature, inextricable from our living, part of everything, separated itself and said “Think.” But there you have it. Think of puddles. Raindrops. Lakes. I have lived on a coast most of my life, I couldn’t imagine moving inland. Even when I can’t see the ocean, or the San Francisco Bay, I know they are there. I smell marine on the breeze, seagulls get lost and fly overhead. Or streams. Think of streams. When I was young, we lived

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The Calendar Of Greenery

My garden is, from a distance, mostly green. But at a certain time in the spring, in one spot, small bright flowers grow. Native geraniums up close, a fringe bush in the background. Forget-me-nots. This usually happens around Easter. Oxalis. This year it’s early. And this year, a lone calla lily is blooming. I have no memory of planting it; some seasons it flowers, others it does not.  This was our warmest February on record. The flowers are both beautiful and worrying, coming as they have before their time.

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Just In Case You Wanted To Try Long Gray Hair, A Personal History

This is the story of how one woman takes care of her long gray hair. But first, some personal history for anyone new to this blog. I’m 59. And a half, as of March 2016. For cultural context, i.e. to explain in part why I’ve been comfortable going gray, I’ve lived most of my life in Northern California. We love our counter-culture and Mr. Natural. Whether you want to go gray or not depends in part on how it looks on you, but mostly on how it feels where you live. I was born quite blonde, my hair darkened in my 20s. In my early 40s, when I

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Can You Feel Emojis In Your Brain Or Am I Nuts, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:54am

We’ve gone through all kinds of technical change in the past three decades (lots before that but first I wasn’t born and then wasn’t paying much attention). Think of the 80s. Anyone else remember accessing the company mainframe? How about their first desktop computer? And then the accelerating automation and reach of laptops, mobile phones, smart phones, and social media. Astounding. But if I back way up, I think only two phenomena have affected my brain itself. Googling, surely. Remember not knowing a fact? Remember searching in your own mind for answers? Now it’s as though I can feel the Google button in the upper right hand corner

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New Shoes For Summer From The Shopbop Sale

While the inimitable “Une Femme” and I have collaborated, intentionally, on a couple of posts, this morning’s alignment is serendipitous. She’s thinking mules, I’m thinking sandals. Shopbop’s having a sale, spend $250+ save 15%, spend $500+ save 20%, spend $1000+ save 25%, with code: BIGEVENT16. Good for most items on the site, Canada Goose, Hanky Panky and Kate Spade excluded. If my budget weren’t fully spoken for this month, I’d be replacing an old pair of Rieker sandals right about now. Why? Are they worn out? No. I bought them too big, they’ve always been too big, and I hate that lonely peninsula of shoe that sticks out

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Let Us Remember The Virtues Of Elegance

Have you all by chance seen Giorgio Armani’s collection from the most recent Fashion Week? Quite something. Look at these black velvet jackets. This first feels rather War and Peace-ish, to me. (Oh, and did you watch the BBC’s latest version? Great costuming.) I like a little over the shoulder insouciance. Might be just another black blazer, but not. And, how about Combat Jacket + As Ladylike As It Gets? Crop me, baby! Oh I am a lifelong fan of the velvet jacket. I coveted them here (net-a-porter has several new for this year.) I pointed out a lovely less-expensive version here (now on sale, reviewed as bad

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Tough Week, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:58am

Oof, guys, tough week! For me, at least. I hope yours was OK. My mother’s condition has progressed, we are talking and thinking about what to do. This requires reading and writing emails, making phone calls, driving places, occasionally swallowing hard as tears show up from nowhere. It’s a little bit like having half your self in another world. (I imagine but how would I know?) And then that other world starts lobbing sharp things through a dark but brilliant window. You just can’t know or predict. Some may have noticed I’m not very present in the blogosphere at the moment. I apologize. I am sure that being

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Pre-Shopping For The Piece I Might Need For The Summer Of 2016, Or, How About A Maxidress?

When I was working I experimented with clothes. I bought a skater dress, reviewed different brands of cashmere and button-front shirts, wore corduroys. Come the new season, I hankered after that which was put before me — I followed fashion. I still follow fashion, but with more discretion. Hanker less, consider more. Less money, more time to think, it works. So as the weather warms up, instead of paging through Vogue only to become incurably obsessed with a Prada dress, I think back to last summer. Last summer was hot. Last summer I aged out of my shorts. A personal thing, not a pronouncement for the world, by

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The Lesser-Known Pleasant Feelings, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:12am

So I’m in yoga class the other day, we’re just getting started. Everyone’s seated on their mats, eyes closed, backs straight enough. “Now,” says the instructor, “Now imagine something that brings you joy. We are going to spend 3 minutes in that space, so that you can carry it through your practice.” Um, or, “Hells bells!” as my father said back in the day. Because for the life of me I could not find any memory of joy that I could replicate. Being with my children? They’re elsewhere at the moment. The day I got married? Never to be repeated. Even the surprising moments of bliss in the

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Art From Friends And Family, Brigitte Carnochan In Many Guises

I forgot something important in my long post about house plans. The photography of Brigitte Carnochan, my stepmother. On the one hand, her gallery work. I want one of the platinum/palladium triptychs in the Valley Grasses series, maybe two over time, for our master bedroom. In real life, the platinum printing lends these pieces an other-worldly quality, as though the paper itself is singing songs from outer space. Why that imagery comes to mind I absolutely cannot say. But, since she’s also my stepmother, and family, here’s something else she made on request for my husband’s Christmas present this year. Two dog montages to hang in his office.

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Where To Go For A Good (Very Good, Stand-Out, Spectacular) Handbag?

This post is sponsored by Neiman Marcus Certain stores do certain goods best, don’t you find? For example, I like UNIQLO for most of my daily basics, and J. Crew for my mid-range lotta-color stuff. But for bags, the no-holding-back, oh-I-shouldn’t-but-think-of-the-low-cost-per-wear, handbags, there’s nowhere like Neiman Marcus. It dawned on me the other day that every single bag I’ve owned since the 1990s has come from Neiman’s. Consider the saga. The Bags Of Yesteryear In the early 1990s, exact date forgotten, I bought this Ferragamo at Neiman’s in the Stanford Shopping Center. For work, ostensibly, but probably to help launch me back into the world lacking my two

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Unhurried, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:18am

This year I made no resolutions. Oh, I quit my personal trainer in favor of yoga and walking, but that wasn’t a resolution. Just an action. Instead I chose a word for the year. Immediately I’m a little embarrassed, I mean, that is not a High WASP behavior. Where’s the delayed gratification in a word, where’s the achievement? But it’s absolutely Californian and besides it’s working. Funny story. I stumbled, somewhere, on a suggestion to do a five-day choose-a-word-for-the-new-year-exercise with Susannah Conway. “Why not?” I thought. I finished the first day, and maybe the second, but then I got totally impatient and picked my word without finishing the

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Do You Guys Have Any Secret Conveniences To Share?

The young year is good not only for taking the pulse of stalled projects, but also for filing off the edges of inconveniences. Optimizing, in other words, something process people are good at but project people have to treat like, um, a project. Over time, I had created an Amazon list I called “Conveniences.” This weekend I went ahead and one-clicked. On what and why? Well, these I have come to rely on for looking generally presentable, when that’s a goal. Beauty Blender Sponge   I am re-upping on both. I use the pink boingy sponges to apply Laura Mercier’s tinted moisturizer. Evens out skin color for a

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Do You Ever Need To Regroup In The Middle Of A Project?

Well all right then. After a few misfires around here, 2016 is on. Thank heavens for the Lunar New Year, which gives us time to catch up. As you know, this blog covers personal style, gardening, house decor and the meaning of life. The house discussion, however, has lagged. Whenever I notice laggards I like to sweep back through my notes with a grand Just Where Are We Exactly? I would like to beg your indulgence and post a status on my house’s putative refurbishing. Let’s go room by room. You are doing me a great service by listening. When last we talked, here’s what was. The Front

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Putting On Five Pounds In Midlife On Purpose, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:49am

So I’ve just put on five pounds. On purpose. To be fair, this takes me from a BMI of 20 to one of 21, so I am not making a revolutionary statement. But it seemed my thought process, given our cultural focus on women’s weight, might of be of interest anyway. As background, I have always been thinnish. When we were kids, at one point, our doctor told my mom she needed to fatten us up. Oh the 1960s. And so it went until a college summer internship in France left me 15 pounds heavier. Thrown into a state of distress and horror, I lost the weight but

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The Garden After A California Rain Or Two

When last we left California, a long drought prevailed. (I wrote “reign” at first, but we will eschew the puns today.) Happily, in December, and January, the rains came. We’re in recovery. Long-term drought still running, 40% of the state still deep in, but the short-term is OK, and snowpack above average. We’re all cautiously optimistic, when we’re not standing in the rain letting water run over our eyelids. Then, late in January, the sun shone. Blue sky, patio puddles, leaf.   A roly poly came out to play. As did a few flowers. The hellebore. The oxalis, which I’m supposed to hate because they are invasive, but

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Winner Of The Valentine’s Day Garnet Heart

Thank you all so much for your stories. From loving fathers, to geeky couples, to longed-for babies, to mothers who remembered, they warmed my (appropriately) heart. Susan D., in Dallas, you’ve won this giveaway. Congratulations! Please email me your mailing address and the rose gold and garnets are yours. And I promise we’ll have more giveaways. It’s the least I can do. For now, here’s the link to Blue Nile’s current 15% off sale. Some nice earrings, if you’re on the market.   Links generate commissions  

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What Should You Wear To Speak On A Panel About Two Of Your Great Life Interests?

As you may remember, back before Christmas, I was asked to participate in a panel about the Apple Watch. Wristly, the sponsoring firm, had found me via my review, here. As you can imagine, deciding what to wear that day required serious deconstruction. I considered my options across several axes, as one does. Modern vs. classic, fashion vs. business, and those beloved High WASP superordinates, effort vs. nonchalance. I considered the outskirts of my axes. Not actual skirts, mind you. First up, I Really Don’t Give A Damn And Am In  Fact A Street Artist. Imagine this, but with a long-sleeved UNIQLO Moomin-print tee and my Vince sneakers from this

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Happy Birthday Cara, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:48am

Storm clouds threatening while sun burns through the gaps so strongly it makes you squint. My favourite weather. #northuist #westernisles #uist #northuist A photo posted by caratakesphotos (@caratakesphotos) on Jan 8, 2016 at 7:07am PST Today is Cara’s birthday. Who is that, you might ask? They drive me bloody mental but I do love these three eejits. A photo posted by caratakesphotos (@caratakesphotos) on Jan 9, 2016 at 7:48am PST One of my young Internet friends. The online world allows us, spectacularly, to find friends in our age cohort. Witness the many midlife bloggers and the community that has developed around our shared questions about retirement, health, and

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A Valentine’s Day Present For You From Blue Nile

This post is presented in collaboration with Blue Nile Although my culture of origin tends towards the bland, or occasionally astringent, we do carry a sweet spot well hidden in our hearts. Witness, for example, our love for dogs. Or, in my case, a distinct fondness for heart-shaped jewelry. Not as heart-warming, but there you have it. I try to make up for my materialism in other ways. When I was young I lost at least three heirloom hearts, two stickpins and a gold and yellow guilloché enamel locket. By the way, if any of you have both family jewelry and teenaged daughters, don’t believe your girls when

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The First Great Candle Burn-Off Of 2016 — Black Orchid from Aquiesse vs. Black Hibiscus from India Hicks

Although the days are getting longer, and I can feel summer on the other side of the fence, every day around 4:30pm I remember we’ve still got a lot of night to trudge through. To say nothing of the cold, even in California. Time for another Great Candle Burn-Off! Let’s compare Black Orchid from Aquiesse , and Black Hibiscus, from India Hicks. I know! A theme! Floral Noir! Wholly accidental, as you’ll soon see. Provenance I picked up the Aquiesse candle at the boutique where Tish Jett spoke last December, in an attempt to be a good citizen and chip in for my invitation. The store was not

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So Next Year I’m Getting A Flu Shot, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:38am

Hi guys. Sorry about disappearing. Here’s what happened. After visiting my mom I drove down to LA, where I met with blogging friends, (BTW, do you follow @mrs_badinage on Instagram? You must.) attended my extraordinary youngest sister’s 50th birthday party, and came down with the flu. Not knowing I was that sick, we drove back north on Monday. The flu did not take kindly to my disregard for its powers and promptly laid me flat on my back, groaning. Fever and everything. Such discomfort. Today is the first day I’m free of the aches and pains. Weak as a baby, but I’m not complaining. I have every hope

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Interior Surfaces At Mom’s House ( At No O’Clock)

I spent Tuesday and Wednesday nights at my mother’s house. Thank you all for your response to last Saturday’s post. I’m working my way through the replies, it does take longer than usual. I thought I might show you a few more photos from Mom’s house. These are interior surfaces. Upholstery in a guest room. Duvet covers in the same room. Tile in a guest bathroom. 20th century Swedish upholstery on a sofa bed in a guest room. A living room rug. A tansu cupboard in the living room. The living room tile. Installed when my mother and stepfather moved in, it single-handedly transformed the house. The Southern

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Blue Nile’s Annual Diamond Ring Event — 15% Off — For Weddings Or Just Your Regular Fingers

This post presented in collaboration with Blue Nile Quick note. Blue Nile is holding their annual diamond ring sale, 15% off quite a few. Use code RING2016 at the checkout. You can think of these as wedding rings, of course, but they also work for regular fingers. I noted this, pretty in white gold milgrain and diamonds, back in a previous post for the Nile (I made that term up. I’m sure they don’t call themselves that, I imagine no one does.) Or you might prefer to stack ’em high. Really high. So high. I can understand. I remember when someone I knew married the grandson of a

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Did You Have A Bowie Moment?

When I heard David Bowie had died, I remembered my Bowie moment. Picture a young Californian girl dancing to “Rebel, Rebel” in a Princeton eating club. Those clubs were far more likely to play Southern rock and Motown like “Hey-ey Baby, Will You Be My Girl?” than glam anything-at-all. Someone had switched it up that night; we were maybe in togas? “Rebel, Rebel” played above us, perfect and dissonant. I know many of those who have been moved by Mr. Bowie were real rebels, the overtly odd ones, and he made them feel it was OK to be weird. Not I. That night I had a lot of

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Snowflake Lights In The Pyracantha, Clementines In The Bowl, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:26am

I’m not sure which is more important about the past few weeks, that I understood something about Christmas or that it’s been raining. Oh, of course I know the rain is more important. Our drought has affected so many. However, that story can be found everywhere, my immediate thoughts only here. We will work with what we have. I found Christmas stressful this year, which was weird. I had more than enough time to plan, I thought I had done so, and yet at the end I ran around. It seemed a lot of things became necessities, despite my intention to go easy. Why? I had to have

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A Review Of The (Quite Ladylike) Compact Lightweight Down Jacket from UNIQLO

One morning in January you wake up and quilted diamonds of down blanket the land. You in cold climates have the puffers, high-end to low, fanciful to utilitarian. While we here in the temperate zone, well, we wear what you might call fluffers. A thin layer of down is enough. To that end, here’s my new purchase, the UNIQLO Compact Down Jacket. First up, a reasonably neat (and highly Sturdy) Extreme Casual—San Francisco look. Barely stylish, but saved from Slobovia by the ladylike shape of the jacket and a trustworthy Schiaparelli pink cashmere muffler. Assisted, maybe, (giving myself the benefit of the doubt,) by the pattern play between

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What Do You Wear To A Family Christmas?

Iona asked, in these comments, what do people wear for family Christmas? I believe in to each their own at home. All about the ugly sweaters? Have at it. Fair isles and kilts? Good look, of type. But that’s not what you’d see at Carnochan Christmas. We’re neither casual casual in jeans, nor fancy fancy in heels and jackets. It’s pretty much nice pants or comfortable long dress. Plus flat shoes, of course. We also tend toward the usual neutrals and muted colors. The house is full of red, green, sparkles. We do not need to serve as extra Christmas trees. One year I did get myself up

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The Christmas Tightrope Of Obligation And Desire, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:04am

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 mode albeit recovering.) There’s this photograph, perhaps the only one we have of my family-of-origin Christmases, but certainly the only one that’s been framed and kept. My littlest sister, all WASP toddler barely-haired, footie pajama-ed, reaches for an ornament. I remember that Christmas, coincidentally, because with the fourth sibling our heap of presents grew right out from under the tree. And yet the photo feels more sad to me than abundant. I was trying to figure out why, and I thought, maybe because

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12 Thumbnail Reviews Of 9 Books I Really Loved And 3 That Everyone Else Loved And I Didn’t

I’m always looking for good books and for some reason it’s harder to find them in this time of All The Information than it was in the days of What Is That Interesting Cover On The Bookshop Table? So here’s the table in the front of my pretend book store. Complete with quirky signage and thumbnail reviews scribbled on little index cards. Organized into sections that have you wandering around the store thinking, “Why are biographies near fantasy?” and then getting lost in a semiotic haze from which you may never emerge. Loved Them 2 Young To Young-ish Adult Fantasy Series The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater A

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Colored Jewels — Layered In Meaning And Occasionally Sale-Priced

This post is presented in collaboration with Blue Nile. What is it about colored stones? They hint at meaning behind surfaces. I confess to very strong feelings about their settings and design. My first engagement ring was a round blue sapphire set with a pear-shaped diamond on either side. A decade and half later I bought myself a pair of oval ruby earrings, surrounded by diamonds. Like these — imagine red stones in yellow gold. These, BTW, are 15% off with code BLUE15, i.e. reduced from $2650 to $2250.50. In fact everything at Blue Nile is now on sale for 15% off, except previous sale items and engagement

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Garb For An Almost Doctor, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:59am

And today I am in Southern California, visiting my daughter, my husband holding down the fort back home. This morning we went through her closet, discarding and giving away the worn out or unused. Then we analyzed wardrobe gaps. Turns out some doctors-in-training prefer flat shoes just like their mothers do. This afternoon we shop for her Christmas presents. At one point in the process, as we sorted out the gaps, we identified a need for one more sweater. “I’m thinking…” I said. “It should be…” she said. “Purple,” we said together. Off on a lavender cardigan and flat shoe expedition. Have a wonderful weekend everyone. I’ll be

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8 + 8 Presents For My Children, Past And, Well, Present

I have been extravagant with my children over the years. Not when they were little — few electronics, no cashmere hoodies. I did once try to dress my daughter in a beautiful silk shortall from Dad’s family, but that lasted all of 7 minutes. And there was no point giving either kid big expensive toys. Why? My daughter could use anything as a prop for imaginary games. Then she’d ask for a friend to come over, or even better two, or twelve, and could we take the friends out for lunch and how about ice cream too? And could they spend the night? My son was more inclined

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Advent in Zagreb, A Guest Post By Our Friend, Dottoressa

Today we have Dottoressa, eloquent commenter around the blogosphere, writing from her hometown of Zagreb, Croatia to share her Advent traditions. Welcome D! Feel free to ask questions, everyone! I was truly honoured when Lisa invited me to be a guest at her blog.  I was happy to  accept, so join me this time on a journey to my hometown of Zagreb. Advent in Zagreb is one of many Croatian hidden treasures. The European Best Destination organization nominated Zagreb as one of the best Christmas destinations in 2015. Let’s see why! Advent Fairs, Then And Now The history of advent fairs began in Germany and Austria, with markets

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The Friendsmas Market Bazaar

Over the years online, I’ve come to know some very talented people. This pleases me. I love recognizing talent, the moment of, “Hey, that one’s got something,” and watching success ensue. So today we have Friendsmas, i.e. a list of my friends who make and sell stuff you might like to put on your Christmas lists. I’ve mentioned them all before, but there’s no time like the present. Present. Get it? Guess the holiday preparations are making me goofy as well as grateful. Cara of Peonies and Polaroids has holiday cards on sale at Etsy. I own a set of her tiny prints, they hang from my desk

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I’ll Be At Glance, The First Conference Dedicated To The Business Of The Apple Watch

After I wrote the review of my Apple Watch, I poked around on Medium reading a few articles. I came upon Bernard Desarnauts, founder of a research firm called Wristly. I commented. And so it happens that on Thursday, December 10th, 8am-6pm, I will be participating in panels at the upcoming conference, Glance. I look forward to thinking and talking about the nexus of product management and user experience (i.e. my career) and Style, i.e. what amuses and interests us here on Privilege. Glance is the first conference dedicated to the business of the Apple Watch. It’s an intimate conference targeting 100 attendees, and some tickets remain for

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The Light Of A Thousand Lacunae, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:11am

I love those moments when time seems to clear a space. The sound of my furnace brings it on. The sky is still overcast in the morning, everything else is quiet. Doesn’t seem that I need to prepare, or clear away anything myself. A basket of laundry sits on the floor to my right, a bunch of clothes is still in the dryer from last night. The large cast iron skillet needs washing, as does my stovetop, dreadfully. I have by no means finished Christmas shopping. Comfort matters. The cushion behind my back is well-positioned, I’ve rested my feet on a Moroccan pouf at a nice angle, my

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The Complex Peace Of (Northern California) Winter Gardens

I guess a lot of places have one season shorter than the rest. When I lived in New Jersey, spring passed in a bright flash. One minute we were cold, then, “Wait, wait, I can show my legs, where’s my skirt no where’s my cardigan, oh drat! Hello summer. Everybody sweat now.” Autumn is Northern California’s short season. Summer, of course, is long, and beautiful.  Fall shows up in late October, maybe. Even in mid-November we’re outside in just sweatshirts,not even a windbreaker. But come one December morning, frost covers the neighbor’s roof. Bing bang boom it’s wintertime. The garden gets very quiet. The light thins. A few

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A Review Of Two Useful Style Books, One For Interiors, The Other For Your Grown Up Clothes

I like two different kinds of style books. The first gives you photos or images so glorious you don’t care what the author says. We’ll call those Inspirational Style Dreams. The second kind we’ll call, hmm, Useful Style Friends. Here we want to learn something we didn’t know. We want to hear a voice we recognize, to feel that we could be friends. with the writer. And we’d like the book to be accessible, so we can read, put down, pick up, review, browse, return. Meet Style Forever: The Grown-Up Guide to Looking Fabulous by Alyson Walsh, and Styled: Secrets for Arranging Rooms, from Tabletops to Bookshelves, by

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Channeling The Grande Dame For A Semi-Fancy Late Holiday Lunch

Last week my husband and I had our Thanksgiving at the Taj Campton Place Hotel restaurant. It’s small, elegant as San Francisco goes, and recently received a second Michelin star. We reserved for late lunch/early dinner at 3pm, in San Francisco, The City Of Jeans. What to wear? Not a dress. Mine are all evening, or summer sorts. My pencil skirts feel like work. Not jeans. Although the restaurant wouldn’t have batted an eyelid at denim, I’d have regretted the celebratory feeling of some good fancy pants. And I noticed, as I pulled clothes out of my closet, a distinct desire to channel my vestigial Grande Dame. Tradition

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Achoo, Honk, Hack, Nnnnng, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:22am

Yesterday I was pretty sure I had the flu. Today I’m willing to concede it might be just some other mean virus bringing a cough, sneezes, aches, pains, the need to sleep, headaches and a dodgy gut. I’m in a pretty good mood nevertheless. Husband is home; I’m wearing a hoodie OVER a cashmere sweater and drinking tea from a 20 oz mug; I feel so much better today than yesterday that natural cheerfulness takes over and says, “Look! You’re getting better! Good thing you didn’t spend Thanksgiving with family and infect everyone!” Pollyannas Unite. One last question before I return to the prone position. When you’re sick

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Should You Happen To Be Organized Enough To Take Advantage Of Online Sales On Black Friday And Cyber Monday

I hope you had a good Thanksgiving, and if not, a survivable one. I advocate going nowhere at all today, unless it’s a family tradition, but if you’re really organized you might be online shopping. Here are the sales at sites/merchants I have been known to frequent. Also, a few things that I’d be happy to give to friends and family. UNIQLO: Free shipping for orders under $50,  $15 off for orders over $100, and Daily Deals that change every day. Get someone a Basquiat tee for $15 and we can start a club. Anthropologie: Where the girl child in medical school likes to shop. They are offering

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A 59-Year Old Woman Reviews The Apple Watch In Real Life

Have any of you thought about buying an Apple Watch? Does anybody actually own one? Oh, yeah, me. Huh? To be clear, I am not one for gadgets, I have no particular interest in tech for tech’s sake. But I am fascinated by human behavior, and wanted to get an early look at the world of the enabled wrist. And, although I don’t mean to chide anyone, I do think it’s important that we women and we midlifers engage in the tech cycle, if only to ensure that the Brave New World isn’t designed just for 28-year old men. I first realized I liked the watch as I

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Absence Makes The Heart Grow Thankful (For Not Cooking Among Other Things), Or, Saturday Morning at 7:57am

Fellow Americans, are you cooking Thanksgiving this year? Got it all figured out? Still in denial? That works too. I’m off the hook. And am as pleased not to be cooking as I am about doing it other years. The mental space ordinarily occupied by organic turkey pre-order schedules is open. In a meadow waiting for the picnickers to arrive, I spread imaginary red-checked tablecloths on the grass, and wait. Which is a fanciful way of saying I remember other Thanksgivings. My first memory, I think, is of a dinner at a dining table newly arrived to our house from my father’s mother’s estate. Or, precisely, I remember

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To My 2nd Sister, Plannerina In Full Force Around Here

In my family of origin, we’re 3 sisters and a brother. All have kids. Got hectic and costly come Christmastime. At a certain point, we decided that we’d give presents to all the nieces and nephews, but draw among siblings and spouses. For example, I might give a present to 2nd Sister’s Husband, but receive mine from Brother. It’s worked well. In fact, we’ve created a new tradition of sorts. There’s the “Who is organizing the draw this year?” conversation and the “OK tell me what you want,” emails. This year, since 1st Sister and Brother will be together at Christmas, while 2nd Sister and her family will

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Evergreening Your Garden, With Not A Pine Needle In Sight

What if a genius landed in your garden, but, only stayed a couple of days? Last week, Jeff S., he who designed my yard 15 years ago, came to visit. He lives in Seattle now, working by word of mouth for clients who share his aesthetic and philosophy. He comes to visit us Californians every once in a while. I thought I knew what I wanted. The drought, and the years of neglect, replanting, transplanting had worn away at my garden’s structure. Much as I love to work on a small scale, I felt uncertain about landscape design, and I hoped Jeff might add some Big Plants For

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Heartbroken For All The Children, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:51am

There is nothing to talk about except what happened in Paris yesterday. I am an atheist, and thus won’t #prayforparis. However, even if I were a believer, I wouldn’t be praying, for Paris. I would be so downhearted, so worried, so sorry, as I am now. I imagine we all are, faith or no. But Paris has already happened. One can only hope for healing, and thank the city and its people for many centuries of grace. I would pray instead for the children who grow up to be the men and women who kill. Logic follows, because I can’t make my way through these things without it.

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Object of Desire: Wolford Tights

Illustration by Marilyn Pollack Naron I have two pair of Wolford tights in my top right-hand dresser drawer. This is not enough. Having retired after a late-career earnings spurt, I find my closet to be quite full enough of high-end goods. My budget does not allow me to own new Dries van Noten every year, nor do I want to. This Christmas, for example, I’ll be wearing my roof replacement, and looking quite fetching. But, and it’s an important but, when one moves to a Wear What One Has Mode, one has to make sure one has all the required accessories. Good dresses need good tights. And High

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What Are Your History And Feelings About Color In The House?

You may have known from birth how you feel about color. You always chose ochre, or marine green as your favorites, never blue. Your enthusiasm informed your wardrobe, and eventually, your house. Rarely so for the Sturdies. Color, other than The Old Red, White and Blue, often scares us. Lucky break, denim’s blueness and all. Just once I bought a hot pink linen blazer. So when it came to furnishings, I got help. Mom furnished my first apartment, a Central Park West studio, at Macy’s Manhattan. There was room for one brown couch, a peach/celadon/ sand Chinese rug, a brass bed, and an English mahogany chest of drawers

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Blue Nile Adds Diamond Studs In Several Sizes To Their Secret Sale

Hey guys, Blue Nile has added some diamond studs to their secret sale. I like mine either small, like this 1/4 carat total weight pair, or not small, like these. 1 carat total weight. Platinum Again the sale’s 40% off with code SECRETSALE. That’s not nothing. It means the 1/4 carat pair are yours, or your daughter’s, for $417 vs. $695. And so on. You just might be in the market – diamond studs are exceptionally useful pieces of jewelry.   Links may generation commissions

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Despite A Few Annoying Characteristics People Are Pretty Wonderful, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:18am

It’s been a week full of friends. The blogosphere veritably blossomed, in-world. I met Chronica Domus, Tish Jett, and Kim of Northern California Style for the first time. I spent a day with Susan from Une Femme. And then I made a December date to meet Adrienne of The Rich Life on a Budget. Here on the blog, Chronica brought a crew of new commenters, who know so much about antiques I’m clapping my hands in excitement. Never mind me. The women who came to Tish’s book signing, for the most part, came with friends. Women who parented together, women who worked together. Powerful. Creative. Warm. They touched

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A Well-Hosted Visit To The Monthly Alameda Antiques Fair

A while back, the blogger from Chronica Domus (she prefers to remain anonymous) invited me to join her at the Alameda Point Antiques Faire. This past Sunday, I did just that. The event is held every month in a very large open space on the eastern side of the San Francisco Bay. Chronica always attends the fair with her best friend. They welcomed their new companion with grace, including me as though we’d known each other for years. Having a best friend of my own, being so familiar with the bond, it was a pleasure to coast in the wake of their shared traditions and language. Ostensibly, I

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How Long Does It Take To Choose A Front Door Color? For Some Of Us, A Very Long Time Indeed

You may remember that ~11 months ago I wanted to repaint my front door. You may also remember that I thought I wanted a red. I didn’t. Why not? I tried. I really tried. But the green-gray of my house didn’t like blue-reds and I don’t like orange-reds and there you have it. The experience convinced me I needed a whole new door. Mid-century modern like my house. Light wood, small windows. The price of said door convinced me otherwise. And then, in a flash of inspiration, quite different from the logical processes I usually follow, I knew. Janet lit the fires. Then Amy Beth Cup Dragoo did

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Blue Nile Is Having A Secret Sale

This post is presented in collaboration with Blue Nile Blue Nile is having a “secret sale” on a few select pieces. Secret, as in it’s not navigable via their site, you have to use this link, here, and use the code SECRETSALE. The sale is significant because it’s 40% off. Which means you could get this pretty silver, amethyst, and white topaz necklace for your daughter for ~$90, instead of $145. There’s something about that square with the drop shape. The sale also includes a few nice pairs of earrings, particularly these in silver, and these, in gold.   Links may generate commissions

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What Scares The High WASP Most, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:18am

What scares a High WASP most? The desire to make Art. Perhaps because it in turn makes clear you are trying and you care. Happy Hallowe’en! Let’s keep the apostrophe but give away all our candy! Oh, and if you’re in the mood for absurd crafts, a recent jack o’lantern hack. For stories, remembering my kids’ costumes past. Have a wonderful weekend everyone.  

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Upcoming Events With My Friends The Brilliant Style Bloggers

I need to alert you all to a couple of events upcoming in the next few weeks. Two of my favorite over-40 style bloggers, and long-distance friends for that matter, will be hosting events for their books. And, both here in the USA, even though both live in Europe. On November 4th, Tish Jett, author of Forever Chic: Frenchwomen’s Secrets for Timeless Beauty, Style, and Substance, will be right here in Northern California, for a book signing. I’ll be there too. Sue, from Une Femme d’un Certain Age, and Jennifer, of A Well-Styled Life, are also planning on attending. Please do come along. INVITE DETAILS: Tish Jett Book

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Objects Of Desire: That 70s Clothing

While fashion lacks a gale force trend right now, I think we might reasonably point out a few “breezes” — influences, if you will. The Seventies are in the air. And that’s it for wind metaphors. Anyone else here a teenager in the 70s? I thought so. Remember our bell-bottoms, skinny-rib tees, and hand-tooled leather handbags? The romanticism that flowered as the 60s faded, before disco took over? Puffy sleeves without irony? You might be tempted to acquire a piece, maybe two, of type. Something that doesn’t require disrupting your wardrobe, but amuses and serves good purpose. BTW, if you’d like a sound track, here’s what I played

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Something Original And Beautiful For Winter Hospitality

I love a last minute holiday rush. Malls, Amazon deliveries, and late night wrapping. No early Christmas shopping for me. But I like to ready my hospitality in advance. Something about preparing for guests soothes the soul in a way that buying presents does not. You? Last year, in preparation for and celebration of the winter holidays, I acquired a new loveseat, table, and ottoman. Needed room for everyone to sit down. This year, I’m thinking maybe lampshades for the guest room. What, you don’t like glaring naked lightbulbs either? Fine then. As for the table, around which we might gather? Mine is, for the most part, “set.”

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The Second Stage Of Drinking Less Alcohol, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:15am

Two and a half years ago I wrote a post about cutting back on alcohol. Last week I got an email from a reader, about her own struggles and progress in the same endeavor. She included a link to this excellent article in Real Simple. Seems like I am not alone. Thanks, Olivia Pope. Two-thirds of American women consume alcohol regularly (having at least one drink within the past week), with most citing wine as their beverage of choice, according to a 2013 Gallup poll. That number has stayed fairly constant over the past two decades, but something more significant has changed: An increasing number of us are

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How To Grow Your First Rose Garden, 13 Simple And Somewhat Philosophical Steps

The other day I Googled “grow your first rose garden.” The results made me want to quit, right now, despite my bed of 8 happy white rose bushes. “Roses are very hard!” shouts the Internet. But this is rarely true. Most of you will be fine. Wait, do you want a rose garden? I think you might, even if it’s just one beautiful rose in one beautiful container. Roses give back, both thorns and fragrance. Roses bud in perfection and die in romance. They talk to you. Well, that’s stretching it but at the very least you will want to talk to yours, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll

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A Singular Piece

This post sponsored by Halsbrook Fashion has moved to a “post-trend” universe. So says Cathryn Horyn at the New York Times, and I agree. In these days of multiplicity, high style requires evidence of the wearer’s imagination,  AKA, “Yes I Dressed Myself.” Recently, in New York, I was amazed at how different everyone looked. On the Upper East Side, from the older woman on Madison Avenue in classic trousers, white shirt, and immovable hair, to the German woman in full Barbour and boots crossing Park with her daughter. In Brooklyn, my son’s friends in Crown Heights wore skater skirts, tights, and huge sweaters; a waitress in a Thai

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Mamavalveeta Wins The Silver Cavatappi

That headline sounds like a horse race, doesn’t it? One run in Milano, perhaps, or Miami. In any case, Mamaval, the bracelet is yours. Please email me at the skyepeale address, and let me know where to send it. I really can’t thank the entrants enough. Those bracelet stories are so vivid and compelling. I hope those of you in difficulty find an easy way, I wish those of you reaching milestones all the best. And thanks to Blue Nile too, for helping Privilege be a generous place.

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Cake On Faces, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:50am

I’m off to a birthday party for two-year old twins. I hope there will be balloons, and cake on faces, and lots of little people bumping around at knee-level. I hope parents sit on blankets on the lawn, chatting in relief and pride. I hope nobody cries too long or too hard. Although if a parent gets teary I’ll lend my shoulder happily. All the birthday parties, guys, all the birthday parties. My mother and I are very different people who lived in different times and made different choices. But, when it came to birthdays, I took a page from Mom’s book. A theme, or a plan, at

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Packing for 5 Days In Brooklyn, Manhattan, and New Jersey

During my recent break I took a little trip. First, a plane to JFK for three days in New York visiting my son and some newish friends. Then, a train to New Jersey for two days with my best friend of several decades. I had vowed to put aside the camera, and my internal blog topic collector, and so I did. The trip remains largely undocumented. However, who can go to New York and return without thinking about What to Wear? Not I, she said, not I. And who can navigate New York without, in the end, identifying as uptown or downtown, East Side or West Side? Again

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Making Designers’ Silver Bracelets Your Own

This post and giveaway are presented in collaboration with Blue Nile. Extreme Casual Style benefits from good jewelry. One might even argue that good jewelry allows Extreme Casual to speak Style at all. My particular approach involves earrings, and due to a metal sensitivity, gold ones in particular. But you have all sorts of options. If you can wear silver, you have access to the iconic silver designers, David Yurman and John Hardy. Commenters here have referred to their collections of said pieces, in particular the bracelets. It has occurred to me that as we age, we want to evolve our old favorites and layer our own aesthetic

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Quarterly Break And Turning 59

Hi guys. It’s my birthday today. Although 59 may be the new 49 — in terms of spring in steps — and we hope 39 is the new 59 — in terms of life wisdom — the click of one’s own calendar still registers precisely. So I celebrate. It’s also the end of the Q3 2015, and Privilege will take the usual break. I brought the idea of quarters over from my years in the corporate sector, it seems to help me stay highly motivated to write. I take off long enough to let the word neurons regenerate, or whatever they do, but not so long that I

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“My Stylish French Girlfriends,” A Post-Freudian Review

A while back, Tish Jett asked if I’d review a book she loved, My Stylish French Girlfriends, written by her friend Sharon Santoni. Sharon was kind enough to have a review copy sent to me. It’s also been reviewed around the blogosphere by Daily Plate of Crazy, Une Femme d’un Certain Age, and the Hostess of the Humble Bungalow, if you’d like additional perspectives. I am suspicious of Francophilia. There, I’ve said it. I loved France in the summer of 1975, when I worked at a summer camp in the Dordogne. I loved it in 1978 when I took the train from London to Paris to celebrate New

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When We Stop Hurrying, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:23am

It’s been a good week. Nothing spectacular. No prizes, no surprises, no miracles. But I caught up. I suspect you know what I mean. For years it seems I lived my life hurrying, grabbing metaphorical clothes from metaphorical racks, putting on my shoes as I ran, brushing my hair in a metaphorical car. The feeling didn’t leave me when I retired. Not right away. But, I had 57 years of catching up to do. Here are some small unremarkables from this week. I weeded, relocated a few plants, and watered everybody who needs it – by hand. I signed the contract for our roof replacement, confirmed that the

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Plant Of Desire: Pieris Japonica, Occasionally Known As “Mountain Fire Lily Of The Valley”

For the most part, I prefer my garden to my plants. I’d rather plant something I find boring by itself, for garden design, than a thrilling specimen that disrupts the big picture. Except, I’m really fond of my Pieris Japonica, particularly the cultivar called Mountain Fire. My best friend thinks it’s weird. You see it  above, disheveled and unruly behind a wayward Eastern redbud that keeps trying to grow back, some lavender, short bamboo, and two fronds of seeded grass. New leaves look like apricot-colored flowers. The flowers themselves resemble lilies of the valley. Sometimes exuberant, Sometimes moody. Pieris even does an excellent quiet sulk. The rest of

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Object of Desire: Rag & Bone Stretch Corduroy Blazer

Look at this perfect black blazer from Rag and Bone. You can get one of the few that remain if you act now. I’m trying not to, as I really ought to dedicate all resources to things like upholstery.   But stretch corduroy, with brass buttons? For fall? A camel coat layered over it, if it’s a cold fall? Sigh. Via net-a-porter, unsurprisingly.   Affiliate links may generate commissions

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Can You Make A Statement With Small, Precious Jewelry?

This post is presented in collaboration with Blue Nile The world has embraced statement costume jewelry. It’s big, if you’ll pardon the pun. Women over 50 are often particularly told to put aside their small pieces. But what if you prefer your statements sotto voce and your jewelry precious? And, what, we ask, if you want your fine jewelry to cost less than your mortgage payment? But of course. A few choices. Granny Charm Bracelets Let’s start with the biggest splurge. When my mother’s flock of grandchildren began to increase, I wanted to give her a present. Charm bracelets are traditional, but grandmother versions suffer from The Curse

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8 Simple Things Even A Complicator Can Believe

I may be a complicator. Made up word. I often find myself reasoning through something simple for others. I thought today I’d give complications a rest. We can all hold a few ideas to be self-evident. People, by and large, love their children. Or try to. Be nice to moms in supermarkets. Almost everyone will find a flower beautiful. Don’t overuse this power. We slow down as we age. This is both good and difficult. To sustain a long term relationship you will have to at some point suspend judgment. Eat well, feel well. Preparation creates the best outcomes, unless you’re in immediate danger. Or no danger at

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The Colors Of A Coastal Southern Californian Garden

I went down to see my mother and stepfather this weekend. Although I’ve shown you most of her house (here, here, here), I thought some of you might like to see just a few shots of the garden. Southern California’s very different from the North. We’re a big state, 800 miles from north to south. My mom’s house is 300 miles away, and that counts as close. Latitude isn’t the only difference. The cold California Current, which runs from Alaska to Mexico, warms up somewhere around Santa Barbara, encouraging a very different palette of plants. From the tropics, albeit the dry sort. I went out in the early

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Trying Out A New Silhouette That Forgives My Midlife Midsection

I’ve always preferred a fitted waist, to work with broad shoulders and a long torso, but I may be ready now to trade that off for comfort. Breathe an actual sigh of relief; I’ve been sucking in my stomach for a decade now. This will require some experimentation. So, last week my middle sister, my brother and I exchanged presents, as our birthdays fall in August, October and September respectively. I asked my sister for a top that would be kind to my middle. She came up with this Free People tee which I quite like. Available in all kinds of colors – some of which have a

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Not-So-Talky, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:40am

Seems I’ve done a lot of talking lately. So this morning, I’ll just pin some Saturday mornings things to my Pinterest board called, appropriately, What To Do On Saturday Mornings. Have a great weekend guys, talky or not-so-talky as you choose. Smooches to everyone what wants them.  

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A Rapture On Leaving The House And Meeting Some Humans

Sometimes the universe reminds you to get on out. Tuesday, I met the bloggers above. Wednesday, I attended a conference for independent web publishers, given by one of the ad companies I use in my sidebar. Both events proved the glory of the new. Sandra Salin, of Apart from My Art, organized the San Francisco lunch. Several midlife bloggers attended, none of whom I knew well. All are notable. Jennifer of A Well Styled Life writes for the Huffington Post. Elizabeth at The Vintage Contessa was featured in Advanced Style’s Instagram feed. Beth of Style At A Certain Age started blogging in March but has 13,000 Instagram followers.

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The (Graphic, Japanese) One That Got Away

 I’ve been ogling this Kenzo sweatshirt for donkey’s years. Seemed it might work wonders for  Extreme Casual jeans and khakis. Dramatic, but it’s amazing what a little art will do for an outfit that is otherwise, essentially, pajamas. A couple of weeks ago I saw a version in this gorgeous shade of peacock blue, perfect for my coloring, online at Nordstrom. But it cost $300. Surely, I thought to myself, I can do better? I hunted, and found one that looked to be a similar shade for far less money. But it was maybe too green? By the time I decided it was peacock or die (you know

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It’s Labor Day In The USA And We Have A Winner!

Thank you everyone for entering the giveaway for the Blue Nile hoops. You told wonderful stories, of jewelry and other talismans, from grandmothers, mothers, grandfathers, fathers, husbands, and yourselves. I always feel like your stories make words more real. The winner is Jane, and the hoops will join her Egyptian cartouche. Congratulations! Jane, please email me with your postal address, so I can wrap the earrings up and send them along. Thank you for joining in, and to Blue Nile, thank you again for what to give away.  

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Inside Out At The Multiplex, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:01am

Last week we talked here about movies. Then my husband and I actually went to see one. The earth stayed on its axis. In all seriousness, the multiplex at 2pm on a Saturday afternoon is pretty lovely. This one sits in the middle of downtown Redwood City, one of several towns on the San Francisco Bay Peninsula with a full commercial district. We got our tickets, ate lunch, walked around, and wandered back to the theater. We saw Inside Out. The seats were auditorium style, each row on a rise. A smattering of other people saw the same showing, and I’d say 3/4 of them were children. So

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Putting A California Garden To Bed In Late Summer

Snow does not fall in my back yard. The last time it snowed, and hit the ground and remained, was probably 1960. So the seasons do not put our gardens to bed. Instead, we do it ourselves. And, our dormant time, whether the vegetation knows it or not, is late summer. When the lavender is done and the camellias are hinting at winter buds. We know the time has come by a thinning of light and yellowing of leaves. Believe it or not, along with Californian informality we develop a sensitivity to the shift of seasons. Otherwise we might believe life never changes. Immortality is tempting. I cut

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Blue Nile For Back To School — Be It Undergraduate, Graduate, Or “School Of Life”

This post and giveaway are presented in collaboration with Blue Nile Most back-to-school efforts focus on grade-school supplies — pens, notebooks, backpacks — or college dorm furnishings. But the first day of graduate school can feel momentous too, a new job even more so. What might we give, to mark these occasions? I’d be inclined towards a talisman, a piece of jewelry that’s not too out there, but clearly personal. Something that could be worn every day, but not without notice. Blue Nile offers a host of possibilities. When I started business school I had to break a collection of Indian bangles off my wrist. The turquoise and

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The Moving Picture Show, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:38am

Here’s something I haven’t done in ages. Go to the movies. So, I think we’re going to remedy that today. Maybe. Plans often change. I was pleased at how quickly I could figure out a) what’s playing nearby b) what critics think of the various offerings. Google and Rotten Tomatoes, I forgive your sins of advertising and tasteless graphics, although Google, you’re still in trouble for what you do to privacy. In any case, this morning, I know what movies to think about.mI’m torn between Trainwreck, Inside Out, Ant-Man, and Mission Impossible Number I’ve Lost Count. Seems that these days movies are as gendered as the aisles of

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How Do You Feel About “Formality” In Your Style?

Often, it seems to me, the ideas of “style” and “formality” are smushed together. Conflated. Which can feel quite deflating, if you want panache without fuss. Or, if heels, hairspray, and tight waists feel out of place, for your body and your social context. Can we deconstruct? Of course! Picture The Role Of Propriety, Attraction, And Aesthetics In Style I can even show you an infographic, having amused myself this weekend designing one. OK. What the heck did that mean? Let’s do it by the numbers. Some people think in pictures, others in lists. Such is humanity, our glorious wrack of a species. What The Heck Did She

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Little House Stuffs, Big Effect

That was the scene on my kitchen counter top, until just recently. Not terribly attractive, as Mom might say. Since my kitchen is also my living and dining room, I knew I wanted quiet replacements. We would not welcome screaming. “I HAVE SALT AND PEPPER RIGHT HERE! NO, LOOK OVER HERE, DUMMY! ON THE COUNTER!” Since my cabinets are white, and my counters black granite and butcher block, I thought at first all the implements should be white, but, this white didn’t complement my aged melamine white. Clashing shades of neutrals, not attractive in the slightest. Hence, a blonde wood Peugot pepper grinder, which, my goodness, if grinding

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The Profound Impact Of Civility, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:30am

I was at my father’s house last night, he and I were talking. He said, and I paraphrase, “The question of whether evil exists has been central to theology for over 1000 years.” I promise, this was a logical remark, given our conversation. My immediate reaction. “Then since we can’t know about evil, we’ve got to try to be as civil and amiable as we can.” A series of images went through my head — a full day of Kind and Polite. Smiling at the checkout clerk and letting them know that yes, indeed, you did find everything you were looking for. A very Sturdy reaction to the

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Why We Keep Going Back To Napa Valley’s Carneros Inn

We spent our anniversary weekend at the Carneros Inn, in the Napa Valley. We’ve been there before. More than once. Why do we return? Is it the landscaping? I do love the mix of cottage garden and California natives, to say nothing of the multiple fruit trees. They’ve paved what used to be gravel paths, good for shoes, a little sad for my rustic longings. Is it the food? Weekends we eat breakfast up at the Hilltop Cafe; lunch generally at the pool, or with a sandwich at the little Market; dinners at Farm (we ate there for our actual anniversary night dinner but all I got was

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A Rain Jacket For Those Of Us In Deep Denial About Summer’s Passing

Sharing a post with Une Femme d’un Certain Age, as we have done before. This time, our topic is “Sneaking Up On Fall.” She is over here.  If Une Femme is new to you, you’ll enjoy her eye and her thinking, both. The other day I saw aubergine leaves fall from my neighbor’s plum tree. They flashed by like schools of fish turning in the sea. I’ll pretend it never happened. August rolls along in summer its whole course. But hey, might it rain in summer? Maybe not here in California, where our bones grumble for rain, but somewhere? And if it does, might one need a rain

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Two Years Ago Today, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:48am

Today’s our wedding anniversary. I wanted to share a few photos, some new, some already seen. My bouquet. I wanted a “whiff of decay.” By Sarah at Saipua, in Red Hook Brooklyn. My youngest sister loaned me a pair of earrings. Something borrowed. I can’t remember what was blue. I loved my hair, held up elaborately and a little goofily with various Swarovski crystal, quartz, and river stone hairpins. River stones, like pebbles. On our way up to the pre-ceremony photos. San Francisco’s City Hall is quite something. We held our ceremony on the 4th floor. My husband-then-to-be and I, alone before the ceremony. My beautiful children and

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Is There A Good Way To Buy A Bathing Suit, Even If You’re Over-50 Looking For A Bikini, Maybe?

Last December, I tried to buy a new swimsuit. I failed. Even the shop at the Four Seasons Hualalai came up short. Now, as one of my suits has popped a veritable rage of threads,and I’m dreaming of The Carneros Inn, I’m going to try again. Can Women Over 50, or Over 40 For That Matter, Wear A Bikini? A slight detour. Have you noticed the Internetting of 50+ women in bikinis? Helen Mirren says she will never live this photo down. Allyson almost broke the internet when she posted a very decorous picture. But maybe we’ll get used to it. Jocelyn is a regular French person, from

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Old MBAs Will Make Matrices Out Of Everything, Even The Process Of Learning Style

As you know, I’m in the process of learning about gardens and interiors what I knew about clothes. So I spend a lot of time studying, on the Internet. Information abounds. However, with several decades of adulthood and opinions under my belt, I work at keeping my mind open to new ideas and methodologies. I always find a good taxonomy prevents bias. Don’t you? I now envision style education across these two axes: Inspiration: Everything beautiful, totally your taste, who cares if it’s impossible! Education: Valuable skills, techniques, and principles, no matter whether you share the tastes of the imparter or not. Business school ahoy! I made a

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The Hands Of Time, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:05am

I love mornings. So simple and happy. Wake up, make tea, make toast, sit down, browse the Internet. I’m not easily simple, the drive to analyze is strong. But maybe complexity sleeps in. Saturday mornings I do all the above, but also, write a blog post. Imagined, drafted, written, edited, in the time between whenever I start my second cup of tea and noon. Them’s the rules I made. This morning, however, I sat down to write and realized that my hands hurt. Pain complicates. I imagine some of you out there are in pain and I want to tell you I am so, so sorry. I hope you

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Neiman Marcus 40% Sale On The Above And Beyond

  A Neiman Marcus sale may not be the right place for savvy bargains on classic basics. But it sure as heck yields some over-the-top, special occasion splendors like this Pamela Rowland evening dress. All silk, even the lining. Reduced from $3990 to $1596. I swear I’d love to wear that to something. Someone might like Donna Karan’s hooded jersey tunic, and wear it to everything, as a signature. And anyone might want a good trench. Yes, there’s a classic basic or two because, probably, someone Sturdy couldn’t help themselves. What sold out is sometimes the most interesting part of the whole shebang.

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An August Afternoon At Bean Hollow Beach On The Northern California Coast

As it happened, on Saturday the sun shone. Even over the Pacific. The beaches of this part of Northern California used to be a local secret. No longer. Take Highway 1, start at the small town of Princeton-by-the-sea (not making that name up, I promise), drive south. You’ll pass the larger town of Half Moon Bay, then the state beaches of San Gregorio, Pomponio and Pescadero. Pescadero is the most beautiful, wide and sandy, but on the rare hot coastal Saturday you have to arrive early for a parking spot. We were not early. So we drove even further south, to Bean Hollow. I’d never been there before.

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Cold Feet In The Pacific On Saturday, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:27am

It’s Saturday in California! To be precise, an August Saturday, in Northern California! The whole rest of the weekend, and the rest of the month, stretch out ahead. I’m in the mood for adventure. Just like the year when my children finally began to sleep through the night, after weeks of sofa-bound illness I feel my cheerful self return. Cheer demands we leave the sofa behind. Where to go? Maybe we”ll drive over the hill in search of fog. Americans tend to visit Northern California in February and March. I understand why, much of the rest of the country is in snow and sleet. But here that time

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The Best Hair Tool For Quick Polish Amidst Messy Hair Days

The Nordstrom Anniversary Sale, in which they reduce prices on merchandise before full fall pricing begins, draws to a close on Monday. I know this sale is the real deal because, before it began, I paid full price elsewhere for this hair straightener. The ghd Classic Styler. I find that using a straightener works really well for a retired lifestyle,  for my middling wavy hair in particular. I can wash my hair less frequently (which is good for its health), wander around in a ponytail or braid in the garden, put it up with a hair fork if I want to pull things together a little more for

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Was This My Fault? Or, A Review Of Two Books, “Hope and Other Luxuries,” and “Elena Vanishing”

As occasionally happens, I have a book to review. In fact, two books. One, written by a mother, Clare B. Dunkle, an author of young adult fantasy. The other, written by Claire and her adult daughter, Elena. Both recount the years of Elena’s anorexia. Clare’s book is called, ” Hope and Other Luxuries: A Mother’s Life with a Daughter’s Anorexia.” Elena’s, ” Elena Vanishing: A Memoir.” It’s tricky to review these books because there are two stories to keep straight. Clare’s is long. Anorexia is a painful disease, its sufferers hard to like. But I find myself compelled to try because, although they were a challenging read, I

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A DIY Project For Really Lazy People With A Sense Of Humor Who Like Beauty

It’s hard for me to finish projects that involve working with my hands. Because, impatient. Because, bad small motor skills. But perseverance, humor, and community work miracles. Anyone remember the “I want gold leaf for Christmas” idea? No reason you should. How about “I am dreaming of fuchsias?” Oh how the stars align. Here we have a garden variety clay pot. I almost said “terracotta,” but apparently it might be “earthenware.” So much terminology. And here we have one “Speedball Mona Lisa Gold Leaf Kit.” It sat in my closet for 7 months, but never escaped the mental to-do list. Perseverance. The gold leaf comes in several sheets, interleaved between orange pieces of tissue in

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“Finternships” Could Make Use Of So Much Knowledge Capital, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:03am

It’s possible I have too much time on my hands. That’s quite an image. I see my hands, on the keyboard. Are they weighed down? No. I have time enough, just time enough. But I do have more capacity than I’m using. It’s been two years since I retired. In that time, I’ve been a newlywed, I’ve decorated my house, I’ve tended my garden. I’ve gotten sick, and lain on the sofa, despondent and barely moving. That was not fun. Recovered, I look around at everything both in place and in motion and I understand that I can do more. 58 feels youngish, even the kind of 58

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Taking Steps Towards Ethical Luxury, With A Merida Studio Rug Certified By GoodWeave

My children are grown. They don’t live here any more. Of course, now that I understand their capacity to thrive in the wild, I want them back. Ah well, let’s make lemonade. As we have discussed, I’m turning my son’s room into a workroom, albeit one with a piece of furniture that looks suspiciously like a bed. My daughter’s space, on the other hand, will become the Guest Room, capital G, capital R. But first we had to sort through two and a half decades of detritus. Beloved detritus. We brought both my kids home last month, with the express intention of clearing out. “OK, Mom,” said my daughter the morning after she

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What Would It Take To Wear This Out Of The House?

You may remember I proposed a hypothetical 4th of July outfit, here. Somewhere around 7 o’clock the night of the actual 4th I grabbed my youngest sister, and said, “Oh, hey, would you mind taking a picture for me?” So she did. We were down at my mother’s, in Santa Barbara. All the siblings, the grandchildren, some step-siblings. Crowded, awesome. I love this UNIQLO tee with its Stephen Sprouse print. Not remotely figure-flattering but hey, Art! The boyfriend khakis are 100% cotton from J. Crew, and extremely comfortable, while the JORD watch has been one of my most successful accessories ever. Havaianas, my Havaianas. But I wouldn’t leave

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The Simple Structure Of A Day, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:53am

This is going to be an embarrassing post. Retirement isn’t straightforward. At least not for everyone. When I first stopped working I asked myself, “Am I doing the right things? I cleared obstacles. Two years later I ask, “Am I doing what I’m doing the right way?” Working, your days are structured. Get up and go, every morning. Retired, you ask yourself, “And what to do today?” You always have to ask again, “And next?” This is hard on project people. We can’t treat our unstructured lives as a single timeline, or we launch only at death. Nor can we organize each day around multiple small projects, switching costs are too high. We have to prepare and contextualize, even for

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The Sale At J. Crew Just Got Really Good

Note to my dear email subscribers: Would you like me to send out extra emails the day of sales like this one? i.e. noteworthy? Please let me know in the comments, otherwise I’ll stick to weekly digests. Thank you as always for reading.   I have long since admitted to myself that if I could shop at one and only one sole-branded retailer (we’re not talking department stores or multi-designer sites), it’d have to be J. Crew. I know they’ve gotten a little wacky lately but if you look, they still do that mix of color and classic and insouciance we have known and loved so well for

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Object of Desire: One Fuchsia In A Pot

Fuchsias. First of all, notice the spelling. Fuch-See-Ya. Even though it’s pronounced Fyusha. One of the most frequently misspelled words in the English language. Second, nod to Aussie blogger extraordinaire, Faux Fuchsia. I appreciate her consistent authenticity and her authentic consistency. Third, and the project for today, think about planting the actual plant. Oh, wait, pause for a lovely moment to admire their grace. The anthropomorphic silhouette. I’m looking to refurbish the corner below, its inhabitants long since withered or repatriated to more hospitable climes. Ms. Bougainvillea needed more sun than I’ve got in this corner, off to my sister. Mr. Delphinium (tripartite leaves peeking out below purple basil in the

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Aging Out Of Shorts, And Into A Long, Navy, MaxMara Dress

This post is sponsored by Halsbrook. Retailer particulière to the Grande Dame in all of us. The photo above, although I didn’t know it at the time, signaled the end of my street shorts days. I’ve aged out. It’s not that I hate my knees, or worry about shocking my neighbors. But, to be blunt, I find the texture of my skin now argues for more coverage. Long shorts then unbalance my preferred modern/classic, masculine/feminine aesthetic. Now, giving up shorts in Northern California is not so hard. We can mostly make do with jeans. But there are always two hot summer weeks when you want to wear as little as possible. I have found myself wearing this

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Happy 4th Of July

Fourth of July Picnic, Rogers, Arkansas. c. 1904 A Very Happy 21st Century 4th To You And Yours!   I’ll be taking my quarterly blog break, see you back here the week of July 12th. May summer treat you well.

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A High WASP Glorious Fourth, From Coast To Coast

One of the things I have learned from this blog is how Northern Californian I have become. I am beginning to suspect we few High WASPs who journeyed West just can’t help but trend Artsy. I could discourse at length on High WASP geographical variants. A long time ago I posted on High WASPs in the People’s Republic of Berkeley. And again. That’s probably enough. Today we’ll keep it simple. What might High WASPs on both coasts wear for the 4th of July? It is, after all, our Carnival. We celebrate, we approach the fire, we wear bathing suits and feel naked.  Does the Artsy Californian sport red, white and blue? Yes. Yes she does. But what about

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The Feng Shui Of Paired Objects

Feng shui suggests that master bedrooms like paired objects. Feng shui is nothing like Science, but as I’ve said, it’s a reasonable organizing constraint. If you’re going to rely on uncertain principles, and design is uncertain, why not magic? Some time ago, I found myself compelled to buy two Murano doves. Perhaps I knew my future even then. Now, I’ve taken the birds off the dining table and put them on my chest of drawers. I find they’d like some company. Blue preferred. I have a soft spot in my heart for the most traditional of patterns – Herend china. I particularly like the bunnies. But perhaps more glass instead? When I was a

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All Kinds Of Tears, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:11am

Yesterday I cried a lot. First, the Supreme Court of the United States of America decided that gay marriage was legal all over the country. This is an issue near and dear to my heart. Imagine the old couples, marrying finally in their 70s. Getting to make that commitment and open statement of love before their time on earth runs out. Imagine the three-year olds, boys who think Prince Eric is prettier than Ariel the Mermaid, girls watching Mulan over and over again because how could they not? Think how their lives might open up. Maybe some day “Come out!” means more often, “Get in the car!” Said by mothers standing at front doors, everybody

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Your Work Clothes May Have Some Fun In Retirement

I used to wear a long white Splendid blouse over black bootleg cords. I used to wear pencil skirts with boots. I used to wear lavender, cadet blue, and dance oxfords together. To work. But this week I took that white blouse, a black pencil skirt and dance loafers out on a spontaneous little outing with my husband. I also took the opportunity to try my last set from Rocksbox. This time, jewelry similar to my own, but readily available and not-so-expensive. I see why Kendra Scott has become so popular. The earrings, from Gorjana. Where’d we go? On Wednesday nights, my suburb hosts an Off the Grid event. Food trucks from around the San

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In Northern California, It’s Hydrangea O’Clock

America’s collective consciousness knows the crocus, emerging from snow. We wallow in roses and peonies, come summer. And hydrangeas? In my part of California, the time is now. Drought brings burn. So be it. Lacecaps always show a little more decay than other varieties. With variegated foliage, Or straight green. I like to hide the classic mopheads, showy and homogenous as they are, behind lots of plant scraggle. I’m always pretending I live wilder than I do. These, for example, sit almost at my fence line. Now we’ve only lavender left between today and the quiescence of late summer. And after lavender, we won’t see new signs until leaves change, or drop. Until berries. Which – as late summer

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The Great Candle Burn-Off Of 2015 — Queen Diptyque Vs. Whole Foods Random

I used to scoff at “home fragrance,” back in the days when it came from factories and reeked of surfactants. Then I found candles, and plant-based scents. Now I can’t do without. I’ve always wanted to try Diptyque, the well-nigh historic French brand. Why? The logo? The countless inclusions in luxury publications? I have no idea. But in retirement, $60 seemed a lot to spend on special molecules for kitchen air. I went ahead anyway. Life’s like that. In the throes of resultant guilt, I picked up a Caldrea Herbes de Provence candle at Whole Foods. On sale for ~$11. Emotional equation #231: indulgence plus thrift equals virtue? Shortly afterward, I decided Sturdy Up and use my impulse

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The Best Kind Of Decluttering, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:01am

My son, my daughter and my daughter’s boyfriend are here. We’ve planned a morning of sorting and decluttering their old stuff, giving away some of my old furniture, and renting a Uhaul. Then we’ll head up the hill to my dad’s house to celebrate Father’s Day with most of my siblings and their families. Pretty much tops on my list of happy. Have an absolutely wonderful weekend.

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A Pair Of Crocs For Every Doorstep

This is my front entry. Old school doormat from our local hardware store, basic Crocs. Minimalist, with a little earthy texture for good measure. And in fact, feng shui says that sandy yellow and black are good for my northeast facing front door. Bonus points! I like a heel band, and holes in the body for easy hose cleaning. This is my side entry, the gateway to a future butterfly garden. Improvised step, green Crocs. These shoes have taken most of the brunt of the last 2 years of intensive gardening. I’m still thinking about what to do for the step – most likely I’ll lay out a few large

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Why Cut A Long Graying Braid?

By the time I got a haircut, my gray braid had grown down past the middle of my back. I loved the thing, in and of itself. Gray for pride in aging. The format, in my imagination, honored women protecting themselves from work injuries, burns, gears, small children’s maple syrup hands. So I liked what it stood for, but in the end, not the style. On me. That pinhead problem. You know, tiny head, larger nose? And, I could not wear this much hair down for more than 2 minutes. January was the last time I gave it a shot. Some fun new hairpins helped with updos, but the chop kept calling. Maintenance conspired; my hair tangled,

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Life As A Midlife Spy, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:24am

We are often encouraged to stay calm, and carry on. Serenity now, and all that. But every once in a while, let’s applaud adventure. Yesterday I walked around San Francisco. Nothing happened really, and everything did. Cities are like multiple tiny explosions, each person you pass, each red light that turns green, each glimpse of sky from behind a skyscraper. Do we say skyscraper any more? Adventure comes easily to the young, I think. Did you have wild times in your youth? Are you young? Are times still wild? Riding alone in elevators always makes me feel like a spy. Spies prefer blur. Big adventures are still possible – witness all the

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Writing The Book On High WASPs, As It Were

The book I didn’t write was to be about High WASPs. As I spend far less time writing in the voice of my ancestors these days, and I know some of you liked it, it occurred to me I could post the rough book outline. And then, perhaps, over time, the actual chapters. Or not. We’ll see. A look at the outline, however, will take all of 3 minutes, and serve as a nod to time past and confession. TITLE: The Secrets Of America’s High WASPs, or, Life in the Subjunctive Alternative Title: A High WASPs Guide To Life, If I Can Be So Bold Chapter List 1. What IS a High WASP?

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Master Bedroom Aesthetics – Anyone For Hot Pink?

We’ve made some progress sprucing up the master bedroom. First, we bought a gray velvet bed, from Room & Board. Then, a white duvet cover and pillows from local Rough Linen, and a lightweight down comforter from Warm Things. Buying sustainably has never felt so sweet. The bed and bedding, along with a neutral Moroccan style rug from Garnet Hill, puts us well on our way to serene, textured, gently modern. But, that’s not what I want. I’ve finally admitted to myself that I love a little drama. Not full-on, gypsy-colored, patterned extravaganza. Nor mega-glitz with shiny everything. No, I like architectural, vivid, global drama. And humor. Luckily, our dignified bed wants a

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When Weather Got Scary, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:56am

This is my front lawn. I’m letting it die. Northern California is dry. Actually, so’s the whole state, but that’s a lot of acreage and I can only talk about the part I know. We began drought-level water restrictions this month. We must cut usage 36% from 2013. A pretty precise requirement. Outdoor irrigation in my water district, Mondays and Fridays only. OK then. While I want to keep my garden — the California natives under the oak, butterfly habitat, dogwoods — I don’t really mind giving up the lawn. This seems like a good way to publicly support the drought restrictions, and blades of grass are the archetypal fungible entity, after all. But I do mind the

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Shop Now For Your Future Retirement, Or, Part B Of The Thoughtful And Stylish Wardrobe

And now, some thoughts on how you might shop today for tomorrow’s retirement. Working, I used a fair amount of my salary to buy stuff for stress relief. I think one is allowed indulgence. But with a little forethought, that indulgence becomes investment. What’s Gone? Over the last 20 months since I stopped working I’ve gotten rid of a lot of clothes. Mostly those that were neither comfortable enough nor special nor enough “me” to keep. The best of the last group I saved for my blog sale. Thanks everyone! Then off to the American Cancer Society went Monique Lhullier, Giorgio Armani tunic and pants, a shiny raincoat, Toast jacket, some Stuart Weitzman net pumps and several pairs

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Building A Thoughtful And Stylish Retirement Wardrobe: Part I

I’ve been asked, what about building a retirement wardrobe — while you are still working? Good question. Few people write about the topic; misconceptions abound. Am I the only one who imagines racks of lavender terry jogging suits and puffy white sneakers? I suspect many here hope to enter their later years in style, but also to set aside uncomfortable shoes, too closely-tailored garments, and hair chicanery. We may not be fond of the overly-cossetted look. I need two posts to fully answer, today is State of The Union. On Thursday (or Friday) I’ll give an account of what I kept from my on-the-job purchases, what I got rid

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It’s Time To Talk About The Ending Of Mad Men, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:03am

Just in case, before you see something you’d rather not, this morning I’d like to talk about the ending of Mad Men. We’ll wait a moment so those who haven’t seen it yet, along with those who don’t care, can skedaddle themselves out of here as fast as ever they can. OK then. Mad Men’s ending made me mad. For those unfamiliar with the series, but hanging in here because, “Hey, it’s Saturday morning and why not?” the eight seasons of Mad Men focused on a Madison Avenue advertising team, from its creation in the 50s to an acquisition by McCann-Ericsson in the early 70s. In particular, the series chronicled the doings of Don

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A Visit To The California Estate Of Filoli, Complete With Family Dreams Of Wendover

Last weekend, I visited Filoli, a Northern Californian turn-of-last-century estate. Well-known, much-visited, somehow I’d never made the trip. A reader of this blog was living temporarily on the Peninsula. We’d chatted about local things to do, and before she left she was kind enough to suggest, “How about Filoli, together?” It’s pronounced Figh-Low-Lee, by the way, after the first words in original owner William Bowers Bourn’s motto, “Fight, Love, Live.” Built in 1917, sited on 654 acres, now part of a land trust, it’s a wonderful, wonderful place. We started in the kitchen. Resurfacing my love for glass-fronted cabinets. To say nothing of crystal sconces, in the hallway.

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Halting The Downward Slide

In retirement, I have found it’s very easy to slide down the appropriate clothing ladder. All the way to the bottom. Especially when days consist of early morning pajama-clad and sofa-based writing, interspersed with garden forays and the boy child’s old Outdoor Action shirts. When I have to leave the house, I can’t be arsed, as the British say, to get dressed up. Luckily I haven’t yet shown up at the grocery store in pajamas. No, mostly when I go out – on errands, mind you, social occasions warrant a little more effort – I grab whichever pair of boyfriend jeans hangs on a chair in the bedroom, a t-shirt, a cotton jacket, and a

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In Memoriam For Lives Lost Too Young, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:08am

Just over a week ago, early in the morning of Saturday, May 16th, a truck and a car crashed on a San Diego freeway. The driver and passenger of the car, two young women, were killed instantly. They were medical students at UC San Diego, and friends of my daughter. That’s how I come to be writing about this today. There were five people in the car altogether. Two died, one was seriously injured, two less so. They’d all just received their results from the test known as Step 1, which is, as you might guess, the first step towards becoming doctors. They were coming home from a

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The Serenity Of Flowering Dogwood

3-2-1, cue month of online fawning over peonies. I always want to boycott. I cast no aspersions on preferences – peonies just seem too blowsy, too easy for me and my somewhat astringent tastes. Ah, give me dogwood any day. Give me flowers that appear to float on water. Give me random numbers made chlorophyll. Never mind the fanciful images. Give me serenity. I love them at a distance, the way blooms wander down a tree. I love them close up, like pre-teens after school, forming and reforming in groups. Does Lolly love Louis today? Yes. But maybe not tomorrow. Again with the fanciful imagery – we will

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Be Careful With That Spam Button Please; Also Some Other Notes And News

A few housekeeping notes! 1. While I’ve switched over to MailChimp, and Privilege emails with links to each week’s posts should be arriving smoothly, if you have a moment, I would to talk about when to use the Spam button in your email client and when to use the Unsubscribe link in the footer of the emails themselves. If the email is from Ms Grace in Uganda who needs money, or offers to let you shop and get paid if you send ALL your personal info, or promises INTEREST RATES UNDR TIN PERCINT, it’s spam. Click Spam. Yahoo and its brethren will then stop delivering emails from that

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Brooks Brothers’ Friends & Family Sale, Now Until Tuesday

(Publishing on a Sunday as is not the usual practice, because, stock is running low.) Everyone knows Brooks Brothers makes classic clothing. Everyone may not know that the company occasionally offers their classic pieces in materials from luxury European fabric houses. Besides, Brooks waves a navy flag like no one else. Right now they’re running a two-tiered sale, i.e. spring reductions get you to a certain price, the code BBFNF25 gets you another 25%. Below are my picks – sizes are limited but not absurdly so, Friends & Family offer ends Tuesday. And, if all you need a another sensible but not too dowdy striped no-iron shirt for

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Is Drudgery Inevitable, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:24am

Compiling 100 entries for the Pearl Source giveaway took longer than predicted. I started yesterday afternoon, lost steam last night, finished up this morning. Larks are like that. I’ve announced the winner on the original post. Congrats! I also thought, as I painstakingly entered the appropriate names into a spreadsheet (having reread all the comments to discern who was in the contest, who only telling a story, and who just making a cheeky remark (GSL of course)) about a conversation I’d had earlier with my son. Careers. I guess today’s question is: how much drudgery do we need to expect and bear up under, over time? When my

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The Beauty Of Flowers Who Have Met Their True Love

You all may remember Mr. D., the delphinium I grew from seed. Delphiniums take forever to germinate. I had given up hope when I saw the first 3 teeny leaves. I held my breath, hoped, realized he wasn’t getting enough light on my back patio, brought him inside, watered him, fed him, realized he still wasn’t getting enough light, put him in the front yard. Fed him again. He went nuts. In the fullness of time, it became clear that Mr. D. would never reach his full potential in my front yard. My stepmother, Brigitte Carnochan, is both a gardener and a photographer. She decorates with flowers in

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Dressing Up Extreme Casual With A Not-So-Casual Pearl Bracelet

This post is sponsored by The Pearl Source. Thanks guys! It is time for Privilege to give away a few pearls. As I said, back when, I own more than my fair share; earrings, a necklace, a pin. But in setting up this giveaway, I took my cue from pearls that got away, the 3-strand bracelet I had made from 7MM Mikimotos my father had given me when I turned 25. Traveling without a jewelry box leads to a fairly odd conjunction of accessories. A photo posted by Lisa Carnochan (@amidprivilege) on Aug 2, 2013 at 10:13am PDT I lost it in 2013, somewhere between San Francisco and

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A Mother’s Day Retrospective, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:51am

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day in the USA. Anne Lamott says she hates Mother’s Day, can’t say I agree with her. But there’s room for all kinds of opinions, and if I don’t like what I hear, I can close my laptop. Here’s what I do feel about Mother’s Day, or have, in years past.  I went through my archives and found a few old posts. 2009: Saturday Morning at 9:56am, Or, Mother’s Day Parade 2009 Redux: Saturday Morning at 8:05am, Or, I Spilled My Blood For You 2012: To All The Mothers, Realized Or Hoping, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:23am (I had that photo of me and Mom

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Can I Wear Pants To A Somewhat Elegant Baby Shower?

I don’t know how the rest of you midlifers feel, but I confess that when my children were big but not grown up, every passing pregnant woman surprised me. “What? People are still procreating? Aren’t we done?” I wouldn’t say it to anyone’s face, of course. But one’s own child-rearing is so all-involving, it seems like no other other baby might ever need to be born. Fortunately untrue. People have babies every day, they adopt babies, they create families. Which means, among other things, baby showers. A reader wrote to say she would be attending a shower at a modern, luxurious, but casual suburban restaurant. Asked if I

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When Children’s Rooms Grow Up

You guys up for another game of Give Lisa Your Opinions On Color? It was so much fun with the front door, let’s play for my “studio!” Yes, as part of my house interior update, my son’s room is becoming a “studio.” I use the quotation marks because I have not yet earned the right to use that term in its full sense. “Office,” on the other hand, feels a little “off.” (Sorry.) I may eventually settle on “workroom,” but I’ll see how the space evolves before deciding. This is how the room looked, before. The rug, a soft forest green carpet remnant, for floor play. Daybed, thrown

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Flowers In The House, Apricot Rose Edition

It’s time for Flowers In The House. Jane over at Small But Charming occasionally hosts a blogger linkup in which everyone posts photos of, unsurprisingly, Flowers In Their Houses. These are my apricot roses, in a brief moment of integrity before they begin to drop scented petals on the floor. Which may be their way of mourning the lost sun. After all, they started here. If you’d like to see more flowers, and it’s Monday, so perhaps you might, the other links are here. If you have a Flowers in the House post, please feel free to link up. And, if you do visit, please tell Jane you

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A Responsibility Of Privilege, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:41am

Thoughtfulness. I know you all feel as I do about kindness. Maybe thoughtfulness is one of the next practices that might come with privilege? In other words, given education, and experience, do we owe the world a willingness to stand and think? I was talking to my younger British friends, online of course, about parenting in America. They told me that from where they sit, young American mothers appear to be polarized. In this case, the battle is Sleep Trainers vs. Attachment Parenters. Do you put your baby on a schedule and let her “cry it out” when bedtime comes, or do you carry him everywhere, including into

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If I Were Stopping By Macy’s Today

If I were stopping by Macy’s today, I’d notice in the window that they’re having a 25% off Friends and Family sale. Wandering the floors, I might decide to finally pick up a pair of amethyst earrings. They are ostensibly $300, then half off in that frequent department store discount habit to $150, and then an additional 25% off for Friends and Family. Which brings us to, muttering under my breath as I arithmetic it out, $112.50 for 14K gold and ~6 carats of amethyst. Amethysts perhaps irradiated, but for a splash of purple I can forgive. Those of you with warm coloring might prefer these in citrine.

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Thank You To That’s Not My Age And To The Guardian

I’m very grateful and flattered to be included in Alyson Walsh’s article, “Getting married over 40: fashion for the meringue-averse bride,” up today on the Guardian’s online site. Alyson, the author of both the blog, That’s Not My Age, and a new book, Style Forever: The Grown-Up Guide to Looking Fabulous, has written about wedding style over 40. As always, she is witty and unpretentious, with style for miles. You should see the other brides she features. Thank you Alyson, and to the Guardian as well. All photo credit goes to Emilia Schobeiri, of Emilia Jane Photography. She is, as I understand it, quite willing to travel.  

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Rocksbox Redux – Defining What Isn’t Our Personal Style With Help From Friends And Family

Here’s another installment in exploring personal style with Rocksbox jewelry. The last set tested personal geometry. This time we’ll focus on ornamentation and color. In choosing my next pieces from the Rocksbox Wish List, I hearted a certain Gorjana cuff. Their stylist added dangling Trina Turk earrings, and a very dangly necklace by Charlene K. Pretty, right? But when I went to get dressed, this set fought with my personal style so hard it bullied me into a trip to Imaginary Texas. Standing outside Neiman Marcus in the Shopping Center. Seemed only fitting. In thinking about this set, I had planned to wear white jeans and a white

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The Boy Child Turns 25

  My son turns 25 today. I feel far too much love and pride to express in one blog post. Happy birthday honey. Much love, Mom.

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Tea And Epidemics, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:04am

This morning I will be having tea with Maryn McKenna, a journalist and author who specializes in public health, global health and food policy. How did that come to pass? These pages. I urge any of you who think about writing a blog, as long as you can carve out several hours a week and establish a routine, go ahead. It’s quite a journey. In other important news, it rained last night in California. Plants are celebrating all around us. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.

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If I Were Stopping By J. Crew Today

We have a J. Crew in my neighborhood, as I imagine do many of you. I find their merchandising displays enchanting. The color mix! But if I were stopping by today, or this weekend, I’d try these on. I’ve been sending the universe requests for 100% cotton non-dowdy khakis for donkey’s years; maybe these are they. 100% cotton gets me the straight line from lower hip joint to hem that I prefer. I might have liked to have given these a shot, but I recently bought, and am wearing, these,     so I think I’m set for white jeans. Although, had I found the J. Crew version

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Untitled

Wishing us all small changes, day by day, for the better. Photo credit from NASA, here.

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Which Shelter Magazine Are You?

Having come very recently to the idea that we design interiors, they do not accrete themselves, I’ve been researching shelter magazines and sites. If we can use the term “research” for browsing images, pinning, yelping “Oh that’s horrible,” browsing, yelping, muttering “Maybe this one is OK,” and pinning some more. I grokked fashion mags. (Remember that word?) I understood that I preferred Vogue over, say, Glamour or Harper’s Bazaar or Lucky. I also understood that I didn’t want to dress like the models in Vogue, that their outfits created a system of crossed flashing and occasionally neon beams, like a light show at a Madonna concert, and it

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Process People And Project People, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:39am

I’ve been thinking recently that there are Project people and Process people. Project people gear up big, do a lot of talking before they start, plan carefully, manage to an end goal. Around about the 80% done mark they cry out, “What? I’m done! You all can take this the rest of the way.” They’d always rather do something new than something familiar, even the well-loved and well-known. Process sorts don’t like to talk about what they are going to do before it starts. They enjoy conversations about how well something is going as it happens, take missteps quite seriously, stay in the moment, and get great joy

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A Privilege Blog Sale Of A Few Beloved But Hardly Used Pieces Of Clothing

Anyone else still working on 2-year old resolutions? I can finally check off “learn eBay.” The pointe shoes sold. Booyah! Next step was to have been Sell Clothes. But I’m changing the plan. Turns out eBay is a community of its own, with particular behaviors. You have to know how to price, how to describe in eBay language, and you have to take a lot of photos. The good stuff often goes to people who arbitrage – i.e. buy goods and resell them. So instead of eBaying I have donated a good percentage of my no-longer-or-never-worn stuff to the local American Cancer Society resale store. Off went a

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If I Were Stopping By La Garçonne Today

If I were stopping by La Garçonne today (who now have a bricks and mortar shop in New York, which means of course that I’d be in New York, I’d be inspired to dress insouciantly but with a little polish. I’d like my stripes vertical, and muslin, if you please. Affiliate links may generate commissions.

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Is Gardening Nerdy?

This weekend I found a caterpillar in my garden. My first impulse was “Squish it!” — I don’t use pesticides, bugs are often bad news. Mid-swing I gasped, and dropped my arm. It was a Monarch. As many of you know, Monarch butterflies are endangered by the depletion of their natural foodstuff, the milkweed plant. As part of my Retiring To Values plan (I simply mean devoting more time to The Good), I have installed native plants under my oak, and now in my side yard as well. Milkweed features heavily. When I found the caterpillar, I was excited. As in, all is SO right with the world,

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No Balls In The House, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:27am

My best friend was in town this week. We truly met when our second children (my last, her second of five) were not much more than a year old. We’d encountered each other a year prior, when I walked past her house on my way to the park, but I’d been too startled and standoffish to make friends on the street. Silly me. Once connected, we were inseparable. We raised our children together, even though she stayed home and had 3 more kids while I went back to work. My friend has an uncanny ability to make adventure out of the mundane, to keep going when others (I

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What To Pack For 5 Days In San Francisco In April

I’ve posted packing plans for several destinations here on Privilege, from the Carneros Inn in Napa Valley, to London and the Cotswolds, to Europe, Manhattan, and Hawaii. But I’ve never written one for my home city, and it’s time. At the request of a reader, here’s a guide for a 5-day April trip to San Francisco. Rules Zero To Three: Packing For San Francisco In April The first rule of packing for San Francisco is: you can wear jeans anywhere, except, perhaps, and I cannot say for certain, to opening night at the opera. The second rule (for spring packing) is: read the weather reports. You may arrive

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When Paint Color Saves You From Bossy Tile

In the course of our house fixup, on our way to the big bangs (master bedroom, front door, and culling 27 years of kids’ stuff so there’s space for my new Albert & Dash rug) I’ve stumbled upon a couple of nice small improvements. The first, which I’ve shown you, was the laundry room. The second, the master bath. All I did was choose non-white paint for the walls. But I’m jumping to the end, let’s backtrack. Maria Killam, one of the interior design bloggers you all introduced me to, espouses a concept in which hard surfaces can be bossy. Yes oh yes they can. For 23 years

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Going In-World, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:44am

I was walking back from the grocery store yesterday, and decided not to check any of my social media. As a congenital Pollyanna, I do not think social media is “bad.” Nor do I feel the world is going to hell in a handbasket; I don’t wax nostalgic for a pre-machine era. But I do think we’re going to have to manage the seduction of the virtual exactly as we must every other overabundance technology has created. Consider food. We’re built to search for and store calories. We’ve automated the search, we have to manage our storing. Consider the combustion engine. We’re built to move around. We’ve automated

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If You’re Playing With Style Assumptions, Rocksbox Is Your Friend

You may have noticed the recent proliferation of subscription services. Sign up, pay a fee, and monthly deliveries of goods ranging from beauty products to pet supplies arrive at your doorstep. I’m not wanting to add stuff impulsively these days, so have chosen to sit on the sidelines. However, when Rocksbox, a service for monthly jewelry deliveries, got in touch, I had a thought. Why not use a service like this to explore style – to investigate new possibilities, or even understand my current assumptions? And I wondered if it might be fun for those of you working on new wardrobes – either for new body shapes or

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When A Garden Surprises At Easter Time

I spent a good bit of last week’s blog break standing in my yard, not always in the grip of awe and wonder. I waxed pragmatic – planted some things, pulled other things out of the ground, snipped errant branches, watered. And was surprised, as I am every year at this time, by a brief spate of pastel flowering. Mostly this garden is quiet. Green and white – with a few red berries and leaves for winter, a little pink from the lace-cap hydrangeas in early summer. No wall o’flowers allowed, unless they are white, and part of a green hedge. A pox on vivid. But when Easter

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The Point Of You When There Is No To Do, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:54am

I often think life should be lived backwards. I’m not thinking of Youth is Wasted on the Young, or Everyone Should Get a Divorce Before They Get Married, although both those ideas can be true. No, I’m starting to wonder whether everyone should retire before they start their career. One morning during my quarterly Privilege blog break, I picked up my lined yellow pad, crossed out To Do, and wrote instead, Things I Might Choose To Do. Then all day I tried to ask myself before everything, “This?” I’ve been planning and resulting my entire life. My work motto was, “Always Be Closing,” taken from David Mamet’s play,

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What If Stacy And Clinton Came Back, Took Your Clothes, And Gave You $5000?

How would you put together a wardrobe on $5000? I saw that Stacy London’s on TV again. Clinton’s been back for a while.  So I thought it might be time to have a What To Wear extravaganza of our own. We don’t do shame here, so we’ll leave out the Not. My take.   How About A Little Look At The Reasoning? Necessaries. Fancy underwear is great and all, I’ve owned my fair share of fancy Swiss cotton, but at the end of the day Target is my source of choice. As I’m small/medium-busted, they can even supply my bras. I wear flannel PJ bottoms to write –

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Why I Still Call This Blog “Privilege,” Or, Saturday Morning at 9:07am

When I listed my daughter’s ballet shoes on eBay, I was reminded that my user name in many parts of the Internet is Amid Privilege. You know how that happened. I started this blog as a way to explore and articulate my as-yet-unnamed family culture, to integrate it with my blurt-it-all out, notice-every-iota, feel-all-the-feels temperament. I had my reasons, as they say. In those early days, I wrote in a voice from my past, the imperious tones of older female relatives. Then, as it became clear that the artifacts and aesthetics of that culture were most interesting to readers, I began to write about style. This dovetailed quite

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Keeping A Resolution At Last, Also Known As, Pointe Shoes For Sale

Time to check off of my New Year resolutions. Wait. Some among you may remember vaguely but correctly, I made none this year. I’m talking about resolutions from 2014. What?!? I am a wholehearted believer in better late than never. I had vowed to learn eBay. Alicia Kan gave us an amazing guest post on how to do it. I had planned to sell my old clothes there, and my daughter’s rare, vintage, unused pointe shoes. When it became clear that I could not easily find volunteer work that fit with my other projects, I decided to conflate fashion, charity, and the blog. I have been giving most

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Urban Archeology To Decorate A Personal History

In just 17 days, for an as-yet-unknown sum, you could take ownership of an iron gate. Not just any iron gate, mind you. A work of whimsy and commitment. Starting bid? $35,000. Estimated to go for $70,000-$90,000. Not overpriced, in my opinion. Where’s this being sold?  Guernsey’s Urban Archeology auction.  And my goodness, look at what else is on the block. More wrought iron, here avec bunny. If you’ve no need for a balustrade, surely you want a lantern. No additional details available beyond the metal thorns and flowers.     But you might want to switch eras, might prefer industrial lighting.   Or to travel overseas, to

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#RememberingLisa, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:52am

I’m going to take a moment in memoriam, if you don’t mind. Lisa Boncheck Adams died yesterday, at the age of 45. She leaves behind a husband and 3 young children. I wrote briefly about her last year, here. Back when I first met Lisa online, 5 or 6 years ago, she was always open about her experience with breast cancer, and clear that her “survivor” status was conditional. In October 2012 her disease recurred, metastasized. She spoke plainly and openly about her treatment, dismissing both false hope and shock-mongering. She used her large Twitter following, in part, to remind everyone to get their medical tests, regularly. Not

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Some Small And Manageable Changes To A Small But Multi-Use Laundry Room

Although we began our ongoing interior fix-up with the master bedroom, that’s paused because, no kidding, our new bed arrived and we’re keeping the old one until my daughter is ready to take possession. It’s bedtastic round here, with not even room enough to roll out the new rug. I’m oddly untroubled. We moved on to painting walls. That took absototalutely forever, even though for the most part I just had everything re-whited. But it’s finished. So now, as we wait for bed removal and other acts of decluttering, I’m focused on quick hits. The table and pouf, for example. And, surprisingly, the laundry room. You can find

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Use The Shopbop Sale To Get Ready For Spring

Shopbop, an online store featuring many of the slight edgier but still mainstream designers, has a sale on. It’s tiered – meaning the percentage given depends on how much you spend – and uses the code: BIGEVENT15. I’m going to buy a pair of Citizens of Humanity white jeans for spring. I had been eyeing them, just yesterday, so clearly the universe is telling me the time has come. (If you hightail it over to Une Femme, coincidentally, she’s gone black for this event. Something for everyone!) JavaScript is currently disabled in this browser. Reactivate it to view this content. I’m also going to stock up on tees

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Simplifying The Kitchen, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:34am

  One imagines that in retirement one might indulge deeply in one’s interests. Yes, and occasionally no. In particular, I’ve always loved to cook, but now find myself looking to spend less time in the act. Turns out that the kind of cooking I liked, and did well, was of the Dinner Party variety. You know. Main course, 2 sides, perhaps even a soup, and dessert. 3 different cooking techniques, 29 ingredients, and 1842 dirty implements. All the spoons in the universe. The rush and steam of final minutes. Metal spatula clanging in the saucepan, transmutation. Doesn’t a wood spoon against Le Creuset enamelware feel almost silky? Burned

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Do You Wear All Black Because Your Courage Fails You?

Do you find yourself wearing an awful lot of black? And do you find yourself apologizing, if only to yourself, for your choices? Does an all-black outfit, we might ask, reek of defeat? No I say, no! Like anything we do, as long as we reveal our intent, it’s an act of courage. You just want to make sure you don’t wear black in default. As in, “Oh I have to go out, ugh, gee, do I have some black pants, oh good there they are at the back of the closet, what else, oh heck here’s that black sweater and by god I know those black pumps

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Modernizing And “Eclecticizing” A Pottery Barn Living Room

I just might be making slow progress in the world of interiors. I bought an end table that didn’t match my Pottery Barn sofa. How did it happen? We – happily – needed enough space in the living room for 4 adults to sit comfortably. A while back, I ordered a matching Pottery Barn loveseat. The adult who sat on said loveseat realized he needed a place for his tea mug, and another place to put his feet. As I already had a coffee table similar to this, and 2 end tables like this, even my timid self knew it was time to move on. In other words,

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7 Reasons To Watch “About A Boy” And Hope It Doesn’t Get Canceled, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:01am

I’ve had a little bug the past couple of days, and in my book, being sick means permission to watch as much television as possible. Yes? In any case, I was hunting for what to watch, being temporarily out of British shows, and stumbled upon bad news. They are quite possibly going to cancel About A Boy. Huh, you say? For those who haven’t seen it, and clearly you are many given the May Cancel status, it’s small. Nothing explodes, nobody chews the scenery, no lizards get eaten. The primary cast is made up of just 3 people. Locations involve a school, a side-by-side pair of townhouses, and

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Gong Xi Fa Cai!

In San Francisco’s Chinatown. I’m holding a fortunate purchase from last weekend’s street festival. It was labeled  “pinwheel,” but is actually 8 little pinwheels on a gorgeous gold foil structure,. Happy Year of the Ram/Goat/Sheep take your pick! Similar clothing, which I wish the technology could make spin like my pinwheel. It was a beautiful day, I walked for almost 2 hours with happy feet. Affiliate links may generate commissions!

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Why Are We Better At Certain Kinds Of Style Than Others?

I was very interested to learn that many of you reverse my experience with style. While I am extremely comfortable with clothing but less so with interiors, you love interior style, find clothing more difficult. Which led me to wonder, why? Why would someone who: cares about aesthetics, enjoys implementing them in one area, might even be highly skilled in that area, not be comfortable in another? Isn’t design just design, independent of venue? I have a working hypothesis. Why Is One Kind Of Style Harder Than Another? I can think of two solid reasons someone’s capabilities might vary from domain to domain. One area simply leaves you

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La Garçonne 20% Off Current Sale Prices For President’s Day

Today is the last day of La Garçonne’s President’s Day Sale. Home of Tomboy Luxe, they’re giving us 20% off their already discounted sale, which means some items are now 60% off total. And there’s still good stuff available, with the code LGPD20. 20% off $772.00 will take your final price closer to $600. Invest in drama. Maison Martin Margiela does the tulle hem trend, in silk and polyamide. Being adults, we might even smile, and wash our hair. Or classic shoes from a design house with a legendary name. Rochas lizard-embossed flats. They come in bronze and black, too. Let’s see, at $315 on sale, down from

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The “Marry Ivy” Mom Sure Knows How To Ruin Valentine’s Day, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:13am

A sad state of affairs. It’s Valentine’s Day, 2015, and the most egregious advice on sex and marriage out there has co-branded an institution I love. No, I’m not referring to Mr. Kinsey and his club, or even Dr. Ruth and her empire, rather, to Susan Patton as the “P*ton Mom.” I’m eliding the university name for reasons that will become clear. Ms. Patton first came to public attention when she advised young women who attend an Ivy League school to find their husbands among  schoolmates, as anyone they choose later in life would be stupid. I abridge, but, not too much. Recently, Ms. Patton upped the ante

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The 2 Key Questions To Ask In Articulating Your Style: Clothing, House, Or Garden

Now that I’m writing about 3 areas of style – fashion, house, and garden – I notice a couple of commonalities. Seems to me in articulating style, of any sort, we need to ask ourselves 2 primary questions. What must our style do for our physical selves? What effect do we want to create, and for whom? The answers can be quite multi-faceted, of course. The needs and constraints of the physical self break into smaller and smaller components. Clothes: into heel height, strategies for 3 feet of snow, the number of compartments you like in your handbag. Gardens, into how much maintenance you’re willing and able to

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A Fairly Thoughtful And Just-In-Time Valentine’s Day Gift Guide

We give traditional presents on Valentine’s Day not because we lack imagination, but because our forebears were rolling in smarts. February and love call in fact for the shiny, the cuddly, the floral, and the significant. Needless to say, tradition can be upheld in intelligent, modern, and ethical ways. For The Women In Our Lives, Who Might Just Be Us Jewelry For, Or From, Your Darling I can’t think of any reason not to give pre-owned, or vintage jewelry. Price, environmental impact, and sheer desire for beauty, all conspire. If budget is in fact no object, this Chanel bracelet is still available at the vintage and consignment jewelry

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Earning The Right To Scold, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:29am

In retirement, I’ve been thinking about doing good. I confess that as a mother of small children, and then a manager and executive in technology, I cared less about virtue than excellence in my work. As a result, I’ve come at Good with the energy and naivete of a newbie. I include my emergent thoughts here, on Saturdays abstractly, and on weekdays specifically – teasing out what ethical commerce and lifestyle initiatives I might support. To be sure, my efforts are patchy, intermittent, and a little plodding. But they’re not nothing. I do get scolded. Which made me wonder, scolding, does it actually contribute to our collective virtue?

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Faith In The Face Of Newly Planted Native Plants And Their Ratty Selves

Gardeners are a faithful lot. We have to be. Native plants, those most virtuous of garden citizens, test our faith entirely. I have finished this spring’s new plantings. California natives under the Live Coast Oak, olive and “strawberry” trees along the back fence, and a couple of heuchera and nandina to fill in gaps close to the back patio. Does everything look fabulous? Not even. Let’s take a look at what I’ve got under the oak. Boy, that’s a ragtag crowd. I needed the hose to hand-water the natives and settle them in during this drought. In a couple of weeks, if we get just a little rain,

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A Post About Fashion And Identity, For The Most Part

A couple of weeks back, when Une Femme and I collaborated on posts about jeans, the last thing I expected was a referendum on whether I should wear skinnies. It got me wondering, “Why do people care so much about denim leg sleeves on a late-middle-aged woman?” Readers had commented either (we’ll use the most expressive examples), “You have a rocking body!” or, “You look like you’re picking up cardboard in good shoes!” I wanted to deconstruct what those comments might mean, with extra urgency because I realized I hadn’t yet come truly clean about why I resisted #teamskinnyjeans. So, at the highest level, why do people care

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Broth, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:32am

After a way too busy holiday season, life is finally settling back to normal. The house painters have left – they’ll come back later for a few final touches. And yes, the front door is unfinished but I have decided 1.) I don’t care right now 2.) maybe I’ll just get a new door. Mid-century modern, perhaps. While the painting pause fills my to-do list with all kinds of new stuff, I’m exercising strategic option #1 again, i.e. Just Don’t Care At Least Right Now. The best part of retirement is choice. And not caring means that this morning, as we speak, I’m sitting at my kitchen counter

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3 Public Service Announcements From And For The Privilege Community

I thought I’d round up a some interesting bits that have come my way from the community. 1. Mark Defrates Jewelry, the makers of that pentangle talisman, are offering a 15% discount for Privilege readers. No code to enter, just email Pam (markdefrates (at) mac.com) and let her know you have bought or will be buying, and she’ll apply the discount on the back end. I wear my pentangle every day now. 2. On February 2nd, Sylvia of 40+ Style is starting up a course called 21 Steps To A More Stylish You. It’s interactive online, and, although I have not done it myself, looks to be fun.

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A Few More Shots Of My Mother’s House, Santa Barbara Casual Elegance Meets Swedish Folk Empire

A couple of you have referred to my mom’s house lately, and Leslie, the blogger at Hostess of the Humble Bungalow, asked for more photos, so I snapped a few when I last visited. I’ve already showed you the living room, the guest house, a silver spoon, and the portrait of the 3 oldest kids that hangs in the master bedroom. This time we’ll start in the kitchen. The kitchen window, to be precise, with sunrise, and reflections. The kitchen sitting room, if that’s an an actual thing, also at sunrise. The brick fireplace was in place when mom and my stepfather moved in, they had the saltillo

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An Actual Room Of One’s Own, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:32am

I visited my mom this week. On the way to Santa Barbara, I stopped in the totally surprisingly adorable town of Los Olivos, to have lunch with Margy of Fool For Fabric. What a gift. You know when the universe offers you a token of future possible? Margy is older than I am. She’s been working in her studio for years, in various modes of creation. Now she sews some pretty astonishing clothes. While I’m unlikely to sew or ever want to – I struggle with small motor coordination – the meta-concept of a studio, now that’s something. I had always scoffed at a Room Of One’s Own.

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California Jeaning, North

Today une femme d’un certain âge and Lisa of Privilege are collaborating, each writing a post about the love we share for denim. We thought it might be fun to approach from the perspective of two Californians, one north, one south. Denim is our state’s unofficial uniform, after all. In the past, it’s been said that women over 50 shouldn’t wear jeans. To which I reply, “Ha!” Perhaps there is an age at which one puts denim aside, but it’s not 58. In the Northern Californian climate, denim is always comfortable and versatile. We alternate between classic and hipster, the SF Old World tradition coexisting with our counter-culture –

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Object Of Desire: A Simple Black Anorak

One of the best tricks I have to stay moderately stylish in retirement is to upgrade utilitarian pieces. If jeans, sneakers and tees have a little edge to them, I run far less risk of finding myself at the market dressed like a 12-year old boy. Which has happened. These days I’m thinking of replacing my 10-year old sporting goods jacket with a new anorak. Or parka. Do you think the word mys means different things? Let’s say no. In any case, anoraks have been so popular recently that they’re everywhere. The easiest option is an army green field jacket, but I want something softer than my J.

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Design With Courage, A Review Of “Simplicity” By Nancy Braithwaite

As I have said before, interior design scares me. What to wear? No problem. What to plant? Lots of suggestions. How to furnish a house? Yikes. I’ll come right out and admit that ever since I decided to update my house I’ve been dithering – bedroom furniture, front doors, cushion colors for my living room – what to choose? So when I saw this book reviewed – somewhere – I clicked over to buy it so quickly I can’t remember who to thank for the recommendation. In any case, thanks. I’m talking about Nancy Braithwaite’s manifesto Simplicity, on her interior designs. It’s large, full of images, beautifully presented,

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How To Fall In Love With Anyone, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:11am

This is a list of questions to make you fall in love. Sit with your partner, or friend, or even a stranger, both of you asking and answering. At the end you stare into each other’s eyes for 4 whole minutes. These 36 questions can make you fall in love with anyone I thought the idea was lovely, and perhaps even true. I sent it to my kids. When my son got my email, he was with a friend who had just told him about the same list. How did his friend know? His mom. Imagine mothers everywhere, knowing just how much love matters. Wanting our kids to

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Once Again, Technology Hiccups

Edited: The issues appear to have been resolved, happily, and we should be back on track with the usual folderol. Thank you for your patience, and Kelly Phillips at Boost Interactive Media for her help. Hello all. Once again I am having issues with email post notifications. I am not yet sure whether this is a software issue, i.e. to do with the WordPress plugin I use, or an email delivery issue, i.e. the email service providers like Yahoo and Google having decided that my blog posts are evil;). I’m working on the issue, but tech support is reeling under post-holiday demands. If you happen to land here,

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Is The World Getting Worse Or Better?, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:35am

Is the world getting worse or better? I worry, because I have assumed all my life that it’s getting better, and if I’m wrong I’ve made some bad choices. So this is a serious question, albeit one in need of clarification. Here’s what I mean by getting better. Are we finding our way to more well-being for more sentient creatures? Well-being in the sense of physical health combined with social tolerance, or, best case, kindness? I believe the more people who live healthy lives, allow each other to do the same, and accept others’ non-violent personal choices, the better world the world becomes. One note. I weight this

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Packing For Not Quite A Week In Hawaii

I’ve become an unwitting expert in resort packing. I’d shake my head over my own frivolity, but would rather give the frivolous knowledge away and hope it’s useful. Here’s what goes in my suitcase. I plan by “use case” rather than by item type. Key takeaway, please do not underestimate the versatility of white cotton sweaters and jeweled sandals. Packing List for The Four Seasons Hualalai on Hawaii’s “Big Island” Dinners Tori Richards shift I bought in Kauai Karen Millen Lavender cotton shift (the Karen Millen needed dry cleaning, as it turned out) Tory Burch skirt (didn’t wear it) White cotton sweater, comparable Day 2 bathing suits (no,

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Helicopters And Volcanoes

The Four Seasons was glorious, but we managed to leave once or twice. Hawaii is a pretty compelling island after all. First, we all ventured out to see one the island’s live volcanoes, Kilauea, from a helicopter. Along with a few cliffs and waterfalls. The volcano made me cry. Not because I’m afraid of lava, although, of course, I am, but because it brought home how alive our planet is. A living system. We flew right near the caldera. You can see a bit of molten lava through the smoke, like an invisible spirit’s campfire. The rest is flowing, underground in tubes, or overground through the forests. This

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A Review Of The Four Seasons Hualalai On Hawaii’s “Big Island”

In the middle of December, Significant Husband, my two grown children, and I packed up and flew to Hawaii. The Big Island, to be specific. Our destination? The Four Seasons Hualalai. Two years ago we stayed at their sister resort on Maui, this time we thought we’d try remote-ish and volcanic. Let’s start with a brief overview of the facilities. Catnip to the resort aficionados among us. The resort consists of: An open-air lobby 6 swimming pools (main rectangular pool, 2 children’s pools, an adult’s only infinity pool with swim-up bar, lap pool, and a salt water pool with fish in it. Yes, fish.) 3 restaurants (Italian at

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When Last We Spoke, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:05am

Since last we spoke… Oh, wait, where are my manners? How are you? Did you have good holidays, if you were celebrating? Did you get way more done at work than the rest of us, if you were not? And Happy New Year again to all. OK then. I am as full of ideas about house decorating, gardens, adult children, the meaning of life, and, yes, fashion, as ever. But before we return to our usual fare, can I prevail upon you to join me in a group deep breath? And to take a brief look back at the past 6 weeks? Since right before Thanksgiving I have:

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2015

  Clear sailing ahead.   Photo: “Glide” by Dmytro Kochetov. Lake Tahoe, December 2013. Via Flickr, here. Red glitter for font, also via Flickr, here.

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Holiday Break, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:43am

Time for the Privilege holiday break. For all of you celebrating Christmas and the Gregorian New Year, may all your festivities be glorious and bright. For those of you in other cultures, may your next couple of weeks be as full of peace, hope, and joy as humanly possible. Thank you so much for reading. Have a wonderful weekend, and I will see you in January, 2015. My how time flies.

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Mad Dogs And Englishwomen: How To Buy A Swimsuit In The Wintertime

My family has a tradition of winter trips to warm places. Usually warm places by the seaside, where, with any luck, we swim. Here’s the thing. Have you ever noticed how swimsuits seem to age even when they’re just drawer-warming? How suits that looked great in August become unwearable by December? What’s up with that? And it’s hard to find warm weather gear in cold weather times. Therefore, in preparation for this year’s trip, I thought I’d run to Nordstrom. I imagined myself emerging victorious, with one of the suits below clutched to my breast. Nordstrom is almost always my go-to store when I really need a functional

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Should I Give My Boss A Gift?

The worst holiday present I ever got came from someone I quite liked. It wasn’t an insult or lump of coal. Nor was it wrapped in glitter paper, to explode into the carpet and sparkle like a drunk party-crasher. Nope, it was simply a present from a peer at work. Wine maybe. But it was all done up, with a card and an envelope. And I had nothing to give in return. “Hells bells!” as my father might say. Workplace giving can be tricky. Oh, at a Fortune 250 company,  it’s OK. HR makes sure you know who to give presents to, and when, and how. Or, at

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Let Us Remember That Presents Can Be Awesome, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:57am

My Aunt L., she of the recent 80th birthday and head prefect of Sturdy Gal Academy, gives all her adult nieces and nephews Christmas presents. I will point out, there are a lot of us. Win had 4 daughters, my mother 3 daughters and 1 son. But every year Aunt L. wraps and delivers to everybody. The best present she ever gave, which, in retrospect, may be one of the best ever given or received in my family, was a net bag of chestnuts and a chestnut roaster. Since we tend more, as a group, to irreverence than nut roasts, when the time came to go home one

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A Couple Of Dumb Lessons From My California Winter Garden

Gardens are such obvious teachers we might wave our hands in dismissal. “Oh,” with an additional shake of the head, “We knew that already!” But in these days of information and calculation, dumb lessons dog us. Imagine a California garden in winter, for example. Palm trees, surfers and tropical flowers may come to mind. Nope. We’re north. Home to fallen leaves, red berries, and decaying camellias. That particular camellia is a sasanqua, if you wondered. My part of California doesn’t go white in December. We’ll get gray skies with rain, or blue with still-warm sun. Both support growth. So little new green things sprout just as our leaves

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Presents Anyone Can Give To Me (And By Extension To Their Friends) This Christmas, Ranging From Reasonably Priced To Totally Frugal

  *That song was in fact, Belinda tells us, written by Nick Lowe. Elvis got me through the rocky parts of my 20s, so gotta keep him on the card. My friends, we have come to the final installment of the gift guides you requested for this Christmas season. I hope that if you celebrate the holiday your preparations are going smoothly, accompanied by humor and grace from your comrades in crime. Here are some affordable presents I myself would like – now that we’re talking me we’ll use the High WASP term, “presents” – ranging from reasonable-ish, to full-on, can’t-do-much-better frugality. I hope you find some ideas

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Thanks And Favorites, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:34am

About that Thanksgiving menu. The Diestel heritage turkey, delicious. A meat thermometer is critical, however, as it cooked much faster than advised. Gravy from roux (half pan drippings, half butter, plus flour) and giblet stock, with chopped turkey liver? Do pour in the glass of wine that the Diestel site recommends. Tasted just like mom used to make. Hers was salty too. How about the carbs and sugar? Salted caramel apple pie? Divine. Salt, sweet caramel, and the tree-redolent tang of apples kind of divine. Your son using his childhood origami skills on a pie crust lattice kind of divine. Meanwhile the recipe-from-can pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes with

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Host Gifts For The Male High WASP Style Archetypes

Sometimes, your host is a man. If he’s High WASP or, no matter his background, exhibits telltale similar behaviors, here are a few brief suggestions for gifts on arrival. Arrive at the Master of the Universe’s party with your smart phone to hand. Take your host aside and tell him, if anyone needs a ride home tonight, the Über bill is on you. If you are boycotting Über for their CEO’s bad behavior, which, granted, the Master probably doesn’t mind, go with Lyft. Bring the Artsy Cousin something funny but pretty for his meditation practice. Buddha can glow in 1 of 4 colors, so M. Artsy can even

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Hostess Gifts For The Style Archetypes

Along come holiday parties, laughing all the way. It’s so nice when guests bring presents. But here’s the rub. Everybody can find something to hate about anything, “Can you BELIEVE she brought a perfectly hand-crafted widget that she had the GALL to make with her own hands? She KNOWS I have no space.” So don’t spend too much money, or fret much about the perfect object. It is the thought that counts. Of course, we don’t want to offend. No cheese to vegans, no alcohol to teetotalers, no Christmas-dominant objects to observers of other winter holidays. Oh, and no scents for the scentsitive. To my way of thinking,

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How To Create Fun, Memorable, Even Beautiful, Christmas Traditions On A Budget

You all asked me for some posts about holidays on limited budgets. I’m right there with you, and it’s actually quite a lovely spot. We’ve got options. For example, we can shift the focus from gifts to ambiance. Consider decor, and the many ways to intensify the jolly without diluting net worth. Wallet-Respecting Yet Christmas-Cheering Decor Christmas trees. Trees are priced by the foot. Under 6′ is affordable, under 5′ even more so. So go small and go crazy with your hoard of decorations and lights. Find impact in density vs.verticality. If you do have extra money in your pocket, seek out an organic tree farm. I found

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Only One Thing To Sale About Cyber Monday: La Garçonne Has 15% Off

La Garçonne,  maîtresse of the Polished Tomboy guild, is having a Cyber Monday sale. 15% off with code CM15REG. Oh, and they have cool stuff for men too. Their goods are expensive, but so elegantly chosen and displayed, I can browse their site without heartache at what I can no longer afford.  And what wonderful, extravagant gifts, for someone.   Affiliate links may generate commissions.

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The Original Sturdy Gal Turns 80, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:03

We rolled straight from a lovely, small, simple Thanksgiving into a birthday party for the original, iconic Sturdy Gal. My mother’s younger sister turns 80 this year, and her 3 sons and their wives organized a surprise dinner for her with 65 guests. It was just wonderful. My aunt was toasted and honored, for her generosity, her caring, her intelligence, her competence. Stories ranged from the ditch she dug recently to get at a couple of broken pipes, to her games of “Sardines” with great-nieces and nephews, to those times she took in lonely family members and fed them, well. Really, an occasion of joy and wonderment, for

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Black Friday/Cyber Monday Deals, In Moderation

Today begins the American season of winter holiday shopping. Some of you may venture into stores. I’ll wave to you from my long-suffering sofa. I probably won’t even start Christmas purchasing for another week, if we’re honest. But some of you, nay many of you, are probably way more organized. For you, then, to whom I bow, some online sales for these next few days. Which I refuse to speak of as Black Friday and/or Cyber Monday because, what are we, bandits and robots? Come on commercial America, where’s the holly jolly genius in our copywriting now? I’ve organized these into categories: Charity,  Retailers We Know And Love,

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Winter Holiday Traditions Of One High WASP Family

Somewhat surprisingly, the winter holiday traditions of my High WASP family were not strictly related to wealth. At least not to its consumption. Nor did they resemble Downton Abbey, except in the candlesticks and changing for meals. But I’m getting ahead of myself, so we’ll slow down, and take a reasonably well-organized stroll through High WASP culture. High WASP Childhood Thanksgivings And Christmases Let’s first give money its due. ☆ Abundance, And The Beauty Of Good Design Mom always set holiday tables with silver candelabra, at least as I remember. Tripartite, twisted, and not a little wobbly. Also Grandma Nina’s table linens. It was important that we know

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Mothering: The Romance Novel, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:52am

I’ve been talking to some mothers recently. I called my own. Such an odd experience, talking to a woman who is losing her memory but retaining everything else. The voice and the expressions haven’t changed. “Hello darling!” she says. She knows she misses me, but she doesn’t remember when she saw me last. She rarely forgets she has 4 children, but I’m not sure if she knows who I am, today. A few minutes into the conversation it becomes clear that she can’t remember what she just said, but that she wants to see me, whenever I can make time. Her memory loss doesn’t prevent me from recognizing

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Family Photography Shoots For Cards, And Gifts, And Art

Towards the end of 2013, for his birthday or maybe Christmas, I gave my brother a family photography session. Last he, my sister-in-law and Cute Nephew met up with the photographer, and spent the morning wandering around San Francisco’s Mission District. My sister-in-law is now working on a photo book for grandparents. Shhhh. They’re also going to have some great Christmas cards, assuming of course that they’ve got the time to send any. In this day of all-photography-all-the-time, you might wonder, “Why pay for images – they flit by my camera/phone lens at the rate of a million/per second, there for the taking?” A couple of reasons. First,

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7 Pieces For A Non-Rustic Thanksgiving Table: Posh, Or Nosh?

Anyone else out there with a fangirl love for table settings? Oh the crystal, oh the gilt, oh the gleam. While I appreciate rustic Thanksgiving tables – n a hello pretty picture kind of way – my heart belongs to fancy. Or, as the British say so endearingly, “Posh.” Perhaps I have a few allies here? But posh is expensive! How annoying! Harrumph. So, here’s a graphic for those who would be Posh, but must at least Nosh. Yes, that’s a completely dopey alliteration, and now you know why I was not a marketing executive, but let’s forge ahead. From plates to candelabra, the look for less. Details:

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The Privilege Pre-Holiday Season Report To The Board, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:27am

Time for the Privilege Report To The Board, in which I show a few numbers, and discuss issues of strategic concern. I’ve done this before, through the years, in an effort to stay transparent. This time it’s particularly important, if only to my mental health, because the season of Buy It All has arrived. If you think shopping malls are early on the Christmas bandwagon, you should see what blogger email inboxes look like. Yikes. So I wanted to talk stats, money in particular, and let you know how I’m thinking I’ll approach the balance of Thought, Soul and Stuff, in the weeks to come. The Statistics of

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One New Piece For The Entertaining Holidays: From Sky’s The Limit To, “Hey! I Could Get That!”

As I’ve said before, if I don’t get myself one new piece for the holidays, I’m prone to a certain wistful regret. Celebrations feel just a little more celebratory in new duds. This year, I’m thinking about a new party top. See, I’m almost always the one cooking, if not as the head chef then as a bustling sous. And I cook with abandon. So I’ve found that the best holiday dinner outfit for me is a pair of dressy trousers, like these from J. Crew (once black is back in stock), and a festive top, which I don’t actually put on until we eat. Cook in cotton

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Breakfast With Roofers, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:33am

You might think that someone with a roof leak might think to fix said leak before she began painting her house. People be crazy, what can I say? Yep, a roof leak, into my master bath as it happens. And I live in a region so flush with cash from Twitter, Facebook, Instagram et. alia. that I cannot find a craftsperson for  simple repairs. Everyone wants to build mansions. People be crazy. Needless to say, when I finally did find someone willing to take care of a small leak, just in advance of rain predicted for next week, he was available only first thing Saturday, aka today. Which

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What Color Does A High WASP Paint Her Front Door For Good Feng Shui?

As part of the house fix-up, we’re having everything painted, inside and out. The house exterior has always been light greenish-gray with white trim, the interior varying shades of white on both walls and trim. I feel little urge for change. Except. I want to paint my front door a completely different color. Right now it’s white. White, old, and all banged up. Shall we share a few ugly photos? Ever so attractive. Don’t fret about that concrete. Potted plants to the eventual rescue. All you lovers of mid-century, this is what a real 1954 doorknob looks like. Turns out some 1950s builders preferred Medieval Dungeon to Mies

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Where Can I Find Reasonably Priced Cute Reading Glasses?

Ah, reading glasses. One of the universal experiences of aging, that moment when we reset our daily lives just to be able to see close up. If you asked me, “Lisa, do you wear glasses,” I’d probably say no. But then, if we look closely, I’d have to recant. I wear reading glasses 70% of the time. And not just for reading. As evidence, here are photos from my wedding and reception. In the first, my son is pouring Perrier on me to help remove the red wine I’ve just spilled down my front. I’m holding champagne suede sparkle-toed Jimmy Choos in my hand, so they don’t get

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Just What Is It About British TV?, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:05am

Just what is it about English television? While I do believe that today’s best fictional experience can be found in American TV series, I enjoy the English stuff in an entirely different way. The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, Orange Is The New Black, Transparent – all brilliant, but also challenging. Downton Abbey, Call The Midwife, Doc Martin? A night with these casts of characters and I sleep like a baby. Why? Because these are comedy/dramas of manners? Perhaps. But I think it’s something else. For example, I have loved watching Sarah Lancashire in Happy Valley. It’s a crime drama, complete with mayhem. Why then does it give me the

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Object Of Desire: Even Tomboys Get Cold Necks

Scarves are popular. And well-documented, by Mai Tai, Deja Pseu, and the Hostess, among others. In silk, a hallmark of the Grande Dame. Fringed, purview of the Artsy Cousin. Sturdy Gals and tomboys, however, avoid the traditional carré, unnerved by both flapping and sheen. Give us a rectangle, that domesticated geometry, that sometimes Golden Shape, and let simple squared-off ends hang safely at our lapels. We do, however, support color. You can remove scarves without risking nudity, after all. And for color, in a rectangle, there’s really nothing quite like Etro. All praise the Italians. Now, Etro’s admittedly pricey. But if you click through the carousel below, from

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Clearing The Ways, And Letting Them Hide

  In fashion, I err on the side of repression. I wear less color and flash than my personality might support. High WASPs are like that and always have been, we worship appropriate, and set our dashboard to flash an early warning for impropriety. In the garden, however, I err on the side of letting go. And where this takes me, often, is down a path to the joy and rhythm of mess. How so? In modern landscaping, at least in California, landscapers often rely on what I think of as “wallpaper vegetation,” i.e. affix 6 dozen impatiens to your front yard and be done. The green stuff

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A Whiteboard Analysis Of Renee Zellweger’s Plastic Surgery, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:29am

As 99% of you probably know, the actress Renee Zellweger had plastic surgery. The Internet opined. My apologies if you are ready to be done discussing, but the storm of talk has made me feel as I often did in business meetings, compelled 3/4 of the way through to leap from the table and start writing on a white board. “Let me just see if I can line it out,” I’d say, scribbling. Then add a few rectangles and arrows. Or a bulleted list. Anything to reveal the logical structure of the debate. Here’s what I think about Renee. What she did is just fine, except. Let’s analyze

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Talismans, Pentagrams, Longitudes, Latitudes

Do you find that odd little things can make your history clearer all at once? Last week I read Tana French’s latest mystery, The Secret Place. I love her stuff. This takes place at an exclusive girl’s school outside of Dublin, and derives no small part of its color from the magical rites of teenagers. As I read, the High WASP in me spoke severely, “Over the top!” The prose seemed too purple, the supernatural happenings too preposterous. And then I remembered actually being a teen and pre-teen. Took an effort, almost a quantum leap to put myself back in that time. Those years when pretend was as

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Tailgating With ALL The Gear

So, the San Francisco Giants are in the World Series. I’m always surprised when this happens, we’re too Alternative to be good at sports, right? Apparently not! This weekend Significant Husband and I went walking out behind the ballpark Do you know how beautiful this city is? Look. A photo posted by Lisa Carnochan (@amidprivilege) on Oct 10, 2014 at 3:05pm PDT As it turns out, the ballpark, in addition to glassy harbor waters and picturesque boats at dock, offers ground level gameday spots for a small, free, standing audience. You watch for 3 innings, then they shoo you out and wave in the next group. Populism in action.

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5 Things To Do This Week In Preparation For Winter Holidays And None Of Them Even Smell Like Gift Shopping

Last week I was walking through a shopping center in search of Teavana’s Dragonwell, when I spotted, not one, but three “holiday” stores. They sprout up now like little redwood seedlings in the mall-forests of California. I sighed.  Ah, well, no point wasting exasperation on things ignorable, is there? On the other hand, a few other errands last week reminded me that there are a few tasks you might take on, even though Christmas  – my winter holiday of origin – is a ways off. Have no fear – I would not think of exhorting you to start gift-shopping. I never finish fortifications until the week of, and

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You Could Use The Shopbop Sale For A Big Cool Clutch

Yes, I’m on break, this doesn’t count. The RewardStyle people wrote me to say the Shopbop sale is on,  at the exact moment when I was browsing Pinterest street style and realizing that the bag of the moment is an over-sized, soft-sided clutch. Envelope, fold-over, pouch, all good options. And all available at Shopbop for 25% off, with the code, FAMILY25. JavaScript is currently disabled in this browser. Reactivate it to view this content. Of course if you’d rather look at the Vince slipon sneakers (also on sale), as a reasonable person might, Grechen’s got her highlighted items up over here. Pretend you didn’t see me?   Affiliate

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Quarterly Blog Break

Hi guys! Time for the usual quarterly blog break. For any of you new to this self-published-time-stamped-upload-images game, I highly recommend planned breaks as a way to keep yourself going. New tagline, happily writing for 5 years and more? See you in a week!

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Extreme Casual Style For Weekends, Retirement, Stay-At-Home Moms And Anyone, Really

Back in 2013, I wrote a post about putting together a whole new wardrobe from scratch. We talked about how to stratify your closet, allowing you to dress well even when you have to muster all your courage to make the effort, along with some strategies for better days. However, back then I was working, and the ideas I presented included the office. What are the equivalent ideas for the non-office world? For truly, madly, deeply casual lives? Weekends, stay-at-home moms, or Tomboy Retirement? The numbers and outfits are different, the stratification concept similar. Stage 1: Survival You can barely dress yourself, but, needs must. Kids have to

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Why Does My Mattress Cost More Than Everything Else In My Bedroom Put Together?

Somewhere on the way to refurbishing a master bedroom, you might find you need a new mattress. Round here, I’m still sleeping on the full-size bed I bought for the apartment of my post-divorce years. It’s neither cozy nor romantic. It’s small. So we’ve been looking at king-sized options. Unfortunately, enter the Princess and her associated Pea. First, I injured my shoulder, back in January, in part because I ‘m a side-sleeper. Imagine a broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped person lying on their side. Weight rests on the relatively rigid hip, while shoulder and multiple associated bones fold uncomfortably forward. This, along with other modern insults to the body, can provoke

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Retiring To Your Self, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:12am

  This week, Materfamilias blogged about reaching the decision to retire.  I use the term “reaching” advisedly, because these big life decisions often sneak up on us, like the proverbial bend in a mountain road. One minute you’re trudging along, eye on uneven terrain, the next, vistas. It’s been a little over a year now since salaried employment and I parted ways. I am not actively looking for a job, and therefore call myself, “retired.” It’s an interesting time. As context, both my career and my retirement have followed a slightly irregular path. As I’ve said before, I wound up a software executive – on a whim. Ha!

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Introducing Uncommon Goods, And A Few Beautiful Objects

Uncommon Goods has sponsored this post. However, I am honor-bound to give you my true opinion, otherwise my dad might speak to me strictly in his study. I am a big fan of capitalism, when tempered with kindness. As it happens, I’m the only person “in trade” left in my family, everybody else is devoted to truth, knowledge, and kindness. But I do believe that one can do right in business: that top-flight business practices are today’s manifestation of what’s good in the American dream, and that often the impact of our laws is our best export. So consider, if you would be so kind, a company called

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It’s My Birthday And This Is What I Wanted

I turn 58 today. My loved ones are generous, I am well-fêted, but doesn’t everyone like to give themselves a little present on their birthday? Here’s mine. No, not a Crystal Palace girder extravaganza, nor a gig at Javits Center. The book. It’s Lena Dunham’s, Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She’s “Learned.” As it turns out, Ms. Dunham very considerately picked my birthday to launch her new endeavor. Thanks honey. When I was young I would in fact have been sad about Lena. I would have felt jealous, wished to have her platform, as we call it now, to tell the world

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Something Other Than Listsicles, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:48am

I want to thank whoever recommended The Browser to me. A hunt through the blog comments and email yielded no name, so you remain our mystery informant. In March, I wrote here that I felt uneducated, with respect to the world. Everyone gave me great recommendations. Six months later, The Browser has made perhaps the most noticeable difference in my knowledge, or at least to my sense of my own knowledge. What I actually know or don’t know, well, who can say, of course. But in the past 6 months I’ve read articles on Putin, power politics, US foreign policy, historical research, the workings of the brain, and

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The One Piece Of Clothing I Might Buy This Fall, OK Maybe Two Or Three

Around the world, seasons are changing. Australia welcomes Spring, the East Coast of the United States prepares for Autumn, we here in Northern California await, well, black denim. It’s a myth that California has no seasons. At least in the North. We’ve got them, of a subtle and simple variety. Above all, we live by Rain Or No Rain. This morning, as I write, it’s raining for the first time in ages, so happy in this year of pronounced drought. Beyond water, we feel our seasons in small shifts, the gold of the light in late afternoon, the first morning the front door opens to cool air, the

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The Kind Of Garden Just About Anyone Can Grow

Of all my retirement projects, my container garden may provide the most small and bubbling happinesses. I started it back in July, from seed. I planted Grandpa Ott morning glories, sweet alyssum, purple basil, and delphiniums. If you are hypothesizing that this led to an all-purple extravaganza, you are quite right. But it took time. The morning glories grew first. Like crazy. The alyssum sprouted too. The basil dilly-dallied, the delphiniums did nothing. I pouted. Then, before we left for England, I threw some petunias in one of the pots to compensate for my laggards. I set up a drip tubing system, of which I was very proud

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Why We Need Women In Tech, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:20am

Did you know that when you look to start a business built on software, you are likely to be told you need a technical co-founder? Someone who can build the first working prototype of your  product, be it website, phone app, or refrigerator that can order milk? Someone who will code for free, for however long, before anyone will invest? No? Understandable. I would expect it to be news to many, as, despite working in Silicon Valley tech since the 1990s, I am surprised. I found out in recent investigations of a business I might like to start myself. But so what, right? So what if capital flows

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Packing With Good Imagination And Imagining A Good Pack

I’m usually pretty good at packing. This trip to England, erm, well, um, spotty. I failed to use the Use Case Method to its best advantage. Specifically, I packed for special events like The Dinner With Friends and A Hike Through The Cotswolds, while neglecting the more common Long Walk Through London As Rain Threatens. To say nothing of the Repeated Paying Of Entrance Fees To Enter Overly Warm Buildings. By the end of the trip I was quite certain as to what I ought to have brought. I will offer up my suitcase and resultant outfits here so we can all learn from my experience. What I

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All The Beds Of My Life, And Now For A Good One

Have we agreed yet that decorating a house is harder than decorating one’s corpus? “Corpus,” used in the sense of the original Latin here to mean physical body, the word more often refers to one’s literary body of work. But I digress. Nothing like word geekery to reestablish one’s sense of competence. So I ordered a sample of this blue green rug, discussed more fully here, only to find that what appeared to be subtle striations were actual stripes. Too much noise underfoot for me. So back goes the sample, and we’re trying another. This one, from Garnet Hill. Which also implies a return to my vision of

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The Art Of Helping, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:33am

Last night the Gallery had an opening. Among other artists, they featured Lily Stockman. Those are her flowers, above. I would have loved to have attended. I own one of her paintings, Her Favorite Time Of Day, and I love it. But as it turned out, I have been struggling with fatigue, and couldn’t get myself out of the house last night. Why fatigue? The easy, fun answer is jet lag from the UK. The harder reason is that after I returned from overseas, I set off alone to Santa Barbara to see my mother. Mom’s losing her memory. I drove there. Stayed 4 nights and then drove

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A Fairly Brief But Happy Review Of The Shangri-La Hotel At The Shard, London

Americans thinking of a splurge stay in London might first focus on hotels of mahogany, brass, leather and old paint. Understandable. England does historic luxury pretty dang well. But in our recent travels my daughter and I stayed at the Shangri-La at the Shard, and there’s a good case to be made for skyscraper hospitality. Even in the city of Today’s Most Famous Queen. The Shangri-La’s got a nice intimate modern lobby. No milling throngs, as you might find at the Savoy, for example. Tourists visiting the top of the Shard for viewing use a separate entrance, a visit which for whatever reason we never made. The clerk

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A Phalanx Of Earrings To Rescue A Very, Very, Very Casual Wardrobe

Warning. This post has way too many pictures of my ears. Remember how I thought retirement-wear meant hunting down fancy sweatpants? Hey, turned out to be a big trend, but not for me. I make my way through this new world in jeans and more jeans, in the company of their friends, tees and sweatshirts. All the while yearning for a little shine on the side. Earrings to the rescue. To be specific, danglers. A trick I will forever credit to Alyson at That’s Not My Age. Thanks! I’ve posted everything in my collection before (hence the large collection of auracular* images) but I thought it might be

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Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:42am

Do you ever get an uncontrollable urge to contradict popular memes? If only for the sake of argument? While I have vowed never to become she who grumbles that society is going to hell in a handbasket, one who finds fault daily with the points of modern thought, I give up when it comes to overly popular concepts. I mutter, under my breath, as the media rehashes ideas. Oh what the heck. Let’s mutter out loud. For example, anyone else tired of the French? Not as actual humans, they’re lovely, as is their architecture and embroidery. But as benchmarks for skills of all sorts? It was probably The

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A 10 Day Summer Itinerary In England, Complete With 7 Tips For The Middle-Aged Traveling With Adult Children

Travel recommendations are so particular. My fun might evoke your despair. So rather than advice about travel to England on a general level, here’s the story of  what my daughter and I did on our summer vacation. If we arrive at wider insights, bonus points for all. Our Somewhat Jaw-Dropping 10-Day Itinerary First, the not-short 10-day itinerary. Links included for those who want yet more information. In sum, we spent 4 1/2 days in London, 2 days in Oxford, and 2 days in a Cotswold town called Chipping Campden. Chipping Campden. Isn’t that lovely? Onward. Monday: Land at 7:15am, after 10 hours in United Economy Plus. Take the

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Is London The New New World?, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:27am

An interesting thing happened in London. My daughter and I went in search of two houses in the city where  I had previously lived. In 1967-8, we spent a year living in at 17 Tregunter Road. I can report that it’s still there, white, surrounded by trees. Later, after graduating from college in 1978, I lived with a former roommate in Knightsbridge in a basement flat on Brompton Square. Right near Harrods. That building is also still there, along with an associated garden for residents.   I sent a requisite Look Where We Are Now! photo off to my roommate, who is still a good friend. She recognized

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A Few Select Labor Day Sales, Off The Beaten Track

I got an email about Labor Day sales today. This is the time of year when it’s possible you’ve just shuushed a bunch of kids off to school, or finished up a great summer vacation. Maybe it’s time to fill a wardrobe gap, or buy something surprising, just because. I thought I might pass on a few of the retailers/brands I like that are a little less well-known, or perhaps not known for certain goods. See what you think. Labor Day Sales On The Web JavaScript is currently disabled in this browser. Reactivate it to view this content. Affiliate links may produce commissions.

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It’s Not A Sprint, It’s A Relay; Three Style Bloggers Take The Baton.

As I have broadened my scope to write about house style and gardens, by necessity I spend less time on clothing and accessories. I thought I could perhaps address the gap by pointing you to a few style bloggers  – new to me – whose taste I find – as Jane Austen would say – quite agreeable. 1. Modern And Minimal For Every Budget Stiletto Jungle – all kinds of angles on minimalist looks, for all kinds of price points. 2. Thoughtful And Just Glamorous Enough At Midlife High Heels In The Wilderness. I love her style and her down to earth approach to writing about it. Both

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We’re In England! Or, Saturday Morning at 8:35am GMT

Yes, we’re in England, Tall Redheaded Daughter and I. In fact, we’ve been here all week. I drafted the book post roughly, before we left, and finished it one afternoon in a pause between London sights. Now we’re in Oxford for 2 days, before we head up to a village in the Cotswolds. Where we will apparently be drenched with rain, but how British is that? We’re lugging rain ponchos, umbrella, and boots in our bags, prioritized against more swanky gear, and hope to walk up and down the green hills, wetly. Significant Husband stayed home, as he travels so much for work that airplanes and hotels no

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Thumbnail Reviews Of Five Good Books And One Horrid One

I imagine many of you are lifelong and enthusiastic readers. Me too. Someone asked that I post book reviews now and then. Well, on an occasional basis, we just might give it a shot. Here are a few thumbnails of notable and fairly new works. We’ve got five worth a read, and one that may be the worst ever. Something must play salt to our literary caramel, after all. The Golem and the Jinni (P.S.) This writer invents, sustains, and evolves an unusual construct quite beautifully. A Jini from the deserts (a man,) and a Golem, created out of clay in Russia (a woman), meet in 19th century

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For The Troubled, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:22am

It’s been a tough couple of weeks for the world. So, with apologies to Twitter pals, who’ve seen these before, I thought I’d post links to two surprisingly nice pieces. The first is on Medium, written by a software engineer, of all people. It’s about politeness. Authentic politeness, the kind more closely related to graciousness than protocol. (On a side note, I found it via The Browser, which a reader recommended to me following this post, and I now pass on to you. A site that curates links to thought pieces from around the web – I use the word “curates” advisedly.) The second I found via Refinery29,

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When It All Begins – Back To School In Teen And Pre-Teen Style

At what point in our lives do we first consider style? Parents dress their babes, grandparents unearth treasures for grandchildren, but big kids start to develop their own tastes as they approach the teen years. Some, of course, are late bloomers. Hands up. We spent my 6th grade year in London, and I wore a uniform to school, every day. Somehow that got me paying attention as never before. Occasionally we were allowed to wear our own clothes. I remember even now a dress Mom bought me that spring. Imagine London in 1968, cream and orange Liberty flowered cotton, almost canvas, belted low and wide in the same

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Planting Under An Oak Tree, Or, California Natives In A Suburban Wasteland

I’ve shown you my California Mediterranean Cottage Garden, out front, and the Wish I Were A Woodland, out back. But, as we used to say, there’s moooooore. Behold The Blasted Wasteland. Sigh. Here’s a story. Although somewhat specific to Northern California, I suspect that the plot elements, i.e. a need for privacy, a particular climate, and a forced shift in perspective revealing new choices, might be common to house-owners and gardeners everywhere. See that neighboring house? It used to be 1-storey, hidden by their hedge. But they remodeled, as people will in the Land-Of-Ever-Soaring-Real-Estate-Prices. Then they cut down the plantings so as to have more lawn. I’ve been

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The 10 Things I Really Learned In Business School And The 1 Thing I Didn’t, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:44am

I graduated from Columbia Graduate School of Business in 1983. Ever since, the decision’s been a bit of an outlier in my life. After all, in those days and maybe even now, those who aimed high went to Harvard, Stanford, Wharton, or Chicago. Yale, maybe, for non-profit and the arts. I always aimed high. But I was young, and without useful mentors, and I made up ideas about my future out of whole cloth. Whole cloth and constructs, that is. What do I mean? I had always wanted to write, but all I knew was that  it couldn’t be fiction. On the other hand, I had once been

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Introducing Abe’s Market – Living Lightly On The Earth

If we’re talking values and virtue, as occasionally we seem to do, I have to talk about living lightly on the planet. In my house we compost, we recycle. That’s easy, our county offers the services and we comply. I also try to buy green. That can be trickier. The commercial world took a turn without looking, I think. In the interests of feeding and housing large numbers of people, we invented mass production. Good news, bad news. Material suppliers focused on supplying more features at less cost across multiple supply chains. Unfortunately, they began to incorporate practices and ingredients that, as it turns out, harm the world.

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LPC Is At Corporette Today

Never rains but it pours, with guest posting. Today I’m over at Corporette talking about retirement planning. And it’s not the sort you might expect. Although I have to remember, it’s hard to surprise you guys. See you over there, if you’ve got a minute.

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LPC Is At “How I Wear My…”

Today I, with a host of other bloggers, am over at Adrienne’s blog, Rich Life On A Budget. It’s time for the monthly feature she hosts, along with Jill at Everything Just So, in which you can see multiple outfits on one theme. These month it’s “How I Wear My White.”  I’m in the white tee and shorts you saw in the Bottega Veneta Hobo review, with a little more explanation of the outfit and motivation. Others are wearing everything from white jeans to white button-fronts to wispy white dresses. Take a look here, or here for more, and consider dressing in white. I wouldn’t have gone beyond

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7 Interior Shots I Could Actually Live In

You all have been so great talking to me about my house design project. I felt a little bad that my response has often been, “Great idea, but probably not my taste.” Then, almost like the iconic slap upside the head, I realized I hadn’t ever made my taste clear. At least not in houses. Tsk, tsk, Sturdy Gal. In part, as we’ve discussed, that’s because my house aesthetic is even more freighted with cultural and class references than my wardrobe. I can articulate the High WASP Style Archetypes because they have developed in response to an audience, a social context. Houses? Well, as I’ve said, houses are

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Getting My Body Back In My Fifties, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:19am

When I look back to my resolutions earlier this year, a few things hit me smack in the face. To you, my board of directors, a progress report. Not quite mid-year, but what’s a month between friends? The first slide, in bullet points, reads: Stalled I have not yet donated the $1K to Dress For Success.  I am trying to give appreciated securities and the administrative details have been tricky. I’m going to try again and I will succeed. After all, I promised. Nor have I started volunteering, in this case because I’ve occupied those planned time slots with working on a possible new company. (Details to follow

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Reviewing A Classic, The Bottega Veneta “Veneta” Large Hobo In Blue

Do you all remember when I was looking for a blue handbag? To go with both brown and black shoes? Maybe orange ones? As it turned out, in an act of extreme originality, I stuck with Bottega Veneta. Below, the brand’s Large Hobo, AKA the “Veneta.” The name suggests Volkswagen might name one of their cars “Wagen,” but why not? As one might expect from a Sturdy Gal, the joys of luxurious materials and craftmanship are almost outweighed by sheer practicality. Look how it takes to suburban life.  Say hi to the Rav4, Ms. Veneta, and wave to the white-flowered oleander. The name of this dusty, grayed, a-little-mauve-in-some-lights

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The Hunt For An Organic, Visually Interesting, Subtle, “Am I Asking Too Much?” Bedroom Rug

And on to master bedroom decorating. Fixup. Whatever we’re calling it. Decorating sounds like embellishment, while this is more Moving Beyond Camping In My Own House. However, one word is always better than six, so decorating it will be. I’ve got 3 major purchases to make, bed, mattress and rug. The rest – bedding, fabrics for such cushions as there are, paint, objects – will follow. At this point I’m searching for all 3 big ticket items in parallel, unsure exactly which will settle first. But for the sake of imagery, and in the spirit of pretending that life is linear, consider the rug. Setting the context first.

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Do Crows Make More Noise When It’s Hot, Or, Saturday Morning At 7:51am

“Do crows make more noise when it’s hot?” I Googled.  No clear answer. We’re having a heat wave in Northern California, which, given our usual deeply temperate climate, feels a little apocalyptic. If the Apocalypse comes in small doses that is. The crows are cawing late night and early morning. Jays are screaming, and fighting with seagulls in from the bay. My house was built in 1953 and I do not have air conditioning. New houses in the Bay Area may, but we faithful few, we soldier on. Come the annual heat wave – because it happens almost every year and each time we say to each other,

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The Long Awaited Return Of Professor C. In Which We Discuss James Joyce And John Huston’s The Dead.

My very distinguished father, Professor C., on The Dead as written by James Joyce, and then written again and filmed by John Huston and his son, Tony. If you find you would like more of these pieces, please look to the sidebar and click on “Professor C.” Thanks Dad, for all sorts of things. “The Dead” James Joyce’s “The Dead” is one of the best short stories ever. John Huston’s film adaptation of “The Dead” may be the best translation ever of fiction into film.  At least I think so. As do many others. So what to make of this outlier from “Rotten Tomatoes”: “Disappointing adaptation of the

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Gallivanting Through Brooklyn, Manhattan, The Hudson River Valley, And Short Hills, New Jersey

(Reminder, Professor C., James Joyce, and The Dead on Thursday)   I’ve been gallivanting. First to Brooklyn and Manhattan to visit my son and others, then up to the Hudson River Valley for the extreme pleasure of staying at Reggie and Boy Darling‘s house, then down to New Jersey to see my best friend. It has been a wonderful trip. Highlights are perhaps in order? I arrived at my son’s apartment Wednesday night. We went to dinner. He’d bought an air conditioner to make my stay comfortable. Adult children, for the win. The next day he worked, so I took the F train into Manhattan. First stop, serendipitously,

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The Return Of Professor C. And Suggested Preparations

As some long time readers know, now and again my esteemed professor papa writes for us. Theme?  Great Literature And Movies Wot Got Made Of Them. More elegantly said,  he has posted on several literature-based movies, Age Of Innocence, Wings of The Dove, and Passage to India, among others. This time he’s written us a piece on on James Joyce’s very short novel “The Dead,” and the movie John Huston made of it. The book is available here, and here for those who shun Amazon. The movie can be found on Amazon Instant Video and, while not on Netflix, it is on YouTube in segments.  I’ll post Professor

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LPC Is At The Highland Fashionista Today

I took advantage of my blog break to deliver on some long-delayed commitments. I hate when I fail to do as promised, everything feels off balance, but the world is now back on its axis. As evidence, today I’m over at Kristin’s wonderful blog, Highland Fashionista. I hope you read her, she’s funny and gorgeous, with a wicked eye for sporty style – with a touch of rocker. The question she asked was, “Ought you change your style when you turn 40?” I answered by telling the story of my 40th birthday party, which you’ve heard before, here, but this time told with photos and flamingos. If you

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June 20th, 2009, Saturday Morning At 6:47am

A post from the archives, during my brief blog vacation. I’m sitting at my kitchen counter. It’s old. 17 years old. Butcher block. Which means that by now it boasts some fissures, a burn mark or two, and various mottled patches. Don’t get me wrong, I scrub my counter with reasonable frequency. I’d be embarassed not to. But wood seems to have a memory that cleaning substances and Scotch Brite can’t erase. Hmm, I see what looks like a pen mark too. Old homework relic. Time to sand. Rub it down with mineral oil. One of those house tasks that you carry in the back of your mind

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March 13th, 2009, Saturday Morning at 8:05am

As I am off this week, I’m republishing some Saturday posts. This was the first, from back in 2009. It’s Saturday morning. And my son is home from college. My children are grown. They have not a vestige of body fat left on them that I can call my own. Nothing to pinch. I do not own their sweetness any more. But still when they are here it’s like I’ve remembered to put slippers and a bathrobe on after sitting at a cold kitchen counter for hours. Some part of me just wants to hum. Like Winnie-the-Pooh with honey. I had been dying to have children all my

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In Imaginary Texas, We Wear Tony Lama And Chanel

Are you familiar with Tony Lama? Founded by an Italian American immigrant in 1911, now making boots in America, Mexico, the world? When Lama’s rep asked if I’d like to review a pair, I was excited but hesitant. They’re an iconic brand, one to spark the imagination, but not to wear in Silicon Valley. So here’s a review and a giveaway. One change, which I hope you’ll excuse – this time I chose a winner in advance. My thing for Texas goes way back. Rooted in summers at the Hunewill Ranch, encouraged by debutante parties in Houston, sustained by who knows what. Myth, I suppose. But I live

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The Jigsaw London Sale Is On And I Am Off Next Week

Another brief sale notice, this time from our friends at Jigsaw, who are winning all the awards for Tops That Are Kind To Your Middle. Here’s a summer version of my favorite Jersey Peasant Top, seen here with long sleeves, and below with short. And another, for those who can do vivid. Sizes are limited but options are not. By the way, I will be off all next week, re-posting a few old Saturday pieces in my absence. That means tomorrow will be the last new thing for a while. It is, however, a doozy, including but not limited to: imaginary Texas; an iconic brand; jewels of dreams;

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What On Earth Do You Do With Those Crystal Wedding Presents?

How many of us have a distant cabinet for crystal? Or if not crystal, glass objects from which one does not drink? How many of us ever take said unused objects out of said cabinet? If you, as I do, answer, “Rarely,” here’s a thought. Liberate a piece or two and look at them in a new light, literally. Light them up. This is a cut glass dish and that’s all I know. Not fine, not delicate, but cute and endearing. What it’s for? A mystery. eBay suggest it may be from the American Brilliant Period. How fitting. Below we have a fancier crystal candy jar. I believe

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Summer Is For We Old, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:02am

I was driving through town yesterday, California blue sky filling my dashboard, and I wondered, “Was summer different when I was young?” The thing is, I don’t remember Summer, per se. I remember some days swinging, some days alone in meadows, some days at school when sun shone in the windows and hit the table as I worked. I think Summer, the California sort at least, is too big for a child to grasp. Children experience the moment more strongly than we do but the seasons, less. That’s something to love about getting older. I remember yesterday, but I also remember tomorrow. The tomorrow from last year and

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15 Existential First Steps To Redoing Your House

As I delve into what we might call, “Conscious House Decor,” I believe I find myself in the same situation as some of you re: clothing. Let’s see. Does this sound familiar? The Privilege[d] 15 Steps To Redoing Your House Decor [It’s Kind Of Like Building A Wardrobe] Take a look at your house (closet) Find it comfortable, for the most part, but clearly lacking Wonder how it happened, how you have lived so long with cracks in your walls (ill-fitting clothes), rooms with no rugs (no dresses to speak of), and a complete lack of finish (accessories? what accessories?) Pore through Pinterest boards, unearth online magazines and

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What’s A Summer Sale For, Or, That Thing You Didn’t Know You Needed

Summer sales, to my way of thinking, are for finding that one thing you didn’t know you needed. We’re heading into July and in most parts of the USA it’s only going to get hotter. Pieces you’ve relied on are going to give up the ghost. Something new is something crisp. If I weren’t spending so much time in my garden right now I’d go to Halsbrook, land of the Grande Dame, and snap up this black poplin dress. It’s available only in an Italian 40/US size 4, but that’s how these sales work. Serendipity, that size, that color, that fabric.  This ia from Les Copains, down from

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In Praise Of Shy Hydrangeas

Traditional Landscape by Dc Metro Landscape Architects & Landscape Designers Katia Goffin Gardens (via Houzz) Above you see what I think of as Classic Hydrangea. A community, massed in uniform volume, vegetable origin a distant memory. Transmuted from plant to decor. All well and good. But there’s another mode of hydrangea to consider – the Shy Woodland Creature. And such I’ve come to love. To set context, my backyard is a woodland. Well, in the same way as my front yard is a cottage garden, i.e.  a Northern California remix of the archetype. One aging but stalwart 60-year old Chinese Evergreen Elm shades a very small gathering of

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Spare Toddlers And Ladies, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:04am

With little children I used to wish, fervently, to live in co-housing. The more time around other families, and other people, the better. I practically co-reared with my best friend down the street. When she moved, I mourned, even though it was just to the next town over. Later, in the days of teenagers, I felt less of a pull towards the communal. Our kids of course had their own cohort, the ballet studio, the soccer team, the friends. I had work. Now, at 57 and retired, I find myself occasionally useful to mothers of young ones. My young nephew’s nanny was sick recently; I took care of

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A Deconstructed, Imaginary, Celebrity, Mom’s Afternoon Out At The Standard High Line Biergarten

How’s that for a title? As you all know, lots of requests float toward us in the blogosphere. Most often I decline. (This post here posited the life I might lead if I accepted more broadly.) However, I do participate in offers, when a good giveaway is involved, or when I find the merchant requesting particularly interesting. The oddest experience of course being the Sodastream live video announcement featuring Scarlett Johansson and Mohawk Man. Recently I got a request involving no goods at all. The only quid pro quo would be mention of the post on social media streams. A woman named Kendra Thornton, who looks to be

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The Joys Of A Cabochon, Which Is Pronounced Ka-Bo-Shawn, But You Knew That Already

Back when, I indulged myself in this pair of turquoise danglers. Wore them frequently, loved them much. And then, sadly, one got lost. Happily, however, the people at Finn Jewelers were of great help. I mailed off the earring I hadn‘t lost to New York, along with a check for $250, and got back a whole new matched pair. Still some of my favorite earrings (along with these from Beladora, and these from Vicente Agor.) Which brings us to the cabochon. Seems modern, somehow. The unfaceted, the matte, the convex, all align with ugly sandals and watches made in Detroit. Or so it feels. One could start big.

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Flowers In The House, Lace Cap Hydrangea Edition

It’s Monday, these are flowers, so it must be time for Flowers In The House! In Northern California, we’ve moved to hydrangea season, accompanied by Thank You Very Much For A Second Bloom white roses. And a few stalks of lavender. Here, in a red carpet closeup. And here, on the table, where they waited last night for a Father’s Day dinner with my family. That’s Grandmama’s mirror in the back, underlaid by a flock of family photos, speaker and several Swedish glass objects. To be cleared away before eating, because lovely though they are, we like each other’s faces even more. I did put more placemats down,

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World Cup From A Middle-Aged Lady’s Perspective, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:48am

Fútbol! World Cup, guys! Are you excited? For many reasons, I find this more fun than any other sportsapalooza. A metric? I’ve installed the GOAL sidebar in Firefox, so I don’t have to wonder which game is being played when. And how come? Personal history, in part. My counterculture high school fielded a soccer team, instead of football. Our guys played with long hair and bandana headbands and we were cool. In college, one of my best friends was a guy who had a) grown up in Hungary b) escaped over the border with his parents at 14 c) attended high school in Canada d) been recruited to

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4 Bathing Suits You Maybe Thought You’d Never Wear

Editors Update: I have just heard back from an inquiry to River Island about charges on returns – in fact they DO NOT accept returns on swimwear. DO NOT buy the jeweled top or high-waisted bikini bottom below unless you are sure you will keep it. Which, WHO WOULD DO THAT? My apologies!   Have you quit a few bathing suit styles forever? Do you scold them as you shop, “No way buster, not in your lifetime!” But do you also find yourself sighing as you put one leg, and then the other, into your old reliable tankini? I suggested that if you are ever to experiment with

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A “Mixed” Border With Only 3 Plants

A glorious mixed border is one of the most beautiful but daunting sights in gardening. The British make it look so easy, a shrub rose here, some tall foxgloves there, flowers and foliage in just the right mix of color and height. None of it dying, apparently. (The one above is in Scotland, to be precise and ancestry-allegiant.) In real life, mixed borders often devolve into a row of unrelated plants, each standing stick-straight like guests at a miserable party where bark ground cover plays the ubiquitous bad party host. But if you start simply, you can enjoy a more congenial version. Here’s my experience. Way back when

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What To Do About Internet Haters, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:57am

What to do about Internet haters? I’m back from a week posting at Corporette, and while in the end it was a lot of fun, and the vast majority of the readers very gracious, the first comment on my first post read, 1. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ boring. 2. A week that revolves around 00.001% of people. God, this blog really sucks lately. I need to stop checking it every morning. She meant it, following up with, I stand by I hate the jacket, think its(sic) pretentious, and think most of you women are and especially so to the guest bloggers(sic) blog. This was not my first rodeo, as they say.

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LPC Is At Corporette, All Week Long

This week I am guest posting at Corporette, Kat’s well-established blog for “over-achieving chicks.” She asks contributors to pick one piece of clothing for each day of the week, starting with “Splurge Monday,” and ambling on down to Frugal Friday. I’ll edit this post daily to include all the links. Monday it’s a navy Akris Punto jacket, on sale. Tuesday, dark wash AG Jeans. Splurge Mondays TPS Report: Perforated Jacket Tuesday’s TPS Report: Bootcut Jeans Wednesday’s TPS Report: Cashmere And Silk-Blend Scarf (Hint: the scarves are printed in graphics of various technical domains. Circuitry, for example.) Thursday’s TPS Report: Block-Print Popover (In which we take a leaf from

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Welcoming Houses And Gardens To The Party, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:44am

  Well hello everyone. Coming up on 3 weeks before our blue dry summer’s longest day, it’s my favorite time of year in Northern California. Kind of the Thursday night of seasons – full bacchanalia in sight, but just far enough away that you can pull your enjoyment forward now and feel it twice. You may feel similarly, and need to get outside, so here’s the point of today’s post. Going forward I will be writing with intention, during the week, about plants, furniture, and interior spaces as well as clothes and the meaning of life. There. No need to keep reading. But I can keep talking, needless

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When Luxury Economics Open The Door For More Affordable, Yet Stellar, Design

A few weeks ago. when these comments abounded with recommendations on bag designers, I thought, “Hmm, great ideas deserve a post of their own.” When, a few days later, Refinery29 featured beautiful, reasonable less-stratospherically-priced bags from a new online store called Roztayger, I realized we had a thing going on. A real, economic, strategic, trend. To say nothing of a few new retail resources. See, my theory is that when brands like Prada, Louis Vuitton, Givenchy et. alia spend huge sums on branding luxury, they raise the price ceiling and allow good designers to make a reasonable margin on less-branded luxury goods. Or what we at least might

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Life’s Little Privileges: Jāsön Soothing Aloe Vera Pure Natural Deodorant Stick

High WASPs aren’t supposed to talk about deodorant. We probably aren’t even supposed to have armpits, but hey, too late. In my continued search for products less likely to harm me or the planet, I stumbled upon the Jäsōn Soothing Aloe Vera Pure Natural Deodorant Stick. To my enormous surprise, it works. I’ve tried others of similar ilk, i.e., Tom’s of Maine, and those crystals, and, although it was fun to wave rocks around the bathroom, no go. I like this so much I’m even willing to undergo the pain of unnecessary umlauting in order to report back. I checked the EcoSafe database and we’re very low on

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The Third Age Of Women, Or Saturday Morning at 7:49am

There have been times in my life with women, and times without. When I was a teen, for example, it was all about the boyfriend. Boyfriends, I should say, as in serial. But I guess we could well argue I wasn’t a woman at 14, or even 18, so let’s move on. In college, while I had a few women friends, life still revolved mostly around serial boys. It was only when I graduated that the First Age Of Women began. My boyfriend was now long-distance, my workplaces well-populated with women. My roommates and neighbor-friends-round-the-block were women. I suppose that’s the life phase shown in Sex In The

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The Nordstrom Half-Yearly Sale, For A Split Personality

It’s the Nordstrom half-yearly sale. I wanted to get out the word as soon as I could to ensure you some good choices, so I spent this morning browsing. Below you’ll find ideas for a) Polished Tomboy Style and b) Must Dress Up In Something Gorgeous For The City Because Fashion Is Art And Anyway Just Because. Split Personalities ‘R Us. Have fun! Turn on your JavaScript to view content Turn on your JavaScript to view content I confess, before I began style blogging, I never focused on sales. I have come to appreciate them, and to value help from other bloggers, like Grechen and Kat, for alerting

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Accessorizing A Little Black Printed Dress

  Splurging on a pricey black dress can make you feel slightly wanton. “I will wear this so rarely! Be sensible, Oh Woman, refrain” But I have found there are ways to make your LBD more flexible. And flexibility builds value. A lesson for life, really, but we’ll move on. It helps if your LBD is not really black Asked, “How do I find a little black dress I can wear forever?” one might think first of bright accessories against a monochrome garment. But consider a print. Of course, it helps if the print is skillful, subtle, almost art in and of itself. This is Dries van Noten’s

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JORD Wooden Watch Winner!

We have a winner of the JORD wooden watch. Kate E., Random Number.org says you’re it! Congratulations, and wear in good health. Email me with your shipping address, and we’ll be in business. As it happens, Kate and I have met, at the Jigsaw London event last December. A winner with history. And speaking of history, thank you so much for your watch anecdotes. If I wanted to get romantic, I’d wax on about time and the gifts we’re given. On the other hand, you guys commented that narrative so well I’m off the hook. Onward.

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Generations, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:07am

Pretty much directly after my children came to visit I drove down to Santa Barbara to see my mom. And there we have midlife, in one little sentence. There was no health crisis – this time – but my 3 siblings and I now make sure that Mom and her husband get a visit from one of us every month. They’re 81. I imagine many of you have similarly aged parents. Time to get back on the road. Fortunately, our heat wave has passed. Fortunately also, Santa Barbara was a dang good place to sit out 95F+ temperatures. Am taking bets on whether my front-yard lettuces recover. Odds,

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A Wooden Watch For The Graduate, Or The Mom

(Note: This post is a giveaway. Hooray! When you comment, please let me know if you are throwing your name into the hat) I like to wear a big, big watch. First of all, I think they look cool, and work with tomboy style. But the Sturdy Gal also likes big timepieces because she likes to take a quick glance and know how long before the roast chicken needs attention, how likely she is to meet her friend at the bar at 6:00pm, and just how long that person has been talking for goodness’ sake. Cellphones are the default, but they require reading glasses, and password fumbling, and

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Daydreaming Spaces

I used to daydream about ballgowns. My house was just a place to live. But these days I find myself more often imagining spaces – albeit probably as fantastical as silver lace and parures. For now, Significant Husband and I retain both our places, one in San Francisco, one down on the Peninsula. I confess, I don’t think I’m a forever suburbs person. Doesn’t a little place in the city, with a view, and maybe a deck, the streets outside for walking and seeing people, sound kind of perfect? But then, in the deluxe version of the dream, wouldn’t it be also wonderful to have land in the

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The Best Possible Mother’s Day Present – You Already Know What It Is – Or, Saturday Morning at 8:23am

My husband brought my kids home for the weekend as a surprise Mother’s Day present. Well, a surprise with lead-up, as he told me they’d be coming yesterday morning so that I could have time to clean and shop. He knows I like to nest. The two of them, tall, grinning, sweet as sugar, arrived on my doorstep last night. When we were talking about weekend plans, I told them I’d just have to write a quick blog post this morning before any other adventures. My daughter said, “Hop hop, clap clap.” I had told them that upon hearing the news of their visit, I began to hop

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To The Princeton “Privilege Guy,” From A Middle-Aged Princeton Mother And Alumna

  Recently, you may have read an article or two about Tal Fortgang. He’s a Princeton freshman who wrote a piece for an on-campus publication (I’d never heard of) called “The Princeton Tory,” Tal questions the request to “Check your privilege.” Although he’s a white male, he points to his his family’s persecution in the Holocaust, and subsequent economic and professional success. He thinks, “It’s not privilege, it’s character.” We’ll get back to him, but let me say here, Tal, I am very sorry for your family’s losses. The Holocaust should not be forgotten. In the meantime, TIME magazine republished his piece (fanning the flames with a new

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LPC At A Practical Wedding: What My Second Wedding Taught Me

The photo above is precisely what it appears to be – me, right before my 1986 wedding. Today I am over at APW, with a post on What My Second Wedding Taught Me. You’ll find a few more snapshots there, a small black tie affair at the Helmsley Palace, and an even smaller informal gathering at San Francisco’s City Hall. I expect this to be the final posting on my wedding, for, important as they may be, they are not all.

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Quick Mother’s Day Reminder

A quick reminder that the Beladora Mother’s Day Sale is still on, they ship overnight, and they’ve added new stuff. My siblings and I recently gave my mother Beladora jewelry to replace a few family pieces that are too valuable to wear casually. My brother and I collaborated on a necklace of hematite like the one below, We could have opted to pair them with these danglers, but chose black pearl studs similar to these (sans diamonds) instead, as she doesn’t wear long earrings. In her inimitable way, she wore them with a black cowl neck and a black/dark gray poncho. Never would have occurred to me, slave

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Why I Love My Suburban Rose Bed, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:46am

That’s my rose bed. To say I have a white rose garden sounds so English, so glamourous, so artistic. In truth, I have a raised suburban bed of white rose bushes. With one fellow that was planted accidentally, closed buds opening to reveal peach. But I love my rose bed on beyond zebra, as per Dr. Seuss. And I’ve been puttering around in my thoughts, deconstructing fitfully, why do I love it so? After all, the bed’s not big, not exotic, neither a sign of personal skill nor terribly valuable to the larger community. Maybe this. These. 1. I planted it myself, for the most part. I dug

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Do Women Over 50 Make Good Tomboys?

There’s a song that always used to make me cry. I’ve mentioned it before, Dar Williams’ “When I Was A Boy.” Here’s a sampling of the lyrics. And I remember that night When I’m leaving a late night with some friends And I hear somebody tell me it’s not safe, someone should help me I need to find a nice man to walk me home. When I was a boy, I scared the pants off of my mom, Climbed what I could climb upon And I don’t know how I survived, I guess I knew the tricks that all boys knew. And you can walk me home, but

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The Beladora Mother’s Day Sale Is On!

May 11th is Mother’s Day in America this year. That’s a Sunday. A week and a half away, just in case anyone out there has a mother. Or is a mother, or would like to be a mother, or believes in mothers in a general way. But enough hinting. Beladora has lowered its already What A Steal pricing on a few items, to enable us to give our mothers presents with panache. Here are my picks. 1. I love Victorian seed pearl detailing. Here on a gold ring with rubellites and spinels. Down from $495 to $295. Beladora tells me these prices are near wholesale and I’m thinking

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Imaginary Birthday Parties For The Far Away, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:50am

Tomorrow my son, my youngest child, turns 24. I asked him what he wanted and at first he thought maybe a watch, but then decided maybe just a Timex, and then decided, “Um.” So I’ll send him money, and enjoy his stories of how it’s spent. It’s odd, having children grown and far away. Much better now than when I was young, and far away from home. I do not remember how often I talked to my parents, but it’s possible I failed to call more than once or twice a month. When I was in England, after college, I suppose I wrote them letters on those airmail

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A Color Strategy That Even The Often Color-Avoidant Can Embrace

In retirement, or any situation where one can dress as casually as one wants, we want to avoid the schlump. In hyper-casual outfits, I’m not going to be experimenting with silhouette, or shoe height, or really anything. So what I want is a way to ensure that when I throw on any old thing, shorts, jeans, a tee, sandals, sneakers, an inexpensive linen blazer, and/or a field jacket, I’ve got a shot at style. As one who always shunned colors any more saturated than, say, navy, I am surprised to find how much I rely these days on not-black and not-white, and even not-brown-and-not-gray, to add that little

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No Gifts Please. Oh Well, If You Must:).

When I remarried, last August, we said no gifts please. With two households already established, what more could we require? Some people, of course, insisted. As it turns out, those people who simply must give you a present will do so perfectly. I have already sent thank you notes, of course. But here’s a second and collective thank you to our benefactors. I was thinking that for those now receiving Save The Dates, and considering presents for the near and dear, any or all of these might be lovely choices. 1. My mother absolutely insisted on giving us a wedding present, and on discussing what it should be.

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Gardening In Retirement, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:30am

I’ve been gardening a lot lately. By which I mean I’ve been doing everything from mowing my front lawn to weeding paths to conversing with a bed of white roses. While I love the activity of gardening, the hobby itself is a little, odd. By which I mean the hobbyists, myself included. We mutter. We wear very odd outfits. We get dirty fingers. But it’s just so satisfying, caring for plants. They are like toddlers after a bath but better – they smell good, they’re beautiful, you can see they love water – but they don’t run off screaming “No, I won’t put on my pajamas!” Right now

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An Object Of Desire: The Perfectly Colored Bag

I’ve been looking for a new bag. When last we spoke the universal language Handbag, I had settled on a small Bottega Veneta cross-body, carried inside a Duluth Pack. That worked very well for a city walking commute, and workday lunch sprints. But now I’m in the suburbs, and hence often in the car. Cross-bodies are annoying to pull off and on as you get it and out of cars. The Duluth pack is made for a laptop, not a life. I’ve been using an old Coach bucket bag, sourced serendipitously from the back of my closet. Big enough for most of what I need, easy to throw

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25 Ways To Maintain Your Shape At 50+

I have been asked several times, recently, for a post on how I maintain my shape. I’ve written about it before, tongue-in-cheek, in 11 Sneaky Tricks Of The High WASP Diet, and here, earnestly, in the Building Attractive series from last year. But maybe I haven’t yet answered the question usefully enough, so here’s another try. In brief, I both count my lucky stars and work at it. Water Under The Bridge, Or, What We Are Given First of all, we’ve all got baseline genetics. Muscularity runs in my family. I think it’s easier to stay lean if you build muscle easily. (Downside is, I build muscle on

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The Virtues Of Yes Vs. The Virtues Of No, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:45am

I’ve been thinking recently about virtue. Not the old-fashioned heroine sort, perhaps needless to say. But virtue, built or maintained by living in accordance with a moral code. I’ve never felt very good at that particular variety. Why? For one thing, it’s not really a part of High WASP culture. We focus instead on the excellent, the appropriate, and the beautiful. Or the Very Attractive, as my mother might say. For another, I’ve been very busy trying not to Do A Bad Job. Raising children, I wanted to be a good mother, but danged if I know what a virtuous one looks like. You just do the best

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The Complicated Math Of Social Covenants

Does anyone remember a couple of posts a while back, here, and here, more like fever dreams, about the carbonate-at-home company known as Sodastream? In which I was asked, along with 49 others, to cover Scarlett Johansson’s sponsorship of the brand? The experience was fairly surreal, but I participated in order to facilitate another giveaway for you guys. Eventually the promised gizmo showed up. Sodastream Source, white metal version. Good to go, right? Welp, not exactly. In the interim, Scarlett found herself surrounded by controversy. Turns out Sodastream, headquartered in Israel, has factories in the West Bank. I felt the next steps required a fairly complicated moral calculus.

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An Object Of Desire: Metallic Sandals

As we settle into our personal style, we may be less likely to embrace dramatic fashion shifts. We might wear our drapey cardigans in a sea of structured jackets, march resolutely through the army of flared jeans in our straight-legs, and avoid entire genres of shoes altogether. I’m looking at you, wedge-sneakers. And don’t think you can hide, 4-inch pointy-toes, I know you’re out there. But color is our friend, for gentle adventure. Even when we’re comfy with our 3 shades of blue, 2 of purple, and 1 of rose, we can add metallics. Plural. Yes, metallics. This spring, they’re one of the easiest ways to find a

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Style Dials, Tea Cups And Daffodils, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:10am

It’s time for the quarterly Privilege blog break. But before I go, one more thought about that Thursday switcheroo. Most of you guys liked most of the the outfit Sue chose – but most of you also hated the Helmut Lang shirt. Here’s the thing. Once I had put on skinny jeans, moto boots, and a leather jacket with substantial lapels, in my style world I was already so far out there a see-through gaping shirt felt like no big deal. Ain’t that a kick in the pants? By which I mean, our internal style dials are all, um, uniquely calibrated. Good to spin them now and and

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Under The Influence

Personal style follows the 80/20 rule, i.e., 80% defining and refining, and 20% experimenting. Within that framework, isn’t shopping with friends one of the most comfortable and enjoyable experiments of all? Most of you probably know the blog, Une Femme d’un Certain Age. I’ve been following Sue for ages, and have met her in person. She’s admirable, professional, and a great writer. Somehow, I can’t say why, I got obsessed with seeing in her in a pair of wide leg pants. So I wrote and suggested a project in which I would dress her (via the Internet bien sûr), and she would do the same for me. For

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The Polished Tomboy Takes On Summer, With Blazer, Shorts, And A Wardrobe Of Earrings

I know many of you are ripping summer dresses from your closets as we speak, full of love for florals and flounces. Not I. I’ve realized that I just don’t feel comfortable with unfettered legs, at least in casual situations. Most likely due to my predilection for curling up in chairs, stretching out legs uncrossed on lounges, and all-around squirming, absent formality. While I have not taken to the young women’s habit of going “commando,” I grew up in an era when no one was supposed to see even your underwear. I see no need to make a change at this age. And if that’s too much information,

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Winner Of The Teri Jon Lace Dress, And A Thank You

We have a winner. Emerald! She wrote: “I’m entering for my mom. She has NEVER worn a fancy long dress, and with my wedding coming up in August, this would be such a thrill for her. At all fancy events she has worn knee length dresses, including at her wedding and every other person’s wedding she has ever been to. I think she has always thought a long dress is too fancy for her, but really she is a fancy beautiful lady who would rock this dress! As much as my wedding is my day, it is also a really important day for her, and I want her

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Self-Education In Midlife, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:17am

The time has come to re-educate myself. And pay for it. No, I am not going back to school, per se. But I am subscribing to the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and perhaps some other online news and analysis media. Or whatever we call informed sources these days. I used to subscribe to both my local California newspaper and the New York Times. I read them faithfully every morning before work, even though the Times made me miss Manhattan something awful. I quit print when I divorced – too expensive, I said, too hard to manage. Maybe too sad, reading papers on a small round

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An Object Of Desire: Chic, Packable, Sun Hat

Sun. Ahhhhhh. Followed immediately by, “Yikes! My skin!” I’m going to propose that one thing to spend on is a sun hat you actually like to wear. Made of raffia, extremely comfortable, complete with a little neoprene buffer inside on the front of the headband to stave off itching. The infinitesimal luxuries of life. Helen Kaminksi, via Nordstrom. I got mine in Kauai, where I wore it ever so happily every day. Of course, there’s always our friend Target too. Choices are good, in moderation, just like sunlight.

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When A Brand Surprises

Last week I posted some ideas for fancy dresses under $250, at A Practical Wedding. And of course Sky’s The Limit, Net-a-Porter Let Me At It is easy, at least in our imaginations. But if you’ve got a real event coming up, you might want some other options. You might want lavish, but at less cost than a small car. Enter Teri Jon. Their slogan is “The perfect dress at the right price and the right size.” Sold often in the Special Occasion salon at Saks Fifth Avenue. When their representative first contacted me about working together, I confess the fashionista in me cocked an eyebrow. But when

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Ines de le Fressange Collaboration at UNIQLO

Today marks the US debut of the collaboration between Ines de la Fressange and UNIQLO.  The former model. and soon to be fashion maven has put her name to a collection of something like 30 pieces. Chinos, cotton lawn button fronts, tees. Hello. And that little number she’s thrown on so fetchingly above might be the “workman” jacket I’ve been looking for. Unfortunately, by 6:32am PDT today, it had sold out. I’ll be making a pilgrimage to the San Francisco store this week. Coming soon to a multi-story box with rainbow staircase near you. I had never been one for style icons, until I retired and was free

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The Lark Finds Mattress Help, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:55am

I am now and have always been a morning person. I love what happens when I wake. While I might not actually throw my covers off, jump out of bed, and bound across the floor, I could. The back of my mind hums happily,”Well isn’t THIS great!” In the morning everything seems possible. No, that’s not it. More like I don’t mind whatever might be impossible. Whatever is, it’s the best. I experience small details as exquisite. By 3pm or so things change. Worry creeps in. An unsettled feeling, as though my parents might leave me with a mean babysitter. As though I might get lost in the

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An Object Of Desire: Velvet Blazers

So, if you’re going to wend your way through the world in jeans, tees, and sneakers, you just might dread the Full On Schlump. What to do? You’ve got several tools, but a jacket is one of the best.  Humor me here. If moto jackets can called “cutting edge,” we might think of the blazer as a screwdriver. Valuable, but requiring the perfect size to function well. Which makes velvet blazers a Phillips, you never have one when you need it. Pause for cymbals. With that, we will cease to torture metaphors and move on to actual fashion. How do you guys feel about a velvet blazer? I’m

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A Most Astonishing Sale At The Outnet

The clearance sale is on at the Outnet. Amazing deals. As in 80% off. I now own this, to wear with white jeans in the summer. Silk satin, $85 down from $425. I just hope that really is a blueish tone in the pattern. If not, I’ll give it to my mom who looks great in peach. Thanks to Grechen for the heads up. She aalways knows the best deals on the best stuff and you should follow her if you do not already. BTW, she says this sale sells out quickly. Who says I can’t enable a good impulse buy now and again?   Affiliate links may

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LPC is at A Practical Wedding Today

Today I’m over a A Practical Wedding. This morning, you’ll find photos from my wedding. This afternoon, I heard from a little bird, might bring my choices for Mother of the Bride dresses. In the under $25o category. If my intelligence is correct, I’ll post that link too, when it’s up. And yes, Significant Husband is anonymous on purpose. Thank you for your understanding.

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Saturday Morning at 8:17am

Thinking this morning about Malaysian Airlines Flight MH370. I suppose there’s still a very slight chance of survivors, but my thoughts go out to all those with loved ones on board.  

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Wearing Color That Doesn’t Pop, With Your Neutrals

In the continued quest for Polished Tomboy getups, I’m mixing old and new. I’m also building outfits based on neutrals, livening them up just a bit with color. Subtle color that would refuse to pop even if given free tickets to a Beyonce concert. In this case, I relied on new sneakers in a deep (and not too yellow) forest green suede. And my ankles. Cover the ankles in this outfit and all hope of polish is lost. Old pieces include: a scratchy but useful Michael Kors peacoat from Costco; gray tee from Old Navy, Etro man’s scarf from Neiman Marcus via my inimitable brother. You’ll notice a

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By Invitation Only: How Do You Stay Creative?

By Invitation Only is a monthly group posting series, led by Marsha at Splenderosa. You can find today’s other participant posts here. This month, Marsha and the crew at By Invitation Only have asked a question. How do you stay creative? Truth be told, I am not sure I am creative, but since this is the last time I’ll be participating in BIO, I’ll rely on A Simple Thank You Will Suffice, and proceed. Let’s ask the question again, and answer without editorial comments. How do you stay creative? One). First, I observe. Some people are inventive, and generative. Not me. I’m an observer, a synthesizer. A responder.

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What Would You Wear To The Oscars, If Nominated?

What would you wear, if you were nominated for an Oscar? Important to remember that if you were nominated, it’d mean you were a talented actor. I would hope that recognized talent brings confidence. It certainly would, if I were the boss of the world. So you’d want to look good, but also reflect yourself, more than the style of the day. I’d have to go with blue. Maybe navy, the Sturdy shade, with texture. Add big pearls. Maybe powder blue, with Artsy curling flowers. Dangling diamond earrings. All jewels from Beladora, because loyalty to old friends trumps simple carats. Except the headband because Nancy is all out

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Rain, Brains, And Matthew McConaughey, Or Saturday Morning at 8:21am

In the past couple of days I have: almost left an earring at an airport ExpressSpa, run through SFO to retrieve it, attended with my daughter a class on seizures, reviewed radiographic images of a human brain suffering from pork parasites – also with my daughter, seen Dallas Buyer’s Club in the theater (terrible writing, great acting), cooked a dinner of 3 Chinese dishes – in university housing, and walked through a torrential and uncommon San Diego downpour. More than I’d packed into 2 days since I got married. My goodness. Now I have that odd sensation of a slightly wiggly brain. You know what I mean? Exercised,

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Life’s Little Privileges: L’Occitane’s Shea Butter Lip Balm

I never used lip balm much. But the St. Regis Princeville keeps L’Occitane toiletries in their bathrooms. (Amenities seems like such a euphemistic word, does it not?) And on our honeymoon, I started using this. I’ll buy it again, for $10, when I run out. I now understand why people bother with the stuff. This is not waxy, not slippery, not sticky. It’s, um, lush. And smells sweet but not annoyingly so. If you’re a habitual user, and sensitive to gluten, I’m going to send you over to Everyday Beauty to learn about the Red Apple products. But if you just like a little zhush of moisture, now

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How Do 50+ Women Become Visible?

Do we become invisible, we women past 50? And if so, can we reappear? A reader emailed me to say she and her her friend had been discussing invisibility, and suggested I write something. OK then. It’s been on my mind for a while. A couple of years back, I was shopping with my daughter. Out of the corner of my eye, not thinking why, I began to notice how cheerful all the cashiers were towards us. How helpful the salespeople. How smiley the passers-by. We were both in t-shirts and jeans. My 20+ daughter made me visible. The tall redhead for extra points. I don’t think it’s

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Found Galleries, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:10am

I’m not sure when, exactly, I began to check the weather where my children live. When they were in college I would read their school paper online. Who among us does not? And for a while after graduation my daughter lived in New Jersey, so the Daily Princetonian still covered them both. I guess it happened when my son moved to Brooklyn? I became a fan of the Wunderground webcams. In the process, I discovered a gallery found art. I remember my father showing me found poems, when I was little. These may be the image-intensive 2014 equivalent Here are photos from January and February of this year.

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Something Else You Should Think About Buying Although It Doesn’t Fit Me

Tomboys love to polish up their jeans with a casual jacket. Inspired by a post from Sally at Already Pretty, I ordered this one from the GAP. Alas, Broad Shoulders, with their ally Moderate Bustline, strike again. Good feel, no fit. (Yeah, I’m making baseball jokes. Spring is in the air.) However, if you are narrower in the shoulder than I, and more expansive in the bust, or waist, this might work very well. I ordered the heathered gray. You can see that it isn’t quite right. It is possible that everyone’s going to have to shorten the sleeves. To quote the British House of Cards, “I couldn’t

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Artsy Cousin Shows Us How To Wear Boyfriend Jeans – With Enough Color To Perk Up The Winter Grays

Remember Artsy in Boulder? She who brightened these pages back in March of 2013? Well, this Artsy Cousin is really Debbie in Colorado, and she’s returned, on request. Right as much of the world has descended deep, deep into winter grays, (really, why do we call them the “blues?” What did blues ever do to us? Clearly grays are the culprit.) she’s back to show us another way to wear boyfriend jeans. With color, unsurprisingly. Happy, imaginative, carefree color. Bring on dreams of spring. Reminding us that it’s summer in Australia, and trade winds blow in Jamaica. Lights, and, sandals.   Note that in every shot she’s wearing

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Privilege Reports To The Board, (i.e., You) On 13 Longish, Slowish Steps To Blog Readership, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:34am

Exactly 5 years ago today I published the first post on Privilege. It was about High WASP Valentines. And yes, it was a day late. I’ve tried to be punctual ever since, as Five Minutes Early Is On Time. A week or so ago I received, and then misplaced, an email from a reader. She is starting a blog herself, and wondered how to gain readership. Since I can’t reply in email, I thought I’d merge my answer to her with a Privilege Report To The Board. Let’s start with where we are today. Privilege Right Now (February 15, 2009 – February 15, 2014) Page views/month: ~93,000 Unique

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An Object Of Desire: The Pointy-Toed Flat

Have you noticed? Suddenly all toes triangulate. While some of us may be reluctant to move on from ballet slippers and almond-ended pumps, pointy-toes have their, um, good points. In particular, as All Skinny Jeans All The Time give way to multiple pants styles, the pointed shoe helps with our transition. Still in skinnies? Pointed toes look newer, edgier, a little more adult. Moving to bootcut, flares, or boyfriend? Same effect, perfect proportions. Skirts and dresses? Again the impact. And pointed toes invite Sturdy Gal flats – by some quirk of human imagination and societal engineering always less formal than heels – to all sorts of dress-rich environments.

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Are Luxury Goods “Fleecing” Us?

Readers have recently commented, on a couple of posts, about pricing of goods like jeans and blue French jackets. We might add t-shirts to the mix. Duchesse said, I always wonder when institutional clothes like this are offered with hefty price tags- is this an improvement on the original functional piece- or is someone fleecing us? Let me say right up front, I don’t think we’re looking at fleecing. That term implies an unfair market transaction, and I don’t see too many of those in today’s online, legitimate brand, American, e-commerce. At bottom, I believe in Adam Smith’s Invisible Hand theories, as long as we acknowledge the associated

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Rain, Narrative, Baptism, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:34am

Some facts, and a little associated speculation. It’s finally raining in the Bay Area. Maybe we’ll be able to take showers this summer. Personal hygiene aside, for the fires and the farmers, this is crucial. Perhaps those Polar Vortices will now free the rest of the country? I’ve only got 1.5 episodes of Breaking Bad left. Looming crisis of absent narrative. But hey, guys, is that some classical story-telling or what? I’ve never seen the concept of hubris so well and thoroughly explored. Do we think, as cable series enter the approved canon for high school student study, that teachers will be reading Ahab and Hank, In Search

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6 Ways To Win A Sturdy Gal’s Valentine Heart

Cue brief spate of curmudgeonly grumbling. Valentine’s Day, like Christmas at its nadir, has a bad habit of turning substandard stuff into “gifts.” I mean, if you didn’t want the bouquet of blackening roses and baby’s breath on February 13th, you probably don’t want it on the 14th either. So say Sturdy Gals. However, give us something useful, we’re yours. If it’s also sweet, soft, sensual? Were yours for life. So how to transmute Valentine’s dross into red glitter? To whit. 1. Chocolate. Given the gourmetization of bar chocolate, i.e. hot pepper, ginger, and bacon flavors lining grocery shelves, one does not perhaps need boxed chocolates. However, Sturdy

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Something You Should Wear Because It Doesn’t Fit Me In Real Life

I love this jacket. Some people have queried its potential in various chats, calling it “Mao-like,” and “boxy.” I am here to tell you it’s lovely. Except if you have a broad back, which means a Medium constrains your shoulders and a Large probably flaps around the middle. Which means you return it to Steven Alan, wistfully. But if you’re narrow-backed, let me tell you what you get. Bill Cunningham-homage, that’s what. It’s a beautiful color, the fabric is heavy, the effect, artisanal. As Sturdy Gals age, some intensify their Sturdy, some go all Grande-tastic, others trend Artsy-rrific. For those with dreams of beauty, what sturdier than the

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Privilege in IFB Links à la Mode This Week

IFB: Links à la Mode January 30th, 2104 Guess what guys! The post on Demystifying Boyfriend Jeans was chosen for IFB’s (stands for Independent Fashion Bloggers) weekly link round-up, AKA Links à la Mode. I was very excited when I saw the notice come through. Below is the text they ask winners to share this week. Which gives you a look at a pretty wide range of style blogs. Enjoy! And thanks IFB! The New Casual Sneakers at Chanel Couture? Evening dresses to a picnic? Is there really any appropriate occasion to wear anything? Not anymore! Dress it up, dress it down, if you can make it work,

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In Which Resolutions Mean Doing Less, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:58am

Ah Saturday morning. The sounds of my washing machine. Neighbor children playing loudly on the other side of a backyard fence, and it’s only 8:18am. I remember those days of “Oh god, what will we do with them for the next 12 hours?” Sometimes the answer was, “Send them outside, and don’t let them back in until somebody’s crying.” But even so I waited for the sound of almost tears, from the youngest, mostly, and relented to fend off the terrible despair of a 3-year old. So hard to be little and powerless, especially when you’re smart enough to know what strength would feel like. That era when

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Shop Like A Grande Dame, On A Moyenne Dame Budget

Even Reggie Darling admits, if one wants to shop like a Grande Dame, it helps to be an heiress. All right then. How about those of us who work for a living? What of those who want a few Dame-esque pieces, but aren’t the sort to gussy up day in day out? I took a look at shopping options. Mind you, these are not “budget,” per se. We might more accurately call them “non-stratospheric,” in comparison with the de la Renta, Herrera, and Chanel ways of a true East Coast Dame. One preliminary bit of counsel, if I might. Keep your homage on the light side. A slavish

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Demystifying The “Boyfriend” Jean

A good pair of jeans is hard to find. Why? We women have a lot of variables in jean-covered body areas. Where it hits on your hip, how tight that cinch is, the angle from waist to seat, how tight or loose the legs are, these measurements create what my software friends mights call non-trivial permutations and combinations. Then branding language steps in, adding smoke to the hall of mirrors. Right now, in retirement, I’m searching for loose pants that are presentable in public. Fortunately, boyfriend jeans are in style. Unfortunately, there are 60 different varieties, and no consensus on just what “boyfriend” means. Loose? Ripped at the

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Throwing Off The Shackles Of Young And Handsome, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:41am

“Wait,” you just might be thinking. “What the heck is going on here? Why is a photo of Josh Holloway greeting me?” Reasonable question. Mr. Holloway’s photo marks the last time I found a young, Generally-Touted-To-Be-Handsome man attractive. Now we could launch a debate over long hair, blue eyes vs. brown, and Just What Is It About Bad Boys? But leaving the points of different taste aside, we can probably agree that when Lost first aired, Holloway was a) a heartthrob to young women b) 34 years old himself. I was 47, and I too thought he was cute. That’s what we used to say, in the olden

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5 Key Steps To Take Before You Sell Anything On eBay – A Guest Post From Alicia Kan

As I have said, my 2014 resolutions require some advance clearing. First up, space, both physical and mental. I have a few pieces of very nice clothing (not to mention 10 pairs of new-in-bag Freed pointe shoes from my daughters days as a dancer) that felt too nice for Goodwill, and too old to give away here. Our local consignment shop was still full from the crash of 2008. I considered eBay, but had absolutely no idea how to begin. Enter Alicia Kan, an Internet buddy and excellent communicator, to explain the practicalities and unforeseen pleasures of selling on eBay. If you always thought you might give it

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The East Coast Grande Dame, Reggie Darling Style (TM)

In 1960, my father left the East Coast and moved his very young family to Northern California. This meant that I grew up, despite my High WASP heritage, in a world of furze and tie dye. Our family followed the High WASP code of conduct, but we believed it to be our own private, unvoiced ritual. We lacked cultural context, even as we lived the culture itself. As a side note, Artsy Cousins and Sturdy Gals flourished in Northern California, c. 1970 but  I rarely saw a Grande Dame. So when, in 1974, I traveled back to Princeton for college, I felt somewhat a fish out of water.

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Dying Out Loud Or Not, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:17am

  This week lots of people, in media both traditional and social, discussed a woman named Lisa Adams. Lisa Bonchek Adams. Lisa is a mother, in her her early 40s, who had breast cancer around 5 years ago. When I first started following her on Twitter, some time around 2010, Lisa was there as someone who had made it through. Not in a self-congratulatory way, more like, “I had cancer, and at the moment, I don’t. Now please go get your medical tests and by the way here’s something funny my kid said.” She tweeted her regular life, in those days, more than any future death or disease.

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A New Year’s Resolution Architecture To Stand The Test Of Time – And Inertia

This year I made resolutions for the first time ever. Many situational changes in 2013, combined with internal shifts, required that I plant my feet and carry on with intent. Since I need logic to keep me going, I had to spend some time thinking about the architecture of resolve. Here’s how I deconstructed my resolutions, and built them back up. If I abstract all my thinking up, I resolved to work at, in, and towards more good. So abstract as to be useless. We’ll try the next level of detail. I want to work towards feeling good for myself, and doing good for others. How about that?

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LPC Is At Not Dressed As Lamb Today

Today I’m going to send you, if you have a moment, over to Not Dressed As Lamb. Catherine has put together a beautifully done post, soliciting thoughts from style bloggers over 40 on the topic above. And yes, I’m there, and honored by the inclusion, but the post has implications more interesting than my Nike Air Maxes. Endearingly blue and peach though they might be. The shoes, not the implications. But I digress. Beaning Someone With My Handbag First, being 57, the wherefores and howfores of style after 40 itself feel like history. While I remember how it felt to turn that age corner, at 57, I truly

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Flowers, Or Perhaps We Should Say “Florals,” In The House

Today is Flowers In The House day. Jane, at Small But Charming, is a florist, and today she and her buddies post photos of their arrangements. A wonderful way to start the week. I like to participate when I can, but it’s also Annual Nothing Blooms In Northern California Day, and I have only the memory of my wedding bouquet. Besides, all other arrangements pale in in my heart. However, I do have some florals in the house. Sturdy Gals have to be careful with florals, as with polka dots, to avoid our Scylla and Charybdis of Cutsey and Dopey. Artsy Cousins can flower it up, as long

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In Which We Salute Mohawk Guy, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:39am

For anyone wondering what I was talking about in last night’s post, let me explain. Sturdy Gals can’t keep secrets. On Thursday I was emailed by a PR rep to say that Sodastream was going to hold a real-time, videostreamed, press conference on Friday,  announcing their new celebrity spokesperson. She indicated that if I were willing to watch, and post about the announcement, they’d send me a Sodastream unit. I knew the product because my father and step-mother have one, and love it. I thought, “Hey, a good giveaway for my dear readers.” But when I, and ~49 other bloggers, signed into LiveStream to watch, it turned out

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Hunter S. Thompson Covers A Video Press Conference With Sodastream And Scarlett Johansson

Pretend I’m Hunter S. Thompson. Just for a minute. This will require pretending he writes a blog. Now pretend he is contacted and asked if he’d like to watch a live video of Sodastream announcing their new celebrity spokesperson, in return for which he will receive a Sodastream. Pretend he wants to give it away to his readers. Humor me. In that situation, he will have just found himself watching a live video stream. Humor me. The cameras will be turned on, at first, so he can see the preparations. But he won’t hear anything. Then a guy with a mohawk will walk by. Clearly no one is

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Think A Sweatshirt Is Sloppy? Quilt It.

I quite like it when what at first blush seems like a random sartorial urge turns out to be a trend. Gives one so many options to choose from. Most recently, in my retirement dressing quest, I realized that I don’t wear much wool any more. Too hot. Too annoying to handwash or dry clean. Sweatshirts seem to work better, but they are so, so, sweatshirty. So how about quilted? The extra structure appeals, sophisticates one’s look just a tad. You’d have to watch the length. Cropped or long past hip – good. Indeterminate middle waist – bad. No need to channel a 13th century gambeson. For a

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The Surprising Top 7 Pins From My Last 2 Years On Pinterest

I’ve been participating in Pinterest for 2 years now. As of yesterday I’d pinned 2,862 items. You’d guess, that as a style blogger, I’d generate most interest on pins of clothing. Well, yes and no. Here are my top 7 images of 2012 and 2013, along with their titles, and some ideas as to just why they were repinned so often. I think – despite the small sample size –  implications extend beyond how to generate Pinterest signals of social recognition. (For those not yet familiar with the site, it consists of a feed of “pinned” images. You see the pins of the people you choose to follow,

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An Easy-Going Trip To Sonoma County, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:21am

We’ll start back easy. Following an office metaphor, we’re in the kitchen. People mill about, laughing, cups of tea and coffee in hand. There’s a shared reluctance to buckle down and produce. Someone pulls out their cellphone and shows vacation photos. I’ll play her, and give you an easy-going account of a trip to wine country. Sonoma, to be precise, with my daughter. We drove up Sunday morning. It takes about 90 minutes to get from my house on the Peninsula to the Matanzas Creek Winery. They are known for growing lavender as well as grapes. Here’s their showroom. And wine salts. And a redhead, wearing new shoes

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Tidbit: UNIQLO Sale, My Favorite Low Cost Retailer Of All

Hey guys, UNIQLO is having a sale. You can find the UK site here, and the US, here.  UNIQLO US didn’t give me a pretty red square, more’s the pity. For my money, UNIQLO is the highest quality low cost retailer around. I’ve bought their tees, this jacket which was perhaps my all-time favorite of 2013 purchases, and most recently a silver down vest. I also bought my daughter all sorts of UNIQLO for her most recent birthday. You know how you get an email from a colleague who is on vacation, and she says, “Guys, I know I’m supposed to be out of the office but I

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2014

have a very happy new year sturdy gals don’t quite understand dreams but they love to plan so I wish for you a year in which all well-made plans go as hmmm planned xoxox lisa brought to you by a few words without images or even punctuation ready set go

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Christmas Break, Or Saturday Morning at 9:42am

Well 2013. My goodness. Left a job, got married. Other stuff. So now it’s Christmastime, which my family celebrates, and my kids are coming home. I bought a second sofa. This time we will all have a place to sit. I will see you in January, after New Year’s. I might have to make a Christmas card for the blog, as I have done in year’s past, but then again I might just nap. Perhaps a grown child will nestle next to me. Two things before the break. First, I wanted to thank the blogger who writes The Class Factotum Speaks, for organizing to meet me for lunch

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A Last Minute Christmas, High WASP Style

There should be no shame in a last minute Christmas. We all have our reasons, whether it’s work, travel, or difficulty finding the spirit. I remember the rush very well. And I was thinking, could we solve the problem online? Luckily, the Internet loves us unconditionally. First, let’s assume we find a tree somewhere. That’s part of last minute myth-making. One must visit the Tree Guy. One must purchase surrounded by one’s own condensing breath, under sodium street lamps, surrounded by cyclone fencing and Dodge Darts. Maybe a jumpy house, losing air in the corner. We’ll assume the Tree Guy also locates one last wreath, cobbled together from

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Retirement Dressing: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

One of you asked, what happened to the retirement dressing project? Good question. Let’s take a look. After a brief detour through $200 sweatpants (I did find a good pair at La Garçonne), I reverted to something I learned in software. The Use Case Methodology. Dressing to fit my real needs. But those are minimal. I’m 57. I’m newly married. I get in and out of the car a lot, and walk on sidewalks. I have no particular point to make to anyone about anything. In this context, what matters? As users will, I have requirements. Comfortable Feet. I’ve always insisted on comfort, but for now my tendonitis

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The Best Reason To Retire Is Christmas, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:41am

Here’s how I’m staying sane at Christmas. Made my peace with last-minute-ness. The deadline is Christmas morning, is it not? If you complete non-family jobs in advance of a deadline you miss critical trends. Shouldn’t the same apply to holidays? Called my sisters. Oh, my brother has kept me sane on many occasions, but it’s been to do with the big 3 – job, marriage, child-rearing. Sisterly expertise extends to stuff and etiquette. (If I wanted to talk stuff with my brother it’d be gadgets, and if I wanted to talk etiquette, well, he’s a psychoanalyst and he believes in truth.) Retired. Seriously. Last year, in the thick

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A Review Of The St. Regis Princeville, And A Honeymoon

Over Thanksgiving week, my husband and I went on our honeymoon. We stayed at the St. Regis Princeville, on Kauai. I’d been to Kauai before, with my mother and siblings, back when there was a Club Med.  I’d read that they filmed Jurassic Park here. I’d scrolled through online photos. But I was surprised anyway. If you’re grumpy from a long flight, you at first might think the entrance to the hotel looks like a suburban country club. You might even in a curmudgeonly moment think that the lobby suggests Dubai, Shanghai, or some other magnet for large sums of anxious capital. As we know, I’m a faded

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15 Style Blogs For Women Over 40, At Babble

Hey guys, I’m up at Babble (which is a Disney site? Who knew? Can I have tickets to Saving Mr. Banks? No? Drat.)! I’m always surprised and cheered when someone takes note of what we’re doing here, so I thought I’d pass the link along. I expect you’ll find familiar faces, but also a few new bloggers. Including, of course, the author, Rachel Mátos of The Art Muse.

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Books For Christmas

In my house of origin, stocking presents were in some ways the best part of Christmas. Mom would tell stories of the little things she’d misplaced, or how something one of the 4 kids opened was intended for another. We’d open the usual goofy Christmas socks and underwear. And as a reading family, we always each got a book. Once we grew up, and Mom no longer ran the show, we evolved to a tradition where everyone who attends a group Christmas morning anywhere in the family brings one stocking present for everyone else who will be there. And we still give books. I figured you literate crew might

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Winner!

Although we are lucky to have more than one Jan commenting on this blog, today the random number came up for the specific Jan who wrote this comment, My only diamond pendant came from a bracelet that my late mother had reworked into my pendant and earrings for my sister and sister-in-law. I get special enjoyment out of the occasions when we find ourselves together wearing these keepsakes. Jan, you are the winner of the Blue Nile necklace. I will email you for your postal address, and send it off. Congratulations! And thank you all for each and every one of the stories. Wonderful. Kathy G.’s story, I

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Silver Linings To Heartbreak, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:19am

I’ve been thinking this week about heartbreak. There’s a small epidemic in my online world. First, the blogger Beverly Like Hills reports that her husband has asked for a divorce. Then one of east side bride’s readers writes in to say her fiancé has called off their wedding, after 7 years of relationship. At 57, it would not have been possible to have escaped heartbreak. And at 57, it would have been foolish not to have recovered, given the good fortune that graces me. What then does recovery feel like? Very physical. I think they call it heartbreak for a reason. Some linkage we haven’t yet named must

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Blue Nile Moves On Beyond Diamonds, To Infinity

Guess who wants to give you a present? Is it Santa? A Tomten? An errant elf who looks uncannily like Will Farrell? No. Blue Nile, the preeminent online diamond jeweler in the United States. Long known for what we might call their diamond-ring configurator. I confess to having played with it, day-dreaming of engagement rings. An age-independent activity, by the way. The company now wants to generate awareness for their lower-priced offerings. Their designs are good. Clean. I believe that (as Duchesse has pointed out in the comments here) you can always tell when there’s talent working behind the scenes at a mainstream brand. It has happened at

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Three Cocktail Party Stories

Cocktail parties are generally imagined as frivolous and sparkly. We assume clinking, drinking, even plinking. But it’s not always so. Doesn’t everyone remember some events as more than a fête, decades down the road? 1. A Christmas Throng At Princeton University, With Mistletoe, Punch, And Football 1975. My sophomore year at Princeton, 3 roommates and I threw a Christmas party. We were 2 Texans, 2 Californians. Now that I think about it, probably all lonely in New Jersey, one way or another. We hung ironic mistletoe, strung white lights, made sweet alcoholic pink punch, and distributed invitations by hand. We cleaned our rooms, and waited. Come the party

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4 Additional And Final Thanksgiving-Ish Sale Recommendations

Four sales to recommend. A trend, a friend, and, how about you guys come up with some more -end words? Darling, you s -end me? Your turn. #1 You might investigate the hyper-luxury, runway shopping site, Moda Operandi, where you might decide you want a pink jacket. To wear with your jeans, of course. Thereby jumping on the pink coat trend without actually buying a coat. (You can find the same jacket on sale at net-a-porter if you prefer a familiar vendor.) #2 On the other hand, you could visit the audacious Wendy Brandes, where you will find 85% off select fine jewelry. Her Wendy B. line is

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Technical Difficulties, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:22am

Excuse me while I try to figure out just what exactly has made my blog decide to display all wonky. Wherefore the gray? What has happened to the peaceful white background? If you’re reading in a reader, neveryoumind. If you’re on site here with me, don’t worry if stuff seem to be disappearing and reappearing. I’m going to try unpublishing some recent posts to see if I can find a culprit. So, as I said, please excuse me. And have an absolutely wonderful Saturday.

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Just A Few Black Friday Picks

I can quite easily imagine three different reactions to Black Friday. None of which, by the way, involve shopping on Thanksgiving, or waiting in line in a dark, cold, big store parking lot. Prepare in advance. Know your targets. Execute effectively. Panic. Whimper. Deny. Rage. I have traditionally taken path number 2, inasmuch as I’m incapable of number 1, and I don’t want to waste emotional capacity on number 3. Isn’t anger exhausting? But I’d like to suggest an alternative. Pretend a friend poked around the Internet and sent you a brief list for your consideration. When one partners up with LinkShare and RewardStyle, as I have done

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A Gift Guide From Someone Who Knows How

And today, I’m going to send you to Verhext’s blog, who has put together a gift guide for her Fancy Friend(s). Let’s pretend that’s us, shall we? When you arrive, this is what you will find, links and all. She’s one of those people you discover on the Internet and think, well, she’s got an eye, that’s for dang sure. (You may have more sense than to use terms like dang sure, of course.) Enjoy. Scottish Breakfast is calling.

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The Budget Version Of A Festive Hostess Outfit

I hear you. My picks tend towards the expensive. Let’s fix that. In shifting down the cost curve, you want to follow a few key principles: Stick to one neutral shade, i.e. all gray, all taupe, all cream. Mix textures. Add shine, but not too much. Show your ankles. Unbutton the cardigan’s top buttons for a flash of metallic tank and skin at the collarbone. Wear dangly earrings. Don’t skimp too much on shoes, and don’t ignore the flat/pointy-toe/ Audrey Hepburn vibe. That’s it. So when should we arrive? I’ll bring appetizers, shall I?  

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The Sacred Floor Of Babies, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:31am

Baby nephew, not to mention his parents and doting grandfather, are coming over for a casual lunch today. So casual that we’re just going to pick up Chinese food, (albeit of the authentic sort) and put it on the table with plate, forks, napkins. I suppose I will put out the chopsticks too, and maybe give everyone a glass of water. My sister-in-law thought up the idea of a monthly family get-together. We could have just said, um, Thanksgiving? and let it go for November, but I like commitments, and very informal gatherings. And I like babies. When a baby comes over all focus shifts to the floor.

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One New Piece For Holiday Dress-Up

Every holiday I search out something new for festive dress. Which I still want to call dress-up, because I’m actually 8. However, these days most festivities happen with family – in houses, on sofas and floors with baby nephews . So I’m leaving behind the little black dresses and long velvet sheaths of decades past. This year, I wanted something comfortable, good for a decade, and unique to this year. I have Jigsaw London, and the shopping event to which they invited me, to thank for the specific inspiration. Jigsaw offered me one piece of my choice, along with champagne and sweets. I’m still not used to this

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What Should I Pack For A Warm-Weather Winter Vacation?

It’s chilly outside. Clouds scud, skies darken, the wind reddens our cheeks. A perfect time for warm-weather vacations. But how to pack well for heat when you’re cold. And, more practically, how to buy a bathing suit when you don’t even want to take off your sweater? We’ll rely on “use cases,” same as for European vacations, and business wardrobes. (I’ve previously addressed the questions of vacations by a pool, here, and coverups, here. Let’s think tropically today. Start with bathing suits. At a resort, the usual packing priorities are reversed. You wear bathing suits and occasionally put on something else. You will want: 3 bathing suits (yes,

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And The Winners Are…

Random Number.org has spoken, and the winners of a pair of Naturalizer shoes or boots are: Patricia Cofer and Loretta of Pomegranates and Paper! I will email you both, and confirm your details for shipment. Enjoy! But my friends, can we applaud all the comments for a minute? The foot pain stories! Go and read them, if you want to ponder the mysteries of style, resourcefulness, and being female. Or just feel like smiling, knowingly. Here are two among so many stellar examples. 1. From Julia Sugden “I took my son to an open day at a potential university in Manchester (UK) a city notorious for rain. Well

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The “New Hieroglyphics,” Or, Saturday Morning at 10:08am

Are we entering the New Age Of Hieroglyphics? What do I mean, you might well ask. Well, do you think our “written” language is in the process of becoming a hybrid communication system, in which words and images converge? More specifically, do you know about “emojis?” It’s an app that lets you add teeny pictures to everything you write on your phone. I’ve seen people comment in various places using only emojis. By the way, the Vanity Fair article where I found that graphic is really funny. Emojis are the extreme form of the New Hieroglyphic. But elsewhere in the electronic universe, we see other stirrings. Twitter, King

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Naturalizer Shoes Thanks You For Your Support

As you may remember, I entered a style challenge. And then won. I’m still chuckling and shaking my head quickly side to to side. Next thing you know I’ll start with the folksy comments about pigs flying. But we’ve got shoes to give away here! Two of you will win a pair, from among the 13 below, if you do the following: Comment. Tell me a story about the most uncomfortable shoes you ever had. That’s it. These four are my favorites. A little equestrienne, AKA the Jersey,   ladylike, in the Applause, (love the tortoise detail but if you want to you can call it leopard), a

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An Object Of Desire – The Fisherman’s Sweater

Those of you who follow my Pinterest wanderings may have noted a certain “It” item. Early in the year I began to hear a chant of desire, as one does for these things, “Fisherman’s sweater, fisherman’s sweater, fisherman’s sweater.” A little odd, but apparently I was not alone. Gwyneth has spoken. Via Pinterest and Daily Crush. We don’t have to go all the way to La Paltrow to wear a fisherman’s sweater. We can start with tried and true. This cable knit from L.L. Bean gets great reviews. And it’s cotton, meaning even those in California can wear it in and out of the house. Or we can

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Now Playing: Grown Daughter, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:55am

My daughter is sitting right next to me, typing quickly. She’s wearing flannel pajama bottoms, I’m wearing flannel pajama bottoms, there the resemblance ends. How I gave birth to someone who can memorize anatomical systems, who speaks about “my cadaver,” well, let’s just say that becoming human is a mysterious process. I get such comfort from her competence.  To say nothing of her light copper ponytail and the pitch of her voice. To be precise, more joy than comfort in the physical. Joanna Goddard posted this link, a photo series of mothers with their one-day old infants. When we got to the picture of a baby with eyes

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Weekend Tidbit – Moomins Are At UNIQLO

I have previously mentioned my thing about the “Moomin” characters, right? Well, as of October UNIQLO has done a licensing deal with Tove Jansson’s people – if she has people that is, and not tiny squeaky hippo creatures – and is now offering character-printed t-shirt and hoodies. Here’s an example, from UNIQLO Japan. I suspect they are selling out, as they’ve all but disappeared from UNIQLO sites. However, the San Francisco store was well-stocked, in real life. Which excited me even more than Isabel Marant at H&M, I confess. And fine, if you don’t share my obsession with Finnish children’s stories, Celia Birtwell’s new collection is also pretty

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Get Ready For The Holidays, Decorate Your Table First

American Thanksgiving is on the way, Christmas and other winter holidays not far behind. I say that in a very benign tone of voice, no cause for alarm. The commercial forces of the world want us to focus on presents and decorations but all I can think is, time to start feeding people. I was in Crate and Barrel the other day, buying small wineglasses for my Don’t Drink Too Much Alcohol project, and white plates for the other key initiative, Not Having To Do Dishes Every Time We Eat. I surveyed the vast landscape of white china, and I thought, how to make it festive? The secret

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Inviting All Northern Californians To Jigsaw London San Francisco, Thursday November the 7th, 5-7pm In The Evening

Want to meet up, anyone? Jigsaw London asked me to come to a shopping event at their San Francisco store this Thursday evening, 5-7pm. Champagne, treats, shopping, and gift bags as door prizes. Also shopping. As I’ve said before, part of holiday preparation for me is always buying one new piece. In flush years, maybe a new dress. This year, in a more frugal retirement, perhaps comfortable clothing with a fancy touch, to wear Christmas morning amid the tornado of gift wrap. It would be fun to meet you. Let’s get something out of the way in advance; I talk less formally than I write. Feel free to

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In Which We Prove That $200 Sweatpants Aren’t Right For Everyone

In sorting out retirement, I started with, “What Can I Wear On The Sofa?” Was this the most important question? Nope. But it was the most immediate, and the most easily answered. I like to start small, when faced with big. I can now report, as promised and with some finality, that $200 sweatpants are not part of the solution. For me. Witness. Don’t get me wrong, these are great pants, if only for their soft fabric, beautiful color, and detail. Great pants for someone. But I’m 57 and my waist insists on its proverbial pound of flesh. While I don’t hate my midriff – it has brought

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Trying On Wise, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:33am

Here’s something good about the 50s. You’ve lived a meaningful chunk as an adult – about 30 years, as I see it. And 30 years is not nothing. In 30 years stuff comes and goes, and comes again. Patterns, longer and more subtle, emerge. Traceries matter more than they had, the looming immediate overwhelms less. Here’s something else good about the 50s, those 30 years qualify us to advise. And maybe, for those of us who have relied on sharp thinking, it’s a time to redeem the value of lucidity. Advice can be gently given, offered with a grain of salt and then refused with no harm done.

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News And A Thank You

Guess what? Here’s something fun. I won the Naturalizer Style At Any Age contest. I know! I’m really pleased, and surprised. I also need to thank you all so much. Go you guys! And go you so much that I’ll put together the giveaway for 2 pairs of Naturalizer shoes and get it up on the blog, as soon as I extract myself from the current project of Learning To Cook Indian Food. So far I have determined that dried onion flakes do not like high temperatures. Am about to experiment with processing cooked spinach in the blender. I confess to some trepidation. Again, thank you. It is

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LPC Is At A Practical Wedding Today

Today I am over at A Practical Wedding, writing on clarifying the language of feminism. Meg Keene, the sites’s publisher and a friend of mine, took feminism as the theme for October. I’m squeaking in under the wire. When she asked me for a piece, immediately I thought I needed to write about language. By now it should be clear that I deconstruct anything difficult, hoping that clear definitions and logic sort out everything – from feminism to what to wear on the sofa. In a charged emotional situation, I’m either going to burst into sobs, confess, rant, or analyze. In these excerpts, you may see that I

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Do You Have At Least One Over-The-Top Piece?

I’d like to discuss the value of over-the-top clothing. At least in measured doses. You see, even those of us who favor Quiet Dressing bloom in adventure. Sometimes quite literally. Recently, I won a pair of Wolford tights in a giveaway over at That’s Not My Age. I love Wolford tights, they fit well and last forever. I have a black pair, seen here, bought to wear with everything. and some purple ones, seen here, bought thanks to middle-aged eyes and fluorescent lighting. So, offered carte blanche, what to choose? Lace. Not just any lace. No demure small-figured pattern this time. Nope. Very big nigh-on vulgar swirls. The

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As Promised, One Final Reminder

The voting for Naturalizer’s Style At Any Age contest, AKA Middle-Aged Ladies Can Wear Boots And Leggings Just Fine Thank You, concludes tomorrow. I am making, as promised, one final and I hope polite request for your vote. I’m told, to my surprise, that the skater dress outfit is popular. Clicking here ought to take you to the Facebook page. I know many of you don’t Facebook (is it a verb yet?), and that those of you who do, don’t like to Like. That’s OK. I’m really just happy to have been asked to participate. After all, women should be able to claim style and beauty, past our

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Being Present In All Kinds Of Moments, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:49am

Every night, in the last hour or so before I go to bed, I look forward to breakfast. Whole grain La Brea toast, Justin’s Chocolate Almond Butter, Mighty Leaf Organic Breakfast tea, and Strauss Family 2% milk in a glass bottle. This anticipation is part of my weight maintenance strategy. Why eat late night to dull an edge of hunger that will be so happily satisfied come morning? Yesterday Significant Husband and I decided to spend our honeymoon in Hawaii after all. I had settled on the Enchantment Resort in Arizona. I made reservations and everything. Then I had a terrible dream and canceled. Californians believe in ghosts.

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Are Field Jackets The Next Motos?

I was in Whole Foods the other day, the spiritual home of Sturdy Gals. We do love our organic cauliflower. I surveyed, as politely as I could, what everyone was wearing. Universally, those women who looked comfortable, appropriate for grocery shopping but still stylish, were wearing field jackets. Otherwise known as utility or military-style. I’ve loved my J. Crew jacket. My only reservation was the length, as occasionally I found myself tugging the hem downwards. Guess what? They now make it in a long model. The hood is detachable. Sort of like Coke, if it sells well, create variations. Although I am not compelled to wear a baseball

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Ask LPC Is Back In Action

After a long hiatus, the Ask LPC part of this site is now up and functioning. I deleted some old questions, and have begun to answer the new ones. Take a look, if you you are so inclined. If you don’t see the answer to your particular issue, and if you are impatient – as you should be by now – please resubmit and I’ll get right on it. Score 1 for retirement.    

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Some Online Merchants For The Grande Dames Among Us

What with sweatpants and sneakers and such, I fear we have been neglecting the Grande Dame. She does not like neglect. So let’s take a look at two recently discovered shopping venues. First, I bring you Halsbrook, perfect for the more conservative Dame. I found them on Linkshare and RewardStyle, and then began to notice ads on blogs I frequent. From a marketing perspective, I found it interesting that a luxury fashion company would go straight to blog ads, vs. a more traditional PR launch, but the Dame doesn’t want to hear about commerce, thank you very much. By way of introduction, for the Grande do not buy

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Decisions And Inspiration, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:07am

Today I will be revisiting my 30s and 40s. Or maybe simulating them is a better way to put it. The family’s coming over for dinner, and I’m cooking. I plan to spend time on the floor with not one but two babies. Seems apt, in a time where I’m sorting out the question of So Then What Happened, to backtrack. See what’s there. I had tea this week with a reader, a woman of my general age, who is also mulling over retiring or taking another job in her career field. It was a beautiful afternoon, hotter here than previous Octobers, and in Northern California style we

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Are “Retro” Sneakers Fashion For The Over-50?

See those shoes? Don’t those look like what we used to call sneakers? Guess what’s fashionable right now? Sneakers. The woman above, Jony van Stralen at Shout Out To You, looks insouciant and comfortable, in my eyes.  And given my foot problem – now formally diagnosed as not arthritis but A Foot Thingie That Could Be Tendonitis Could Be A Nerve Is Probably Both – I’m hunting on beyond in the world of comfort shoes. Here’s the Nike Air Max 90, for so it is known, in the flesh. The teal flesh. Or black and pink, if you prefer.There’s another model, the “Thea,” that I think I like

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When You Get Your Outfit Wrong, And You Don’t Care

This jacket doesn’t work with this dress. I didn’t much care, last Tuesday. What with the travel surrounding Mom’s surgery, my September 30th birthday didn’t get celebrated until October 9th. So Significant Husband took me to Boulevard, one of San Francisco’s stalwart delicious, fancy-but-unpretentious places to eat. I had thought to wear my Dries van Noten shift with the biker jacket, but I  left that dress down at my house, so put on this 2010 Prada instead. I expect I will be alternating these two for the next decade of dinners out. I had also imagined higher heels, but my foot issues put their, well, foot down. Why

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Eyes Gentle, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:16am

Attempting yoga class at a new studio today. We shall hope it’s not one of those No Country For Old Ladies places, all triceps and flex. Baby steps toward retirement avec exercise, baby steps. With knee over the ankle, shoulders off the ears and eyes gentle – those things I haven’t forgotten. Before I go, below is the last time I’ll remind you about the Naturalizer project, until the day before voting closes. It’s not so much my particular amalgamation of clothing that matters, more the idea of 50-year olds as a force in the economy of fashion. Thanks for bearing with me. Have a wonderful weekend.  

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Affordable, Trompable, Comfortable – Riding Boots Are The Thing

There’s an eternal appeal to riding boots, don’t you think? Immediate visions of moors, fog, and hair swirling in the wind? Your hair, a romantic stranger’s, long-maned horse, no matter. So what if the closest grassy knoll is a berm by some suburban train tracks, or, what’s an imagination for? So when Naturalizer contacted me about this little project, I was interested. “Style our Jersey boots,” they said. “And then we’ll post the pictures on our Facebook page and you can represent Bloggers Over 50.” At least that’s approximately what they said. Here is the official announcement. Note that the additional pairs of shoes I would win –

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What’s With The $200 Sweatpants?

Apparently, luxe sweatpants are in. How fortuitous. I need sweatpants for sitting on the sofa to write, I need presentable same for running out the door to do errands. If you wonder why the dual requirement, it has been proven that Sturdy Gals don’t like to change their sofa clothes for anything less than dinners out. Nice dinners out. But my goodness, the gap between regular Champion sweats and Helmut is steep. For example, here are some common garden variety $14.99 athletic pants via Amazon. All-out comfort, in Eco Fleece, whatever the heck that is. Now consider some of the luxe varietals. These are the outfit components I’m

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Once More Out Of The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More;* Or, Saturday Morning at 9:45am

Well, my friends, I am retired. Again.. It has taken about 4 weeks for the high job tide of adrenaline, cortisol, and testosterone to roll out. By the way, here’s a fascinating TED talk about leadership, body language, and the hormonal accompaniment. It turns out that one does not move directly from full-tilt job to full-tilt recreation. At least not in my case. One lies for quite some time on the sofa. By the way, I like Sean Saves The World more than The Crazy Ones. Robin Williams seems to be phoning it in. But I digress. For future planning, I prefer small steps and incremental certainty to

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Professor C. Muses On “The Wings of the Dove, ” Novel and Film

Professor C. continues his seminar series, in this case with Henry James,and “The Wings of the Dove.” Reading back through all my father’s posts here, (click on “(Professor C. in the Topics sidebar) I think I find threads about language, reading now vs. then, and the changing choices for identity as society has loosened over the last 100 years. But I could be wrong. That’s the good part about words, flexible interpretation. Oh, by the way, in this movie Venice beats the clothes – hands down. Reading late Henry James is difficult, sometimes exasperating, sometimes exhilarating. I plead guilty – well, partly — to his charge: “the faculty

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LPC At 40+ Style and Already Pretty Last Week

Last week two other bloggers, whose work may be of interest to you, featured me in interviews and links. Every time this happens I find myself involuntarily exclaiming, “I am so lucky!” First, an interview by Sylvia at 40+ Style. One question she asked was, “Has your style changed at all after turning 40? I answered, “It got better.” For the rest of the discussion, please take a look here. It was interesting to see a whole set of my outfits, all at once, and I’m still thinking about how it’s possible to be certain one has a personal style, and be wholly incapable of describing said style

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Silver Spoons, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:35am

My mother is recovering from surgery. It’s important that she consumes no alcohol, so at 5pm one evening I made her a drink with Pellegrino, fresh squeezed Meyer lemon from her tree, sugar, and mint sprigs. What the French probably call citron pressé avec gaz, and the Vietnamese restaurants in San Francisco sell as fresh lemon soda. I used one of her old silver iced tea spoons to stir, and also as the straw she needed for drinking, The stem is hollow, it works like all straws do. There’s been some brouhaha recently about privilege. A young woman ostensibly wrote an article complaining that people hated her because

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Discovering Artists, By The Score

I like fashion, intellectually, because it’s such clear evidence of the human urge to decorate and present. Clothing is our most accessible art. But what about art in the historical definition – painting, photography sculpture? While we can find clothing today even at the drugstore it seems, art’s been traditionally more difficult to get hold of. I have always found the hush of art galleries more unnerving than even the glare of salesladies in the Chanel section of Neiman Marcus. Silly, but true. Introducing Saatchi Online Charles Saatchi made a fortune in advertising, and used it to buy art. Time-honored tradition, for fortunes. Eventually he founded the Saatchi

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The Truth About Trends In 2013 Fall Fashion

What do you think about fall fashion trends? Take a look at The Huffington Post, Glamour, or Style.com. Refinery29 is even calling out 2014. But trends today aren’t what they used to be. Consider the New Look and the ubiquity of wasp waists, or the counter-culture uniformity of the 70s, when we wore wide-legs or went home. 2013 doesn’t work that way. Instead: Fashion’s silhouettes flicker in and out over seasons, impact blurred by layering. Right now we may be doing legs, but variety trumps uniformity. In parallel, the specific triumphs over the general, singular objets de desir morph into “IT” bags and “IT” shoes, seen everywhere. Style

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Let England Entertain Us, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:18am

What is it about British story-telling that we so love? From high art to satinated (let’s pretend this means the patina of drawing room satins) soap operas, nothing entertains like dear old England. Especially the fancy – or posh, in the vernacular. To fully appreciate the top floor (and perhaps the original) American literary fascination with the UK, I have enlisted the help of Professor C. This will require some preparation. At some point in the next 2 weeks I will post his piece on the 1997 film adaptation of Henry James’ “Wings Of A Dove.” So perhaps this weekend, or through the upcoming week, you might watch

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Almost Luxury In The Eastern Sierra, Or, The Convict Lake Lodge

Almost everyone knows about Lake Tahoe, right?  Some people know about Mammoth. A few know about smaller Eastern Sierra lakes like June, Bass. But almost no one knows about Convict Lake. So let’s remedy that situation. As a result of last-minute scheduling, the first trip we took after our wedding was with my family, i.e. father, stepmother, siblings, spouses, and children. We were looking for a place with not-too-“rustic” cabins, a good place to eat, and proximity to astonishing natural beauty. Meet the Convict Lake Resort. The resort’s 28 cabins lie along this gravel loop. The best locations are either up at the top, i.e. the cabins called

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7 Hints For Putting Your Best Face Forward When You’re Over 50

Planning for a dress-up event ? Your child’s wedding? A fund-raiser? The holidays? Are you over 50, perchance? In the face of a big event, young women may attempt a “cleanse” of one sort or another, Spanx in volume, or sequins and green metallic eyeshadow. We in our sixth decade, not so much. As I may have mentioned, (and mentioned, and mentioned) I got married in August. As a Sturdy Gal, my usual makeup routine lasts 15 minutes, most of that spent on sunscreen, concealer and a sponged-on layer of foundation. My usual skin care routine is simple, all Apriori Beauty all the time. But I knew I

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In Autumn Our Fancies Turn To, Um, Or, Saturday Morning At 8:58am

I was reading my social media yesterday, as one does, and was struck by the number of people calling the seasons. As Meg Fairfax Fielding said, “OMG!  It just turned into fall!” Australia on the other side, exhorts summer to get a firmer grip and hoist herself up over the warmed cliff. Here in California we have a cooler few days, but without the signals from other climates I doubt I’d be calling fall. Probably just deadhead some more roses, absentmindedly. Maybe notice that the sun angled off my cheekbones with a little less force. It’s one of the most striking aspects of the Internet, how information layers

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Urban Outfit, From Tough To Tender

Ah cities. We may find ourselves wanting to look a little tough on those sidewalks. At least from a distance. A Uniqlo field jacket (proving to be incredibly wearable by the way)  and Very Large Sunglasses from Costco serve as the first line of defense.  Levi’s 1969 selvedge jeans and Steve Madden oxfords (similar styles are ubiquitous this year) bring up the rear. We’ll all ignore that cheeky pun. Blame it on recent over-indulgence in British television. But take off the protective layer to show your fierce heart. This, the Comme des Garçons PLAY striped top. That’s Not My Age has pointed out the nice style boost chandelier earrings

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News: LinkShare For Dress For Success

As you all know, over the years I have taken very little revenue from this blog. Of course, Beladora advertised for a while, and briefly paid me a commission on your purchases. That was fun. Reminds me that I owe you a Beladora giveaway, must not forget. Also, once I did a sponsored post, for Walgreens. Love Walgreens, but can’t write for cash to save my life. In all I I have kept commercial engagement to giveaways. Always happy to give you guys presents. However, vendors kept on asking to place ads. Concurrently, on a different but related tack, my readers have been gently suggesting that it is

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Settling Into Care, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:08am

Both my children moved recently. My daughter out to Southern California for medical school, and my son to a non-hip region of Brooklyn, for his first solo apartment. At one point during the last couple of weeks, I had a brief thought fragment. You know what I mean by fragment, right? Not a complete sentence, more like a comment overheard at a party. “When she is settled – murmur, murmur, sigh and rustle.” And then when I moved closer to the conversation I was having with myself, I realized how silly my thought was. Life doesn’t come with much inherent settling. My own story involves 3 apartments, 1

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Can You Wear White To Your Wedding Rehearsal?

To revisit, briefly, the discussion of wedding dresses. You all were correct. The Christopher Kane tape dress wasn’t quite right to get married in. It’s cool, beautiful, and fashion-forward. The translucent silk organza is a glorious fabric, and lace appliques and plastic tape as fun as one might expect. But it’s not romantic, and I felt decidedly romantic about marrying. So I wore it the night before the wedding, at a small rehearsal dinner. No time for cameras, or tripods, or the usual standing on sidewalks with open sky as backdrop. I’d entered the wedding chute, where one says often, happily,  “Oh well!” On my iPhone, from the

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Patina

Well hello everyone! I’m very happy to be back. I hope you’ve all had a lovely summer and are anticipating a glorious fall. I’ve been happily stockpiling posts – of urban outfits, movies and literature from Professor C., rehearsal dinner dresses, earrings by Vicente Agor, a trip to Convict Lake, and all kinds of folderol. But as it happens, my return today coincides with an installment of the blogging endeavor known as BIO. Led by Marsha Harris of Splenderosa, each month the BIO style bloggers all publish on one topic. You’ll find them linked here. Today we’re writing about Patina. We probably all know the technical meaning. But

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Married.

The wedding was a delirium of happiness. Emilia Schobeiri, of Emilia Jane Photography, has posted a few of her photos, here. And one more below, including Sarah’s bouquet that I’d like to carry all my life. See you all in September, when I will eventually post one more set of wedding photos, and otherwise return to the usual fare of style, some anxiety, and the raptures of living. Although I confess the anxiety subsides. Much love to you all. Photo: Emilia-Jane Photography

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Off To Blog Hiatus, See You Bright And Early In September, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:41am

Today marks the first Saturday post I’ve ever written in advance. Usually I begin upon rising and put my pen down by noon, come proverbial hell or high water. It’s an exercise I’ve set myself, and one I highly recommend to establish a regular schedule and editorial rhythm. This August is also the first month-long break I will have taken since beginning to write in 2009. I will be back. I love this blog for many singular reasons – put them all together and I’m compelled to return. But what with getting married and holding down a full-time job, I fear my blog posts this month would devolve

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Winner!

And, after the most commented upon giveaway in Privilege history, we have a winner. Carla Yocum, come on down! She has a Facebook page too, and she’s a photographer. Carla, we’ll be in touch with the details. Thank you all so much for the enthusiasm, and for all the advice on the wedding wear too. Blue it is. Final details to be ironed out in situ. And Dressed USA, thank you again so much for your generosity. We wish you all the best.

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LPC Belatedly Answers A 3rd Round Of Questions

The time felt right to answer a few more questions. In some cases, I’m asking for the community to chime in, as you offer a veritable cornucopia of knowledge. Although I’d previously cut out the complimentary remarks, I decided to include them here, as it feels discourteous to ignore kindness. And, as my mother says, A Simple Thank You Will Suffice. Thanks. Q: Can a plumpish Jewish almost-50-ish girl who has been dressing like a sad sack soccer mom for the last 20 years, thinking I might figure out my personal style if I ever got thin, transform into a High Wasp Sturdy Gal or Arty Cousin? Or

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3 Ways To Accessorize For A Summer Wedding

Which accessories work best, when you’re attending a summer wedding? This isn’t one of those posts where I tell you the answer. I’m looking to you all for direction, impunity be danged. And, in return for your thoughts, Dressed USA will be giving one reader a shift of their choice. We thank them in advance. Gosh I love giveaways. Here are the details. I’m going to a wedding soon, in Minneapolis, at the Gale Mansion. It begins at 5pm, with cocktails and dinner directly following. I’d like  to wear my lavender Dressed USA shift. But how to accessorize? It’s a little tricky because a) I don’t know the

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LPC Is At A Practical Wedding Today

I’ve got a little post on being a “friendor,” i.e. helping out with someone else’s wedding, up at A Practical Wedding today. I’m writing about my brother’s wedding a couple of years ago, and there’s a photo or two to illustrate. This is a wonderful blog for anyone who loves weddings, especially the human and slightly less commercial kind. See you there, if you can spare a moment.

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Two Seemingly Unimportant Things Learned From Style Blogging, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:53am

Today we are taking a scientific approach. Because we can. Hypothesis: If you do anything, anything at all, regularly for 4.5 years, you’re going to learn a thing or two. Even at midlife. No matter how obdurately you put your head in the sand. Proof: A few experiences from writing this blog. (Probably not actually proof, but this is personal not public science) Solve Lots Of Little Worries For A Big Bang & The Wrong People Always Apologize 1. Solve lots of little worries for a big bang. What I mean is things that bother you, individually trivial yet systemically burdensome, are worth fixing. For example, I’ve been

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A PrescriptIon For A New Student Wardrobe

As I’ve mentioned before, my daughter will soon start medical school in Southern California. She graduated from college in 2009, and has been working for a medical equipment company ever since. At a desk, I should add, not in a lab or production facility. As a result, she’s got a good set of work clothes, and the usual Wore Them In College And Are Falling Apart pairs of jeans and t-shirts. Nothing quite right for the casual, sleepless, life of a medical school student. And it’s her birthday, on Saturday. You can imagine the packages on their way right about now.   Almost every single piece above is

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I’m In The Paperless Paper, Mom!

I have to thank the inimitable Wendy Brandes for including me in her blogger slideshow for this article on the Huffington Post, “Not So Fast There! The Surprisingly Ling Life Of FashionTrends.” Wendy is a blogger and jewelery designer – many of you may know her already. I showcased the glorious Empress Wu earrings here, and am seriously considering her birthdate necklace for my birthday present this year. 1956, represent! I’m not alone in the slideshow. You’ll see our friend Sue, from Une Femme d’un Certain Age,  Silk Path Diary (who also very kindly quoted me the other day) and Judith from Style Crone. The other bloggers were

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Are You Thinking About Block Heeled Sandals?

I bring you the block heeled sandal. Were I not pretty much all shopped out right now, what with wedding decisions and resultant outlays, I’d be on the hunt. One can opt for high fashion, by Nicholas Kirkwood. These would be kind of cool to toughen up a point d’esprit lace wedding dress, but they’re cream and I’d need white. Dang. But this trend doesn’t require a wedding. What about high heels, from Loeffler Randall? Very high, for those who dare. Or color, from Salvatore Ferragamo, and Rupert Sanderson. On sale, both of them. Salvatore stains ladylike stacked wood heels red, ol’ Rupert punches out a patent leather

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“Game Of Thrones” Meets “2 Broke Girls,” Or, Saturday Morning at 8:34am

I have a new TV show for you. It’s called Orange Is The New Black, a story of women in prison, and you can find it streaming on Netflix. A composite sentence you never expected to read? The show is neither comedy nor soul-searing drama. It’s just a story, based on the memoirs of a woman named Piper Kerman. It’s a good story too, completely addictive, wholly entertaining, and available in 13 full episodes. Think Game Of Thrones meets 2 Broke Girls. Think character. Characters plural, to be precise. My favorites are Suzannah,”Crazy Eyes” Warren, played by Uzo Aduba, Poussey Washington, played by Samira Wiley, Lorna Morello the Italian

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A Perfect Summer Respite

The dog days of summer approach. The term in fact refers to the historical position of the Dog star Sirius, in the skies, but the implied panting animal isn’t inappropriate. What to wear? The fabulous Wendy Brandes braves city shorts, with wonderful results. As does Highland Fashionista. But some of us might really prefer a dress. Really truly. Introducing Dressed USA, and the art of the cotton shift. Above, lavender cotton sateen. Perfect for a summer night out. Imagine a table on the sidewalk, salad on your plate and water beading on wine glasses. The late sunlight refracted onto your hands as you talk. A pause in time.

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Do You Need Different Makeup For Gray Hair?

Gray hair on women often provokes controversy. Let’s move beyond the controversial to the practical, as Sturdy Gals will, and assume everyone’s capable of making their own choices one way or another. Let’s ask, if you go gray, will you need to make other changes in your style? In particular, will you need to change your makeup once you give up what we used to call, “hair dye?” What you find out, absent the salon, is that gray isn’t really a color. I know, rocket science! At least it’s free. While gray hair may make a personal and political statement; it’s fairly quiet in on the visual front,

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Lessons From Shock And Absurdity, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:37am

On Thursday, a homeless woman slapped me in the face. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. My walking commute takes me through a San Francisco neighborhood frequented by many street people. On any given day, I may pass 4-8 people sleeping in doorways, and another 5-10 people who, to phrase it broadly, don’t participate in our primary social system. I wish everyone slept warmly in this world, but they don’t, and few of us reach 56 without that understanding. On Thursday, I looked up ahead on the sidewalk as I walked, and saw a street woman coming towards me. Her hair was tangled, her skin dirty, she

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Stationery, With An “E”

Paper refuses to surrender. Sure, we can text, tweet, post, email, and distribute words in all sorts of esoteric ways. But it seems we still like paper. And we like it to be pretty, and to say something about us to boot. A reader asked, for your first monogrammed stationery, should you choose a fold-over or single card? I respond the way I do for most questions of protocol where I think I have a chance of knowing the right answer, I go with my gut. Sort of like grammar – I was not taught the rules, rather lived them in a house full of literate and prolific

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Wedding Planning Missive #2

Much has been accomplished, in the land of Planning To Wed. I include all the links for those who enjoy wedding details. To whit. Date – Mid-August ✓ Ceremony Venue – San Francisco City Hall ✓ Photographer – Emilia-Jane Schobeiri ✓ Invitations – Paperless Post for email, Precious Bugarin for a few paper invitations ✓ Officiant  ✓ Vows Rings – Tiffany Platinum & Diamond 5-Stone Band for Lisa, Family Heirloom 24K Band for Significant Other ✓ Folding Chairs from City Hall Dinner Location – Local restaurant, not sure yet exactly which, negotiations pending Dress – Under consideration: Christopher Kane Tape Dress, Nina Ricci Floral Lace (turned out that

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The Summer Snaps, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:54am

I felt it. Yesterday I felt the summer snap, and open to its descent. The second rose bloom is blowsy now, and the insects full of feast. Anyone who thinks we don’t have weather in California just doesn’t feel light. A lifetime here and you come to understand summer as, mythically perhaps, the Inuit do snow. So many variants. February summer – when we’ll have a hot week arriving it seems from nowhere. May – you wake up one morning to find sun on your winter-shaded front step and feel warmth in anticipation. June – you remember why we pay such absurd sums for ordinary real estate. Hey,

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What Would The Founding Fathers Think Of DOMA?

We, the people, hold these truths to be self evident. First truth. Last week, as many of you know, the Supreme Court of the United States overruled the Defense of Marriage Act. Outlawing gay marriage at the federal level has been found unconstitutional. Second truth. Today is the Fourth of July, America’s national holiday. Finally, a less important truth but germane to my point, I am directly descended from one of the Signers of the United States’ Declaration of Independence. His name was Lewis Morris. I am also descended, albeit secondarily, from Gouverneur Morris, who was in large part responsible for the drafting of our Constitution. Here it is.

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A Mantra Of Authentic Style

Yesterday Susan at Une Femme d’un Certain Age put up a post on authentic style. She was kind enough to include one of my outfit photos – and she chose well to illustrate her point. For fun, you might want to guess what I’m wearing before before you look. I’ll comment over there on why I think the clothes are a good example. An entire discussion could ensure, to see whether our points of view align. But more importantly, I’d say the style bloggers I like most write mostly about authentic style, each in his or her own way. So of course we have to ask, what does

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Baby Nights, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:05am

Good morning everyone. I took care of my nephew from 10pm to 7am last night. Well my goodness. All you new moms, I salute you. That’s the little guy above. Don’t worry, he’s well supervised. Turns out that’s his new slumber position of choice. I’m not questioning. Oh how interrupted nights tortured me as a young mother. I remember when my second child could finally sleep 8 hours straight. After about 6 weeks of this new situation I woke up one morning and thought, “Wait! I feel normal! I am in fact an optimistic person!” Sleep training is by now a part of our culture. I tried it,

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Happy Birthday To “Already Pretty,” The Book

Just about a year ago, Sally over at Already Pretty released her book. It’s called, appropriately, “Already Pretty: Learn To Love Your Body By Dressing It Well.” If I could be said to write about the nexus of style and social context, Sal writes about style and body image. And her book offers a step-by-step plan to develop a clothing style that works with your body and makes you feel good in the process. She writes with enormous kindness, good humor, and encouragement. I’ve met her in person, she’s very much like her writing – lovely. You all have asked me occasionally how to build a wardrobe from

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How To Dress When You’re “Man Down”

A reader has asked, how to dress when you’re attending an event with trophy wives? Something I’ve touched on personally here, and here, but never deconstructed on a broader scale. Oh wait, perhaps some of you are trophy wives. Know what? I salute you. Time spent pointing fingers is time wasted. Let’s elevate, talk about class, symbols, and anxiety. Better to discuss than complain. In that light, what do we think about Trophy Wives, their symbolic import, and what to wear in their presence?  For me, in my 40s in particular, TWs represented Those People Who Had The Money My Family Lost. Or at least failed to keep.

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The Role Of A Wedding Style Icon, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:49am

I’ve never really subscribed to the idea of a style icon. Perhaps because appropriate options were a long time coming. Back in 1983, when I bought my first suit, to whom would I have looked for inspiration? We were sorting out professional style en masse. By the time style icons appropriate to working women began to appear I had already developed my own fairly stubborn ideas. For better or worse, I thought I knew what I was doing. If pressed now, in my regular life, although I don’t do icons, I could certainly give style favorites. They’re age appropriate, too. Ines de la Fressange. Tilda Swinton. Sturdy, minimal,

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LPC Belatedly Answers Some More Questions

I thought I’d address a few more questions from my defunct Ask LPC. Feel free, by the way, to add requests for posts to the comments below. Q: Hi Lisa, I love your writing, and since discovering your blog have been reading back through the archives. One thing that pops up from time to time is you mentioning retiring and then returning to work. Did you write about what led your decision to do both? I would like to read the ‘back story’. Thank you, I appreciate your blog immensely. Kind regards, Meaghan A: Thank you for your kind words! I think I’ve written about this, but am

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Do The Kardashians Make Young Women Dress Like Old Ladies?

Let’s talk about why an entire segment of young women these days dress like, well, old ladies. First, what do I mean by dressing like old ladies? As clearly I am an older woman, at least older than 50. So are many of you. Is that the same thing as an Old Lady? No. We’re talking about the archetypal Old Lady. She wears what we used to call a “housedress,” her shoes are shaped like feet, she keeps her hair close to her head in a bun or permed waves or head scarf. Maybe she’s European, maybe she’s universal, I don’t know.  Does she still exist except in

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All The Time, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:55am

As requested, here is my Proposal Ring. And the concrete details. It was designed by Paloma Picasso, made of hammered white gold with one small diamond, and sold by Tiffany & Co. I didn’t mean to have a designer ring, we just ran into it. By the way, Wikipedia tells me we can refer to the venerable retailer as either Tiffany or Tiffany’s. I appreciate flexible colloquial language, don’t you? As to the ephemeral details, ah, well, I have to tell you something. I find that with these wedding stuff I’ve bumped right into an inner cairn of privacy, stone markers on a field road. You all asked

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Wedding Planning Missive #1

What’s it like to plan a second wedding? Well, in the simplest incarnation, it’s like a to-do list. And I suspect this particular to-do list may grow. Please chant altogether, if you don’t mind my asking, “Simple, simple, simple.” Date – A Thursday in August ✓ Ceremony Venue – San Francisco City Hall ✓ Photographer – Emilia-Jane Schobeiri ✓ Invitations – Paperless Post for email, TBD for a few paper invitations Officiant  ✓ Vows Rings – Tiffany Platinum & Diamond 5-Stone Band for Lisa, Family Heirloom 24K Band for Significant Other ✓ Folding Chairs from City Hall Dinner Location – Local restaurant, not sure yet exactly which one

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Blue Gray UNIQLO, Meet Lavender J. Crew: The Back Story

This is a story about color, and other stuff. I’m wearing a UNIQLO jacket, Anniel oxfords, chandelier earrings from Beladora, lavender pencil skirt and French blue tee from J. Crew. (They can call it Heather Blueberry all they like but I refuse to participate). Also hair which is now 100% whatever color it so chooses, and a ponytail avec velvet scrunchie. Lavender is how purple evolves for summer. Nude oxfords are how you walk to work in San Francisco. Scrunchies are my Sturdy Gal must. But I was also taking photos in a slightly odd context. This is one of San Francisco’s Urban Gardens. I wanted to mix

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Check Your Privilege, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:24am

Do you check your privilege before you speak? Huh? What does that mean, you might ask? There’s a question on the airwaves these days, i.e. “How can you speak to an issue if personal privilege might color your opinion?” This article in the Guardian offers more detail. Clearly, given the title of this blog, I believe that privilege exists. I also believe it should be discussed openly. So discussed by whom? And how? Let’s first define our terms. Privilege means you get stuff you don’t have to work for. The concept of privilege in society implies that those without suffer injustice. Everyone on board with that? Despite the

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One More Pair Of Cute Summer Shoes

Ah the shoes of summer. They come, they slip on, they eventually degrade under dusty toe prints. But the good ones are lovely in season. As I’ve said, I walk to work. As I’ve said, I have a very casual office. So my choice of summer work shoe may look oddly similar to your run-about-towners. We will take that as a fortunate accident. Witness the Camper “Right Nina” sandal. Why “Left Nina” fails to get a nod I do not know. Comfortable sporty rubber soles, (digression, is anything really rubber any more?) very soft leather uppers, and an elastic strap that I promise you manages to avoid looking

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Tarting Up A ’78 35th Reunion Jacket

Some people customize their clothing with great good taste. If however you’ve a mind for a little tarting, here’s what I did to my Princeton Reunions jacket. What started out all Tommy Bahamas Tuxedo, for our 25th… …wound up like this, for the 35th. I could deconstruct, but I suspect you will do a better job of analysis than I. I’m not sure if it gets better or worse… …close up. Or from the back, for that matter. The ribbon sash sets tigers crawling ever so fetchingly around the waistline. Blame Britex, the venerable San Francisco fabric house. I took bales of lace and tulle to Jacquie’s Sew

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A Short And Very Personal History At Princeton

It’s graduation time around the United States. If you have a new graduate in your family, or will become one yourself soon, congratulations! As backdrop for the festivities, here’s a small set of posts I’ve written over the past few years about my alma mater. 1. As a young freshman in 1974. Where Did You Go To School? 2. Attending my 25th Reunion (on Reggie Darling’s blog.) Guest Post (Thoughts on the changes to Princeton over the past few decades, and the P-rade) 3. My daughter’s graduation. The Story Of My Daughter’s Graduation 4. My son’s graduation. The Graduation Speech I Will Never Give The Princeton Classes of

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I’ll Have The Same, In Several Colors

Experimenting with style can be fun. Even a part of personality growth and emotional development, if you bring a little self-awareness to the process. But sometimes you just wanna wear what works. Which leads to owning the same piece of clothing in several colors. When my sister gave me the Jigsaw Henley in navy, I discovered the joys of waistline forgiveness. A hint of elastic and some extra fabric. At 56, even a plain white tee sometimes asks more of me than I’ve got.  So I went ahead and bought it in olive. This is a wearable shade for those of us natively blue in hue, albeit not

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LPC Belatedly Answers Some Questions

The Ask LPC section of this site is on the blink. Has been for some time, apparently. Boo. We’ll get it fixed, now that I’ve faced up to the problem. In the meantime, I thought I’d give some very long overdue responses. Here’s what you’ve been asking me. As always, I make no claims of wisdom. But it’s polite to answer questions as asked. Q: “I work for a pretty cranky guy. His method of managing often involves chastising people. I just walked into his office to ask about something and he started complaining about me and my assistant not completing a certain task soon enough. I had

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News, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:54am

Here’s some news. Significant Other and I are getting married. Probably soon, probably near, certainly small. More details, in moderation, to follow. I’m very, very happy. Have a wonderful weekend everyone!

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Those Oxfords You’ve Been Ogling On The Street

I love a good oxford. Some of you feel otherwise, that’s OK. There’s room on the style sidewalk for us all. For a year now I’ve watched women slide on by in delicate lace ups. I’ve yearned. I’ve found nada. Until now. An Aha! moment in a Steven Alan store revealed that the oxford of choice is made by Anniel. An Italian dance shoe company. Essentially Repettos for brogue aficianados. Go look at the site, some of their shoes are covered in stars. Finally! I’d been stumped by what to wear with skirts when it gets hot, given that said skirts are worn on a walking commute.  My

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The Last Person In The World To Discover UNIQLO

Am I the last person in the world to discover UNIQLO? Or is it you? The Japanese retailer, whose avowed goal is to become the largest retailer in the world, opened a store in San Francisco earlier this year. I visited last weekend. They might be onto something. If you want Urban Minimalist gear at very low prices, or Cheery Suburban Basics, for that matter, take a gander. They have an online presence as well. I took this jacket home. I paid full price of $50. Now it’s on sale for $29.90. Also this tee. On sale for $8.00. Made in Vietnam, the country nominated for the most

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A Simple Technique For Those Who Would Be Artsy(er)

As Sturdy Gals, we often aspire to other Archetypes. Grande Dame hopefuls sigh for Vivier pumps. Artsy-Lites wish for a little bit of cool. I myself have made a study of the Artsy style. Let’s not talk about the psychology, it’s fairly quickly assessed. Moving on the the practical, as one does, here’s a Sturdy technique. It works pretty darn well, as we are apt to say. Pick a retailer and let them choose. Simple, no? This is not rocket science – except perhaps in the choosing of the outlet itself. For the Artsy comes in many variants. That’s what makes it so tricky for the Sturdy of

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Jury Duty With Blue Eyes, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:46am

Have you ever done jury duty? Or at least been summoned for the possibility? I spent a couple of days this week at our county courthouse. Here’s how jury selection works, at least in Northern California. You receive a notice in the mail: “Call on this date to find if you have to come to the courthouse for possible service.” You do so, along with unknown numbers of other people. You may get excused. If you are called, you show up at the courthouse in the morning, along with 200 other people, and wait to see if you’ll be needed. You may get excused. If you are called,

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“Reggie Darling” And “Darlington House” In June’s Architectural Digest

Don’t read this post. Seriously. Instead, stop by your bookstore, or newsstand if those are still to be found, and acquire the June edition of Architectural Digest. You will not regret it. Should you already be a subscriber, pick your copy up off the coffee table and open its lambent and ink-scented pages. If you are in fact still reading here, what news! AD has featured the country house belonging to “Reggie Darling,” (for it is a nom de plume) and his husband, “Boy.” Perfection I tell you. As his blog would indicate. If you are in fact still reading here, go there instead. My usual reaction to

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The Impact Of Theft On Trust, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:45am

Yesterday someone stole my wallet. I am not sure when or where it happened, exactly. My company had an offsite after-work event, and I noticed the loss after I had parked in a garage near the venue. Annoyed, I first assumed I’d left it behind in my office. I walked to the event, borrowed $10 to pay the parking fee, watched people play in a pool tournament, ate sliders, drank wine, and prepared to end my night inconvenienced. Then I decided I had to return to the office, just to check. As I waited for the 7pm parking rules to pass – so I could leave my car

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The Style Archetypes Reflect On Mother’s Day Jewels

Beladora asked if I’d write a post on Mother’s Day presents for the Style Archetypes. Although I had just written about Beladora jewelry, I do love a straightforward request, so much easier to negotiate than veiled asks or polite threats. Besides, the Style Archetypes clamored at my window late one night to say, “Do it!” Et voilà, some generous, Archetype-approved options. That $150 discount applies through Sunday, just be sure to set up an account and use the code SKYE. It might even be possible – give them a call – to get delivery before Monday. The Grande Dame She always wears jewelry, and it always matches. Given

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What Do You Think About Catcalls For The Over 50?

Deep breath. I have to gird my loins for substantive posts. The other afternoon I was at a party with people in their early 30s. I was telling a story about things street people have said as I walked in San Francisco. Male street people. And I was surprised by the young women’s reaction. These are the stories. Two or three years ago I was walking down the street, wearing Levis and a t-shirt. Nothing terribly tight, but since I learned not to wear my pants too big, nothing baggy either. I give you the details not because you want to replicate my experience, but to set context.

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Virtual Magpie-ing, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:29am

Today I’m over at Pinterest, imagining. Contrary to popular opinion, I find Pinterest obviates buying. A little time spent pinning photos can be as endorphin-producing as a purchase – or more, as one avoids closet clutter, wallet-thinning, buyer’s remorse. Sometimes even I have very little to say on a Saturday morning. Just let the swell of the day carry us where it may.

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3 Photos Of Me Looking Less Than My Best In Skinny Jeans

You all asked for proof that skinny jeans are not my thing and here you go. You’ve seen bootcut, you’ve seen straight leg, here go skinnies. Gang, it’s not about the avoirdupois, it’s the geometry of my bones. Well, it’s mostly not about the avoirdupois. I’m at peace with my figure. It’s not what it used to be, sure, but genetics, disciplined eating, and moderate activity keep me within boundaries for health and societally accepted shape. However,  I think it’s possible to like your body well enough, and still prefer the silhouette certain kinds of clothes give you. And in my case, narrow hips and shortish legs mean

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Shouldn’t Your “Something Blue” Be Sparkly?

It’s wedding season. Brides around the USA, following tradition, may be exploring blue fol-de-rol. The journey may culminate in a blue garter, it’s OK to be cheesy in wedding-land. But perhaps  you are considering blue sparkle instead? Congratulations! Beladora has launched their new website. I’ve been a blogfriend of the CEO for ages, have even met her in person. The site specializes in estate and occasionally antique jewelry. Try filtering by Blue. So many choices, or at the least so many pretty things to look at. Consider. We will alphabetize so that we can pretend to be rational in the face of gems. You may actually have that

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My Son Turns 23, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:06am

Today my son is 23. When your children are born, and young, you aren’t quite sure what’s going to stick. Is this their personality or a phase? I think it’s best to avoid attributing personality for a long time, to give room for their own selves to show up. You, as the adult, don’t want to construct a premature identity for them out of your own experience and feelings. That said, it turns out that some things you can see in the young. While there was much I did not know about who my son would become, some of the enduring him was visible very early. Several years

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Moominmama Makes A Mug

We rarely talk home goods here. As I’ve said, High WASPs are apt to let their rugs and sofa reach states of disrepair they’d never suffer in their clothing. But there is one High WASP habit I’d like to mention. And then enable. I imagine we are not alone in The Random Mug Collection. Yes, in the cupboard with our father’s china and our mother’s silver sit the ceramic equivalent of rock concert t-shirts. If you’re ready to add some Finnish whimsy to your collection, there’s nothing like a Moomintroll. Sure, the shipping costs are a terrible disincentive, but, on the other hand, Moominmama comes in pink. I’m

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How To Organize Your Summer Shopping Daydreams

Last week San Francisco enjoyed an 80℉ day. This in and of itself is news for my mostly temperate city, but trust me, it happened. People poured onto the streets in warm weather outfits. I couldn’t help but wonder whether I needed anything new. And the answer is, of course, no. But it never hurts to imagine, perhaps with some logical categories – replacements, theme and variations, or just plain fun – to help us out. For example, 1. Replacementz: Yes, More Plain White Tees. Or Maybe A Peplum. Face it. White tops have to be replaced every year, if they’re a staple in your daytime wardrobe. That’s

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Jigsaw London Giveaway Winner

And the winner is…. Dawn! Who can also be found here, by the way. Congratulations Dawn, and everyone, thank you for participating. Fear not if you were crossing your fingers, I have a hunch there will be other prizes for my beloved readers, in the none-too-distant future.    

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The Various Meanings Of Rock, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:01am

I just finished Elizabeth Strout’s first novel, Amy and Isabelle, Strout also wrote Olive Kitteridge, which won the Pulitzer in 2009. Amy and Isabelle concerns a mother and a daughter. I recommend it highly. Here’s a passage from the final pages. (I will tell you in advance that the book is, in the end, hopeful. These words are a release rather than a trigger to misery.) Knowing that her child had grown up frightened. Except it was cockeyed, all backwards, because, thought Isabelle, glancing back at her daughter, I’ve been frightened of you. Oh, it was sad. It wasn’t right. Her own mother had been frightened too. (Isabelle’s foot

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Jigsaw London Brings Polka Dots To Stripes

I first discovered Jigsaw London when my Artsy sister gave me this wonderful navy top as a birthday present. Which I liked so much I bought it in olive as well. Twice, in fact, because I put the first olive purchase in the dryer. Oops. Hate that. Mini-shirts. Lo and behold, the people at Jigsaw saw the 2012 post and now we get to do a giveaway. One happy reader will receive a $100 gift certificate in exchange for the few small gestures listed below. Jigsaw also asked me to wear something to get us in the mood. “You bet,” is the appropriate exclamation of enthusiasm, don’t you

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5 Lists To Browse On A Monday

It’s Monday. You knew that. If you’re back at the office, you’re going to want a few things to browse whenever you pause on your way to the full work velocity. If you’re home with kids, but they are down for a nap or out at school,  you might like to quickly reacquaint yourself with the world. So. A list of entertaining lists. 8 Fashion Bloggers Over 40 You Should Know. Grechen, of fabulous taste and Grechen’s Closet, put it together for IFB. And to my great joy, included me. A few others I knew already, like Une Femme d’un Certain Age, and several I did not. Thank

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Paving Over, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:01am

I love working in the city. People walking on sidewalks, glimpses of sky between buildings, so many odd conversations. One morning I listened to a hard-hatted construction worker and a toothless street man discuss the local Audi dealership, as they separately drank their coffee at a donut joint. But if I can’t spend my weekend in the suburbs I go a little nuts. Rose bushes, Chinese evergreen elm, the garden. I’ve lived in this house for 27 years, with only a short hiatus during the divorce, and I love my yard. Could someone please write an ABCdarius of California-happy plants and gardening terms.? Acanthus, batis, cymbidium, dig. But

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Isabel Marant Dickers And A Tweed Pencil Skirt

The more I pay attention to style, the more I find myself singling out certain designers as my pals. Take Isabel Marant, for example. I own two of her Étoile Isabel Marant jackets, one aubergine tweed, one black. They have served me very well, worn with everything from brown cords to Levi 501s and Doc Martins. Etoile is her non-stratospheric-in-price line, and although these jackets will not last a decade, maybe not even 5 years, they’ll give me a short glorious burst of frequent wear. Thanks, Isabel. The thing is, once you get a designer’s aesthetic in your head, you start to look out for their work. And

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Lace For Grandes Dames, Artsy Cousins, And Yes, Even Sturdy Gals

Lace. It’s everywhere. From Target to Neiman Marcus, and festooning the internet. Some trends are all or nothing, one cannot dip one’s toes into harem pants, for example. But lace is a gentle trend, i.e. light on the psyche and the wallet both. Lace For Everyone! The Sturdy Gal, subject as she is to bouts of The Cutes, needs to avoid any puffed sleeves, trim, or collar action. Try instead a sweatshirt sort of lace, to throw on with your khakis or shorts. If you can withstand Abercrombie that is. Don’t worry. They can neither spray perfume nor blare music on the Internet.I saw this skirt, or one

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Don’t Walk On By, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:07am

I wonder what it must be like to have grown up post-Facebook. I remember my daughter had an account very early on. In those days, the social network was intimate, conversations and automated interactions modeled on the murmur of school hallways. These days, well, you know. But if we back up a bit, the story extends far beyond Facebook. Don’t many of us now sustain lots of online dialogue in our minds? Don’t we have ideas of our online friends as vivid as the memories of people we had lunch with on, say, Tuesday? So the networked world has exploded open our horizons. As we feel our communities

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Building A Precious Jewelry Collection From Scratch

Imagine you are just starting out in adult life. Or it’s time for a sea change – shifting style, resetting priorities. But imagine, either way, you want to build a jewelry collection from scratch, and that you have complicated your existence by preferring, strongly, the precious. You may even be allergic to silver, nickle and brass. It happens. What’s that you ask? Why yes, I’m happy to advise! Show pictures of sparkly bits from around the web? Don’t mind if I do! What Pieces? Earrings – Baseline in America. Earbobs, as the Victorian called them, have become almost as ubiquitous as shoes. Luckily, earrings can be little, therefore

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The Challenges Of Privilege

“What was your greatest challenge?” asks Marsha. “How did it make you better?” It might be hard to imagine I can answer, born into privilege as I was. Intelligently fed, beautifully housed, formally educated. What possible difficulties could I face? But the Internet has convinced me that everyone struggles with something. We read of and from people who write, cook, paint beautifully  Get to know them better, they’ve got their stuff. An editor with a great job? She’s confused and worried. The chemist? Might be angry. People’s lives surprise you. So it was with privilege. Even abundance requires sorting out. Between the ages of 20 and 23 I

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Dyeing Easter Eggs Long Ago, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:59am

It’s Easter and Passover season. To say nothing of Holi, last week’s Hindu festival. There may be other significant cultural and religious holidays around now, but those are all I know. To everyone, then,  greetings. In fact, I grew up in a non-religious household. I may be the only sibling who emerged a bona fide atheist, others might be agnostic. Or Buddhists. Possibly Buddhists. We don’t talk much about religion, unless you want to include spirit animals. High WASPs are like that – we merge our heritage of Scottish grouse-beating with the more global mystical quest. Old money so often births old hippies. It’s a benign outcome, and

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Starting From Scratch, Or, A Whole New Wardrobe

Imagine you were tasked with purchasing an entirely new wardrobe. Fun, right? But no. Turns out it’s daunting. Where to start, when anything is possible? As for any large undertaking, you need an anchoring principle. I suggest that you buy clothes you will fact wear. For clothes to be useful, they have to make it out the door. But sometimes I don’t feel like getting myself out the door. Hmm. So my clothes have to encourage me, to ensure that I will feel comfortable, appropriate and attractive. Over the years, helped in no small measure by the writing of this blog, I’ve developed an approach that works. We’ll

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If You Wear Spring Clothes, Will The Warm Weather Come?

I have returned from Spring Break. Which, unfortunately involved tax preparation and weed assessment rather than sun, shore, or seaside.  But I’m ready for sun. Ready for trips South, or inland, or to the water, to dry winter out of my consciousness. One of the things I always enjoy about warm travel is giving up sartorial constraints. If I’m ever going to leave my wardrobe comfort zone, absent a coronation invitation of course, it’s going to be en vacances. What does one wear to a coronation? But I digress. For example, consider our friend Marsha and her Splenderosa line of jewelry. Ordinarily, I’m give me precious metals or

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Spring Break

Privilege will be on Spring Break this week, returning next week with a) something from our friend Marsha at Splenderosa b) a reader request for guidance on how to put together a whole new wardrobe. Now that’s a fun question to answer. For today, I recommend visiting Flwrjane at Small But Charming for Flowers in the House, and the Karen Millen website for a blowout sale. Millen makes great narrow trousers and even narrower dresses. See you soon.  

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“Parade’s End” As Hot Milk, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:13am

Well my goodness. I slept until 9:40am. That hasn’t happened in 20 years. Of course, I was up for a while, sometime in the dark morning, but still. Sleep! Sweet, oblivious, restorative sleep! I always heard that Nod can desert us as we age. I imagined I’d be safe. Ha. Pride goeth before a fall, and years of sweet dreams precede a terrible familiarity with 2:30am. I have a few strategies. First, I try to worry a lot before I fall asleep. Sounds counter-intuitive, but I find that if I ferret out that which I might have glossed over during the day, if I worry and sort, I

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The Duluth Laptop Scout Pack, A Review

How many of you carry your laptop in a backpack? I’m guessing a substantial few. Well, here’s something to consider – a non-plastic, made in America, $125-costing, slice of history. You see, how I carry my computer matters to me. I take a 30 minute urban walk to work and back almost every day. I like to feel sharp. But I’ve been carrying a non-descript black Tumi for over a year. Dull. And I while used to carry everything loose in the Tumi, wallet, makeup, computer, papers, when I moved to a cross-body bag, my Bottega Veneta made for a tight fit in the Tumi front pocket. Tight

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And The Winner Is…

The winner of the True Wind bag is HHH. Thank you HHH for participating! Thank you all SO MUCH for your stories. They are just wonderful. And Kathryn, you who lost your house, please let me know if I can give your email address to Meredith of True Wind. She’s got something for you. We all wish you well.  

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Net-a-Porter’s Online Magazine, The Edit

Just in case you wonder, we’re not crazy around here. Net-a-porter puts out a weekly online magazine called, The Edit. Did you know that? It’s kind of good, no surprise. And their recent Paris Glamour issue featured a List of 1o Parisienne essentials. Including, a biker jacket, cropped pants, Isabel Marant, and those persistent Chloe boots. Take a look. So rest on your laurels, you chic non-Parisennes you. French women aren’t the only ones who know. On second thought, we may be crazy around here. But we’re stylish crazy.   (BTW, The winner of our True Wind bag giveaway has been chosen, and I will post the name

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Rock Giants’ Winning Strategies, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:30am

There are many ways to win. I’m thinking about battles, vs. solitary struggles, but the same principles may apply. One strategy relies on ninjas. Kick and twirl your way through opponents. But this requires hurting people, which I don’t really care for. Sturdy Gals fight more like slow giants, called down from the hills. I imagine a fantasy tale, where the clever heros are running out of arrows.The horner (to use my long ago small son’s term) blows his call for help. Slowly, rocks all around rouse themselves, becoming giants, joining the fight. Winning the battle, eventually. Rock giants win because they don’t give up. Enemy soldiers throw

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True Wind Sailor Bag, For Your Imagination And Your Travels

Would you like a new carrying bag? A cute, sturdy bag made in America out of sailcloth? I thought you would. So when Meredith of True Wind reached out to me about mentioning her wares on the blog, I thought, sure! I will review and photograph the bag and give it away to my friends! Why this giveaway, in particular? What is better than a classic aesthetic with a back story? Wearing our history and imagination along with our gear? Sailing, for example. I’d never call myself a sailor, per se, and yet I’ve been on boats far more often than statistically likely. Memories flash like a catch

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An Artsy Cousin Shows The Way

Today I offer you photos sent in by one of our frequent commenters. As always, please extend your best hospitality and civility to our guest. This, everyone, is Artsy In Boulder. Please extend your warmest welcome. She’s here at my behest, and yours, really. After this post, I was asked for more photos of pattern-mixing. As you know, I don’t have many pictures of my own, because Sturdies don’t have the gene. But we can learn, if we seek guidance. So when Artsy and I were exchanging emails, I asked if she wouldn’t mind sending along some photos of how she does it. Turns out she’s obliging, as

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You Were Saying, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:25am

I have promised myself that Saturdays I write whatever moves me, for better or worse. But right now I’m still. Not in a bad way, just one of those times when one feels like sitting, and listening. So if you’ve got something to say, today I’m listening.  Feel free to point me around the web too. And if you’ve got nothing, silence feeds the soul pretty dang well. Have an absolutely wonderful weekend.

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Can Middle-Aged Ladies Wear Biker Jackets?

There’s no indirect way to put this. Can middle-aged ladies wear biker jackets? And to be precise, what about a middle-aged heterosexual woman who has never come close to driving a bike herself? Tish Jett, over on A Femme d’un Certain Age, captioned the above photo, “When chicken get teeth (that’s when I would wear this jacket).” Her commenters almost to a woman agreed. I was surprised, as I had hypothesized that I might rather go biker than hang out with fanged poultry. A shopping expedition confirmed. I wore this outfit to work. On Tuesday, to be precise. And enjoyed myself enormously. Details: AllSaints jacket, GAP 1969 selvedge

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3 Trends To Try Right Now

By the time we reach 50, we might say no to trends. We might settle back comfortably into a black safari jacket, some tasteful knit trousers, or our tried-and-true pencil skirt and blouse. Alternatively, we might experiment, judiciously. Judiciously, I say, for trends will come and go. That’s their nature, they cannot help themselves. The question, always, is how to invest in the ephemeral? How much of our emotional capital to plonk down on the counters of our imagination? To say nothing of dollars and department stores. Here are some strategies, and examples plucked from the streets of now. 1. Pattern Mixing On The High Street Whilst the

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Are You Being Followed Around The Internetz?

Are you being followed? Do you click from site to site, always accompanied by a persistent image? Do you find yourself wondering, “When, oh, when little photo, did I choose you to be my bestest friend of all?” Do you remember that Dr. Seuss book about the pants? Used to scare the bejeezus out of me. Welcome, little green pants of 2013. These Chloe boots follow me everywhere. I’m thinking they’re a personality indicator, a soul litmus strip. Oh I know it’s an ad, I know there are cookies and code snippets and ad servers and big data guiding its way. But I prefer to assume the mystical

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The Privilege Of Power, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:39am

Well good morning everyone. Had an offsite work happy hour last night. As I got ready to exit our offices, someone asked one of the guys on my team, “Are you going?” “Oh,” he said, in a good-humored and deliberately over-hearable tone, “I’m just waiting for my boss to leave.” I said at the same decibel level, “Your boss is just getting ready. Go on, go!’ And was suddenly filled with a swell of goodwill. It’s such a privilege to manage people. But that’s not immediately apparent. It can take a while to develop an understanding of the nature of bosshood. When you’re first made a manager, it’s

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A Welcome Interruption

Today was planned as a post about leather jackets. Or perhaps “5 Trends To Try Now.” But I draft the blog posts on Sunday, and this particular Sunday guess what happened? Welcome Mr. B! My brother and sister-in-law brought this little one into the world. You may remember their wedding, in May of 2011? The families are over the moon. I spent yesterday in the hospital. Mom, dad, and baby are all doing well. And I so thoroughly enjoyed my tour as Slightly Annoying But Helpful Village Elder I can’t tell you. Compensates for incipient jowls, protesting knees, and vocabulary decline, it does. After all, I’m pretty sure

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How To Wear Nantucket Reds By Current/Elliot, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:11am

This morning I have to point you to a conversation taking place elsewhere in the blogosphere. I’m going to assume that many of you read Muffy Aldrich’s blog, The Daily Prep,. It may be new to others. Muffy started posting in 2010, in reaction to the co-opting of the term, “Preppy.” She herself fits the profile of a classic New England “Prep,” lives in (I think) Maine, sails, wears Norwegian-style sweaters, and descends from American public figures. She is also trying to reassociate certain values, headlined on the blog as,  Authenticity• Stewardship•Graciousness, with the “Prep”construct, all the while while jettisoning mall-induced “Preppy” baggage. I understand the agenda, as

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Gong Xi Fa Cai, Or, The Year Of The Snake!

Last year I vowed I’d send holiday cards. Christmas came and went. Fortunately, I noticed the coming and going, so I ordered cards to send for New Year’s Day. I chose these from Betsy Ann Paper on Etsy. I’ve gotten to know Liz, the designer, a little bit, via her writing for A Practical Wedding and on her blog, Happy Sighs. They arrived beautifully wrapped. Then life happened. The Gregorian New Year came and went to visit his friend Christmas. But, having vowed to send cards, I persisted. This weekend marked the Lunar New Year. What ho! I went to San Francisco’s Chinatown and picked up a stamp.

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If One Were To Dress Up And Go Out For Valentine’s Day

If one were going out on Valentine’s Day, one might choose a knit red Donna Karan dress. One that nipped in ever so well under the bust, worn with a white cotton cardigan, gold charm bracelet, and lipstick that clashes just enough to indicate one has a mind of one’s own. One might then drink champagne, eat chocolate and shrimp cocktail, surrounded by red roses. If you suspect the shrimp cocktail detail is generational, you’re right. And if one were going to stay in tomorrow, well then, one would probably be well prepared with some exceptionally flattering red flannel PJs. Either way, even High WASPs send kisses and hugs

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Your Future May Be Hanging In Your Closet Right Now

Several years ago, my Artsy brother gave me this scarf, in hues of aqua, purple, mustard and olive. Etro’s got good High WASP credentials, to be sure. My culture has long outsourced passion and color to our Mediterranean neighbors. e.g., Room With A View. But at the time of the gift I wore mostly navy blue. With white accents for drama, alternating with dramatic black and gray. I’ll pause while you chortle. This year my brother’s scarf has proved itself prophetic, a sign of things to come. Let’s start with a cautious foray into J. Crew purples. Floral, then gingham. See the collar under a black sweater? That

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Small And Large Snow Stories, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:59am

It snowed in New York City last night. And in many other cities across the Eastern Seaboard of the United States. But I have personal memories of New York snow storms, so they matter with a capital “M.” That’s how we work, we humans. I have never forgotten my business school statistics professor teachings; people trust their own anecdotal experience over the most reliable of data. I remember, in 1980 or ’81, snow fell and plenty of it. I lived on 104th Street near Riverside Drive. In fact it must have been ’81 or ’82, if I was no longer in my first tiny place at 69th and

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Reader’s Choice: “Raw Diamonds”

Barbara, who has been commenting here for several years as “BarbaraG,” wrote in to recommend a 2012 post on raw diamonds. Since it’s a fairly recent piece, and therefore perhaps already seen by a number of you, the least I could do was include right on this here page yet another raw choice. An exuberant choice, but exuberance should never be undervalued even by those of us drawn to sartorial restraint. From Elisa Ilana, in rose gold, here. Or, if you are looking for a way to update old diamond ear studs or solitaires, take a look at this idea. Ah, nothing like starting the day with sparkle.

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Inspiration, By Invitation Only

A while back, I started a Pinterest board called, “The Friends of Khaki.” I’ve been collecting images of sand and camel and, yes, khaki, ever since. In December I pinned this photo, via Sally at Already Pretty, and thought “Perfect! Camel, black, and turquoise!” And just as quickly thought, “Horrors! Pointy-toed high-heeled turquoise pumps!” Foot pain meets pop of color just aren’t my gig, as they say. But the inspiration stuck, the color mix perched in my imagination like a blue migrant in a winter tree. Last month, in the after-Christmas sales, I passed a MaxMara store at the Stanford shopping center. In the window, a perfect coat.

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How To Spend Your Annual Bonus, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:34am

The annual bonus. At some point, either you or your partner may find yourselves so rewarded at the end of the year. I still remember my first time. I was at Sun Microsystems, in 1998. Those were the days when dollars dropped from the sky, as the company furnished the server underpinnings of the Internet. After years of frugality enforced by my desire to stay home with my children, I was suddenly and impulsively free to buy something I’d always wanted. Hence my trusty black and white Chanel jacket. Was it a wise choice? Surely there were debts to pay. Surely that money invested might have compounded. But

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How To Pack With Style And Comfort For 2 Weeks In Europe

Planning a 2-week spring trip to Northern Europe? Prague, maybe Warsaw or Berlin? Fascinating, no? Such is the reality for a Twitter friend, Robin. And, she asked me to pack for her. I approach Robin’s request today with enthusiasm. It turns out that the Use Case idea works extremely well for suitcase stuffing, with one caveat. In packing, one must think first not of the Happy Path, but of Risk Mitigation. In other words, rather than aim for an aesthetic, rather than matching beloved skirt to scarf and peep-toe platforms, focus on Avoidance of Distress. Your Travel Distresses may vary, mine are as follows. Travel Distress #1: Foot

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Reader’s Choice: “For Your Own Sanity, Answer These 4 Questions Before You Read Vogue’s September Issue”

It’s neither September, nor 2009. However, Philippa of Pins and Noodles recommended that I repost my reaction to Vogue’s 2009 September issue, about how to build a personal style by answering 4 questions. So let’s pretend. I thought I’d also add a link to a 2011 post How Not To Wear Cardigans In Bangkok, which takes the recommended approach a step further – and adds examples. If you’re looking for other perspectives, as one always should, The Vivienne Files does a great job here. Besides, Philippa has a Naxian Cheese Coin recipe on her blog just now. How cheery is that?    

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Personal Scree, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:50am

I was talking to my son this week, about opportunities. We also talked about Reggie Darling’s jaunt through Antiques Week, music, and this article about snow and Eskimos. But Opportunity stuck with me. Defined here as Something You Are Offered Which Will Give You More Prizes Than Usual, For Less Work Than You Expect. A leg up. I’ve passed on a few opportunities in my life. Some I’ve never forgotten. If so, so what? What use are these memories? Life is long, choices many, am I just an older lady looking for purchase on the history I traverse in a clatter of personal scree? Well, that’s overly dramatic,

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The 5 Classics of Outerwear

Outerwear! by amidprivilege featuring a military jacket In the auto-heavy suburbs, particularly where temperate, we can get away with one or two pieces of outerwear. But in the city, what with all the walking, we want an external layer in place. Unsurprisingly, I’m going to recommend you investigate the classics. The great thing about outerwear of the classic persuasion is how well it’s represented in both high or low budgets. Or both. For example: High (Technically J. Crew and AllSaints are midrange, but let’s keep our heads out of the runway clouds, shall we?) Field: J. Crew Long Wool: Max Mara Biker: AllSaints Peacoat: Fleurette at Nordstrom or

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LPC Is On “Miss Whistle’s January Jeliciousness”

Today I’m over at Bumble Ward’s blog, Miss Whistle, answering the question, “What to cook in January when you have very little in your refrigerator?” The answer is Chinese Curry Noodles, and with ground beef, frozen peas, and a few pantry ingredients, you’re good to go. Tastes better than it should. While you’re there, take a look at the other recipes she’s posted in her January Jeliciousness series. I’m going to give the Chicken and Cabbage Soup, which involves meatballs, a try. Thank you for your time.

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Do You Collect Thingies?

I have explained previously that High WASP families are a little odd about their houses. For all our focus on aesthetics, and our well-demonstrated love of high-quality clothing, we prefer a little shab at home. Fabrics fray, paint cracks, entire living rooms stay put for decades. We don’t buy for change. But we do love our little thingies – what another culture might call tschotckes. Long name, thingamabobs. My grandmother’s snuff bottles. My mother ‘s Murano glass candies. My father’s collection of various hearts, and pigs. Why pigs I cannot say. We collect, perhaps, because collections allow the New to augment without changing altogether. In any case, this

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How I Learned Not To Drink More Than I Should, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:57am

I want to give you a gift. Let me tell you what I have learned about reducing alcohol consumption to medically recommended levels. A personal 10 year lesson, with all sorts of tests. I understand that alcohol holds no sway over some, so if managing your drinking is not hard for you, then all I offer today is a story. Thanks for listening. So. As you may know, doctors now say women should have no more than one drink/day, and no more than 7/week. In other words, when you find yourself at a Hawaiian fusion restaurant, down one artisinal gin martini and contemplating a refracting glass of Sauvignon

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Do You Want To Sleep In Cartoons?

It’s January. It’s cold all over America. We need to snuggle up. And I’ve got one question for you. Why are so many flannel pyjamas clown-like? Why do PJ makers assume that when you seek comfort you want to be covered in cartoons? Why cover our jammies with veritable billboards of anti-appeal? I think the question is answered the moment it’s asked. But let’s pause, let that conversation about women and sexuality and seduction play out in our minds as it has over the years, and then move on to the practical. That’s what Sturdy Gals do, especially in the High WASP culture when we have exhausted our

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Go Flickr! Go Smart!, Or, Saturday Mornings at 10:32am

I take few absolute moral stands. Issues get complicated three sentences into a conversation. There’s almost always a second valuable perspective to include. Even a third. But I do believe that we ought to watch our carbon footprints, and that women should be able to do whatever work they can manage. Hence the photo above. It’s a Smart car. It’s from Flickr. SmartCars intrigue me. If they are safe – prime imperative – then how lovely to be able to scoot around taking up so little space, and adding so little CO2 to the atmosphere. They will soon be available in an electric drive, adding quiet to their

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Reader’s Choice: “New England High WASP, Meets Swedish Empire, Meets Santa Barbara Semi-Tropics”

Susan wrote me to suggest this post from the archives. Thank you Susan. It’s my mother’s house, in Santa Barbara. You will read references to chaos. My stepfather had returned early from the hospital after emergency heart surgery and I had driven down to help out. As we do in my culture when faced with extreme events, I focused on furniture. For more photos like this, take a look here. My stepfather has fully recovered.

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If You Give A Person A New Bag, She’s Probably Going To Need A Hairbrush

We all have watershed moments in which we realize long-held significant relationships serve us no longer. I’m talking about purses, or, as they say now, bags. I’ve been carrying an aubergine patent-leather, luggage strap-handled number since 2010. As a usually monobagamous sort, i.e. one and only one at a time, I’ve been feeling relationship discord. In sum, totes work perfectly for an auto-dominated suburban life, less so for cities. Particularly cities in which one walks to work. I lug my laptop around in a backpack, and that’s not going to change. But I’d been arriving in the office, dumping the backpack, and going to lunch with wallet and

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The Hospitality Of Naiads, Or Saturday Morning at 11:04am

Has the New Year started with a rush for any of you? Time off work is always sweet but difficult. So wonderful to take yourself out of the tumble. And yet, as you laze on the moral equivalent of lawns and meadows, a torrent of work rushes on. Fast. So the end of vacation arrives. You rouse yourself, still a little sleepy, and put a toe slowly into the waters. Only to look around a few days later, blinking, to find yourself surrounded by canyon walls and far from home. Or pushing yourself bodily through a reedy marsh, if you jumped first into mountain foam and splash. The

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A Nod To Miss Whistle: 10 Wishes For 2013

Today I’d like to send you over to a friend. Miss Whistle gives us 10 Wishes for 2013 I’ll be back to regular posting soon. I’d give an exact day, but I do believe in Under-Promising And Over-Delivering, where we can.

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The Question Of Dressing For Men, After 50

It’s New Year’s Eve in the Cultural West. What, then, to wear? Let’s first wave to the Lunar New Year, and to Rosh Hashanah. Hello you alternate dates for launching a New Year! No matter when we mark it, all humans notice that the earth turns, and that seasons bring us round again to beginnings. Which occasionally involve dressing up. And at the Western New Year, one dresses often for the opposite sex. Maybe that’s how Nature keeps us propagating. Unsurprisingly, more babies are born about 9 months after winter holidays than any other time of the year. To gauge the popularity of your birthdate, click here. See?

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Christmas, 2012

Dove via tommylees, on Flickr, holly leaves via Clkr.com. On Dancer, on Prancer, we’re just going to take a little nap here on a fence.

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Colored Lights, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:11am

This year I’ve got an artificial tree, covered in colored lights and rainbow balls. Not my tradition; Significant Other’s. I got the tree at Walgreen’s, and carried it on the bus back to our city digs. An act of love, plain but not simple. I am so happy to have found someone I care for enough to relinquish my High WASP aesthetic, no request needed. Today I’ll set up a grown-in-the-dirt tree, white lit, for my children, most likely with my grandmother’s angel up top. Later next week luxuriate in holiday spirit with my family and kids. For the first time this year my kids are attending as

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Last Minute Present Suggestions

Just in case you’re a last minute shopper, as I am most years, I offer a few suggestions. 1. Naracamicie has opened an online store. Finally. I like this white eyelet blouse, for someone headed to a warm climate. Or this one in burgundy, for an only slightly ironic Christmas Eve. I haven’t checked if they can deliver in time for Christmas, but if you’re in California I bet the answer is yes. 2. Lily Stockman, of this painting, has launched a collection of scarves block-printed in India. Selling like proverbial hotcakes, but the beautiful blue ones are still in stock. 3. Reminded at the last minute myself,

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Exploring Boundaries, Both Artsy And Of Age

Few of us adhere purely to one way of dressing. We’ve all taken multiple directions, from tried and true outfits, to the adventurous, to the best of breed. In my High WASP world, Style Archetypes limit the discoverable area. If this was as Sturdy (Sturdy is kissing cousin to prep) as I get without wearing my son’s khakis, if this was as Grande Dame (little black dress for the win), then the skater dress and moto boots above surely push me to the Artsy limits. Partly because, you know, moto boots. But also because I’m 56 and it’s hard to dress this way without feeling Too Young. Artsy

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Reader’s Choice: “My Family’s Houses”

As often happens, when the time is right for a certain initiative, the universe will explain. Recently a few readers have been talking to me about my archives, either in comments on old posts (Philippa, thank you), or in emails. Sandra Sallin, in particular, suggested that I repost a few pieces from the archives. So I’ve decided to institute Reader’s Choice. If any of you find an old post of mine that you think the community here would like to see, let me know and I’ll put it up. In return, if you have anything you’d like me to mention with a link – your Etsy shop, your

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And Again, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:48am

There no way to sit down and write this morning without thinking of yesterday’s killings. A young man shot 20 children in an elementary school in Connecticut. So much has and will be said. You all are intelligent, compassionate people who will have those feelings and thoughts that need to be had. All that’s left is a moment of silence.

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A Secret Trick To Dressing Up Fancy On A Budget

A big night looms. You’ve got shoes, tights, and a dress.  Jewelry, lipstick, and a coat. Not to mention one glorious scarf. Now, if I can suggest, remember your evening bag. I’ve often forgotten, and regretted my forgetting. Such a little thing, but such an outfit finisher. We all have our different approaches. Those who live a glossy nightlife might justify the big spend. Grandes Dames, for example, love their Judith Lieber. Oh yes they do. Artsy Cousins sign in blood for Alexander McQueen. Skulls and unicorns unite. But we Sturdy Gals go for a nice snappy low-cost minaudiere. In bright colors, or, as I did for last

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How To Shop Your Closet For New Year’s Eve Outfits

Last Saturday my company held its annual Holiday Party. I splurged on a salon-made updo, just as I had the previous year.  This hair sortie was not inexpensive, as my venue of choice sits inside the San Francisco Four Seasons, and is priced as you’d expect. This year I also had my nails painted. I couldn’t help but wonder, was it worth the $143, after tip? Well let’s deconstruct. Those of you with no patience for financial analysis can jump straight to a discussion of whether the the choice of messy updo was correct. Here’s the thing. In San Francisco, few of us can justify fancy clothes since

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Finding Your Work Tribe, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:26am

I was thinking at some point this week – maybe walking to work, maybe reading an email from an old colleague, maybe after a joking exchange in my offices – that “optimizing skill and passion” gets us only so far in finding the right career. The last mile, as they say, comes when you find your tribe. Back when I worked outside the technology industry, I often felt like an alien being. The people who sat round my lunch table held very different values, and communicated in a very different language than I. I remember a salesperson told me I made him uncomfortable because I used the word

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Context Is All

One more story about my recent trip to New York City, if I can prevail on your patience. We don’t wear winter coats much, out here in Northern California. Winter field jackets, trenches, peacoats, sure. Winter raincoats, undoubtedly. But it’s rare that a classic calf-length coat sees the light of day. And on those rare occasions a coat’s required, I pull out the black cashmere number you see above. It’s literally 34 years old. As in, I’m 56 and I bought it, at Saks Fifth Avenue in New York City, when I was 22. When I wear it in San Francisco I feel quite the elegant bohemian. It’s

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You Never Know What You’ll Learn At A Conference, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:32am

Sigh. Let’s enjoy a moment of quiet. To be precise, a moment of refrigerator hum complete with disturbing rattle. We’ll ignore domestic disturbances. I was in New York last week, at Ignition 2012. It’s a conference held twice a year, where various executives speak on aspects of technology and business. Fascinating. Almost like traveling to New Orleans during Mardi Gras, Shanghai suburbs for the Autumn Festival, or Sweden for St. Lucia’s Day. In other words, an experience of humans wholly focused on somewhat peculiar social acts of critical importance to their culture. That refrigerator just stopped humming. All to the good. I heard Steve Case, who led AOL

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Happy Almost Birthday Mom!

On Thursday, Thanksgiving, my daughter, my son, my sister and brother-in-law and their daughter, my brother and sister-in-law, cooked all day. Then we ate. The 9-year old led us all in a round of Gangnam Style rug-cutting. The next morning, we got up and drove en mass to Santa Barbara for my mother’s 80th birthday party. And family reunion. Of 40-ish people. A warmer, more affectionate, more truly interested-in-what-each-other-had-to-say group would be hard to imagine. The first wave met at a pizza parlor Friday night.The traditional red and white tablecloth came with succulent centerpieces. It’s Santa Barbara. Saturday we had lunch at my mother’s. We parked in the

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The Simplest Thanksgiving Menu Ever

For Thanksgiving two years ago I pulled out all the stops. We had a Chinese-influenced meal, with about 112 dishes. OK, only 14, but still. Culminated in bao from scratch. Phew. Exhausting. Last year Significant Other and I were on our own and and we ate out. This year, the kids are with me again, and the Northern California siblings will gather at my house. But we’re all already tired, what with jobs, children, and life. You know the drill. We’re thinking we will let the magic of caramelizing vegetable sugars and slightly salty gravy do all the work. Our jointly planned menu: Mashed potatoes: Cut up organic

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Do You Embrace Your Heritage Style?

I might have titled this post, As Preppy As I’m Ever Going To Get. We’ve all got some sort of heritage style. Maybe your Grandma had grand panache? Maybe your great-aunt refused to stop wearing hairnets? True story, that one. Pause to reflect and honor the past. In my case, the heritage is straight-up New England preppy. Which I avoid, truth be told, as respectfully as I can. Too much baggage, too much repression for a native blurter like me, wrapped up in a culture too heavily patriarchal. But occasionally, clad in my grandmother’s Harris tweed jacket, and a cream-colored, generic-label cableknit turtleneck, I approach Prep Canyon. The

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The Joys Of A Northern California Winter, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:32am

It’s raining. This is good. I’m not sure how many of you know Northern California’s weather patterns. The general opinion is that California has no seasons. This is more true in Southern California, but still false over all. We do have seasons. Registered best by the sensitive. Let’s start with June. This is when full summer begins. We will likely not see rain again for 4 months, but if we do, the media will react as though we have discovered life on Saturn. Our sky will shine blue as a crayon, day in day out, small white clouds rare enough to name and invite home for dinner. Mostly

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Some Days Clothes Are Just Clothes

Some days a girl goes all semiotic, and some days she just likes her cute clothes. Eric Bompard scarf under a 10-year old Gryphon cropped trench. Brown J. Crew bootleg cords and Beautifeel two-tone heels. (On sale for $159 down from $279.) I wish Gryphon hadn’t recently taken a Wacko Designer pill, but maybe they’re feeling their signifying oats too. I dunno. I believe their classic trenches, and trust me they’re classic, are still to be found on eBay. The scarf even matches my new blue $30-at-Whole-Foods reading glasses. I was tickled by how the scarf played against a striped Naracamicie shirt, even without the trench. I wouldn’t

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When You Find Your Symbol And Plaster It Everywhere

Most of the time most of us struggle to make sense of, well, not most, but many things. But sometimes the universe takes us by the shoulder and points directly at significance. “Here honey, this is what I mean.” The universe may seize its opportunity, and your shoulder, at any point. For example. I recently bought this scarf from Eric Bompard, the French cashmere company. It’s a very large thing, but I had found the image on their site so compelling. Unsurprisingly. Because this image graces my living room wall. Lily Stockman, Her Favorite Time Of Day. What is it about the small room, the out beyond land?

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Remembrance Day

Today Veteran’s Day is recognized in America. Yesterday was Remembrance Day in all the Commonwealth countries. My father’s father and older brother both died in World War II. At the time the headmaster of his private school wrote something like, “Considering the circumstances, the boy has done well this term.” My mother’s stepbrother came home from Vietnam never again able to participate fully in society. My stepmother’s stepfather brought her and her mother back from Germany, just as World War II ended. He took care of both until death did them part. We live in a politically polarized country. But let’s divvy up neither patriotism nor recognition of

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Talk Show Interviews As The New Personality Test, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:12am

Do we all love a good personality quiz? Cosmopolitan and Glamour magazines in years gone by. I suppose online dating sites have taken over, for the most part. Wait, has an enterprising psychologist fielded an MMPI-2 Facebook game? Someone should. In any case, a new quiz occurred to me yesterday. Succinct and to the point. What if you found yourself on set, in an interview with a TV talk show host, about the book you had just written? Who would you be talking to, and about what? See? Your personality, deep dreams, revealed. I suppose we could add on What Would You Be Wearing, for extra points. Myself,

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What Should I Wear To An Office Holiday Party – If I Don’t Want To Go Bare?

Do we all see holiday party season looming? Brings to mind driving at night in the desert, when the sun begins to rise at the end of your road. Except, less poetic. Less cold too, I suppose. I digress. Let’s talk about avoiding the too-bare. What if you don’t care for sleeveless, strapless, or virtually skirtless outfits? Today’s minis warrant a new definition of what counts as clothing. What if either your age or your management role call for a touch of discretion? But. “But,” you say, “I don’t want to show up as the Dowdy Dowager either!” No polyester satin bolero in your future? Not to worry.

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Election Day

Here in the United States, today is Election Day. I kluged together an art project to honor the one opinion we probably all share. The country got started via the right to vote. Let’s keep doing it. And I’ll promise to get better at Photoshop by the time the next election comes around.

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Why I Don’t Like Kate Middleton, Much

As I have said, I don’t much care for Kate Middleton. Now, to be precise, I don’t know the woman. Here’s what I mean. I don’t much care for the construct of Kate Middleton, or the type of admiration her construct tends to inspire. We are allowed to say we don’t like celebrities, and it can be generally understood that we mean we don’t like their construct, their avatar if you will. Celebrities build their public selves via images released to the media and carefully orchestrated public behavior. They put themselves out there, we can have some opinions. Deep breath. Long sentence on the way. Here, with a

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LPC is at A Femme d’un Certain Age Today

Today, rounding out a week of visiting and paying tribute to some of my favorite blogs and bloggers, I am over at Tish Jett’s ineffable A Femme d’un Certain Age. Tish and her guest writers post about style, mostly from the French perspective. I’m adding a slightly, um, addled view, with what we shall call the Silicon Valley “Style Algorithm.” Mathematical functions are involved. Integrating under the curve indeed. Please come visit, if you can. And then wander Tish’s site, if you don’t know it yet, and enjoy the company of witty and stylish women. First and foremost, of course, is Tish herself. She’s another good guy who

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When Artsy Siblings Give Their Sturdy Sister Presents

My brother and my middle sister are infinitely Artsier than I. This has proven helpful to my wardrobe over the years. For example, last month, as my 56th birthday approached, my sister and I had the following discussion. By cellphone, of course. S: What do you want for your birthday? L: Um.Nothing really. A book. Or, if you wanted to actually get me something, how about a top I don’t have to tuck in? S: ??? L: I am tired of holding in my stomach all the time. What is it with midlife midriff? No more t-shirts for me. S: *words of agreement and knowing laughter* L: And

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Flowers Refusing To Get In The House

(If anyone’s wondering why on earth I am posting twice in one day, chalk it up to wanting to hang out with online friends. Or else my general chatterbox nature. Either reason will do and be true besides. We will return to the usual rhythm next week.) It’s time for Flwrjane’s Flowers in the House. Except, my flowers didn’t feel like coming inside. I love white roses when they start to distort, show pink spots, crumple. But the closest they got to the house, for quite some time, was the front lawn. Because for all the evocative detail of rot, for all the metaphor of time and life

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LPC Is At Already Pretty Today

The admirable Sally McGraw, of Already Pretty, asked me to contribute to her series on dressing within a defined aesthetic. So I did. If you’ve got the time and inclination, please come read the short interview here. The other women in this particular post dress in Old Style Glamor and Rocker modes, respectively. The juxtaposition is pretty dang fun. Hats off to Sally for her inventiveness.

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One For The Good Guys, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:31am

I gave up trying to be good eons ago. I don’t know about you, but the state seemed too difficult to define, much less achieve. That said, I recognize a good person when I meet one. Since they are so rare, I also try to let the good ones know how much I value their character. It can be hard, good people are always helping you. One doesn’t want to just say thank you for acts performed, but for the happy startle when you recognize goodness exists at all. The other thing about good people is that it’s not clear they always get what they deserve. Good may

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Pantone Color Of The Year Is, Um, Blue

(Late-breaking editorial correction! Monaco Blue is NOT the Color of the Year. It is a Top Color of Spring 2013! If you read the press release closely, you will see that correct terms were in fact used. In my hurry, I paid insufficient attention. While those of us who work primarily with words and numbers may not understand the fuss, I know that this is a key part of Pantone’s brand. Besides, the PR agent was very nice in her request for my attention. Another win for please and thank you.) Good morning everyone! Tuesday I washed my hair, donned the new Jigsaw top my sister gave me,

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How Does It Feel To Grow Up And Move Down In The World?

What does it feel like when your family fortune fades? I’ve thought about this since Duchesse asked. Whether I can sum up remains to be seen. Let us approach the subject with logic, even though it’s tricky and emotional. Or maybe because it’s tricky and emotional. Logically, we have to look first at what it felt like to grow up with family fortune, and then at the feelings about fading. As with many historical phenomena, we shall rely on the construct of eras. Era the First. Or, Money’s Magical Abundance. In many ways, as I have said, mine felt like any other childhood. At least in the moment. Here’s

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In Which We Research The Impact Of Pretty Pictures On The Common Cold, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:15am

Good morning everyone! I have yet another cold. Turns out that working for a company of 100+ employees, in an open plan environment, is rather like sending a child to kindergarten seventh grade at the same time. By that I mean that you invite diverse families of germs into your system and serve virtual tea. Then the cousins show up. With friends and dogs. So for today, I will be over at Pinterest, pinning pictures that catch my fancy and have nothing to do with Kleenex, fuzzy socks, or large glasses of water. This link will take you to my “pins,” most recent at the top. I’m poking

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Famous Style Bloggers Could Have Said To Newsweek, “We Told You So”

So Newsweek has gone all digital. Yes. Read about it here. In other news, you can get your own e-book designed, published, and distributed to online outlets, for $250. The world, as it will, changes. In our little corner, where women publish text and photos about style to a software platform that displays each submission in a timeline, otherwise known as blogging, we see tremors too. In blogging, however, the sea change took place 3-7 years ago. These waves hit shore a few days after a storm. For example, on one end of the spectrum we’ve got the the New York Times fashion blog. Written by Cathy Horyn,

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Anyone Else Thinking Sweater Dresses For Fall?

See those motorcycle boot? Those Fiorentini and Baker “Elis,” to be precise? I own a pair. Surprised? Me too. They were a generous and creative present. Unfortunately, I’ve owned them for nigh on a year and haven’t worn them once. Boo. Here’s the story. They don’t work under bootcut cords or jeans. Too clompy. So I tried on skinny jeans. Let me say this once and for all. I. Can’t. Wear. Skinny. Jeans. Or cords, for that matter. It’s not about my weight, or the brand of jeans. Trust me. It’s about my shape. The widest part of my body is my upper thighs, and since I’m long-waisted,

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Furnishings, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:39am

When my daughter left for college, back in 2005, we packed her off with accoutrements. I cared that she lived in a space with comfort, which required a bedside lamp, a table, and rosy bed linens. I also gave her the rug my mother bought me in 1979 – Chinese wool, in desert-ish tones. When my son left, in turn, I think he took only the blue and white striped duvet of his boyhood. Several perfectly good reasons. First, at 19, his home decor style was well-described as Clothes Make The Best Carpet, Don’t They? Second, he was sharing a very small room with a very large roommate.

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Flags, Pigs, And Peeing Out A Second Story Window. India, 1982

An ongoing and occasional series of long posts about a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. I kept journals, and abstract them in these page. You can find the previous posts by clicking on the “India” topic in the sidebar, or a Google map of the trip, here. Having failed to leave Darjeeling for Sikkim, I needed another plan. I had by now been traveling for two and half months.

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5 Tips On How To Wear Entirely Too Much Purple

The other morning I shuffled my curmudgeonly self out onto the back patio. “Is this too much purple?” I asked. Sceptically, evidently. Please remember, I belong to the Quiet Dressers, those who believe khaki is a color, navy peacock-hued. And this outfit included not only two pieces of purple clothing, but gingham worn against bouclé tweed. Yikes. However, Quiet Dressers know a few tricks for mitigating color terror. Stick to proven shades. Gray hair has brought her friend Purple to my closet, and she’s proved to be a decorous guest. Rely on color matching skills of someone like Jenna Lyons, the famed design leader of J. Crew. Anchor

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States Of Acceptance, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:27am

I’m listening to my sprinklers run while my dishwasher sloshes and purrs. I’m thinking about this post, by the artist Patricia van Essche. She wrote about acceptance and its impact on experience and art. Here’s the thing. I know of only two modes in which acceptance doesn’t feel like giving up. This may be a personal quirk, but so be it. I can feel acceptance when sitting very, very still on a sofa. Or the edge of a city fountain. In those moments I accept that all that is happening is happening right then. Even right there. I take a breath. Breath is the most accepting act of

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Raw Denim For Old Ladies And Other Newbies

Do you ever find yourself possessed by what we might call, if we felt silly, a Sartorial Dybbuk? Otherwise known as an Outfit Vision? Do you ever then struggle with Outfit Reality? Materfamilias’ post, here, got me thinking about straight loose leg dark wash Levis 501-style jeans. I pictured them with neon soled oxfords,  an Ann Mashburn shirt, and Eliza B. belt. I’d probably keep my pearls on. Katherine Hepburn reborn as a butch hipster. Once I’m thus seized, imaginatively, I have to explore. I went to the San Francisco Levis store and snapped up a pair of dark wash Levis 501s. On to Nordstrom’s for Cole Haan

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How To Read Fashion Week Coverage Without Having To Lie Down In A Dark Room Afterwards

It’s October. One of the month’s many implications is that it’s not September any longer. And one of the many characteristics of September is a rash of Fashion Weeks, in New York, London, Milan. Come October, do we care? The answer might be yes. Certainly few of us review these shows with an eye to actual purchases. There are cars to buy and tuitions to fund. Must we then slap our laptops closed and cry, “Fie on you, designers! Bah humbug to parades of tall skinny models in brutal shoes! I care naught for your sequined eye decorations, your feathers, your organza!” Nope. I’ve been a dedicated follower

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Birthdays, Cantankerous Doctors, And Cornwall Blue Skies, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:14am

Well, tomorrow is my birthday. Not notable, I’m turning 56. Doesn’t feel like a particular milestone of aging, but it’s still The Day. I love birthdays. My mother did a good job of turning the key to the door of special. Growing up in a family of four, we mostly shared. I know, I know, what about all the money? My mother’s New England heritage resulted in an awful lot of If You Have Candy It Will Be One Bar Split Four Ways, that’s what. Probably good for us. Certainly good for us. On our birthdays, however, sharing played second fiddle. We got to choose what was for

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The Post About High WASPs

If you’ve just landed here, I need to say one thing before you read. My Twitter bio says “I try not to be a jerk,” and that’s true. I’ve got good intentions; I may occasionally fail to execute. If you’ve been around for a while, all this will be familiar, perhaps restated all in one place to answer a few questions. In either case, welcome. OK then. When I first began this blog, I wrote often about my cultural sub-group, which I chose to call “The High WASPs.” Over time, I have found the topic demanding. It’s hard to write well about social class, and it requires a

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The Best Cashmere Sweaters And Button-Front Shirts Around

As fall approaches, we just might be thinking about cashmere sweaters and button-front shirts. Just about a year ago I took a new job, and needed a work uniform. I bought a raft of sweaters and shirts and have worn them often enough to feel as though I’ve been participating in some sort of midlife demi-luxe wardrobe research. Here are the results. The Highest Quality Cashmere sweaters Executive summary: Brora wins because their cashmere doesn’t pill, marrying soft with just enough tough. Bompard is softer yet, but pills too much for us Sturdies to fall head over heels. Land’s End is the best of the mid-tier. Brora Bompard

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Natively Elegiac, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:28am

So it’s fall. Here’s what I just read online. The 2012 September equinox comes on September 22, at 9:49 a.m. CDT (14:49 Universal Time) We are all more precise, these days. @Kcecelia tweeted the season’s arrival,  here. She’s in my time zone. That means 40 minutes ago summer took its leave. I wonder if people separate along seasonal fault lines? Some love the transitional. Fall, spring. Others the committed tenacity of summer and winter. I’m in the second camp. Bring on the eternal summer days of blue skies and California sun. Bring on the weeks of rain and greening hills come winter. Even in East Coast winters, faced

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Mon Avis, Mon Amis

Today I bring you excellent news from the blogosphere. ELS is writing again at Mon Avis, Mon Amis. She’s one of the best writers out there. And if you love England as much as you love words, she’s your gal. Oh, oops, I mean gel. Enjoy.

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Are Neon Soles A Trend?

An observation. You know “bucks.” right? Usually beige suede oxford style men’s shoes with a pinkish-tan sole? Like this? Known as a white buck, when they are, um white. In that case favored by dandies with good language skills. Well, a while back I noticed these, from Steve Madden, and rather liked the blue/purple sole. Recently, in parallel, I’ve seen several pairs of of bright yellow-soled running shoes worn about San Francisco, by men and women. Different genre, I know, but has a similar effect from afar. Then I ran across Walk-Over, who offer ALL SORTS of sole colors, albeit for men. And these from Wet Seal, which,

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Interviewed On The Career Clinic

Here’s the interview guys. It’s not short, I’m answering questions about growing up with money. I hope you enjoy it. I am curious to know whether I sound like you thought I would. I imagine our real selves, if there are such things, exist in the confluence of  spoken, acted, and online personas. I welcome every opportunity to hunt real down. http://www.thecareerclinic.com/images/stories/audio/090812hour2.mp3

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Old Paper, Old Tape, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:10am

When the kids were little, they belonged to me. As babies in utero, every last bit. As infants, more so than not. Then one day they grew up and belonged to themselves. I’m on board with this growing up business, but it’s not without complexities. The picture above is from a cupboard in the laundry room. We used it for years to tape up kid information. Ballet rehearsals, soccer schedules, snack day responsibilities, SAT test dates. All the stuff of modern upper-middle class American parenting. Of everything in this house, that cupboard alone has never been repainted. So the paper corners and old tape remain, like pottery shards,

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The Blues Are Back In Town: Fashion Week 2012

From all reports, if you hanker after blue, come Spring 2013 you’ll be a very happy camper. And I’m talking true blue – honest-to-goodness, full-pigment blue. It’s Fashion Week in New York right now, and the direction is clear. A brief cultural digression, before we lose ourselves in fabric and frill. High WASPs wave a very blue flag. The hue works ever so well with our skin tone. There are regional variants, of course. In New England, navy and green piping. In Northern California, navy ikat with white and orange. In New York City, navy jacquard behind black skulls, breaking multiple rules as only New Yorkers can. But

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Blind, Sick, Crippled. India, 1982.

So then what happened? Two months into a three-month trip through India? I wrote, April 7th, 1982 Ease continues. Flew from Calcutta to Bagdogra, after having said a somewhat regretful farewell to Fred Bottoms* at the airport. Met a French couple, Paul et Isabelle. Am too cold now in this damp bed to write any more. April 8th, 1982 What to do in Darjeeling as the smell of onions filters through my bedroom and the sound of hawking repeats itself. Get map of Darjeeling @ tourist office Talk to travel agent Pick up permission Go to Indian Airlines See orchid place? Go to post office Go to bank

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A Few Words Of Explanation And An Index

Heads up. Tomorrow’s post is another installment in the story of my 1982 travels through India. Since I haven’t done one of these since last September, there are many here who might like a little explanation, and perhaps an index of the first parts of the story. So. Explanation: In 1982, at the age of 25, I took 3 months to travel in India by myself. I had a self-set project to write about the Indian film industry. Unsurprisingly, an awful lot of What The Heck Is This! happened too. Guide: If you click the India category, all the posts will show up. But if you’d like to

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Life Just Gets Better, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:17am

I just spent the last hour in a radio interview. Is that fun or what? It wasn’t live, mind you. It’ll air here, in a couple of weeks. And although the name of the show is Career Clinic, with Maureen Anderson, we talked about what it’s like to grow up with money. You know, rather than how to make it. It’s a topic I’ve gotten more or less comfortable with, and I hope in this format my experience can be valuable to those bringing up kids in a privileged environment. At least that was my goal. I’ll say it again – I really enjoyed the interview discussion. Let

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What To Wear To A Job Interview In Midlife

The wonderful Dejà Pseu invited me to post with her on the topic of job interview attire. She’s done the same today, and you can find her ideas here. I’m not looking yet, so as to see what we come up with, independently. All in the service of dispassionate information for you, the best readers in the world, who I hope will also contribute your opinions. More narrowly, let’s talk  job interview dress for women over 30 who work in offices.  Given my background, this advice will be especially relevant to the software industry. First, we have to set aside the Suitdustries. You know who you are, oh

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The Carneros Inn, Redux

Well hello everyone! I hope you had a lovely Labor Day holiday, if you’re in the US. If you’re in Europe or Asia, I hope your summer is coming to a nice finale. You Australians, I hope spring is warming your heart. But let’s linger on vacation, for a minute. I just got back from the Carneros Inn, up in Napa. It was glorious. I know I’ve shown the place to you before, but it’s awfully pretty. And we can talk sartorial strategies, of the rural resort variety. (Hint: no high heels involved, no metallics, no hairspray.) If you’ll remember, the Inn used to be a trailer park.

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Summer Break, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:29am

I’m going to take a week-long summer blog break, everyone. I’ll be back Tuesday, September 4th. If you’d like to leave me your ideas on any good summer reads in the comments below, I’d be more in your debt than I am already. Thanks for reading, and have a lovely weekend.

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When Your Pop Of Color Is A Garage Door

I fought valiantly against pencil skirts and pumps.  At least this go-round, this decade. But pencil skirts have always been my destiny. We all have native fashion types, right?. Sometimes we stretch ourselves and experiment. We essay hats, and full skirts, and cobalt blue pants. Other times we return to our sartorial roots, and find ourselves in a black and white shirt, pencil skirt and captoe Chanel-esque pumps. And, occasionally, in front of a green door. I’m wearing a Michael Kors Costco $60 wool peacoat, a badly tucked black and white Steven Alan shirt, jade heart necklace on a 24K chain, J. Crew #2 pencil skirt in cotton,

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357 Great Looks For Quiet Dressers

Although this post sounds like it sprang from an orgy of Walmart marketers and Harper’s Bazaar editors, I’m really just pointing you to a great Pinterest board. The board’s name itself is accurate, but skimpy. What To Wear When You Are Retired There. You now have at least 10 minutes of fun and idea-generation ahead of you, quite suited to a Wednesday morning.    

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The Best Skin Care I Have Ever Used

I’ve found it. A skin care line to fall in love with. Even marry. I’m designing our rings right now. What’s it called? Apriori Beauty. Huh? Never heard of it? Well, it’s a company started by a woman entrepreneur, and represented here on Privilege by Candace the Commenter. That’s not her name, of course, but she’s been reading and hanging out with us for some time. Finally, when I posted about my Kiehl’s use, she suggested I try Apriori. Which means she put my order in for me, because Apriori is also a company that sells via its website, and representatives, vs. viadepartment stores or Sephora. Network marketing,

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Letting The Waves Still, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:15am

It’s been quite a week. Big events, pivotal progress, so much managerial intent. I woke up still full of the adrenalin that accompanied me Monday through Friday. Still processing statements heard and made. Which made me think. Is our emotional system capturing time, in a textured sort of support for our traditional sensory memories? Do significant events initiate surges of hormonal and neural activity that continue to ripple after the fact? It would explain psychology. Freud. Childhood identity structures laid down over genetic infrastructure by strong emotional responses. And, as we know, all emotional responses are strong in babies. In fact I suspect that if I had a

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Is “Festive Attire” Dress Code Less Evil Than “Business Casual?”

So we want to know what “festive attire” means. This dress code is not as devilish Business Casual. It’s more of a pesky elf, preferring mischief to damage. Confusing but not confounding. “Festive attire” means the following: Imagine what you would have worn to an event – given by this host, in this venue, at this time of day, in this season. Now, add a flourish. Or two. Done.  For example. If you’d wear a sedate shift to a late afternoon event, …go sleeveless, go brighter, add a peplum. If you’d unfestively wear a demure little black dress, like this, substitute this. Full skirts, sheer panels, beading and

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Back To School In Archetypal Style

All over this hot, hot country, mothers are waiting. They intervene in another quarrel. Then they wait. Courage, my friends, we’re almost there. I remember the days of back to school. Our kids’ alma mater began with Work Day, where we’d all gather to clean and paint and hammer wood into shelves. Then a few days later we’d enter the driveway for the first time, pulling into a parking space if we had littles, releasing the bigger ones out of car doors and watching them scamper across the yard. Pause now, for a minute, to remember the soft chubby hands of our sons, held as they made their

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Changing The About Me, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:16am

Hullo everyone. This morning I have changed Privilege’s About Me page. I’ve shifted the focus from rapturous High WASP panegyric to a more straightforward description of our conversations. Also I’ve referred to you all, since, as many people point out, your comments are often the high point of the blog. I’d love it if you took a look and let me know if the paragraphs now reflect your experience of reading. I’m happy to edit to make this as true as possible. Why the change? Oh, guys, I just got tired of explaining. In the days when I was home, and posting more often, I could intersperse High

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Where The Cool Kids Shop

Sturdy Gals are rarely cool by nature. That’s OK. We don’t mind, most of the time. We understand that our value derives from blunt talk, kindness, and upper body strength. But we do like to peek over the shoulders of the cool kids now and then. As we age, evolve, and get braver, we try on some of their clothes. Even denizens of the Sturdy room might duck out an Artsy door one day. And where would we shop? Here are a few choice sources. Let’s start with shoes, a sneaky way to grab a little Artsy. Via the queen of diffident snark and razor-sharp style, east side

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The Unpredictable Dangers Of Dating Etiquette

One should never ignore the value of good manners. Equal parts simple human courtesy and protocol, manners blunt the sharp edges of social machinery and quiet our squeaks of need. Now, if you don’t understand simple human courtesy, I cannot help you. We do well, however, to discuss both the value and limitations of protocol. Protocol, also known as etiquette, began as a set of rules to keep courts and other seats of power as civil as possible. Who could wear which hat, who had to remove said hat from their head, who got to keep their heads at all. As the tide of wealth and power rose,

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Invitations, Then, Now, And Tomorrow, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:02am

  My mom turns 80 this year, and we’ve decided to extend the festivities to a family reunion. I’ve been coordinating the logistics, timing, location, amongst all the cousins. On email, of course. So when the time came to put together an invitation,  I clicked over to the Paperless Post website, browsed their templates, chose fonts and customized motifs. Filled out the settings for RSVP tracking. Saved and sent a test email. The result looks something like the image above – except with more data. Do you realize how many words I just used that have only claimed their particular meanings in the past 30 years?  Consider “website,

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Does Women’s Television Workwear Mean Anything? Anything At All?

Nobody expects women on television to dress as they do in real life. At least not in the USA. Especially not working women. Female FBI agents in 3-inch heels chase down sneakered criminals, women cops unbutton their third button, girl doctors sport very good hair. Oh well. It’s imaginary. But three current American programs star heroines with wardrobes worth a closer look. When we consider the TV universe, and compare it to the real world, maybe we’ll find something. Political Animals We’ll start with the preposterous. Always a good strategy. Sigourney Weaver plays Diane Hammond, Secretary of State. She has run for President and lost in the primaries. Gives

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Flowers In The House, When Summer Is A-Going Out

The California garden’s on the downswing, gang. White roses pinken, and brown. Pinken is a word. We say so. Lavender drops its little petals. Rose campion remains vibrant, but only from a distance. Up close, gnawed and tattered. The Unknown Shrubbery steps up to help her faltering sisters. There’s strength in numbers. Tell no one – summer’s on the way out. Don’t worry, it’ll linger some. But flowers are so dignified as they age. Nobody ever questions the beauty of their decay. Now is the time, in the life of flowers, to cut, to group with friends, and bring indoors. Find some judicious side-lighting. Spectacular all the way

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Happy Birthday To The Redhead, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:41am

  Yesterday the redhead turned 25. I gave her two pairs of shoes. Neither extravagant nor bold, as presents go. However, these days I know a lot about walking comfortably and  I’ve always tried to use everything I know – as best I can – to be a mom. Lucky mothers get to do that. The limits are implied if not overt. Just realized that I’ve been focused on her feet for years. We’ve got a plastic bag of 14 Freed pointe shoes in her closet at home. Never used, because she got injured and put them aside. Never sold because, well, eBay is scary, and one never

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Are Hats Back? Seriously? Hats?

We might have thought hats were dead. Sure, they show up at the beach, at ball games, on college boys’ heads. But for men and women in midlife? With jobs? Ha! The milliner who laughs last, laughs best. How do I know? Well I don’t, really, but judging from the heads of San Franciscans, we can hypothesize that hats are back. Why? I have a few ideas. Sunscreen is gross The ozone layer is degrading Don Draper looks fab Hipsters took the concept for a spin and it worked Here in San Francisco, we’ve got a local company that does nothing but hats. Pop into Goorin Brothers, on

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A Personal Review Of “I Am Love” And “Seating Arrangements”

It’s been a while since I addressed my odd High WASP culture. Those of you old-timers who find the theme annoying, please (as Faux Fuchsia would say), Look Away Now™. Those of you new to the blog, I ask your forbearance. This is a complicated topic*.  We’re throwing in a book and a movie review for good measure. This weekend I finally caught up with I Am Love, Tilda Swinton’s movie about an Italian “haute bourgeoise” family. Coincidentally, and recently, I happened also to have read Maggie Shipstead’s book, Seating Arrangements. Both sent me into tiny rages. I Am Love tells the story of a Russian woman, married

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Chocolate Peanut Butter For Breakfast, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:46am

Sometimes small changes are a big deal. Today I’d like to introduce you, unprompted, to Justin’s Chocolate Peanut Butter. We’re talking breakfast. In China they eat rou bao, and congee. Japan, miso soup. Sweden, a fishy paste squeezed from tubes, cracker bread, cheese, yogurt, fruit. Perhaps the world divides neatly into pastry and non-pastry breakfasters? These days, although I may come from a savory tradition – herring, oatmeal, sausages – I eat breakfast like an average Anglo-American. Sweet, and Wheat. When we were little, in the 60s, mom served us Froot Loops, toast from bread in bags, bacon, and orange juice. Because Mom was enormously competent and under

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The Rough, The Raw, The Rustic Of Diamonds

If pearls can be brutal, surely, surely, diamonds can be rough. Of course they can, and it’s quite the thing these days. The same gem that balloons to 10 carats, perched on the fingers of celebrity bride-to-bes, also shows up quite shaggy, here and there. You can find raw diamonds. These earrings are by Melissa Joy Manning, local to the San Francisco Bay Area. I like the casual gold strip setting. A man’s ring, from Todd Reed. Seems to me a woman could wear this to great advantage. The cubes are diamonds. NOM like sugar. You can find “rustic” variations, even from venerable jewelry designers like Cathy Waterman.

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A Black And White Outfit

In case you have a busy day ahead of you, let’s cut to the chase. Here are the secrets of wearing black and white clothes together. Mix textures Include at least one higher end piece Stand near a whole bunch of  bushes But seriously, or at least more seriously, somewhere in passing I read midlife women shouldn’t wear black and white together. That as we age, the high contrast and lack of hue starts to wash us out. This seemed to counter the laws of physics. How could something so simple, black + white clothing, be off-limits to an entire demographic segment? I thought we deserved a little

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How To Avoid A “Bucket List,” Or, Saturday Morning at 10:10am

Do you have a bucket list? I don’t. In fact, the very idea makes me queasy. Why? I live with a to-do list. I rewrite it every morning. Why on earth would I lasso my personal dreams into that crowded and dusty corral? Isn’t it tempting fate, a tad? I bow my head to fate’s sisters, and really, really, really hope not to make them mad. Of course, I have nothing but admiration for those who feel otherwise. Read Kidchamp’s list, for example. Quirky, reasonable, multi-faceted. Just cannot muster to make one myself. That said, at any given moment I am grazing some horses out in the wild

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A Small Work Wardrobe That Doesn’t Bore The Beejesus Out Of Me

I’ve been at my new job for 9 months now. And I believe I have pretty much settled on a work wardrobe. It’s not very big. Witness the list. Eight pairs of pants: Two pairs of J. Crew bootleg cords, one dark brown, one black, two pairs of 7 for All Mankind jeans, one Dojo trouser cut – heels length, one Ginger flares – flat length, one pair of black J. Crew slacks, one Banana Republic gray, one Bernard Zins gray wool with blue pinstripes, one Armani khaki double-knit Six tees: two Petit Bateau v-neck long-sleeved, one black, one white, one GAP long-sleeved crew neck tee, navy, three

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The Anxious Person’s Field Guide To Confidence

We’ve been talking about the construct of “Attractive” vs. “Pretty.” I even took a crack at defining Attractive. Since then, we’ve been wandering around in the vicinity of skin, body, makeup, and so on. Which would bring us, in proximity-based thinking, to clothes . But that’s my blog ‘s ostensible topic anyway. So we’re probably done. Or, more precisely, I’ve probably said what I have to say about Attractive. Except. Confidence. Bears repeating. Confidence, confidence, confidence. Nothing makes someone more attractive than non-showy confidence. Of course, the world has mapped out the building of self-confidence already. Just try Googling “How to become confident.” Unfortunately, for some of us,

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The Quiet Of Crows, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:34am

I’ve spent the last 12 days up in San Francisco. It was a long stretch. Last night I slept in my little suburban house, a window open over the bed. As I lay there, in the brief quiet moment between putting down my Kindle and surrendering to sleep, I noticed something. Quiet. I love cities. Love the constant change, the crowded sidewalks, the windows into businesses and lives. But boy they sure are decibel-intensive. When subjected to constant noise, it seems a part of our brain dedicates itself to dampening the effect. So the experience of living with noise is not one of sound, but of cotton balls

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Book Review: Black Chokeberry

Occasionally I receive offers of book sample copies, with requests to review. As you can tell, I don’t respond terribly often. But this book, Black Chokeberry, by Martha Nelson, seemed apropos to our discussions. It’s the story of three not-young women, and what transpires when one of them moves home to the small town of Oswego, New York. Frances, the oldest of the three, is widowed. Ruby has never married. Ellen, who moves home, does so after a long marriage ends in divorce. So this is not a story about midlife women and men. Nor is it a story, by the way, about women out conquering the world.

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Happy 4th Of July!

I love the 4th of July. My patriotism unfurls, no politics in sight. So let’s hear it for the red. The white. and the blue. If you like fireworks, I hope you find great blooms of them close to hand.

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Lullaby, And Goodnight, Go To Sleep Now My Ballgown

As a girl, and then a young woman, I had a little trick for putting myself to sleep. Self-soothing, we’d call it now. However, I had no use for rocking, hair twirling, or routine thumb sucking. I’d imagine getting dressed for a party. A big party. A fancy party. I’d envision the dress, the jewelry, the shoes. Right off to the Land of Nod. These days sleep is more elusive. Ah, middle age. But the joys of imagined dress-up haven’t deserted me. Sometimes I like to pretend that I’m going to a charity gala. I haven’t attended one in decades. Business events don’t count. But in my imagination

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When You Realize You Are Going To Have To Address Anne-Marie Slaughter’s Article, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:08am

So it’s been a kerfuffle of a week. Let’s take on the Internet bit, shall we? It all began when The Atlantic published Anne-Marie Slaughter’s fine article on her decision to leave her job as a director of Policy Planning in the State Department, and return to her position as a professor at Princeton. Entitled “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All,” we sum up her point as: One cannot succeed at certain kinds of high-impact, high-profile jobs and still be a high-impact mother of children at home. Brouhaha ensued. Slate held a video talk. Jezebel wrote something, I’m sure there’s more out there. But I spend more

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Building Attractive with Everyday Beauty: 6 Secret Ways To Make Makeup Your Best Friend

I find it ironic that only now, at 55, am I comfortable with my makeup choices. It was scarcely two years ago that I was having my eyelids brutalized by Eastern European makeup artists. I have you all to thank for my newfound courage. Had I found it in my pretty days who knows what might have happened. So,  for all of you working towards the confidence and sense of humor that builds Attractive, I give you Zuzu’s Petals, the author of Everyday Beauty. She wears blue-toned, natural makeup, her Beauty Spotlight team addresses the broader spectrum. Oh, and she’s not a teenager. This is a good thing.

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Flowers In The House

Jane, over at Small But Charming, runs a little blog moment called, “Flowers in the House.” Many florists and talented people bring flowers inside and take pictures, to post them on the Internet. Don’t you love that moment when you settle your bouquet into the vase, and the stems fall, just a bit? The way it feels when you push a stem through to the water? I don’t love stripping leaves and thorns, but it would be ungrateful to complain. The thing is, these aren’t flowers, and that’s not a vase. The leaves of the Pieris shrub emerge peach, before maturing into a more usual middle green. And

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Creative Ad Absurdum, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:24am

It is a morning for pet peeve sharing. Yes it is. Here’s mine. I’ve observed a growing use of the word “creative” as a noun. Where people who write or work with images for a living call themselves, “Creatives.” Drives me nuts. I suppose I’m not alone.  The term began in advertising, apparently, but is expanding. You see, as I pace up and down the cubicle pathways of our offices, or speak to people in conference rooms, I rely on the same mental snatch and grab of disparate elements I know from writing, or playing with photographs. Not to mention that odd Hail Mary to the brain’s nether

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Building Attractive: Already Pretty

How many of you know Sal, from Already Pretty? I imagine it’s a non-trivial number. She writes the kindest blog I know, offering style advice even as she advocates contentment with one’s own shape and size. In real life she’s open, lovely, and no-nonsense. Now Sal’s published a book. I’ve read it. Everyone has something to learn about how to dress oneself well from Sal. Books, of course, aren’t just their content. They are projects reflective of the drive we have to matter. Here Sal talks about why she self-published. As in all of the best endeavors, her personal agenda lines up very nicely with the goals she

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Style May Not Be Virtuous, But Is It Stupid?

Note that this is in response to, not in reply to, a couple of posts and comments around the blogosphere. Here for example, and here. By which I mean that nobody said style was stupid. But what they did say provoked my own internal dialogue, and that’s what you get here. Let me add that  I’m not even measurably  distressed that my father finds style posting non-serious. I’m simply inspired to argue persuasively. We have seen, in recent weeks, several bloggers in the midlife cohort confess to style posting ennui. I can’t say I feel the same way. Let’s admit, right up front, that style is not a

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If You Need Summer Shoes For Walking To Work

One of the serendipitous joys of my job is a 30 minute walk to work. On those summer days when San Francisco presents its usual fog and and cloud cover, I’m happy in my uniform of pants and low Beautifeel heels. Dang those things are comfortable. But come a warm morning I hate to put on socks. Toes demand liberation. And I might even wear a dress, these days. Beautifeel, unfortunately, gives bad sandal. And it turns out to be harder than one might think to find open-toed shoes that are both reasonably work-appropriate – even for my astonishingly informal office – and comfortable enough for a brisk

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A Time For Frozen Peas, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:33am

Well hello there. Feels like it’s been a while. Oh, luckily, my posts show up. I haven’t stopped blogging, nor do I intend to. But in all honesty I’ve been quite fragmented lately. Do you know the feeling? The state where someone tells you they disagree with a statement you apparently made, and you don’t even remember the conversation? Much less if you believe what you ostensibly said? Like that. Fragmented. Modern life takes us so far from the Zen ideal of mindfulness. Sometimes I’m all out of mind, but the world, my body, and my voice don’t seem to notice. I keep going, as one does. We

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Finding Periwinkle At The End Of A Long Black Path

I was looking for a black summer jacket. On the brown side of my wardrobe, I’ve got the J. Crew Field Jacket in olive/moss. Works perfectly for San Francisco summer mornings, i.e. warm with a chance of fog, or foggy with a chance of warm.  But I had a hankering for a cousine noir, a lightweight woven cotton something or other. I poked around online. I looked at this. Always a Bottega Veneta fan. I considered this, for my next incarnation as a downtown sculptress who lives in, um, Antwerp? Perhaps Berlin or Prague? I loved this, by a Danish designer I’d never heard of before, Henrik Vibskov.

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Cheap Thrills At The Corner Store, Or, Walgreens Is My Friend

(Thanks to Walgreens for underwriting this post. I was paid as a member of the Clever Girls Collective, but the content is all mine. Visit http://www.discoverbeautywithin.com/) Back in the lean years, I loved nothing so much as a trip to the corner drugstore. The grey-linoleumed aisles, irregular stacks of transparent inflated swim toys on high shelves, and the beauty products. Oh the products of beauty dreams. Let me admit, I’m a makeup and beauty product junkie. A jar of facial unguents, foot beautifier, or new mascara cheer me up like foil butterflies in mobiles. Sparkle, turn, glint, turn. And summertime, when faces are best left neutral and toes

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The Graduation Speech I Will Never Give, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:52am

Several people spoke at my son’s recent college graduation. Michael Lewis, of Moneyball. Steve Carell, of, well, Steve Carell. And of course, Shirley Tilghman, the president of Princeton. My mind wandered, as I listened. I always wonder why people choose as they do, how they come to what they say. I made something up. An Imaginary Graduation Speech Good morning. Most likely you’re not listening to a word I say. Probably all to the good. Other things are afoot. Probably you’re noticing your chair’s lack of seat padding, or the temperature shifting as breezes rise, or those whiskers you missed when shaving. Or, you’re looking at the bracelets

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An Imaginary Wedding In June

Does everybody love a wedding? So fraught these days. Divorce statistics. Wedding industry spend-a-thons. Marriage inequality. Let’s pause for some imaginary festivities. Because it’s June, because we can. Imagine a very young bride, doting parents, all archetypes intact. She’ll shop for a dress with her mom, the dresses lined up and ready to rustle. Settling on cotton, she imagines how breezes will play with her skirt. She chooses her college chapel for the ceremony, as she doesn’t yet know much else, and is going to assume that life proceeds linearly. Perhaps it will. A young bride might want to carry white flowers. Not yet having learned to value imperfection.

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When Your 34th Reunion Is Way Better Than Your 25th, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:01am EDT

Today I shall don a horrible costume, sweat through rain-threatening heat, and suffer crowds in the thousands. Mostly, I”ll love it. Princeton Reunions weekend is upon us. Although I graduated 34 years ago, to date I had only attended my 25th. I had a wonderful time, but would have been satisfied with said visit alone. That story, avec horrible costume, is here. Why return now? The boy child is graduating! Congratulations to Mr. P! And today I’m walking in the parade with both my children. Flood not, maternal heart. Being near my kids feels like I imagine dry lawns might, under sprinklers. Awareness and happiness seep through me.

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How To Wear “Country” In The City

Because my recent weekend at the Ritz substituted for a botched trip to Napa, I arrived at the hotel with bags packed for things I would not be doing. Well then. I get a thrill, usually, wearing the exactly right outfits at fancy hotels. I know it’s odd. But having just the right sarong for that bathing suit, the perfect wrap for evening, and the sandals jeweled in exactly the right bronze, floats my High WASP boats. Boats foundered, beached. What to do? Impunity, of course, otherwise known as, How To Wear Country In The City I have found that cuffing an old pair of jeans makes them

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A Personal Review Of The Ritz-Carlton, San Francisco

This weekend I found myself, spontaneously, at the San Francisco Ritz-Carlton. We had talked of the Carneros Inn, but since we left reservations to the last minute, they were full up. I was quite disappointed, and Significant Other determined to mitigate my distress. So we stayed at the Ritz for a couple of nights, where I’d never been. I recovered immediately. Champagne served on arrival will do that. Never underestimate the impact of a silver tray. To say nothing of spectacular lobby flowers. Let’s be honest. The San Francisco Ritz is not one of those hotels that photographs well. There isn’t much light inside. But what the Ritz

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Logical Holidays, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:15am

It’s a long weekend in the USA. We’re celebrating Memorial Day. I read up on my history. Worth a few minutes of your time. Originally called Decoration Day, apparently, the holiday began as a way to formally honor all the graves of the Civil War dead. Think back. How terrible to live through a civil war. Battles fought in town squares. Clearing the bodies from the doorstep. Of course as a young country we needed to join in ritual to recover. But I was thinking that maybe it’s time to evolve the day, formally, to honor all our dead. I mean no disrespect. My father lost his father

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Some Days You Don’t Want To Live Up To Your Clothes. Am I Right?

Some days I just don’t want to live up to my clothes. Perhaps the physical fails. My hair isn’t clean enough, my eyes not bright, I’m tired. Perhaps it’s the emotional. Every now and then I misplace my will. Don’t want to soldier on. But, well, that’s what they pay us for. In those moments, I need to degrade gracefully. I want to raise no hopes, wave no flags, make no promises. On these days, I’m in navy. It’s cultural, and complexion-based. High WASPs like navy blue, ruddy Sturdy Gals especially. These clothes don’t challenge, at all. Sometimes defining the negative carefully is more useful than attempting the

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What Is The Single Most Attractive Outfit You Can Own?

When building up your attractiveness, it’s enormously useful to have a go-to outfit. For many of us, that’s going to mean a pair of jeans, heels, a blazer , and a bag you’re glad to carry. Notice the flexible parameters. Almost everyone can find jeans that flatter. Because those sturdy blue trousers have become a cornerstone of American culture, a version can be found for most shapes and sizes. Like boyjeans? Try Madewell. Flared? 7 for all Mankind Dojos are my current favorites. Skinnies? J. Crew or J. Brand or you name it. Same for heels and blazers.. I imagine a chant – stilettoed, blunt-toed, cropped, lapeled. Say

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Throwing Teacups On The Floor, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:30am

I’ve had lots of opportunities to be a grownup this week. I rose to some of them. Not all. It does get easier, grownuphood. I suppose it’s one of those tradeoffs for the indignities of aging. When I was young, I was young. Not adult at all. My father suggested I should take Katherine Hepburn as a role model. He meant rachet back on the displays of emotion, I think, and stop flying off the handle quite so often. I can’t say for certain if I interpreted him correctly, High WASPs do so love the indirect. But let’s say I got it right. Then, in my 40s, a

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Should Midlife Style Bloggers Do A Better Job?

The other day I got an email. To be precise, I should say “the other night,” as I happened to be awake somewhere around 2am. Stress, middle age, who knows. I’m going to post the missive’s content almost entirely, because it made me think. A caveat. I am not, as you will see as you read, posting this to defend myself, or argue. I find it best to regard every piece of criticism as though it has something to teach. You can’t deconstruct anything you’ve already blown to bits. Hi Lisa, I enjoy your blog and have been reading it for some quite time now. You are so

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Don’t You Love Realizing It’s Going To Be Summer, Again?

It’s almost here, guys. Summer in all its warm-calf glory. You know what I mean? How the warmed wind feels on your legs? I pretend that this is what I will wear to do errands. Summer by amidprivilege featuring 18k jewelry Those pants are fancyish, by Alberta Ferreti. But my dream of cobalt blue was set off by  Gap khakis and they may yet keep their promise. Those sunglasses are Prada, but I’m still swearing by my Costco specials. I already own the James Perse shirt, and the orange Havaianas. Leaving only a straw French market tote to acquire. This one’s by Sirène, a company featured here. All

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To All The Mothers, Realized Or Hoping. Or, Saturday Morning at 6:23am

My mother, and me, some time in the 1950s, wearing cardigans. Tomorrow’s is Mother’s Day in America. I find that mothering never grows old, that I never have it figured out, that after almost 25 years my heart still swells with love. We don’t use the term “swell with love,” imprecisely. That’s exactly how it feels. Like balloons behind your breastbone, or one green thing sprouting in a meadow. And I know that for some becoming a mother takes ages, or never happens. So for today I will wish that anyone who wishes to mother, can, and that anyone who has done so feels full of all the

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Building Attractive: The Skin You’re In

The next step in building attractive, since we seem to be moving from inside out, takes us to skin. On the Darwinian side, clear skin usually signals health. Indulgently, taking care of your skin means stroking your cheeks while  inhaling perfumed lotions at will. What’s not to like? You guys, I don’t know. I did my research, I read science, I posted this, back in 2010. The information is still skin care reality, or at least my best efforts in that direction. I understand that acne, and other medical syndromes of type, are outside my scope. But skin must be the least generalizable domain of building attractive. Everyone’s

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Have You Ever Wanted Red Shoes?

And then one day you wake up in red shoes. I’m not one for pops of color, and had resolutely avoided ballet flats for this entire trend lifecycle. But then I went shopping at Modern Appealing Clothing, a local boutique owned by a brother and sister with exquisite Urban Artsy taste. The next thing I knew I had acquired this pair of orange-red Sofie D’Hoore ballet flats. Sofie’s Belgian, and the flats are just this side of ugly, in that fashiony kind of way. I found my Ferragamos felt too demure with the dress, and who among us craves nothing wild? Or at the very least, subversive. That

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Sometimes You Need Pictures, Or, Saturday Mornings at 9:13am

Improbable as it may seem, I’m out of words. You know how that just happens some times? Not from sorrow, or fear, or overwhelm. Just used up too many in the days previous. So I made you a Pinterest board. It’s called What To Do On Saturday Mornings. Not that you don’t already know what to do, but one of the good things about Saturdays is hanging out with friends, lazily reviewing shared opinions. Have a wonderful weekend you all, you guys, youse guys, or whatever regional dialect you use to refer to friends.

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In San Francisco We Are Always Transitioning

Elsewhere on the Internets, I was chatting with a few pals. Someone asked about transitional outerwear. Well then. In San Francisco, where I now work, we are always transitioning. Within hours, in fact. Because we live on a bay, or The Bay as we say, our marine layer makes frequent surprise appearances. We’ve learned to cope. Tourists, on the other hand, are often caught shivering in shorts or dressed as for a Northwestern forest – fleece and petrochemically derived garments in full force. Come time for Spring, San Franciscan’s are ready. No one piece solves every moment of transitional seasons, or transitional cities, for that matter. We’ve learned

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A Fitted Blouse From My Old Friends At Nara Camicie

When last we saw this aubergine tweed jacket, we were discussing the color of shirt one might wear with it. White seemed too bright. Over the weekend, I paid a visit to Nara Camicie, the Italian boutique in San Francisco, where I found a fitted 3/4 sleeve blouse. I love 3/4 sleeves for spring and summer. The Franco-Italian combination of tweed and stripes? Bonus points. And no, I wasn’t referring to my striped gray hair, but we’ll take our supporting aesthetic details where we can. This is the kind of wild frivolity Quiet Dressers relish. Three colors at once! Blue and purple and brown! Also, pattern-mixing! Made me

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9 War-Weary Requirements For Doing A Good Job

I’ve been working for 34 years now.  I took time off to stay home with kids but, as anyone who’s been the primary caregiver for small children will tell you, that counts as work. And it turns out that in the 3rd decade, you develop a few maxims. These are mine. I imagine you have yours. To be recited, either sotto voce during a long walk down the hall, or con brio to the assembled multitudes. 1. Always Be Closing You can talk for 6 hours, eloquently, without any impact. Business is not art, not valuable in the ether. It’s a machine. Figure out the key things you

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When Susan And Martin Got Married

Last Sunday I attended Susan and Martin’s wedding. Here’s the happy couple. It was a lovely day. Everyone got California fancy. Men donned jackets, women their dresses, some wore hats. The sun shone. Wisteria bloomed, bees buzzed, and Susan and Martin said loving vows on their front porch. The assembly smiled and cried. It seems a little odd therefore,  to blog my outfit,. The event itself was far more important than what we wore. But I met Susan through blogging, the photo above is her Facebook wedding picture, and besides, I asked permission. We do not live in my parent’s generation, and hardly in my own, really. The

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The Subtle Pleasure Of A Spectator Shoe

I’ve always been a sucker for two-tone shoes. They were big in the late 70s, early 80s. To this day I remember a pair of gray and white pumps I bought in London – 1979. They sported classic ornamental holes, punched in the shape of stars. Sigh. The shoes of our youth. You don’t see too many actual spectators around these days, except in vendors of the classic. J. Crew carries the Mona pump on sale for a few sizes at $169. Brooks Brothers, unsurprisingly, offers a t-strap for $198. And you can find vintage, in a size 8, for $28 at American Apparel, and elsewhere I’m sure.

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Stopping In A San Francisco Crosswalk, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:28am

I’m going to tell you all, go and start a blog right now. Yes, right now. Write for one year. Post your picture. Write for another year, post more pictures in outfits of varying appeal. Natter on, experiment, evolve. Then one warm noon in San Francisco, decide to go grab lunch around the corner. Ask two people on your team if they’d like to come. They’ll say no. Run out yourself. Leave your jacket behind because you don’t want to overheat. Feel the sun. Realize you’re wearing black pants on a hot day. Resolve to do better in the warm weather uniform quest. Cross the street. Notice a

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The Highland Fashionista Goes Gray

The Highland Fashionista, a very amusing American blogger  living in Scotland, has finished her transition to gray hair. Looks pretty smashing with some pink lipstick. I find her comments about stirring up a lot of reaction pretty true. Seemed like good follow up to yesterday’s hair post. See what you think.

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Building Attractive: Let’s Talk Hair

I got a haircut recently. I love my hair guy. And at last, in Building Attractive, we enter the realms of relative frivolity. My friends, it’s time to talk hair. Your hair is your single most leveraged point of attraction. Since we began this project, I have been paying attention. I walk to work and look at women on the street. Guess what? I see their hair first of all. Well, maybe their coat, but the coat’s going to come off, the hair is not. You’re going to have to pick your strategy and execute with focus. Here are the simplest rules I can infer: If you are

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The Apotheosis Of Smart, Where Women Are Difficult, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:11am

Let’s talk about smart people. Not real smart people, mind you, but the pretend sort we see on American television and in the movies. Have you all noticed the recent apotheosis of imagined brilliants? (If we’re going to discuss smarty-pants we might as well start with a lot of syllables.) There’s House, with the doctor who is better than everyone else. There was Numb3rs, with a math dude. There’s Breakout Kings, which I quite enjoy, featuring Lloyd Lowery child-prodigy-turned-psychiatrist-with gambling-problem. The dishiest  is Dr. Spencer Reid of Criminal Minds, played by Matthew Gray Gubler. And then, of course, my favorite, The Big Bang Theory. I’m not alone. The

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Building Attractive: The Concept Of “Net Plus”

In the first post on Building Attractive, we discussed diet and exercise. MJ replied in the comments. “Interesting – I thought that your deconstruction of attractive would start with being interested in something outside of yourself, as I think that’s what makes people truly attractive.” I thought. I’d considered writing about the non-physical components of Attractive, but that felt presumptuous. I thought some more. So let’s deconstruct. How to understand the universal principles of Attractive? Define your terms, then derive the global rules and parameters. 1. Attractive comes from “attract,” meaning, to cause to draw near, or to compel approach If someone is attractive, you will be drawn

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Evolving The Warm Weather Work Uniform

Anyone else stalking the retail jungle for a warm weather uniform? I’ve been yanking cashmere v-necks up over my head, rapidly, a lot of late. Time to haul home more spring-suitable gear. So, a couple of weekends ago, I looked at sandals to wear with my herds of trousers. I tried these on at Saks. Tod’s. Source: saksfifthavenue.com via Amid on Pinterest And these at Neiman Marcus by Marni. Source: barneys.com via Amid on Pinterest Block heels are going to be big this summer. Mark my words. I stood deep in hipster Sixties juju, intoxicated by my own approximation of cool. But my feet hurt. The Marnis were

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Chualar Of The Spirit, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:35am

As I left work last night, released with the souls of Friday, I got a text that said, simply, “Chualarrrrrrr!” Why on earth? There’s good reason. Chualar is a little town located along Highway 101, between the San Francisco Bay Area and Santa Barbara. My sister ‘s family drove down to see my mother in Santa Barbara for Easter weekend this year. Our families say “Chualar!” to each other, by phone or text, whenever we pass the freeway exit. The ritual began several years back when we all drove down together, my son, myself, my sister, my brother-in-law, their daughter. I think it must have been fairly soon

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Is The J. Crew Field Jacket Really All That?

How many of you out there shop at J. Crew? I imagine no small number. Jenna Lyons, the design director, is a real talent. I’ve always shied away from their branding, but find their merchandising, and many of their goods, quite nifty. Recently, I imagined I’d buy myself the J. Crew Field Jacket. And not unreasonably, I did. I thought you might like to know that I LUFF IT, in the words of Faux Fuchsia. I look quizzically at anyone who might question my affection. I believe Kathy agrees. Sure, it’s Fauxbour, but I don’t much care. The waxy cotton is light enough for most cool San Francisco

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The Metaphoric Garden Of Our Single Springs

I love my garden. Technically, garden[s] plural, I suppose, as there’s one in the front yard and one in the back. I’ve owned this house for over 25 years. But I have to say, I don’t much care for the Here Comes Spring Again part of the process. So much budding greenery. What if I don’t want to feel cheery, come April? How dare fresh leaves bear the sun so well? I’m far fonder of Dear God It’s Winter Already. Because in all honesty, sprouting and growing and blooming and fading is an impolite reminder that we too shall die. And I don’t want to. I find life,

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Have You Ever Wondered About The Secret Life Of Style Bloggers?

I remember, when I went back to work full-time 14 years ago, I called my best friend after the first day. I’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating. She asked me, “How was it?” And I said, “Odd. I don’t know who lived my life today, but it wasn’t me.” When I went back to work again this time, I also left a life behind that has persisted in my absence. The Secret Life of Lisa The Style Blogger It appears that in Blog Year 3 PR agencies figure out you exist, and begin to send offers and requests. So here is what imaginary Lisa The

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Building Attractive, With Helpful Intent

In comments on my post about attractive vs. pretty, several readers asked for a series about Building Attractive. Here goes, with the caveat that this will rely on personal opinion, hypotheses and confessions, as true as I can make them . How to build Attractive? I wish I could dive right on in to clothes and makeup. To hairstyles, and eyelashes, and high-heeled loafers. But that would be inauthentic, and inauthentic is the least attractive thing of all. To my way of thinking, which is all we’ve go to go on right now, here’s the first step: Live with helpful intent in your body. In other words, albeit

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The Great Sneaker Controversy

Apropos Sue’s post on Sneaking Around Paris, you might also want to read Les Anti-Modernes today on youthful sneakers. Just a thought. Old dogs, new tricks. Since we’re talking, before I run off to work, goodness but my mammogram technician was aggressive this morning. Still a good idea to go get one. See you tomorrow.

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High WASPs Do Love A High Waist

I’m tired of one piece bathing suits. Anyone else? This is not a fashion whim. It’s sensory. I like the way water feels on my skin, I like sun, and if I choose to cover up I prefer light silk to heavy, wet, bunchy, swim fabric. Tankinis are, if anything, worse than maillots. Bathing suits stretched tight are tolerable, once gathering and flapping commences all hope is lost. I confess that did I wear a bikini in Hawaii. But I’d be hard-pressed to do so anywhere except the tropics, and very hard-pressed to do so except in the presence of Significant Other and my children. I bear no

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9 Quintessential Lessons About Jobs, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:53am

It’s wet here in Northern California, perhaps we’ll avoid the threatening drought. I love rain, it’s like the world’s taking care of you. Speaking of which, I’ve been at my job for 5 months now. Just remembered something important. You can pay other people to: Cook for you Clean your house Tend your gardens Iron your shirts Buy what you need Keep track of finances You cannot pay anyone to: Go to the doctor for you Sleep for you Spend time with loved ones in your stead I had my annual physical yesterday, and plan to do lots of the other this weekend. I hope yours is lovely.

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How Can You Tell If Something Isn’t “You?”

The respond to my last post was so interesting that I had to follow up. You all had great ideas about the dress Terri sent me, and how to wear it. To wit, Rubiatona:  Yellow cardigan, blue or gray flats, bangles galore. mademarian: High-heeled gladiators, carefully done hair, big beautiful brooch Susan:  Bangles, colorful necklace Duchesse: Blue Fluevogs Crissa: Biker booties and jacket Kelli: Colored jewelryCaroline: Bright patent leather or woven yellow braided belt. Janet: Bright cardigan Karena: Bright cardigan Flo: Add white shirt FLT: Become a 20-25 year old:) But do I own this? Or these: Or this? Nope. Not even close. Although I do occasionally consider

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The Advantages Of Imaginary Shopping

Much personal style revolves around finding what works for you. Intensifying focus. Otherwise known as the Great Cashmere V-neck Bakeoff, or other quests of type. But it can also be useful to try out stuff that’s way outside your comfort zone, in the flesh or the imagination. How so? For example, the dress above was a present from Terri, of Rags Against the Machine. Terri is an expert thrifter who approaches her wardrobe with both rigor and enthusiasm. She has put together more outfits in the past few years than I have in 20. I told her I liked the dress, when I saw it on her blog,

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If Only Leprechauns Could Calculate Taxes, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:02am

Today, while some roust out St. Patrick’s Day finery, and leprechauns, others face a devil’s chore. It’s income tax time in the United States. I do not resist taxes, in principle. The only good response to inherited privilege is a gracious paying of one’s dues. But I downright despise the process of getting a check in the mail. I confess I have no right to complain. I have never, not once in all my born days, calculated taxes myself. When I was young, if I remember correctly, the trust bank did them for me. Eventually, one accountant or another. I like the woman who does them now, she’s

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Fierce At 50 Is Way Better Than Pretty At 25

I was a pretty girl, and a pretty woman for some time thereafter. I need to say something. I’ve thought long and hard about this post. But it’s always hard to talk about one’s ostensible good fortune without sounding like a jerk, and even harder to describe ambivalence around that same good fortune. I ask you to give me the benefit of the doubt. Thank you in advance. Back to pretty. You all have been so kind when I post self-photos. This has made me think a lot about what I have to say about Pretty, globally, if you will. Here’s what I know. Pretty is only good

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We Have A Winner!

Amy! Amy T.! Yes, you! Guess what? You win! You win the Hester van Eeghen Harmonica bag! Hooray! Email me and tell me your address, which color you want, and we will have it shipped out. Congratulations! And, I am really sorry I couldn’t give a brightly colored HVE bag to everyone. Thank you all so, so much for participating. Yours, Lisa

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When Statement Jewelry Says, “Shhhh!”

Quiet dressers have had a rough couple of years. Beset by ubiquitous pops of color, huge bags, inches of platform soles, and bling, (the term “bling” says it all), we are apt to run off in a swivet and hide under the sartorial table in despair. Even whimper a tad. One must reclaim style one step at a time. Let’s say we give jewelry a go? Unfortunately, some jewelry  starts out quiet but takes up the brand cry and end up shouting, “Look at me!” Too bad. I love the Van Cleef and Arpels Alhambra line to pieces. Especially in turquoise. Modernism whispers well. We’re talking about simple

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The Kid Alarm, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:11am

My son graduates from college in June. Oddly, I’m not overwhelmed by the usual “Where Has The Time Gone, Only Yesterday He Had No Hair.” Instead I’m repopulating my imagination with his future world. Factually, this involves a job on Wall Street, as an editor for an international news service startup. Don’t know yet where he will be living. Don’t know whether he will have to walk up dark stairs, eat ramen, and face Sunday afternoons alone. Or whether he’ll figure out his slow cooker, find comfort in subway rumbles, and rumpus with glamorous buddies. No matter what – I need to start sketching possibilities to deal with

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If You Haven’t Heard Of Hester van Eeghen, I’d Expect That To Change

The backyard bird sings always now. Even early in the morning. I’m thinking Spring woke her up, not antsy raccoons, not suburban family rustlings. Every year Spring happens, and every year we are a little surprised, despite decades of bulbs, squirrel fights, and trees leafing out yet again. It would not be wrong to think adventure, today. It would not be inappropriate to imagine a new spring bag, either. Perhaps we shall not see Paris, with Sue, or Vivienne. But we have imagination, and in our mind’s eye we carry Hester van Eeghen’s extraordinary handbags. Designed in Amsterdam, made in Italy, we show them the world. Or perhaps

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How To Make A Uniform Less, Um, Uniform

Uniforms are great. However, the day may come when one flings a certain cashmere v-neck across the room, crying, “No, no, no, not again!” Then what? Must we rummage through our closets, in search of something, anything, to wear? Sturdy Gals are allergic to angst. They like to put on a bright smile and forge onward, ignoring doubt. What purpose, after all, does it serve? And the best way to avoid closet doubt is to plan well. Enter the second uniform, a Chanel-esque jacket and a tee. Above is a purple tweed version by Étoile Isabel Marant. From Marant’s mid-level line, i.e., I didn’t have to sell my

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Those Family Interactions, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:53am

Oh gosh it’s late. I am mostly awake by 7am. Today I slept in. And now it’s almost 11. In case I haven’t explained recently, Saturday mornings I wake up, have one piece of toast and two cups of tea. A handful of almonds, two capsules of fish oil, and one of probiotics. Then I settle myself onto the sofa. My goal is to write  until I’m done. Or until noon. Whichever comes first. By noon, no matter what, I publish. Last night I had dinner at my aunt’s house. My mother and her husband had driven up from Santa Barbara. I was tired. Somehow, the conversation became

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LPC Is At “A Femme D’un Certain Age”

Morning everyone. Today I’m over at Tish’s A Femme D’un Certain Age. Tish asked me to write about luxury. I think I figured it out. Please, if you have time, go take a look. If only to sigh over a Raf Simon’s pink and brown coat. Your attention, as always, is appreciated.

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Dressing Well Without Chanel: The Red Carpet At T.J. Maxx

Something like 30 years ago, I had to hurriedly buy an outfit for a fancy affair. I wound up in Carolyn Charles. She would become a favorite of Lady Di several years later, but that day I knew only that I had to be some place glamourous, with famous people, in a few hours. I spent an inordinate sum of money, mitigated only slightly by pounds sterling translation. This weekend I was invited to an Oscar-watching party. Dress code – fancy. As it happened, my closet and I were in separate parts of the Bay Area. Purchase required. And I knew, without a doubt, that I didn’t need

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I Might Eat A Chocolate Doughnut, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:34am

Is there anything so wonderful as Saturday morning? Oh, I suppose, when you’re young, maybe Friday evening. Or Thursday night among the college set. Throngs of intoxicated and almost in love 20-year olds. But for midlifers, and larks of all ages, nothing beats Saturday morning. (Did you know the opposite of a night owl is a lark? Yes. It is.) I have found the Saturday principle to apply whether I was in jobs I hated or jobs I loved, retired, or home with small children. Saturday morning feels like a dollop of whipped cream. Raised, that pretty curved peak, sweet. Impermanent and foolish even, but promising no more

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Privilege Checks In With Friends: 2012

I’ve been writing Privilege for 3 years now. Here’s the first post ever. Proof positive that people can learn and improve. On blog anniversaries, I like to summarize and check in. Last year Privilege Reported To The Board, in corporate speak. Now that the blog is no longer my work, I thought a confession in a bar after work more appropriate. Imagine, then, we agreed to gather at 6:00pm. I arrive at 6:20, apologizing for tardiness. Someone needed to discuss something important, truly important, and I couldn’t get away. If Five Minutes Early Is On Time, 20 minutes late is criminal. I throw my scarf and peacoat over

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Spring In Shiny Oxfords And Patterned Skirts

The daffodils now lining Northern California sidewalks have convinced me that spring, as always, will come. Needs must dream up a new business casual uniform. Whenever you begin to put together a new look, start with what you already know about your style. In my case, wanting to join in the pattern-mixing fun, I have to take the usual small-figured road, and rely on a single color or color families. Sort of Dries van Noten meets Miuccia Prada, and everybody quiets down. My walking commute dictates the shoe choice. Denied wood-soled platform sandals, I might compensate with oxfords in an interesting shade. And the bag, oh the bag.

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Respite, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:18am

Everybody breathe. Many of us have a three-day weekend here in the USA. Everyone who celebrates Christmas has finally, finally, dug out of the holiday task-accomplishment hole. A new Lunar New Year has begun, and the Dragon is upon us. Breathe. Without flames. I, personally, will be wearing the heck out of some flannel pyjamas, consuming far too much tea, and reacquainting myself with the kitchen. Did you know that I have a stove? I do! One cannot let those critical cooking, gardening, and pyjama-ing skills decay altogether. Leeks and doughty rosebushes to the rescue. I wish everyone a wonderful weekend, long or regular, with glimpses of blue

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A Really Funny Blogger That Might Make Your Friday Even Better

I’ve read a lot of the big bloggers over the past 3 years. And have also stopped reading many. I continue, however, with Amalah. The woman makes me laugh out loud. She’s a great writer, and her sensibilities tickle my fancy. It’s not a case of life alignment, she’s pretty young, and smack dab in the middle of raising three little boys. She just makes me laugh. See what you think. Amalah. From this most recent post, I keep repeating, “Might be offensive to minutes, hahahahahaha.” Have a wonderful weekend.

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A Deconstruction Of Baggy Pants Syndrome, Or, Clothing Isn’t Simple

Blogging has taught me so much. About confession, about persistence, about the Hail Mary of creative writing. And that I wear my pants too big. Perhaps I should say, wore my pants too big, in the past tense. Because I recently took 8 pairs to the tailor, and started buying a size smaller than ever before. This isn’t very interesting, in and of itself. Headline. “Breaking News: Middle-Aged Californian Woman Wears Pants That Fit.” But it was kind of interesting to deconstruct. Because maybe you too may have a quirky or unconscious sartorial habit, one that does not serve you well. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to leave

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And The Winner Is…

Danielle, congratulations! Random.Org chose you as the winner of Tommy Hilfiger’s very generous giveaway. To everyone who entered, thank you, thank you, thank you. I love to read what perfumes people wear, and why. Your comments have inspired me to read some books on the history of ornamental scent, and to report back, if interesting facts and theories are to be found. To Tommy Hilfiger, the brand, thank you very much. It’s such a privilege to give presents. May your name always be spelled correctly. Hilfiger, one G.

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A Business Casual Uniform For Women, Borrowing From Neckties

There’s nothing so useful as a uniform. Get up, consider what to wear for all of 3 minutes, go. And there’s little so difficult as business casual dress code for women. We do not, for the most part, want to wear khakis and a blue shirt 14 days in a row. So I was terribly pleased to contrive this little trick. I took a page from the man’s tradition of shirt and tie. Sweep of color across the chest, pattern and contrast around the neck. Translating to business casual for women, “Shirt” is pronounced “Cashmere V-Neck,” and “Tie,” “Collared Buttonfront.” We also say “Golf” as “Blah blah blah,”

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Are You An Adult? Or, Saturday Morning at 9:26am

I was asked, the other day, “What makes an adult?” An interesting question. Can we locate a definitive marker of adulthood? Age. We’ve established some arbitrary legal definitions, here in the US. Does anyone think that’s the answer? No? I didn’t think so. Biological capabilities. Once one can have children? Uh, clearly not. Lift 250 lbs at the gym? Please excuse the silliness, we’re illustrating a point. Insufficient. Events. Graduation from school, marriage, birth of a child, taking on a mortgage? Still insufficient. The capability to sustain a host of such events? Getting closer. If positive identifiers cannot solve the problem, let’s try reductionism. Do we know what

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Tommy Hilfiger: The Brand, The Perfume, The Giveaway

Tommy Hilfiger was born on March 24th, 1951 – most likely with the real name of Thomas Jacob Hilfiger. On February 9, 2012, he (to be more precise, his exceptionally civil and personable PR rep) offered a giveaway to the readers of Privilege. We cannot, however, give away a perfume called “Eau de Prep,” and the accompanying stash of “preppy” goods, without a little deconstruction. We have to ask ourselves, what IS “Prep?” We have to ask ourselves, “Is Tommy Hilfiger the brand, “Prep?” Are these giveaway goods, “Prep?” And, most importantly, what on earth does “Eau de Prep” smell like? Lacrosse socks? I began writing Privilege, almost

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Dinner With The Donald. And Some Others.

We’ve all been to at least one good dinner party, right? Define the good, you say? Warm light, shoes off, laughter. Food delicious enough that the conversation stops for a minute. Comfort and joy. The unmistakable thrill of connection and invention. With an open slate, who would you invite? Only people who know how to banter, who understand that two conflicting opinions can both be true. They should not take themselves too seriously. While the rules of this exercise forbid inviting relatives or simple friends, I can’t comply. Dinner parties are best when some people meet for the first time as others interact with habitual camaraderie. Here’s my

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When Google Holds Your Digital Self Hostage, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:09am

This morning I find myself unable to access my personal Gmail account. Like many of you, surely, I have several email addresses. Until an hour ago, the roster included my work account, the blog account at Yahoo, and an account for newsletters, also at Yahoo. (ahem, Brora, Brooks Brothers and J. Crew), . Oh, and the afore-mentioned, now kidnapped, Gmail. Google says there has been unusual activity in my account, and requires that I give them a phone number to get back in. Not an email account, mind you. I’d be fine with that. I’m set up for that. But I’m don’t want to give Google my phone

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A Review Of The St. Regis, San Francisco: Bring The Kids

Last weekend, my sister, brother-in-law, niece, significant other, and I stayed at the St. Regis in San Francisco. Separate rooms of course, and I don’t think anyone slept on the floor except the dog, but calling it a grownup sleepover wouldn’t be too far off. This is one of my most favorite hotels in the world. Since it’s in the Starwood network, they take Starwood points. Booyah. Given its dignified urban decor, sleek with exotic woods and unpolished marble, one might think it suitable only for fancy sorts. In fact, one could not find a better reward for umpteen nights in Sheratons, and the resultant time away from

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Louis Vuitton Around The ‘Sphere

Two of my favorite bloggers wrote about Louis Vuitton just recently. First, we have the INIMITABLE Maximinimus, on about LV trunks. And yes, I did need to use the vociferous upper case. I had lunch with Maxi last week and the man is sui generis. Writes the heck out of everything and gives good advice, too. Second, we have Miss Sophie, of Les Anti-Modernes, with a brief discourse on her Sofia bag. Miss Sophie is in Shanghai right now, so I didn’t have lunch with her at all. Quite sneaky, those Vuittons. Capitalizing on society’s love for logo-led luxury, but quite capable of the Real Deal. Don’t count

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No Shame Around Breakfast, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:53am

Maybe you eat in the morning. Maybe you don’t. I think it’s time to relinquish shame. You like breakfast? Eat it. You don’t? Ignore with impunity. Never mind the diet pundits. 55 years of life have convinced me that breakfast is one area where everyone gets to decide for themselves. The world is full enough of should already. Enjoy your toast, your smoked salmon, your egg white omelette, your cruller. Or not. Have a wonderful weekend.

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The Great Cashmere Bakeoff Of 2012

Aaaaaaand still good information for Christmas 2016 Lately I’ve been buying, or attempting to buy, a fair number of cashmere sweaters. As I have said, my primary winter uniform at this new job is a cashmere v-neck with button-front shirt underneath. In the old days, i.e. my 40s, I wore cardigans over tees. Something, I can’t quite figure out what, happened to my midsection, rendering my former strategy a good deal less flattering. My shoulders, however,  remained broad and overly dominant in crewnecks. Nobody wants to look like an unrelenting rectangle, cashmere or otherwise. On to the glorious v-neck. And on to a sampling from Land’s End, Madewell,

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How To Shop Outside Your Comfort Zone

Sales are the perfect time to experiment with clothing outside your comfort zone. Try new colors, shapes, suppliers. (Suppliers? What do we call the places we buy? Vendors? Dang, I really have gone back to the corporate world.) For example, what do you think of this little red peplumed Moschino number from Yoox? Techno-fabric, zippers, motorcycle cuffs. $232.00 down to $79. Over a ladylike pencil skirt, maybe in apricot? With gray yoga pants, on a weekend? One never knows until one tries. At $79, trying is feasible. Or give Brooks Brothers a go. The talented designer on their bag team is a fairly well-kept secret. If you want

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Coda

I need to add to my earlier post. Let me hasten to add, it’s nothing specific you all have said, just a set of feeling and thoughts I’ve had since I wrote this morning. Probably unthinkable and unfeelable until I got that first part out of the way. I am not saying that a marriage without children has no meaning. I am not saying there there is no virtue in trying, and hanging in there, and persevering. I am certainly not saying that Kim Kardashian has it right. I am not saying that if you’ve promised to care for someone and you break your promise it’s a good

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Rocket Engines In Glass Housing, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:31am

Today I read that Heidi Klum and Seal may be getting a divorce. Not confirmed, but the story’s out there. The other day Dooce, perhaps the most well-known female blogger of all, wrote that she has separated from her husband. On the one hand, why pay attention? Divorce is common. Just because these are famous people? No. No. Because divorce is heady and raw and difficult, and remains one of our most uncivilized processes. You know that we haven’t solved marriage, don’t you? Especially modern marriage. People have been tying the knot for centuries, but only pattern we know now for, what, 70 years? Give or take. We

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What A Difference A ‘Do Makes

This is my new friend. It’s a  hair fork. But you knew that. It lets me do this. In case you are thinking, “Oh that looks complicated,” here’s what, it’s not. Behold the instructions. I pull my hair back with one hand,  as though for a high ponytail. Then I hold the ponytail and twist. Just before the twist starts to kink, I  wrap it around the place where a rubber band would be. If, of course, this were a ponytail, which it isn’t. Then I take the fork in my free hand, turn it upside down with the curve of the prongs facing away from me, dig

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Giveaway Winner

I made a list in Google Docs, as one does. Had I drawn someone with a question mark I would have emailed them prior to announcing, to make sure their comment was in fact an entry. The analog, verbal world doesn’t always translate without ambiguity to the digital, numerical world. Such is life. I generated a random number, as one does. I suppose Get Your Own is the analog component to a digital Random Number. Purpose compared to Fate. A winner was born. Diane Sibon, congratulations! Please email me at the Skye Peale address to the right, with your address, and I will ship these off tout de

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Bathing Suit Coverups (They Matter More Than You Think)

Perhaps you’re thinking of a voyage to sunshine. Perhaps you’re dreaming of summertime’s arrival. Perhaps you live in Australia, where it’s already shown up. You might be interested in a philosophy for bathing suit coverups. “Wait,” you say, “Philosophies are not required in this realm. Just throw on any dang thing!” But think about it for a minute. If you go on vacation some place hot, very few of those cute shorts and pique dresses will make it out of your suitcase. You’re gonna be in a bathing suit most of the time. (Much better to wear a wet bathing suit until dry, than to remove it and

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Doing Everything That Matters At Once, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:47am

I’d like to write something cogent about working, or identity, or even my worries about whether to water roses in the winter. On the other hand, I’d also like to get the lights off the Christmas tree and put its dry self out for the garbage truck. Then I’d like to clean up my garden and and go to Costco for toilet paper and cook some stews. Having of course gotten a pedicure and purchased a few wardrobe toys, after my annual physical and in my newly-serviced car. Well. Working means that you have to do everything you want to do at once, and, even more demandingly, at

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Win A Giveaway, Host A Giveaway, And So The Blogosphere Turns

Did you all ever watch soap operas? I know there are very few left. For me it was All My Children. Began when I was 14, home with mononucleosis, picked back up during college, then again when I was home with my first born. And who doesn’t love that lugubrious soundbyte from Days of Our Lives? But I’m digressing. In fact I want to show you something nifty I won in a blog giveaway, and offer you all something in turn. After all, if we’re going to have to participate in wholly new social platforms and modalities, we might as well get to make up the rules of

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A Sigh Of Relief At Quiet, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:53am

Ah. It’s quiet here. The first Saturday in some time that I’m alone in the house. Even though my tree  still has to be un-baubled, the garage de-lit, floors de-cluttered, it is so lovely to hear almost no sound other than the rattle of heating vents. Maybe an occasional appliance whirrs. I suppose I will have to clear the Whole Foods Frosted Wheat Squares off the coffee table, but at least I put them there. This middle time of life is one of the few when we can strike the right balance between occupied and lonely. Weightless and anchored still. I even have a soundtrack. See what you

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Towards A Broad Definition Of “One Of Us”

(November 18, 2013: Captain’s log. This is by far the most controversial piece I ever posted. Ironically, I meant to analyze my acculturated reactions and make clear that I wanted to broaden my understanding of “One Of Us.” Hence the title above. However, an extremely large minority of the readers took me to mean that I endorsed my learned class prejudices. I do not. And, misguidedly, I had posted the first picture of my children here, thinking that everyone would understand the gesture of extending family as it was intended. They did not. So I leave the post up, with trepidation, hoping that with this introduction any new

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A Review Of The Four Seasons, Maui

The holidays are done. Kitchen counters and office desks reclaim us. What better time to daydream? How about a brief tour of luxury Aloha? Yes? OK then. We’ll start with a Garden View, and progress to, even better, an Ocean View. There she is, that vast palmed Pacific. The spot, by the way, is  the gorgeous Four Seasons in Wailea, on Maui. And, yes, we spent a few days there over the holidays. Having originally chosen a Garden View room, I found myself a) disturbed by road noise b) salaried, which I had not been at the time of reservation. The scene above is from an Ocean View

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Going Forward To A Fancy Restaurant With Friends

Let’s pretend we are going to eat lunch, New Year’s Day, with a group of women friends. Let’s make it extraordinary by pretending we’ll be in Paris, at the very fancy Le Pré Catelan. Finally, let that group of friends be the bloggers who participate in this endeavor. They have agreed that today we write about Going Forward. Oh, and to my great pleasure, What We Would Wear. Et voilà, context established. I think we all have a few choice moments when life seems to have found its footing. When Going Forward means, simply, getting enough sleep, paying attention to the plan, and keeping one’s promises. In that

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Some Salsa For Christmas, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:19am

Come Christmas morning, I had no salsa. Let’s back up. I’ve been hosting Christmases, and Thanksgivings, and dinner parties, on and off for 30 years. I’ve roasted, sauteed, stir-fried and baked many a foodstuff. This year, having returned from Hawaii on December 23rd, I was quite tired. How vacations tire one out is a question for another day. Right now, we’re talking salsa. We had all determined that East Bay sister, her husband, and daughter, would spend Christmas Eve at my house. As has happened before. They celebrate Jewish holidays, so I provide some red and green round my way. We had also determined that we’d spend Christmas

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Happy Holidays!

For any other last-minuters like me, I figured out a way to wrap two related presents. Tulle is the answer. I was inordinately pleased with myself. However, for better ideas, go to A Gift-Wrapped Life right now. Have fun wrapping. The holidays of light and gift-giving can be so happy. And to all a good night.

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Should You Go To Work When You Are Sick?

Two weeks ago, I got sick. Fell sick on Friday, remained sick enough that I couldn’t go to work the Monday after Thanksgiving. However, the rule I live by for working through illness is that once you’ve been sick for three days you’re no longer contagious. As long as it’s just a cold. I don’t really know if this is true, but my son was in a grammar school class with a girl in remission from leukemia, and the parents set out the three-day rule to protect their child from random germs. I’ll abide by it until I hear otherwise. So, Tuesday, I put on a ribbed pale

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The Stretch And Nubble Of Business Casual Jackets

If you work in a business casual environment, or just want to polish up your style ’round town, I believe two types of jackets work best. Both notable for good looks and comfort. On one hand, we have the knit or stretch wool/cotton blazer. On the other, those boxy and nubbly croppers first promulgated by Mme. Chanel. One can even interpret this latter category broadly, and include a structured cardigan. Here are a few of the knit/stretch sort. For the business casual environment, I particularly like these in a boiled wool rather than gabardine. Sort of like bringing one’s child’s teddy bear to the office; engendering feelings of

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“But I Feel 40,” Or, Saturday Morning at 8:32am

Well good morning everyone. Last night we had my company’s Holiday Party. I wore the Narciso Rodriguez dress, again, and got my hair up onto my head in a slightly fantastical construction. One piece dangled down, in a ringlet. Let’s pause to give vivid matte red lipstick its due. The curl fell enough, over the evening, to skirt the Prom In Small Town look. Maybe even to add a post-modern fillip. Or so we will believe if you permit. I scolded the High WASP voices telling me not to Make A Show, and walked out into cold and dark San Francisco. Throughout the night, with both hair stylist

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What Earrings Does One Wear With A Hello Kitty Necklace?

High WASPs have always been a bit afeared of semi-precious stones. Amethysts were OK, set in faded 10K gold. And nice, big aquamarines, emerald-cut of course, have decorated our fingers and ears from time to time. But I have to confess that watching Jewelry TV feels a little p*rnographic for me. Whenever they say Spessartite Garnet I suppress a titter. The purple prose dedicated to Tanzanite impresses me not. Fortunately, there are times when sheer visual harmony trumps cultural biases. As well it might, or art would lose its power to save us all. Nothing so grand as soul-saving here, however. I just need some pink-stoned earrings, to

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Buy A Wedding Planning Book For Christmas

Surely you suspect that someone you know, perhaps your sister, or your daughter, or niece, might get engaged this Christmas. Maybe it’s something you’re thinking about yourself. If so, please, now, today, go order my friend Meg’s book on Amazon. Meg writes the blog A Practical Wedding. I’ve guest posted over there a couple of times. A smarter, sassier crew of young women you are unlikely to find anywhere. Meg’s book, called, unsurprisingly, A Practical Wedding, is on order as of today at Amazon. It poses the question, can I plan a beautiful, affordable, meaningful wedding in 2011? The answer, unsurprisingly, is yes. And if we all order

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In The Age Of Digital, Paper Must Needs Become Art

See that glossy, golden, glowing No. 5 ? I think I received it in the latest edition of American Vogue, slipped inside the covering plastic bag. But it’s possible the thing simply materialized, covet-provoking, in my mailbox. A worldwide phenomenon, apparently, as Tabitha over at Bourbon and Pearls got one too. In case you were thinking this might be a modern redo of this museum piece, not quite. At least not overtly. It’s an ad for Chanel No. 5, the legendary perfume from the legendary couture house. But how it’s not art I don’t know. Provokes a sense of awe and wonder? Check. Surprises and delights? Check. Takes

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Another Day Another Dollar, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:37am

The boy child has a job. Well, to be precise, my 21-year old son has accepted an offer. The job will begin a few weeks after he graduates in June of 2012. To be sentimental, nostalgic, and even surprised, my chubby toddler grew up and became someone who will show up every week in an office to do tasks and get paid. I didn’t exactly see this coming. He’s going to be editing financial, economic, and political news, for a startup. Lowish pay, so he’ll have to live in the time-honored way of all kinds of young people: carefully, with roommates, in Brooklyn or Brooklyn-equivalent. But it’s a

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Can You Wear Long Gray Hair And Flared Jeans?

Clean, hair, no makeup. In the mirror. Oh, what we do for the sake of logical arguments. I’ve been thinking about long gray hair. In particular, long gray hair with flared jeans. Should the combination unsettle us? Let’s address the pants first. As one does. Flared jeans create controversy. Are they dated or modern? Trendy or delusional? In any case, these days they appear to make a non-classic statement. Some people like them, some people hate them, reasonable people can disagree. But they are clearly Out There, even if we don’t locate There exactly. Long gray hair creates controversy in oh so many ways. If I sum up

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Still Under The Weather

Still sick around here. Thank you for all your kind words and suggestions. Since Saturday I have taken Vitamin C, lunched on kimchi for probiotics, and washed between my toes. For explanation, read the comments here. Back soon. Hope you are all well and well-hydrated.

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The Indignity Of Germs, Or, Saturday Morning At 8:31am

I have a cold. Not bad. Just the standard assortment of sore throat, mildly burning eyes, and sneezes. Still, it’s kind of funny how even a trivial bug can dominate one’s consciousness. Here we are, we people. All those inventions. We break our own hearts with books like this, award ourselves prizes for genius, and carve rocks into mothers. But, we’ve got noses. Ah well, everything’s more clearly seen in bas-relief, and health is all the better for an occasional hiccup. Here’s to getting better, and the invention of fleece sweatshirts that zip all the way up. As it happens, I’ve lemons on the counter, honey in the

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In Which Unexpected Helpers Volunteer

Right about now, we could all use an unexpected helper. This coleus, in situ on my front porch since September, has appreciated neither winter nor lack of water. However, you will also see above that Yellow Ranunculus has entered, cape flying. Returning, unexpected, left over from a planting last spring. Happy Thanksgiving everyone, and special kudos to all you volunteers. Other, more intentional seasonal plantings, here. All on my front porch, over the years.

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Will You Be Buying New Dress Up Gear For Winter Festivities?

Traditionally I have bought something new to dress up in every year right about now. This year I will probably wear Narciso Rodriguez again. Or Prada. Or the new Tory Burch. Possibly I will buy a pair of black velvet jeans, to wear with this white blouse. But in another world, the one where we all have infinite finances, soirée upon glittering soirée to attend, and legs from here to China, I’d order this. And wear it with Rose Oud, black eyeliner, and something glimmering at my ears. (In that world keyboards automatically know when to insert accents too.) Oh, and I’d keep the gray hair. Consistency, my

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A Simple Thank You Will Suffice, Also A Complex One, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:59am

I paid my bills this morning. America celebrates on Thursday. Seems a good time to deconstruct. Why do we even understand the concept of thanks? Thanks aren’t simple, like walking, or sleeping, or say, carpets. Nor original, like joy, or anger, or sorrow. Babies can feel those, noisily. Thanks are the province of grownups. Why? I suppose because in order to thank, one has to have a parallel knowledge of lack. Think about it. We want our babies to believe the universe benign, abundant, and unconditional, for that’s where trust starts. Babies, in the best of circumstances, should feel entitled to all they receive. But somewhere before adulthood

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California Business Casual, Jeans, Cashmere And A Button Front

Whoever invented uniforms was a pretty sharp sort. For business casual, uniforms simplify the “What is appropriate?” problem, all the while helping build a Consistent Personal Leadership Brand. Or, you know, generally looking like yourself from day to day. I see an early pattern developing in this California Business Casual wardrobe. One uniform schema involves knit blazers with a tee. The other, cashmere v-necks and button-fronts. The knit blazers, as we have discussed, provide comfort and implied informality. V-necks, on the other hand, offer visual contrast for broad shoulders, and frame a smidgen of collar. Very helpful for the natively scarf-avoidant. This v-neck is new, from Brora. Worn

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Dressing Well Without Chanel; Accessories Join The Fun

Image courtesy The Daily Prep Let us today imagine our off-duty moments. Our retired, weekend, working from home moments. Or vacations. In that light, consider the virtues of a fabric belt. Long appreciated by traditionalists, I believe this accessory deserves more time on the field. (And yes, I have been watching all the episodes of Friday Night Lights in one fell swoop.) The other day I was reading The Daily Prep, as one does, following the voyages of Muffy Aldrich. She lives in Maine, and blogs about the New England way of life, and the small businesses that still, well, do business out her way. Most recently, she

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The Order Of True Things, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:42am

A reader posted to Ask LPC. I thank her in advance for the question, I’d love to hear your reflections on the difference in the rhythm of your life since you’ve gone back to work.  What do you miss?  What did you fail to appreciate at the time?  What are the pluses and minuses on balance? I suppose balance is at the heart of my question – now that you’ve had both experiences, what seems ideal?” If balance is at the heart of the question, we must deconstruct the term itself. Think about balance. Balance requires a center. Adjudicating percentages – 90% work, 10% children; 80% job 20%

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Business Casual, The Jeans-And-A-Knit-Blazer Version

Throw on your best jeans, a pair of heels, a knit blazer – tame the business casual devil with room to spare. Jeans, de facto casual. Blazer, de facto business. The blazer is knit and therefore a little stretchy, vanquishing bound-shoulder squirm with ease. Add comfortable but professional shoes, a shirt with yet more stretch, and you should be good to go. At least west of the Mississippi. On the East Coast, or in the South, or in Texas (for I am never sure exactly what region Texas belongs to, perhaps its very own) business casual may still mean poplin or light wool trousers. But out here in

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City Backpacks, From Classically Fancy To Perfectly Plain

It is such a joy to walk to work. I believe a new toast is in order, to wish loved ones good luck. “May you walk to work under a clear sky. May the flower stalls smell of lilies, every day.” However, this routine does require a few adjustments. While my Beautifeel shoes are doing their foot bit, it turns out I could use a new bag. Throw me in the briar patch. I do love my Louis Vuitton Monogram Vernis. An extravagant purchase, yes, but I’ve carried it for two and a half years. No bag rotation, no seasonal switchouts. still, while I have aged the bag

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Mermaids Can Serve Cake, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:00am

Today Cara’s twins have their first birthday. Cara is one half of the wedding photographer duo, Lillian and Leonard. She also writes the blog Peonies and Polarbears. Last November she gave birth to twin girls, and, as she says, survived. Judging from her photos, the whole fall-on-the-floor-eyes-rolling-from-cuteness family did. I remember my daughter’s first birthday. Like most significant events in this era of digital photography, I remember the photos of the party as well or better than the event. Two images in particular. In one, a group of invited parents stands in the water of my father’s swimming pool, holding all those almost one-year old babies. The pool

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Can You Wear Khaki With Black?

One of my secret business casual tricks involves khaki and black. Now don’t get me wrong. Khaki loves white best. But when High WASPs crave just a little wickedness, we go to the dark side. Bringing khaki along for safety. In a minimalist palette like this, best to keep the details subtle but not strict. In this case, that means black Beautifeel heels with a patent leather accent, small preppy gold hoops. Not posts. Something, after all, has to dangle. Oh, and the usual men’s Rolex Cellini. With a brown alligator strap, brown can play too. The watch dresses up quite well, for non-business, non-casual too. Long greying

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A Very Biased Guide To Women’s Button Front Shirts

When wrestling the Business Casual devil to the ground, one is highly likely to require the aggressive assistance of some button front shirts. As my friend Maxminimus has pointed out, the correct term is button front, because button down means not the collar but the placket. Nit-picking, but that’s what we High WASPs do to compensate for our declining economic clout. Women’s business casual button fronts work best when classic with subtle tweaks but good for your particular coloring and silhouette. Shirts should always play well with others. In terms of silhouette, I am working with very broad shoulders, average bustline, and a waistline indelibly marked by two

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One Last Hallowe’en Costume, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:42am

It’s the weekend before Hallowe’en. My son sent me a photo of himself in costume. I think he’s a hammerhead shark, although I can’t be certain. No text accompanied said photo. Imagine goggle eye headgear made of red beer cups, and an open shark mouth painted on neck and chest. My daughter plans a traditional Native American costume. I suppose the pendulum has swung, and dressing in the ceremonial or customary clothing of other cultures is OK again. She’ll look rather fetching, in any case, with her braid the pink/orange/gold of a new copper penny. I get so nostalgic around this time of year. As a stay-at-home mom

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I Appreciate Your Understanding

Decent images and a full second post have escaped me this week. However, commitments matter. Therefore I humbly ask that you bear with me, and accept these thoughts from week two of The Return as a token of my esteem and a promise for the future. I need more cashmere v-necks, knit blazers, not-too-masculine button-front shirts, and pants that fit. Research is underway. The comments on Tuesday’s hair post are fantastic and I plan to work my way through the suggestions, one by one. Except the haircut, and that I will explain at great length soon. Public transportation is a marvel. I hadn’t been on a city bus

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A Sturdy Gal Faces The Occasionally Scary Reality Of Updos

Various hair ornaments from my collection You will be happy to know I am not wearing Scrunchies to work. Their elastic selves call to me, but I turn my head, resolute. You might be surprised to hear, however, that Scrunchies may be the best solution to the pressing question, “What should I do with my hair?” More specifically, “What should I do with my longish, graying, straight, slippery hair?” Sturdy Gals usually crop their hair short, in its salt and pepper incarnation. Artsy Cousins either wear it long, with feather ornaments hither and thither, or cut in precise and interesting geometries. Grande Dames often remain blonde forever, shoulder-length

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The Return, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:23am

When I returned to full-time work the first time my daughter was 10, my son not quite 7. Arriving home at the end of that first day, I sat down on one of our living room chairs to call my best friend on the telephone. “How was it?” she said. “It was OK,” I said. “It was different. Actually, it was so different, I don’t know who lived my regular life today because I sure didn’t.” And so it went. That life, of total absorption in the minute-by-minute heartbeats of my children, was over. Never to return. Even now I get a lump in my throat recalling their

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The Black And Tan Of Work Shoes

As it turns out, my new office dress code is business casual. And it’s the California variation, which tends decidedly towards the, um, casual. All to the good at this juncture. First, I’ve gotten spoiled by comfort, what with so much sitting on my sofa. Second, as you know, I’ve focused recently on how to dress well without Chanel. In other words, how to put together a casual wardrobe with a coherent thread of elegance. I expect to be able to dress for work fairly easily, using the clothing at hand. We shall see, of course, but Plan A is in place. By the way, career hint, always

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What To Wear On Your First Day Back At Work

Yesterday morning I woke up at 5:30am. When the time came to get dressed, I pulled on my clothes, put on my shoes, and looked in the mirror. “Hmm,” I thought, “These shoes are not quite the right height for these trousers.” Just before I left the house, I took this picture outside my front door. Upon reviewing it last night, I realized my pants are too big. Let’s regroup. Clearly in the work world strategy takes precedence over appearance We all know that business casual is the devil I have learned that one can only truly optimize for one thing at a time, and work performance must

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How To Go Back To Work Happy, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:02am

I am smiling a lot, kind of like a bookworm going back to school. Preparing to start a new job after two years of semi-retirement is such a pleasure. I was thinking about how different this feels than going back to work after a vacation. I remember quite well the need for time off, and how a week or two would go by far too fast. I remember too how quickly the holiday feel wore off, once back in the office. But I don’t want to blather on, “Oh aren’t I so lucky,” unless I can share. So I was thinking, how, back when I worked with no

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Professor C. Addresses “Washington Square” And “The Heiress”

Class convenes. Professor C. comes at last to Henry James. A natural fit, no? To all the new readers, welcome. Professor C. is my papa. Why didn’t Henry James include Washington Square in the great New York Edition of his works (1907-09), a massive project of choosing, commenting and revising that he looked on as his ticket to posterity only to be disappointed by a tepid public reception? Even Jamesians more inclined to the dense intricacy of the late novels would agree that Washington Square – the story of a very shy, very plain heiress, Catherine Sloper; of her cruel and viciously attentive father, Dr. Austin Sloper, always

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What Do You Think About “Vignettes” In House Decor?

Let us now revisit the cranky, snobby, but good-in-a-pinch High WASP world. We will turn our blue-eyed, sun-crinkled gaze on home decor. This is dangerous territory. We take our houses very seriously, even more so our homes. Today we are quite crabby about vignettes. The glorious Mise prompted our crise de snob, her post here. I’ll wait for you to return. Apparently Mise was incited by this post, here. You see, High WASPs don’t do intentional vignettes. We only find ourselves, mysteriously, in possession of some stuff. Sometimes our kids make things. Or objects return in suitcases, from travels. We collect early American folk art, or saucers, or

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Dressing Well Without Chanel; A Memorial Event With That Nautical Twist

Having made my peace with both my inability to take pictures when out and about, and the remote function on my little camera, I wanted to show you what I wore to my uncle’s memorial event. You may remember this Eileen Fisher navy linen shirtdress, as well as these Sperry wedges, and Costco sunglasses. My hair’s in a ponytail holder from France Luxe, ornamented with a mod white plastic square. If they can call it “mod,” I can too. Even when dressing quietly, even at 55, there’s fun to be had with shoes. No pop of color required, these suited a yacht club memorial event for a lifelong

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News, Or, Saturday Morning At 11:01am

I’m going back to work. On October 17th, for the first time in two years, I’ll be back in offices. I am very pleased. As we all know, in news wholly unrelated except by timing, Steve Jobs died this week.  I am very sorry for his family’s loss. I imagine the rest of us are sad for the imagined trajectory, for events he had yet to bring about, ideas he had yet to put forth. He probably wasn’t done yet, despite all his accomplishments. One of Jobs’ quotations has been much mentioned. “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.” Despite our cultural mutterings,

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The Upcoming Return Of Professor C., Or, “Washington Square” Meets “The Heiress”

Next week, Professor C.’s web seminar series returns. For those of you new to the blog, my father was for many years a professor of English at a well-known Far West university. From time to time he obligingly ups the intellectual atmosphere around here, in a series of essays comparing novels and novellas to their film derivatives. The works under consideration have ranged from Wharton’s Age of Innocence,  House of Mirth, and Ethan Frome, to E. M. Forester’s Passage to India. Next week we will continue down the road of High WASP favorites, through that rarefied land burnt brown by irony and subjunctive wistfulness, to review the Henry

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What To Wear To A 40th High School Reunion?

Ah, high school reunions. What to wear in the face of remembered adolescence, undeniable aging, and a flutter in the heart? The Grande Dame doesn’t attend these things. She throws a shindig, people come to her. Or not. She’s learned to pretend she doesn’t care. She does fly East for the significant Smith and Vassar reunions, but so many of her classmates participate in her fund-raising efforts it’s only right. Nor will you find many Artsy Cousins in the undifferentiated crowd. Ms. Artsy got out of town as soon as she could, and spent the summer in Istanbul. When the event is moved to Ha Noi, she’ll consider

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Take No Details At Face Value, Not Even Famous Quotations About Details

Marsha of Splenderosa, this time joined by Tish Jett and Vicki Archer, have given us a new quotation to inspire posts. In this case, we reach back to 19th century France. Gustave Flaubert, the French writer best known for his novel Madame Bovary, is generally  attributed with the saying, “Le bon Dieu est dans le detail.” OK then. As an atheist, I have no particular expertise in le Dieu, bon or otherwise. Let’s say believers think God made us in his image, atheists that we made him in our own. Or maybe better to simplify. There’s mirroring going on one way or another. In which case, we should find ourselves

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Dressing Well Without Chanel; Special Occasions

In the world of casual and appropriate elegance, dressing up presents a few challenges. If you take direction from popular media, you may find yourself in 4-inch heels, a too tight and too bare dress, and far too much sparkle. If you head to the “Special Occasion” section of your local department store, you may flee in terror from the yards of celadon taffeta complete with matching sequin-studded guipure lace. But I was possessed with the idea of dressing up, for my 55th birthday, and determined to do so in relative comfort and ease. I must add, no surprise to the Californians, that it’s a little tough to

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How The Internet Is For Birthdays Most Of All

In the early days of the Internet, just after we ooh-ed and ah-ed over network access to anatomical diagrams, and right before our children posted their every breath to friends, we joked that all was fueled and funded by p*rn*graphy. We may have been right. These days, however, I think birthdays are the new engine. Not just the dollars spent on cake and cookie decorations inspired by Marilyn, here, or Marcela, here. Not just the purchases at stores Californian’s wouldn’t have known pre-Internet, like Catbird. The web seems so perfectly constructed for birthday wishes themselves. Sometimes it’s too hard to comment on blogs, or respond to tweets. I

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In Which It Is My Birthday

Hello everyone! It’s my birthday today. Despite my advancing years, I still embrace my birthday. I read once that most people feel younger than they are. That’s certainly true for me. In the spirit of the day, I’m going to list a few nifty things that other people have said, or photographed, around the web. In other words, let’s pretend we have party bags, which we will have decorated ourselves with puffy paint, glitter, and far too many stickers. You can even choose your own color. I’m thinking navy. Privilege[d] Party Bags For September 30th, 2011 1. The photo above is by Stephanie, at La Dolce Vita. She

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Calcutta, Andaman, Blue. India, 1982.

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. I kept journals, and abstract them in these page. You can find the previous posts here, and a Google map of the trip, here. When I was young, we used the idea of “Calcutta” as an archetype for any poverty. But in April of 1982, after weeks traveling the rest of India, Calcutta itself felt like recognizable

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Flowers In The House

I always feel that for me, taking pictures of flowers without much photographic skill is cheating. Too easy to get to pretty. High WASPs are not allowed the easy way. It is a great pleasure therefore to be given permission for flower photos. Two permissions, if I stretch the term. First, Flwrjane organizes Flowers In The House blog postings, the last Monday of every month. Her photos are not cheating because she does flowers for a living. You can see the other participants, here. Second, I received a request from Grande Dame Faux Fuchsia for a High WASP gardening post. Her photos are not cheating because the woman’s

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When Your Aunt Knows About Factories, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:20am

The night before last I took care of my niece. She’s eight. That’s important, as eight-year old girls are neither seven nor nine. My sister and brother-in-law were attending back to school night, so I picked niece A up from religion school at 6pm. We hung out, ate dinner, got ready for bed. She went to sleep, her parents came home. Then I drove back home across the San Francisco Bay. It’s a shock to the system, leaving a little girl behind, all bathed, jammied, sleepy and tousled, to drive up a freeway on-ramp. Remembering, is left West? Is right East? Startled by signage and reflector lights. Time

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In Fall Our Thoughts Turn To Corduroy

I’ve been dreaming of corduroy. Of course, we’re in the middle of California’s real summer, the one we keep secret from the world. Temperatures are in the high 80s. Sunlight the color of ginger ale, seduced by ice cubes. But we all know that imaginary wardrobes are sometimes more fun than the real ones. And winter cometh. Off I went. Got quickly distracted by sweaters in the fisherman genre, as Sturdy Gals are wont to do. Like this from Orvis, which is actually for a man, and I found it via To The Manner Born, but they don’t call it “boyfriend” for no reason. If you want to

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Winner Of Tod’s Wallet Giveaway

Your wallets have taken vivid residence in my imagination. The red ones, the patterned, those made wholly of duct tape. One belonging to your father, to your friend’s father, to your son, to a younger you. To a very young you. Few remember their mother’s wallet. Makes you think. Perhaps our children will remember ours. However they get filled, via salary, supporting a spouse, or inheritance, they are likely opened most often for our kids. I almost imagine an old-fashioned alphabet book, applesauce, buckled shoes, college, degree. The winner, chosen by www.randomnumber.org, is Southern Living Preppy Style. Congratulations Mrs. SLPS! Please send me your snail mail adddress, and

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How Dress Appropriately For A Daytime Event

One of our regular readers, DocP, suggested in passing that I might discuss the difference between daywear and eveningwear. Specifically, if one is invited to a daytime event, does one wear the same clothes one might wear in the evening? Well, no. Not if one wants to sail the High WASP Sea Of Appropriate. So let’s use the cheery device of women’s  magazines, those perky do’s and don’t’s. We will start with the Do’s, because it’s so much nicer to steer towards Yes than away from No. Do’s For Daytime Minimal shine, in fabrics and in jewelry. No beading – on your clothes. For jewelry of course, it’s

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Some Simple Points On Civil Political Discussions, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:29am

Last night I went out to dinner with my mother, stepfather, and some friends of theirs. Towards the end of the evening, talk turned to politics. My mother is a lifelong New England Democrat. Her husband, a newly fledged US citizen, is not. And that, my dear friends, is all I’ll say about that. I do not discuss politics here, nor will I. This is because I loathe talk of politics altogether. Politics itself are necessary. Talk of politics in this country has become well-nigh impossible. Why? Here’s my theory. We have no proof of comparative effectiveness for most political and economic systems. Politics and economics are like

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In Which I Give Away My [Empty] Wallet

In honor of my guest stint at Corporette, where women earn a living, save that living via intelligent wardrobe purchases, all in order to create new family fortunes, I thought I’d have a giveaway. A wallet. Correct symbol, no? Open to all regular readers, or even now-and-then-readers, but not to Internet pool sweepers looking for loot, it’s two years old, brown, and made by the Italian firm, J.P. Tod’s. Leather is quite soft to the hand, and the wallet shows very few signs of wear. Why give it away? Well, it’s quite possible that at the same time I obtained this Tory Burch dress I also found myself

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LPC Is At Corporette For Sort Of Splurge Tuesday

Today, again, I am at Corporette. This time featuring a Tory Burch dress I bought recently. Regular readers of Privilege may be shocked at the colors. I have absolutely no explanation for what came over me, except that beauty has magical powers. See you on the other side.

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When You Show Up Somewhere Dressed Exactly Like Your Sister

We know that as society loosens the bands of protocol, sorting out appropriate attire for ritual events becomes more difficult. For weddings, showers, corporate casual, and, yes, funerals, human societies are re-architecting the social dress code. But based, we might ask, on what? Unsurprisingly, a complex algorithm drives what we decide to wear. But how heavily weighted is cultural heritage, and how much does personal unconscious contribute? For example. When my uncle died recently, his daughters were unsure of what the formal memorial ceremony might look like, and when it might occur. So, as an immediate response, one of them invited all the local family over to a

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LPC Is At Corporette

Today I am at Corporette. Kat’s blog suggests piece of workwear, and addresses career questions for women in traditional professions and industries. Monday is always “Splurge Monday.” If you are so inclined, take a look at this vintage Chanel dress, imagined for a woman at the top. I will be at Corporette all week, and here at Privilege too, a couple of times. Good morning, all.

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Little Furry Happy, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:31am

Yesterday Patricia van Essche, who goes by pve on her blog, suggested that this weekend we all focus on happy. I liked the idea, even sans temporary spiral tattoo. Been a little glum these past few days, autumn, son gone, this and that. So I woke up this morning to focus on happy. Prone to analysis, I started to think about ‘how-to’s. Then I realized I didn’t have milk for my tea. Can’t possibly be happy, or think, without milk for tea. I walked to the store, still considering happy. I ran through what I know, that people feel safest when they look out over a vista, that

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Dressing Well Without Chanel; When Quiet Gets A Little Louder

Some of us are wary of color. We have closets like this. Some of us prefer classic clothing. We own 5 pairs of the exact same khakis. Let’s call a quorum of this Quiet Dressers Club and and discuss strategy for turning up the wardrobe volume. Not to worry. I’ve done my research. Imagine, if you will, a screen and Powerpoint. First slide. Here’s the secret. Only change one note at a time, and that just a bit. I know. Not very advanced, but we aren’t after Chopin now are we? For example, color? Tend to wear nothing but navy? Who me? Don a shirt that takes blue

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“This Is To Be My Symphony”

Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild at Saint-Jean-Cap- Ferrat, via Dash at the French Sampler A few weeks back, the lovely Marsha of Splenderosa invited me to take part in a blog party. In other words, a host of bloggers, to be found here, are posting today on this saying, “To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion, to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly, to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart, to bear all cheerfully, to all bravely await occasions, hurry never. In

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How Suburban Prisoners Do Fashion Week

It’s Labor Day in the United States. But it’s also Fashion Week. I change the flowers on my front porch, for holidays. This year it seemed more appropriate to plant for color combinations than the sweat of my brow. I’ve been haunted by aubergine and pale blue for a while now. Just enough offset for edge, softness for serenity. The ghostly voices grew louder when Audi posted this outfit, here. Then Little Augury put up a post about Wallace Simpson’s wedding dress. Did you know it was pale blue? Me neither. I vote we change the color names to coleus and lobelia. The green was incidental. Tough to

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Piglet Grows A Beard, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:17am

And, just like that, my son has gone back to New Jersey. His sister picked him up and brought him to her apartment, my father is taking them both to the U.S. Open this weekend, his senior year starts soon. The boy is well taken care of. I will miss him anyway. By the time he left his beard had grown in. Not quite the beard of a grown man, but getting terribly close. Have a good year, Piglet. Your imperfect mom loves you, and promises not to call you Piglet in person, at least not when your friends are there, at least not more than once a

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Why Do High WASPs Eat Wheat Thins For Lunch?

via 6bittersweets At the top of the list of assumed WASP traits sits our presumed diet, replete with mayonnaise, gin, and all other forms of beige and clear foodstuffs. Go poke around your popular culture venue of choice, look up WASPs, and you’ll see. I’ll wait, you look. Done? Need help finding the kind of discourse I’m thinking of? Here. Well then. Perhaps we have, traditionally, eaten less spicy food. Perhaps my elderly cousin did, once, tell me that New Mexico was a bit too “ranchero” for him. But let me put forth a conflicting theory, if you permit. Whatever you read about our food choices reflecting a

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What Is An “Arm Party?”

If you follow the fashion press, you may recently have come across the term, “arm parties.”  Coined, as it turns out, by the Man Repeller. And if you haven’t read her ridiculously funny and brilliant blog, you might as well take a look. But arm parties are making their way beyond fashion insiders to us women of a certain age. Last week, Sande at “A Gift-Wrapped Life” posted about the trend. OK then. Arm parties it is. In a quiet way. My arm party probably takes place in the afternoon, avec string quartet. Here are all the gold-toned bracelets I own. Except this family piece, which is kind

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Dressing Quietly In A High-Resolution World

Confession. Last week, when I put up the photos of khaki and white outfits, before I pressed “Publish,” I thought to myself, “That is not very exciting.” I mean, khaki pants and a white shirt? And then another pair of, yes, khakis, and another white shirt? How boring is that? At least on the screen. And that’s my point. We live, these days, in what Edward Tufte would call a low-resolution world. We know ourselves often as a series of digital images. Digital images have lower resolution than print images, and far lower resolution than real life. What do I mean by resolution? The amount of information carried

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Are You More Afraid Of Earthquakes? Or Hurricanes?, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:16am

As you may know, much of the East Coast of the United States will be stuck under Hurricane Irene for the next few days. I send safe wishes to all. As you may know, the same region also experienced an earthquake last week. I hope no one reading suffered too much damage or distress. What are the probabilities of an earthquake AND a hurricane so close together, on the East Coast? Very small. I imagine everyone shaking their heads. I’m thinking about worry and fear. Someone said, on Twitter, “Earthquakes are scary. Period.” But that’s not true. When the earthquake hit, I wondered what all the fuss was

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Dressing Well Without Chanel: Missive 2

Progress has been made, in my campaign to dress well in a semi-retirement/working from home mode. Khakis form a key component of the strategy, as do white shirts. But not just any khakis, and not just any white shirts. You are always quite kind in your requests for more photos. Perhaps to help you deconstruct what on earth I’m nattering on about. So, responding well to authority as is my habit, I unrolled yet another enormous piece of cream colored paper, had my son help me tape it to the study shelves, set up a tripod, and performed the complicated ritual in which I: Put my reading glasses

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How High WASPs Hang Art In Their Houses

What High WASPs don’t do is buy art from a furniture store. Enough said. Now, some of us have collections. Real collections, of the sort that wind up in museums when the estate tax proves too onerous, or warrant their very own auction. For example, if my dear friend Reggie Darling ever decides to be done with collecting, an auction house could have a field day up at Darlington House. The Artsy, as one would expect, amass art on their travels. Their unerring eye affords them treasures where the rest of us might wonder quite where to put that teal papier-maché spirit animal. But most commonly, High WASPs,

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In Fall A Woman’s Thoughts Turn To Leather

All right. I concede to the seasons. In the midst of summer travels and tomatoes, I felt autumn in the air. First on the East Coast, one morning in Philadelphia when the breeze was not hot, not stifling. Then here in California, when the sun suddenly slanted in a very fall sort of way. We’ve got months of warm weather ahead, here on the West Coast. But I’m taking these signs as permission to think about fall clothing. Which, to the middle-aged lady still in the process of updating her wardrobe to match a retire/working from home/casually elegant lifestyle, means leather jackets. Do you have one? I used

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Orienteering Through Motherhood, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:01am

Those of you battling teenagers, stop briefly, and let gratitude course through your body. Crazy? I live in the world of adult children, and I may believe in the value of well-fought teen years. My children and I, we did without. During their teens I was either working, traveling, and gone a lot, or focused on the various impacts of a marriage’s final years. When I wasn’t around, we couldn’t fight. When I came home, I was tired, and so happy to see them I wouldn’t. And as my marriage ended I refused, feeling most of all the need to keep experienced hostilities of any sort to a

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You Can’t Go Home Again, Or, From Polos To Faux Leather

The family house, 1940 something until late 1990s I was surprised by the guests’ attire at my uncle’s service. To be sure, no one wore anything inappropriate. I was surprised, simply, by my memories and resultant expectations. The event was held at the Hyannis Yacht Club, 3-5pm. No program, only drinks, food, and conversation. I had assumed that most people would arrive in the traditional garb of Cape Cod, and sailors, i.e. navy or Lilly for the women, Nantucket Reds, khakis, blue blazers, or Tommy Bahamas for the men. Like this. Many of the men did arrive as predicted. And dapper they were, adorned by pocket squares like

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LPC Is At 50 For 50

Good morning everyone. Today I am over at 50-by-50, in an interview about writing. I’d love to have you come and read. My thoughts are about 5% of your click’s import, however. Colleen Wainwright, who works as a marketing consultant, and writes the blog, “Communicatrix,” is raising money for a non-profit called WriteGirl. Her goal is to raise $50,000 by September 13th, which is, not coincidentally, her 50th birthday. She is doing this via a veritable hailstorm of activity. Writing 50 posts, here. Promising to shave her head when she raises the $50,000. Giving away poems, computer wallpapers, mixtapes, etc. Your part is very simple. Go here. Donate

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For The Daughters Of Win, Or, Saturday Morning At 9:20am In Hyannis

I’m at the Anchor In, in Hyannis, on Cape Cod. A few weeks ago, or perhaps it was a month, my mother’s big brother died. Today is the memorial service. My mother, her sister, and my uncle’s wife and children will go out on a boat this morning to scatter his ashes. The rest of the extended family convenes at 3pm for the service. My uncle was called Win, short for Edwin, son of Goodwin. He had four daughters, three wives, and a boat, on which he lived off and on for much of his adult life. I didn’t know him well, he didn’t fly, we lived far

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In Which I Eat My Words About Pinterest

AmidPrivilege Pinterest boards The other day I had a discussion with a former boss about the online world. We talked about all sorts of things, but I wanted to bring one back here. We are not alone. Wait. That sounds scary and such is not my intent. I meant to point out that in discussions of style, we take our cues from each other. Nowadays, that’s often online. We trust the recommendations of those we have come to know, especially when they share our taste. So I’m pointing you all to Pinterest, for both recommendations and simple shared aesthetic. It may be familiar to many already. It’s a

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Jewelry To Wear When You Are Almost There

Let’s talk jewelry. Why? Because it’s sparkly, and pretty, and fun to wear? Well, yes, but there’s more to the story. Let’s talk jewelry at work. As usual, I’m talking conservative work environments, in law, finance, or technology, where you can change the effect of a black suit and white shirt simply by switching out, let’s say, that 18-inch strand of angelskin coral beads for a silver pendant. More precisely, because these dress codes are labyrinthine in nature, let’s talk about pieces that are neither I’m-an-executive-so-deal-with-it, nor your starter pearls. Madeleine Albright, for example, had a brooch collection and wore one every day. That’s executive bravado. We’ve all

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Yay New York!

As you know, the state of New York recently voted to allow legal same sex marriage. I am very happy, and want to get the word out for an upcoming celebratory event. Meg Keene, over at A Practical Wedding, is helping to host a dance party on August 25th, for 200 people, in New York City. A special dance party, at which these two couples will be getting married, and everyone else will be dancing, carousing, and enjoying themselves with abandon. I’ve gotten to know Meg via the blogosphere, and then in person, since she lives in San Francisco. This past weekend, she and her husband came to

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Views From The Kitchen Sink, Or, Saturday Morning At 8:11am

The Hostess of the Humble Bungalow started it. She posted her kitchen sink view here.  Then Mette joined in, from Finland, here. How much time do we all spend at our sinks? We wash a lot of grapes and spin a lot of salads. How many pots get filled for pasta? And when did noodles turn into pasta, I’d like to know? While we’re at it,  why did nobody tell me that granite counters would break a lot of dishes on their way to the dishwasher? I’ve owned this house, one way or another, for going on 25 years. I used to hate being hugged at the sink.

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Wheels, Feet, Temperatures. India, 1982.

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. You can find the previous posts here. I have created a Google map of the trip, here. I spent the last day in Kerala writing thank you notes and getting an Ayurvedic massage. Looking back, I am relieved to see that I thanked everyone who helped. Because gratitude adds meaning, thank you notes are a good way

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What To Wear, And What Not To Wear, At A Farm Wedding

Twenty-five or thirty years ago I attended a wedding on a New Jersey farm. The land had been in the bride’s family for generations, complete with corn fields and hay bales. The groom was the brother of a man I hoped anxiously to marry. That man would eventually propose, and I would accept. In the early 80s a 25- or 26-year old unmarried High WASP might worry about what to wear to the wedding of her hoped-for brother-in-law. She might attend the event with an unquiet heart. And show up noticeably fancier than most of the other guests. I still remember my outfit – a pale pink linen camp

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Home Made

High WASPs, as we have amply demonstrated, focus intently on what to wear out and about. At home, however, it’s a different story. We let things fray, call each other princesses over Thanksgiving dinners, and burn the choucroute. Home is also where we face our lack of small motor coordination. Welcome to my house, currently converted to the Privilege[d] bumper sticker manufacturing plant. I received the stickers from BuildASign nicely shrink-wrapped, and thought, “Aha! I shall replicate! With Costco plastic wrap and recycled cardboard from various online purchases!” Don’t everyone laugh at once. All of which is to say, later today I will send emails of confirmation to

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Out Standing In The Backyard, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:58am

My daughter turned 24 this week. I’ve been trying to discern, through memories, exactly when children’s birthdays begin to make parents feel older. Not when they are small, newborns, infants, babies, toddlers, children, middle schoolers, teenagers, oh, wait. That’s not small any more. It’s so easy to get caught up in the tom-tom litany of growth. Children are a natural source of milestones. Ammie, for example, is crawling. Kids smile, laugh, roll over, creep, walk, say a few words, talk so much you want to hide under your bed, argue, wonder why the world is unjust, cook their own breakfast, walk out the door with a bag in

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“Barking Dogs” For Happy Sturdy Feet

Sturdy Gals require comfort. Queen Elizabeth, the original Grande Dame-Sturdy Gal cross, never wears a heel over 2 inches. Those same British royals inspired the Hunter mucking about boots. High WASPs believe in striding around, suitably shod. Reader rb posted a link in the Privilege comments to a blog called “Barking Dogs.” Get it? Devoted to comfortable shoes. If you have the Sturdy attitude towards feet, go look. You may even find an Artsy touch or two. Here’s the shoe rb sent me. To wear with khakis. I just might follow her advice. Of course, the Grandes Dames who admit to foot pain, and there are a few,

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Why Are Some Clothing Items So Universally Reviled?

Have you ever wondered why certain items of clothing become fashion pariahs? In particular, I am quite concerned about the fate of Crocs and Scrunchies. Why are they so loathed? Did you know there is even a Facebook group called Why Would You Wear A Scrunchie? Honestly.? What’s wrong, examining afresh, with a velvet-covered hair elastic? My favorite one is gray, and well-worn. What, in the context of gardening, is wrong with Crocs? And, beyond gardening, why are Crocs (of the tasteful color variety) any worse than Danskos? Is not a clog, really, a clog? My theory is that we’re looking at a phenomenon known in grammar studies

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Dressing Well Without Chanel; Missive 1

Around here, the crusade to dress with relaxed elegance continues with some success. I finally found suitable khakis. Over the last year I had bought two pair, one from Land’s End, one from L.L. Bean. Nope, too rough. I looked at many more in the usual mall shops, J. Crew, Banana Republic, and so on. Nope, too stretchy and too trendy. Then, in an online discussion forum, “BunsenBurner” recommended Karen Millen. See? The Karen Millen Tailored Cotton Pant, $199. All-cotton, wide waistband, fine fabric. Niiice stitch detail. Ankle length, not too skinny. Label says dry clean but I threw caution to the wind and and pants into the

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Old Ladies Bearing Mint Lemonade, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:12am

It was beautiful in San Francisco yesterday. Felt like the temperatures were somewhere in the low 70s, and the wind came round street corners chipper and brisk. Sky the usual crayon blue. I’ve been up here for a few days. This morning, I’ll drive back down to my house on what we call around here, “the Peninsula,” meaning the southern side of the San Francisco Bay. I’m hoping to see a small reddening of tomatoes in my front yard. Clearly that should be the word for multiple tomatoes, a “reddening.” Much of the middle, south, and eastern parts of the US are hot right now. Very hot. Too

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LPC is at Trust Your Style

Today I am at Trust Your Style for Mary Jo Matsumoto’s Eye on Style feature. You all know Mary Jo from her refined couture line, reviewed previously here. You may also have seen the inimitable Tabitha of Bourbon and Pearls on last week’s Eye on Style. I am there discussing, um, style, in the outfit I wore to my son’s graduation, and wrote about here, originally. Please visit, here, if you are so inclined, and have a wonderful weekend.

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LPC Is At east side bride

Today I am at east side bride, with a suggestion or two for Mother of the Bride dresses. I will add, because I must, my culture finds it odd that there are such things as Mother of the Bride dresses. One ought to be able to exercise one’s exquisite taste and choose something quite without designation. On the other hand, we understand that needs must, on occasion. And weddings are the best occasions. Please stop by, if you are so inclined, here. I warn you, however, that east side bride – profane, bawdy, irreverent to the nth degree – is addictive even when no wedding whatsoever looms on

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9 Ways Not To Look Like A Slob Even If You Don’t Dress For The Office These Days

We’ve addressed workwear on Privilege, several times. We’ve explored festive occasions that require little black dresses, or designer confections. But some of us require a more relaxed elegance. We wonder, how to dress when retired, or working from home, or, fleeing our suburban haunts for the big city? In other words, what kind of wardrobe is comfortable and without ceremony, but still stylish? One might well ask. This is my most current and central fashion quest. At my nadir, pressed for time after a brisk neighborhood walk, I entered Whole Foods wearing baggy white basketball shorts, sports bra, white tee printed with Microsoft marketing gibberish c. 1998, and

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Because Summer Dresses Are A Universal Right

When I posted, here, about patterns for our plus-size High WASP contingent, some readers wrote in to point out I’d neglected to offer any pieces for the apple-shaped. “Well, that’s no good,”  I thought. Next, I remembered that I’d reached out to Cathy at Austin Slave to Fashion for plus size ideas. She gave me good ones. I forgot to use them. No good. No good at all. So here’s a little remediation. First, if you’re in the hunt for a smart, well-spoken, warm blogger who covers tasteful plus-size fashion, wander your way on over to Austin Slave of Fashion, here. I particularly like her interview, here. Second,

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Authentic Self In The Era Of Online Identity, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:53am

I’ve been thinking lately about society shifting, as our online selves proliferate. It’s possible the change may startle my age group most of all. Early in our generation’s lifetime, the only bits identifying us were our address, and phone number. We were publicly findable, but not known. In those days, if you lived by the code of staying out of the newspapers except at birth, marriage, and death, the rest of your identity stayed right there with you all the time. “Where am I?” one might ask. “Right here,” was always the answer. Photographs lived in boxes, personal musings in notebooks. But now, right when the urgings of

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The Privilege[d] Bumper Stickers Are Here[!]

Some time ago, we discussed bumper stickers with a few choice High WASP sayings. Rejoice. Or perhaps murmur happily and discreetly. They have arrived. The kind people at Build A Sign sent this package. Which, when opened, revealed shrinkwrapped bumper stickers. “Well that’s clever,” I thought. Inside, the High WASP mottos you all chose. I’ll be affixing A Simple Thank You Will Suffice to my sturdy Rav4. As you remember, these are yours for the asking. I’ll be sending them out next week to those who have already expressed interest. I have extras, so if you’d like one, send me an email with your address.. The options are:

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A Review of The Lodge at The Golden Gate, Cavallo Point

Right before the 4th of July weekend, I spent a couple of days at The Lodge at the Golden Gate, Cavallo Point, in Sausalito.. Henceforth called simply, Cavallo Point. Some good resorts make almost everyone happy, almost all the time. (Some people will find fault even with perfection. But why make yourself unhappy?) Places at the other end of the good resort spectrum offer certain people, in certain circumstances, what they want. Such is Cavallo Point. Located on the Marin side of the Golden Gate bridge, and built on the grounds of Baker Fort state park, Cavallo offers views, architecture, and very good food. On the other hand,

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Happy 4th of July

It’s the 4th of July, and the United States of America celebrates its national holiday. This morning, tea in a travel mug, I planted our flag colors, red, white, and blue. Left a little yellow for the rainbow. On Labor Day last year my little planter looked like this, in spring this year like this, and last 4th of July like this. Reggie Darling has the Urns of Darlington. Here in the little California ranch we put out some planters and scrabble around with Dr. Earth’s Rose and Flower fertlizer and a trowel or two. Sandra Jonas at Recreating Eden gave me the idea to plant a gardenia,

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Sometimes You Stick To The Plan And Sometimes You Don’t, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:43am

This week I will be taking a planned quarterly break. Aside from the traditional holiday planting for the 4th, and a guest post I have every intent of completing, I’ll be off. Above you see my attempt at baking a chocolate cake this morning, for a family birthday. An example of plans gone awry. I asked Jan, at Jan’s Sushi Bar, for a recipe. It was impeccable, as is all the food she writes about. Well worth a read. Also pay attention if she says anything about cake layers “doming.” As should be clear, I do not know how to bake. I haven’t made a layer cake since

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How To Get Past Your Fear Of Roses

High WASPs are quite fond of roses. All that Anglo-identification, as it were. That said, we’re fairly specific in our preferences. On the one hand, rows of roses  in dedicated planting areas, special soil, specific watering scheme, and correct distance each from the other. On the other, rose bushes amongst untamed plantings, intertwined and ignored. I have plantings of both sorts in my front yard. Wait. Why my front yard? It gets sun. Roses, no matter your heritage, your culture, your intent, will not negotiate sun. Here’s my setup. New white roses in a bed, a peach shrub rose, and a small, whiny, red, sometimes-it-shows-up-sometimes-it-doesn’t climber, back against

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Professor C. Discusses E. M. Forster’s “A Passage to India”

Professor C. continues his seminar series, in this case with E.M. Forster, and “A Passage to India.” The work has particular meaning here, in light of my own 1982 trip. But beyond that, as Professor C. says, lie implications for Gay Pride this week in the USA. Belonging, love, power, and cultural dislocation have always woven their difficult threads through society. David Lean’s Passage to India (1984) opens with umbrellas moving past an office window where there’s a picture of a P&O ship. Raising her umbrella to see the ship is Adela Quested, about to book passage for India, there to visit Ronny Heaslop and find out if

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LPC Is At “Rock The Silver” Today

Today I’m over at Rock The Silver, with an update on going gray. Since I know that this topic elicits strong feelings, let me say that I have no desire to proselytize. To each her own, with hair particularly. Mine just happens to be increasingly silver. If you have the time and inclination, find the post here. I thank you in advance.

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The Crunching Of Breakfast, Or, Saturday Morning At 7:44am

Every now and again, you know that one kid is having fun visiting a friend who’s about to get married, and the other kid is hanging out with a friend from high school, and you can hear the crunching of your significant other eating breakfast right over there, and you think, all will be well. All manner of things shall be well. Have a wonderful weekend. Note: With thanks to Julian of Norwich, who may have been the first woman to write a book in the English language. I wouldn’t even mind if she were apocryphal.

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South, South, South. India, 1982.

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. You can find the previous posts here. I have created a Google map of the trip, here. From Madras I took a train to Madurai. A city of many and large temples, Madurai also had elephants in chains. Worshipers launched pats of butter at statues of the gods, both Ganesha and the blue one. Hinduism is a

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High WASP Sunglasses, S/S 2011

The sun has finally begun to shine in Northern California, and we need sunglasses. The Grande Dame can’t get this pair out of her mind. On beyond zebra. Prada’s Minimal Baroque. Sunglasses with a side of oxymoron. La Dame used to choose Chanel, but frankly, Karl just isn’t keeping his eye on the store the way he used it. It happens. And, granted, Prada’s IPO went out at a lower share price than expected, but we High WASPs understand, better than any other culture perhaps, pride and its subsequent fall I found the white pair on Shoe Daydreams, with another photo here, and the second pair on The

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Happy Father’s Day Via Passage To India

Professor C. will return to Privilege with a piece on Forster’s “A Passage to India,” the last week in June. The movie is here and available to members of Amazon Prime to stream for free, the book is here and here for free on the Kindle. I thank you all for having provided the impetus for this father-daughter collaboration. It’s been quite a lovely process. Happy Father’s Day everyone. No compensation has been provided for these links.

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Failing Gracefully Is Success, Or, Saturday Morning At 8:49am

It was a relief to finally get my drains fixed. The water first started to run slowly on a Thursday, nothing at all was working by Monday morning, and the plumber cleared everything up Tuesday afternoon. By then I had used drain cleaner twice, plunged thrice, gone to the hardware store, bought a pipe snake from an adorable young man with a strong Southern drawl, and deployed half a bottle of bleach trying to disinfect and deodorize my poor house. The drains taunted me, appearing to function, and then backing right up into my shower. At least nothing overflowed onto the floor. We take what we can get,

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There Are White Shirts, And Then There Are White Shirts

I was pretty much a white shirt woman, in my working days. Casual environment meant a white tee. Semi-casual, a very good white tee. Formal, a white button-front. (Did you know that the term “button-down” refers to collars, and what we usually mean is a button-front? You are welcome.) When my brother got married, last month, the families hosted three events. On Thursday, dinner for the immediate family; Friday, dinner for out of town guests at my father’s house; Saturday, the wedding. I wore Narciso Rodriguez to the first event, and this to the wedding. So what to wear to the dinner at Dad’s? A dinner to which

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Summer Patterns For The Plus Size High WASP

Summer is a time for release. Freed from school, left work a little early on a Friday afternoon, the kids eating pizza outside in the cul-de-sac. A second glass of wine. Feeling, if only for the doctor-ordered quick 20 minutes, the sun on your skin in the late morning. Summer is also time to bust out your enthusiastic patterned clothing, even in cultures that are somewhat pattern-averse. Today we focus on High WASP Plus Size style. And, as it has been pointed out that we gravitate towards the high end here, the sets below include items that can be had, online now, for less than stratospheric prices. Hint?

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The Limitations Of Sturdy

RESOLUTION: The problem was in the line from the house to the street. But not roots, simply a narrowing of the 60 year old pipe, combined with the usual confluence of suspects. I asked the plumber what I should do in future. For this situation, drain products do nothing, as the problem was outside. He said next time I could try a gadget that acts like a stent in the pipe, accessing the clog via my outside opening. We shall see. Thank you all for the ideas. Life is returning to normal. UPDATE: The plumber comes at noon today. At which point I also plan to ask him

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Getting To Work, Or, Saturday Morning At 7:22am

Yesterday I was looking at the photos from my brother’s wedding. Made me want to go to the party all over again. I clicked through the online set, choosing just a few for now, of me and my children. Who can resist great pictures of their kids? The one of my daughter that I liked most showed her standing, holding a swaddled, sleeping baby. She’s smiling at the camera, wearing a tight-fitting flowered dress. In the best picture of my son he stands at the side of a cream-colored wall, looking off, slightly bearded, dark eyebrows. Pictures are particularly good at reminding you of what your kids look

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When High WASPs Give Wedding Presents, They Don’t Call Them “Gifts”

It’s June. For the next handful of Saturdays, couples all around the Western Hemisphere will be getting married.* If you’re attending a wedding,  presents are de rigeur. What, I’ve been asked, do High WASPs give? We follow our leader, Count Appropriate, who tells us Context Is All. A High WASP-approved wedding present is one that makes the couple happy, first and foremost. If you don’t want to make them happy, I am terribly sorry that you have to attend their wedding. So I do not recommend trying to impress anyone with the most perfect serving platter, banded in navy with gold, perhaps a yacht flag or two, if

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We Have A Winner

And the winner of the LAMO sandals is Marsha, of Splenderosa, Gems on Glamour! Congratulations Marsha. May you enjoy your Artsy self in these shoes, for many years. Please email me your address so I can mail them out.

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The Perfect Sturdy Summer Outfit When You Crave A Little Bit Of Girly

Sturdy Gals, despite our upper body strength, our steadiness, our appreciation of comfortable shoes, crave a little girliness every now and then. Oh, not girly to the point of ruffles, or lace, or sequins on our tee-shirts. Girly in the way of bare legs, wider skirts, and simple plainspun surfaces. Girls, were there a prairie or Blackbird Pond nearby. For example, these shirtdresses from Garnet Hill, here, for $98. Navy with a magenta sash. What a brilliant idea. Or this Tampico bag from France. $216. Because French girls are always throwing bags over their shoulders. You know, insouciantly. And then riding off on their bikes to pick coquelicots.

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How To Dress For Academia: Keep The Style, Lose The Frump

Every human environment has its own dress code, complete with significance and consequences. Career environments are particularly fraught, largely because how we carry ourselves there affects our prestige and our finances. Here at Privilege, we’ve discussed corporate career wear often, and will continue to do so. However, what if you’re beginning, or in the midst of, a career in academia? What then? Not wanting to speak in ignorance, I summoned the Privilege Academic Counsel and requested expert advice. Let us deconstruct their response. As academics, they give us first their assumptions. Usual Caveats As one would expect, dress code will differ between and across universities. The Privilege Academic

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Cleaning Up After Yourself, Or, Saturday Morning At 9:19am

My son is home. Bringing his facial hair along, I might add. If you have a small boy, take a minute to smooch his smooth and slightly chubby cheeks. Eventually mutation will occur and something akin to the Incredible Hulk, even if it’s short or skinny, will come bursting from your baby. That’s as it should be, but still puzzling to mothers. We remember their little soft necks. For better or worse, one can’t rely on wistful memories of toddler tummies to ensure good parenting of adult children. Those big grown ups in your living room present you with new issues. Some you could have foreseen, some surprises.

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Three Little Things For Friday

Hello everyone. We’ve had a short week in the USA. Sometimes those can be the hardest. Take heart, it’s Friday. I have three little things to tell you. A Queen of West Coast Artsy, Audi at Fashion for Nerds, posted this to round out our Artsy Cousin tutorial this week. Thank you, Audi. In all truthfulness, Audi goes beyond Artsy to Art, as she’s a designer herself and the expertise at proportion and color shows through our trademark San Francisco quirk. The Sartorialist posted a photo Wednesday in which the woman wears shoes not dissimilar to the ones we’re giving away. Take a look. See what I mean?

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Do Sturdy Gals Have “Tomboy Style?”

Credited on Tomboy Style as “Photo of Vassar students playing touch football in front of Chicago Hall (1960s) via Vassar College’s flickr archive, found thanks to Mariah at Quite Continental.” I just discovered a blog, Tomboy Style.  Lizzie Garrett Mettler, a freelance writer and contributor to the Los Angeles Time, chronicles women who dress in a certain way. For example: Credited on Tomboy Style as photo of French sailor Florence Arthaud, winner of the 1990 Route du Rhum (transatlantic single-handed yacht race), by Jean Guichard, 1982. Someone with Tomboy Style, in my iconography, dresses like a Sturdy Gal, but cool. Tomboys use the strength inherent in Sturdy to

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How To Dress Like An Artsy Cousin, Genus Californian And Texania

Of the High WASP Style Archetypes, Artsy Cousins vary most from region to region. Which makes sense, since Artsy Cousins prioritize individual and aesthetic expression. When Flo spoke up recently, we heard from an East Coast Minimalist Artsy Cousin. On the other hand, here’s a Northern California version I’d assembled before Flo sent me her portfolio. Somewhat more rustic, more eclectic, more casual, as are many Northern Californians. But the common Artsy thread shows through. Kaftan is clearly the uber-meme of the species, along with sandals of one sort or another. I suppose toes are rather Artsy, if you think about it. Artsy Cousin, Northern California by AmidPrivilege

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Memorial Day

It’s Memorial Day in the United States. Spreading the widest possible umbrella, I’ll say let’s celebrate our capacity to remember. Without it, well, just imagine. Happy Memorial Day.

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Saturday Nights, Or, Saturday Morning At 7:13am

Photo by Lauren’s friend George who has a Flickr page here. He takes beautiful pictures. Lauren, at kidchamp, put up this photo of her Rapture soiree. I found it so evocative of all the good dinner parties I’ve been to, or thrown, over the years. Granted my horizon was suburban, but I think the captured moment with friends as night falls may be universal. Everyone’s well fed, under the influence of a little alcohol, and the conversation pauses, comfortably. There’s a vista, of one sort or another, perhaps only of your children’s heads bowed over a computer in the corner. I remember a Sidecar phase. The instigator used

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Professor C. Returns, Or, ETHAN FROME: Novella and Film

The third and final installment of Professor C.’s Wharton web seminar series. Next month, he is considering “A Passage to India,” by E.M. Forster. Seemed fitting. Ethan Frome is as cold as any book I know. I mean bone-chilling. It’s the same world as that of Wallace Stevens’s “Snow Man,” “spruces rough in the distant glitter/ Of the January sun,” an arrangement in black (winter nights) and white (ice and snow). Silver and grey and deep blue are the other colors. Only a crimson ribbon in Mattie’s dark hair, the “gay red” of Zeena’s pickle dish that Mattie unwisely takes off a high shelf to serve Ethan his

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Pearls For A Sixteenth Birthday

Some of you are curious about giving or receiving pearls for a 16th birthday. Let’s answer your questions, even those you did not know you asked. Which pearls to give, or request, for a 16th birthday? Ah, tell me first what you want them to mean. We could solve a simple equation, as in, since 16-year olds are fashionable these days, (what with teenaged style bloggers, 16-year old models, and television shows like Gossip Girl), therefore we present a 16-year old with pearl fashion. The usual Privilege pearl fashion involves irony. All great expressive statements require some inner tension; oxymorons generate their own buzz. For example, you can

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Three Perfect Lipsticks For Those Who Look Best In Blue

Many things happen to our faces as we age. Some we accept, some we ignore, some we address. Let’s have a show of hands, please, under the cloak of invisibility. How many have woken up one day, looked into the mirror, and wondered, “Since when are my lips the same color as my face? And who, might I ask, decided this was acceptable?” As a young woman, mascara was de rigueur, lipstick optional. Lipstick I wore for flirting, for seduction. Lipstick took me to the next level of polish, something a Sturdy Gal always finds elusive. Things change. It is a somewhat curious fact that our lips and

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Writing Their Selves In Sand, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:52am

When I woke up this morning I read a couple of blog posts. The usual ritual. Today I was caught by this one from Cara at Peonies and Polaroids. For those unfamiliar with Cara, she’s a photographer, and she and her husband Nye had twin babies last November. That’s Ella, above. Today Cara shared observations on her daughters. How Ella eats. How Amelia babbles. On the long list of what mothers do, Coming To Know Our Children sits right beneath Keeping Them Warm, Dry, and Fed. Her post is lovely. Her babies are lovely. Perhaps because of the loveliness I felt a counterposed melancholy. I thought about one

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Next Week, “Ethan Frome”

Next Thursday, Professor C. will be back with the 3rd and final installment of his Edith Wharton web series. We will be reading, and watching, “Ethan Frome.” The book is available free on the Kindle. The movie is $9.99 on Amazon, but with one-day shipping comes to ~$22.00. Professor C. might be persuaded to do more such seminars in future, but he thinks that Mitford, previously suggested, might be too far outside his comfort zone. Other thoughts welcome. I’m glad to be saved from complete immersion in HBO’s Game of Thrones. I have a terrible weakness for pop culture, especially populated by wolves and hair extensions. Have a

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The Best House Guest Present Ever

Hand towels. Is there anything more perfect than an embellished hand towel? That’s a rhetorical question, hyberbolic, even. And yet. The season for house guest presents, often called “hostess gifts,” is upon us. A house guest present means you are spending the night at someone’s house. A house guest present calls for something that will endure beyond your leaving. And should be something your hostess is unlikely to buy for herself. Gumps, in San Francisco, is a store put together to serve those who might have friends with houses by the sea, and guest bathrooms. They sell hand towels for everyone, or, apparently, every hobbyist, including the gardener,

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Trust, In Funds And Otherwise

I inherited my first slice of our fading family fortunes at 21. I remember sitting with my father in the sunroom. The rattan furniture was covered in a burnt orange, batik-ish fabric. I was reading a book, he his mail. Then he said something like, “Aha.” Or, “Well.” One of those exclamations that indicate a shift. He explained that one of his mother’s sisters had died, without heirs. Of the four girls, only two had children. One of them, my father’s mother, had only him. As a result, he would inherit some of his aunt’s estate. But, rather than take possession of the assets, he was going to

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The Artsy Cousin Explains It All For Us*

How many Artsy Cousins out there read along and, in a kindly sort of way, wince when I approximate your style? Come on, ‘fess up. In fact, one of your number has been so kind as to send along her lesson book. High WASPs believe in homework, studying, and getting an A. We like a voice of authority.So when Flo spoke up in her comment on last Thursday’s shirtdress post, “See me after school for artFUL cousin remedial work, no way would we show up in a military-derived ensemble, how would we be able to stack our Senegalese and Tibetan necklaces all down our front and around the

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The Bodhisattva “Get Out Of Jail Free” Card, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:43am

A week ago today, at the end of that night, I went to find my brother and his new wife to say goodbye. They pulled me over to the photo booth and gave me a kiss. I had put on my black sweater and black tights and flats from earlier in the day. Sturdy Gals are rarely Cinderella and do not make getaways in sparkling heels. The flower was a prop. The picture, which I do love, reminds me of the toast I gave. I thought, if you don’t mind, that I’d share it. I am paraphrasing, as I did not write it down before I spoke. All

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The Many Joys Of A Classic Shirtdress

So let’s talk shirtdresses, my friends. Many pieces can be called shirtdresses, perhaps not in the best of faith. Search online, and you’ll get some eyebrow-raising results. Olive James Perse “shirtdress via The Outnet, Manoush ornamented dress via The Outnet, Marc Jacobs floral via MyTheresa Because what you really want is your shirtdress to a) remind you of shirts b) be an actual dress c) possess chameleon super powers, shifting style easily with an earring here, a pair of shoes there. Simple, but apparently difficult to achieve. Recently I determined, as one does, that I absolutely had to own such a thing. Here’s what I found. Perfect for

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LPC Is At Hank and Lucy Today

Today I am at Hank and Lucy. Actually I was there yesterday, but too bleary-eyed from weddings and families to really notice. Hank and Lucy is a blog started by Jamie of Cactus and Quail – designer of the Privilege look and feel, and Celia – of life according to celia. They both had babies, just last month, and asked a few of us to post as guest moms. So I’ve written my ideas about how to cope with early motherhood. In particular, how to develop a philosophy that sustains you through it all. I’ve also included, if I say so myself, a few hilarious photos of my

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The Flowers Were Spectacular, And Some Other Stuff

The wedding was wonderful. Thursday night my mother and stepfather hosted dinner at the Foreign Cinema in San Francisco. Just immediate family,  about 25 people. I asked my stepmother to take my picture so I could keep my promise to you all. Full disclosure? I took out my frown lines. Yes I did. When I become the Buddha I will stop that sort of silliness. Not a bad thing, having an award-winning photographer shoot one up. As I have said previously, Studio Choo’s flowers were spectacular. Friday night, again as I have said, my father and stepmother hosted dinner for the extended family and out-of-town guests. The party

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Ithaca, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:59am

Thursday my mother and stepfather hosted a dinner for immediate families, at the Foreign Cinema restaurant in San Francisco. The setting and flowers were gorgeous. Friday my father and stepmother hosted a rehearsal dinner at their house, for the families and out-of-town guests. Also beautiful. My father read a poem. Particularly relevant as my brother is marrying at 50 for the first time. Ithaca When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the angry Poseidon — do not fear them: You will never find such as these on your path,

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The Privilege[d] Bumper Sticker. Yes. That’s What I Said.

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from Megan at BuildaSign.com. This happens. Somewhere there’s a big database of bloggers and company marketing departments seem to like sending us emails.  I turn down any asking me to review products, unless the offer includes an extra to give away if I like it. Nice Megan was open to giveaways. I am only obliged to tell you all subsequently if BuildASign did a good job. Which I will do. But wait. Signs? What, are we distributing billboards now? I do have a soft spot in my heart for billboards. They are part of the Silicon Valley culture. But

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How Not To Wear Bruce Springsteen To Brunch

I’ve had a few inquiries about retirement wardrobes. As it turns out, dressing for the office is one thing, dressing for retirement, quite another. I imagine you might be out there, sitting at the kitchen table with your cup of coffee. You prepare for yet another day at work, shoe dangling from your foot, laptop in bag, keys on the counter. You think, dressing for retirement? How is that an issue? Well, just wait until you find yourself faced with a closet full of suits, drawers full of rock concert tees from two decades ago, and nothing in between. The same situation confronts stay-at-home moms, and freelancers who,

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Finding The Last Few Accessories For A Special Event

I’m done. Here are the last two items I’ve picked up for my brother’s wedding. An Alexis Bittar cuff, purchased during the week he gave 100% of sales to the Japan Tsunami and Earthquake relief. Lucite, turquoise, and accompanying sparkle. Safari Dust, Bittar calls it. How appropriate. I didn’t mind paying for Lucite when the design quotient is this high. The donation removed any last qualms. I also found a pair of dangling earrings, made of smoky quartz blue topaz. from shopsomethingblue on Etsy. Routine beaded earrings don’t appeal, ordinarily, but I liked this configuration. As originally listed, the earrings had gold-filled earwires, and I’m allergic to anything

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And The Little Children Were So Cute, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:45am

A few passing thoughts on the Royal Wedding. I found the dress boring. I couldn’t help but think that Mr. McQueen, had he been able to hang onto his gifted life, would have done more with the moment. Some peaked shoulders. Lace in a pattern of spiderwebs. Or an eeny, weeny, teensy little Elizabethan ruff. That opinion matters not one whit in the scheme of things. However, there you go. I would not ever be tempted to wear a suit and hat in the exact same color. I note  on the other hand that feathers can be quite fetching. Let us hope that the little boy who loved

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A Couple Of Ways To Wear Estate Jewelry For Your Wedding

My brother gets married next month. True to High WASP form, he gave his fiancée a family ring when they got engaged. In fact, the Burning Man wedding reference is true to form in its own way, but that’s neither here nor there. My brother also has a diamond and sapphire brooch in his possession,  another piece given against the hope of a future wife. But we don’t wear brooches much these days, now do we? So he’s having it made into earrings for his bride on her wedding day. And beyond, of course. One does not have to receive anything from a grandmother, aunt, or great-grandfather to

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Bathers, Men, Ghouls. India, 1982

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. You can find the previous posts here. One might think a trip to India would be about something other than archetypal interactions between men and women. One would be wrong, at least for me. At least in the first half of my 1982 trip. Embarrassing, but true. Let’s continue. Lisa at 25, traveling in India alone, comes

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How Not To Wear Cardigans To Bangkok

Let’s say you have a a new job. Let’s say you need a work wardrobe? OK then. Careers are won or lost to the 80% rule. In other words, focus 80% of your attention on the 20% that matters. Career wardrobes should be handled the same way. Wardrobe recommendations often start with a general list of pieces to own. I believe this to be folly of the worst sort. What you don’t want is to end up where every outfit you own is 80% appropriate for what you have to do. Starting with a list of pieces puts you at risk for that outcome. Instead, start with your

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The Only Player On The Field, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:42am

In something like 2 hours, if all goes according to plan, I will be standing on a soccer field in the East Bay watching my niece play soccer. She’s 7, almost 8. Any of you who have ever been to a children’s soccer game with participants this age know what I am about to experience. Hive soccer. A swarm of players, running in the general vicinity of a ball, kicking it now and then. Very endearing. My son played soccer, from about this age all the way through high school. You might think I’ve seen a lot of games. Not really. But I did see a lot of

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Happy Easter, Happy Passover, Happy Spring Festivals

I’m not one for door wreaths, except at Christmas. Evergreens tied with red plaid bows, and a discreet juniper berry here and there. That said, for a change of season, or significant holiday, I replant my front pots. For spring this year, and Easter, I thought yellow. I felt yellow. Yellow it was. I need new gardening gloves. But one can make do quite happily, engaged in planting. Happy Easter, Happy Passover, Happy Spring Festivals all over the world. Have a wonderful weekend, when it arrives. Image: me Previous plantings, Labor Day,, Fourth of July,

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How Not To Spend $395 On A Bottle Of Perfume

Last year I bought perfume for the first time in 30 years. In an Alice-in-Wonderland sort of experience, I spent inordinate sums of money on a perfume named Rose Oudh. It was the only scent I found that was a) non-synthetic b) complex enough to enjoy. Were you not terribly kind people, I would say, “Rejoice in LPC’s floundering!” Why?  I have made a discovery and returned to report. But first, an important question. Have you ever read about “layering” perfumes and then recoiled in horror, assuming that such an act would lead you right down a rabbit hole of overwhelm? Alternatively, have you tried to layer scent

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Taking A Page From Barney’s Spring Campaign

A little while back I got a mailing from Barney’s. Most likely they sent it in recognition of last year’s giddy Narciso Rodriguez LBD. Or an exorbitant tube of Cle de Peu concealer I ran in to replace, but that’s another story. It was a large black and white book, maybe 11×14. Fashion Week for Fall 2011 had just finished, and mysteries of the catwalk were still fresh in my mind. I tore out the pages that I found most interesting, to scan. These are they. Above, Azzedine Alaia. Let’s all chant “Waistline, waistline, waistline.” Louder please. Below, a look I quite favor,  and easier to pull off,

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The Day I Put My Inheritance In The Garage, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:52am

Today is April 16th. Many people filed their income taxes yesterday. Some people know that this year the official date has been extended to the 18th, so they are waiting until Monday. And others, I do not know how many, will file for their own extensions, and complete the process in August, or even October. 2011 is the first time my taxes have been finished promptly, in, well, ages. I said this to my accountant when I signed the e-filing release on Thursday. “Oh no,” she replied, “We did it one other time in the last 15 years.” It feels like forever. In a parallel process, I have

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LPC Is At A Practical Wedding Today, Giving Advice

Today I am over at A Practical Wedding, giving advice to brides-to-be about why their rational, conscious mothers might behave unusually during wedding planning. It is, of course, advice from a fair degree of ignorance. I’ve never been a mother of a bride. But mothers, I believe, are mothers. And we have a certain understanding for each other. Please come visit here, if you feel so inclined. Have a wonderful weekend.

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Professor C. Discusses The House of Mirth, Also Flame Wars

As promised, the second in a series, “Professor C.’s Wharton Web Seminars.” In which we discover how literary criticism and flame wars intersect. Before watching the film of Edith Wharton’s “House of Mirth,” directed by Terence Davies, with Gillian Anderson as Lily Bart and Eric Stolz as Lawrence Selden, I stumbled on an internet war. What follows is a much shortened version. “mikeeoo”: This is my favorite of all the Wharton novels adapted for the screen…Absolutely true to the novel. “rdconger”: The film and the performances were ALL abominable. “americansykho”: Oh my. Have you ever read The House of Mirth? … I’m French and I studied literature… you

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The Evolving Self, Dot Com

Last week I bought some fairly inexpensive shoes online. The purchase experience was one of the best ever. It still makes me smile to think about. Why? What was so wonderful? One lazy afternoon, I was sitting on my sofa, reading fashion magazines. Otherwise known as looking-at-pictures-of-stuff-I-don’t-want or things-I-want-but-can’t-find-or-afford. Then I saw this ad in Vogue. I fell for those shoes. Why? Who knows. Perhaps it was the accompanying house with gray shingles, reminding me of family houses by the sea. I will never forget the way that salty wood smells on hot days. Maybe I was channeling my travels through France as a young woman, not yet

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The ‘Privilege’ Reader Survey Results

Well hello everyone. Back from my break. It was lovely and I missed you. Some asked to review the reader survey results. Of course. Except for that one embarrassing question about finances. Never mind advertisers and book publishers. We are far too well-mannered to let anyone’s financial situation color our feelings about who or what they are. (Note that the graphics here should expand when clicked, and become legible to all eyes.) What you are, of course, is profoundly female. Let me just say thank you to the handful of men who continue to read. We like you. But we understand. Let’s also support the continuum, however it

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Vintage Shoe Giveaway Winners

Congratulations! Marsanne, the Anne Kleins are yours. Laura, I hope you enjoy the Ferragamos. Email me with your addresses and I will ship them off next week. Thank you all for taking my survey. I will report back the week of April 11th. If you all don’t mind, I will share some of your heart’s desires. They are lovely. Have a good weekend. Have a good week.

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In Which Privilege Reports To The Board

Time for the Privilege Annual Report to the Board. Old corporate habits die hard. Although I seem to have retired from software, or at least to have taken a very long leave, I am still inclined to report status to my managers. That would be you. Remember, corporate speak is the best way ever invented to mask powerful emotions. In my case, gratitude. But let’s get to it. You will see in parentheses the Privileged[d] Core Values. Another way to create euphemisms for Things That Matter. As of February 14th, 2011, Privilege completed Year 2. Here’s an executive summary of our plans for Year 3. We corporate types

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LPC Is At A Femme d’un Certain Age Today

Please join me this morning at Tish’s blog, A Femme d’un Certain Age. She asked several of us to write about sleepwear, loungewear, and seductionwear, and how they differ. Despite my cultural limitations, which should become immediately clear, I have done my best. Tish added pictures of Katherine Hepburn, instantly improving the endeavor. See you here, if you would be so kind. To Tish’s readers, welcome.

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Introducing Artists: Lily Stockman of bigBang studio

I’ve been following Lily Stockman for some time, at bigBANG studio. A young but wildly accomplished artist, she moved to India last year. Funded by a grant, she’s been painting pictures of India’s grain silos. I know. Her new show opens in Delhi this Friday. She is exhibiting along with three other American artists, Carrie Fonder, Rebecca Layton and Jenny Mullins. Here are two of the new pieces. Agreed, her work is pretty. Pretty but at the same time, somehow, sad about happiness and bravely waving at meaning. Often the meaning of archetypal structures. I never really understand how art works, or how to talk about it. But

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Can You Wear Blue-Green Slingbacks With A Brown-Black Dress?

My brother, as regular readers will remember, is getting married this spring, in a celebration influenced by Burning Man. My outfit, as regular readers will remember, relies on this brown and black Prada number. Suitable shoes, as regular readers will remember, had not yet been found. Until now. Regular, irregular, no matter. Here are my shoes. Thank you for joining us. As it turns out, blue-green was the right color to edge Prada nerd-girl chic over towards Burning Man, and anarchy. Anarchy is always relative. How do I know these are the right color? I wore the dress shopping. Sturdy Gals are practical; even embellished satin slingbacks must

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The Wisest Course, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:16am

If you wake up one morning, after two weeks of rain, the wet rain, mind you, the kind that plops and splashes and runs down your neck, and you expect more rain this week, and you hear, in your gutters, rain gurgling again because that much water can’t run quietly, then, yes, it’s true, going back to bed is a perfectly good idea. You should bring your tea. Right about now I feel a deep longing for Southern latitudes. So those of you in Florida, and Georgia, and Tucson, to say nothing of anyone out on Padre Island, Texas, remember this when I’m all, “Oh the sky is

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The Privilege[d] Guide To Washington D.C., With Boy Children

At long last, the Privilege[d] Guide To Washington, D.C. Everything in one place, for your future reference. Especially tailored for those who have 2-3 days, and a couple of boy children in tow. Gender-typing, I know, but for those two, it’s appropriate. I’ve marked the stuff I actually did with an asterisk but included as well all the recommendations from our wonderful Privilege[d] crew. Thank you all. The Strategic View Here’s the high-level assessment. D.C. is one of the easiest places to enjoy I’ve ever experienced. All those things you’ve heard about – especially if you’re an American – The White House, Smithsonian, Vietnam War Memorial – turn

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Discovering Artists: Brigitte Carnochan

As I have done before, here, and here, today I’d like to introduce you to an artist. The photo above, and the two below, are by Brigitte Carnochan. This time, however, I can’t actually claim discovery. Brigitte, I must tell you right off, is my stepmother. We call her Gitta, and she’s a photographer. The sort who shows her work in galleries, teaches classes, and gets written about. She’s agreed to let me showcase some pieces. The work above is from her latest show. Why the pattern of the tree makes me want to cry I could not tell you. Perhaps the simple reference to tears. The show

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A Purple, Gold And Blush Wedding

I’ve been helping my brother and sister-in-law design their wedding. They thank me occasionally, but all I can think, is, they are letting me do this? It’s wildly fun. She took me to see the space. It boasts triple height ceilings in an Arts and Crafts decor, with standard brown and gold carpet. They wanted a fun, intimate, feeling, with touches of Burning Man.  I was seized by a vision of purple and gold tables. White felt too weak, blue too conservative for this couple, red too autumnal for just about anyone. They also knew they wanted to uplight the walls, in amber, perhaps a leafy pattern. Given

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Kids On A Train, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:32am

I’ve been missing my kids lately. Partly it’s because I haven’t seen them in three months. I’m still governed by the school calendar. “What happened,” I wonder, “to Spring Break?” My daughter works for a living and takes grownup vacations. My son decided to stay on campus this year, watching basketball and writing stories. Princeton lost its NCCA game to Kentucky, by one point. Not bad. But today I miss my kids because they are together. They like each other, those two. And I can see, in my mind’s eye, their heads close as they ride the train up to New York City. Hers, new penny red, his,

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Mary Jo Matsumoto Launches Classic, Soigne Collection For The Grande Dame

Tonight, at a Los Angeles Fashion Week event, Mary Jo Matsumoto launches her Fall 2011 couture line. Mary Jo and I have been Internet friends for some time. Remember these pearls? I was both flattered and excited when she invited me to attend her reception. But what with the spur-of-the-moment trip to Washington, and that fact that life and its tasks do tend to go on even when I’m not around,  I couldn’t free up time to get down south. I’m still pouting, just a bit. So I asked Mary Jo for photos. Et voilà. These pictures speak to me. And they say, “Dear, that’s so good-looking.” Here

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With Freedom And Prosperity For All

Capitol Hill, crookedly seen from the Mall. No metaphor intended. The first thing we did in Washington, D.C. was fuel up on Starbucks. Then hop onto a double-decker bus. It was a chilly day for Californians, and the trees that arch over D.C. streets came close to whipping us in the face. We felt however that we were on the verge of something big. We laughed, and kept going. The bus ticket allowed us to get on the bus, and off, and on again, so by the time we came to the Lincoln Memorial, we’d admired prep school boys playing lacrosse, eaten several large burritos, and purchased artisanal

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A Review Of The St. Regis, Washington D.C.

I recently spent 3 nights in Washington D.C. I stayed at the St. Regis, which is a member of the Starwood Group, and therefore redeemable for points. Very helpful in the world of fading family fortunes. The lobby is just gorgeous. Wood paneling, gilt, and flower arrangements.  I would have brought my bedding down and slept on the sofa but I suspected the staff might look askance. Not that they weren’t terribly helpful, otherwise. The front desk, the bellmen, the maids, and especially the concierge, all gave wonderfully friendly and dignified service. I do love a good chandelier. But I suppose this one might have kept me up

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Home In Earthquake Country, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:25am

Oh it’s good to be home. I loved D.C. and hope to return. I enjoyed my fancy hotel with mosaic bathrooms. But it is, as everyone knows, good to be home. Specifically, I can drink my tea from large mugs, rather than lovely, but picayune, teacups The milk in my refrigerator is 1%, not 2%, not whole milk, not cream, and certainly not skim. These things matter. I had two new episodes of Big Love on my DVR. And one of Hellcats. We all need to balance art with amusement. I can check things off my to-do list. Which this week will include taxes, or at least understanding

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Clearly I Was Misinformed About D.C.

I leave Washington D.C. today. It’s raining. The weather for our two days, however, has been very nice for early March. And the trip, wonderful. There aren’t too many things I regret, in my career as a mother. But clearly I should have brought my children here. What was I thinking? If you have children, aged, let’s say, 8-18, learn from my mistake. Make plans now. I rarely insist, but in this case I must. And the cherry trees that line the lawns and ceremonial bodies of water should be blooming in a few weeks. The city is not bad for grown ups either, especially those susceptible to

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The 11 Sneaky Tricks Of A High WASP Diet

How, you might wonder, do High WASP women keep their weight where they want it? For it’s true that we tend more often to the slender. Of course, that renders us prone to shriveling in our later years, but there you go. Let me say that I understand and have lived the difficult and unfair impact of cultural expectations for women’s bodies. Let me say that I believe to each her own, and health is paramount. But let me also confess that I watch my weight, that I derive enjoyment from the results of that effort, and that I rely on lessons from my culture as secret weapons.

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Will Grownups Be Wearing Party Pants This Year?

When I was very young little girls still wore party pants. In those days the term meant ruffled underwear. We would don our dresses, often red, with sashes, smocking, white collars, and puffed sleeves piped in satin. Little Mary Janes on our feet. Nothing sparkled. But our underwear, ah, the underwear was ruffled and puffy. Heaven forbid the wind might blow up our skirts. Heaven forbid Chad or Mark or Greg might try to peek. The party pants protected us from vulnerable revelation. Since we cast off the garments as teenagers, they did no real good. These days, people go pantless on the subway. I am not appalled.

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Off To The District Of Columbia, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:06am

Last week I found out that my best friend, who lives in Belgium, would be coming to the US for a week. First she’s visiting her daughter in Massachusetts, then coming to Washington, D.C. with two of her boys. This week I decided to fly out to D.C. for a visit. I’ll be there next week Monday to Thursday, but I’ve got a post or two saved up, so you’re safe from endless photos of airport lounges, wine glass holders, and my old Hartmann suiter. For now. I have very little idea what to do in D.C. National capitals scare me. The roads are always so wide. You

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Guest Post From My Father, Or Professor C. Discusses The Age of Innocence: Wharton and Scorsese

When I posted about navy blue Oscar dresses, Ann asked me, quite politely, whether High WASPs should be discussing such silliness. And the answer is, “Of course not.” We are supposed to write about matters of intellect and refinement. Lucky for you all, my family knows when I need help. Herewith a post my from my father, the professor, reviewing “The Age Of Innocence” from a personal perspective. He addresses both Edith Wharton’s novel, and Scorsese’s movie of the same name. Any goofy editorial notes are mine. But you knew that already. I will continue to write here about style. One does what one must. Thank you for

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Giving Up Blonde, Or, Old Lady Hair Redux

I’ve been blonde most of my life. For the first 30 years, blonde by virtue of genetics. Then I darkened and grayed a bit on the way to 40. When I turned 44, a few years after having rejoined the full-time workforce, I cut my hair short and got it dyed for the first time. I was a short-haired. blonde executive for quite a while. Now, at 54 and semi-retired, I’m ready for another go at my natural color. Whatever that may be. Above you see my head. Which statement I find comical in the extreme, but I digress. My natural color appears to be a steely brown

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Waving A High WASP Flag At The Oscars

High WASPs like navy blue best of all. We like it on the flag, we like it on sailors, we like it on business suits. So we like it on movie stars. Consistency. To last night’s Oscar ceremonies, Marisa Tomei wore a 1950s dress by Charles James, via Lily et Cie, vintage purveyors to the stars. In navy. The exaggerated sweetheart neckline with the little extra space in the bosom? We think it’s charming. Amy Adams wore navy L’Wren Scott. Sequins, mind you, but navy nonethless. And tee shirt simplicity appeals mightily to Sturdy Gals everywhere. That sound of polite but enthusiastic clapping you hear? Yeah. High WASPs

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Light In The Morning, Or, Saturday At 8:07am

There’s nothing better than light in the morning. Just now some camellia leaves outside my window are shining so brightly they throw the folds of this sofa cushion into high relief. I can even see the nap of faux suede, in ridges like sand blown by wind across dunes. There must be dew on the shrubbery. The light’s going to fade in a minute. Yes, the camellia has gone green again. The sofa cushion reverts to upholstery. The coffee table shines instead, briefly. I got it at Pottery Barn. This is how to feel time. Every little increment shining. Each regular thing lit in turn. Now the dust

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A Review Of The Bacara Resort Near Santa Barbara

I spent last weekend in Santa Barbara, visiting my mother and meeting up with my sisters and their families. If all the nieces and nephews stay in separate bedrooms, my sisters get better nights’ sleep. So I checked into the nearby Bacara Resort for a few nights. And was quite pleasantly surprised. The Bacara website drips with Los Angeles aesthetics. I mean, does this photo make YOU want to pay the place a visit? I think it must be targeted towards male movie industry executives. Somebody would surely poke me in the stomach if I assumed a similar position. Causing me to squeal and sit up rapidly. Too

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When Did That Peaked Shoulder Trend Start?

Two years ago, in its Fall 2009 collection, Balmain made waves with jackets like this. via net-a-porter. No longer available, but was on sale for $9,000, marked down from $13,000 Celebrities peaked their shoulders. Fashion media noticed. via WhoWhatWear I’ve always wondered how long it takes for The New to become The Available. Now I know. On Corporette, yesterday, lo and behold. Stripped of fur and chains, executed in a preppy red check, just hinting at peaks. Suitable for work. And that’s how a single piece wins its trend medal, evolving on beyond, barely recognizable. Alice and Olivia via net-a-porter. $395 I desired the first Balmain jacket, I

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High WASP Corporate Dress For All

I have been asked, by a young South Asian woman, whether I’d care to address the question of corporate style for women of color in certain traditional industries. High WASP style, even. Well. OK then. (Note: this post used to have Polyvore collages in them but Polyvore went away. Some day I will add images in replacement.) I was tempted to toss this one like the proverbial hot potato. Fast. But I’ll grab on tight instead, since I was asked. I’d never even think of addressing this question without an invitation. We’ll go slowly. Let’s revisit the question of why corporate attire might have a relationship to High

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The Glories Of Aunthood, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:47am

I’m in Santa Barbara, for a little visit with mom. Meeting my sisters and their families for President’s Day, which means spending the weekend as an aunt. I love aunthood. I anticipate the smooth cheeks of my nieces and nephews with great joy. Their shiny hair. Their chirping voices. Not that I don’t get tired by the multitudes, eventually. 54 is too old to be a mother, so it’s a good thing I’m done. But the children of my sisters delight me. Aunthood, when your own big kids have grown, is kind of like a pro golfer playing miniature golf. You can putt that ball like nobody’s business.

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The Privilege Style Icon

It may sound like a platitude, to say my mother is my style icon. I can’t help it. There she is, hatbox in hand. It’s 1949, and my mother is 17 years old. She had taken a boat to Hawaii, with a friend whose family had lived there for generations. This picture was taken at the airport, just before her return flight home. Note the strength of line, the ebullience, the never-minding of hair blowing in the wind. The hat, the pocket, the skirt proportion. My stepfather said to me, recently, “Your mother has style. I did not know I wanted a woman with style. But I did.”

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Is The Fashion Industry Exploding Before Our Very Eyes?

Derek Lam, via Quintessence So. It’s New York Fashion Week. Meaning that all kinds of designers are holding all kinds of fashion shows for all kinds of people. In New York City. Perhaps that last bit was unnecessary? Let us ask this. If you are interested at all in style – defined as ensuring your clothing communicates your beliefs,  follows your aesthetics, and flatters your body – will you care about Fashion Week? Kind of. If you want to. Bear with me. The fashion industry is in the midst of one of those paradigm shifts we in technology know well. For other businesses, unused to running full-steam in

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LPC Is At Women’s Voice For Change Today

Today I am over at Women’s Voices For Change, with a small piece on the day after Valentine’s Day. My Valentine’s present was a Kindle and I can already feel my neurology picking itself up off the floor, putting on its shoes, and preparing to learn new tricks. I’ve been reading so long that every little print to eye to brain process is hardwired. Soldered in. Time to shake things up. Tonight I have dinner in San Francisco with one of my oldest and dearest friends. I hope you had a a wonderful ValenTime., and if you’d like to come read about adventures in glueing, I welcome you.

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Guest Post From Mise of Pretty Far West: Entertaining The Archetypes

I’m rubbish at home decor. Luckily for you,  there are others with the gift. Among my favorites is Mise, of Pretty Far West. Yes, she was  one of my Bloggers Who Can Turn A Phrase, but she’s also a talented home designer. Her own house has been featured in Ireland’s House and Home. She even put subway tiles behind the a yellow stove in her kitchen. Today Mise gives us ta special Valentine’s present inviting the Archetypes on a trip, Pretty Far West. The Privilege Style Archetypes are alive to me, having insinuated their way into my mental storehouse of characters and taken on familiar personae. The Sturdy

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In Praise Of Silly, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:15am

I’m a fan of the serious. Life is short. It’s important to pay attention, to consider, and having considered, to feel gratitude. On the other hand, do not underestimate silly. It’s possible that laughter is our closest encounter with immortality. Second to all things related to carrying on the species, of course. But oh, the silly. I was reading As Time Goes By, Ronni Bennet’s wonderful blog on aging, which I highly recommend. Ronni posted this video. You may have seen it already, I had not. How the British corned the market on silly I do not know, but apparently Malcom Hardee was one of the greats of

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A Catalog Of Stuff From Grandmama’s House

I recently was asked to show you all of the artifacts from my grandmother’s house in one fell swoop. The Hostess of the Humble Bungalow suggested it might be helpful to see all this stuff in one place. Good idea. High WASPs revere order, packing lists, and following direction. It’s not a collection, this. Little is displayed. But in cupboards, on bookshelves, and pulled up to tables you will find: 1. A Tiffany bowl. With my grandmother’s initials. The same as mine, you will notice. My mother did that on purpose, but replaced Louise with Lisa. High WASPs are monogramaphiliacs. 2. A porringer. Matilda probably ate some oatmeal

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And The Revolution Wore Shorts

Here’s an idea. What piece of women’s clothing, native to the Western world, has undergone revolutionary change in our lifetime? Shorts. Yes, shorts. Of course, they are trumped, globally, by the veil and the burkha. And, of course, all clothing plays a secondary role to various forms of bindings and pokings of holes, in oppressing or liberating the female gender. But I’d like to suggest that shorts, yes, short, simple shorts, serve neatly as signs of change. How do I know? I’m old. And I remember. We didn’t use to wear shorts anywhere but in the great out of doors. Or on college campuses. Grown women didn’t wear

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How To Treat Colorphobia – Take One Peach And Call Me In The Morning

Some of us just don’t do well with color. Too daunting. But, you know, life is short. We think to ourselves, perhaps we do not want to look up, 20 years later, to find that we’ve spent our days in black. Dark black, greyed black, marled black. With hints of gray, khaki, and navy blue when we want to paint the town virtual red. Where to turn? Color-typing is one option, clearly. Alternatively, one can rely on the kindness of strangers. I found these at DaniBP’s blog, the Mop Philosopher. Dani is going to Florida on vacation. Leaving from Canada. Perhaps that’s what makes her color choices so

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LPC Is At Already Pretty Today

Today I am over at Already Pretty. Sally asked a group of bloggers to discuss the entire spectrum of work wear. I am discussing and demonstrating clothing for a traditional, conservative, work environment, especially in industries populated primarily by men. You will also find K-Line, Une Femme, and the Asian Cajuns, among others. The article is diverse, thorough, fun, and full of pictures. Come take a look, if you would be so kind. If you’ve arrived here via Sal’s kindness, welcome. It’s my privilege to have you here.

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Was It Because I Labored Without Drugs, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:56am

Haven’t we all seen so many photos of snow and ice this winter? To say nothing of you, enmired in the real thing? Here in Northern California we’ve had spring weather, or at least spring-mimicking. But both my kids are in New Jersey. I look at this webcam. Then I call my kids, one or the other, and I say, “Are you cold?” And while they may be cold, or irritated by having to drive in the snow and on ice, that’s by no means their primary concern. After all, they are mostly grown. I could send them sweaters, or socks, or tins of fancy hot chocolate –

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A Hunka Burning Valentine’s Love

I’ve been around for many a Valentine’s Day. I tend to remember them more for the Valentines I made, whether poorly or well, more than anything received. And I don’t really mind if the day comes and goes with only a, “Happy Valentine’s Day, honey!” I suppose if distance separates, roses are nice. Lots of them. Without filler. However, were I to request a present this year, I’d want to go big or go home. For example, from Beladora and now on my sidebar because, and only because, I wanted to put it there: It even has a cute little ruby bit. All for $1450. At 54 you

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Advice From My Mom On How To Write A Wedding Invitation Dress Code

If what to wear to a wedding is one of the most asked questions of social dressing, what can you, the bride, or you, the bride’s mother, do to help find an answer? Let us consider. As in any analysis, one most understand the first principle. And the first principle of etiquette is to make people comfortable. People, in this instance, including you, the groom, your family, and the rest of the guests. The difficult part being, you may want everyone to show up dressed a certain way, and they may not have the background or temperament to support, or even understand, your vision. So how do you

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Will You Wear A Tailed Jacket In 2011?

It’s quite possible that you’re going to wind up in a long-tailed jacket this year. Why, you may wonder? Well let’s consider. The Four Factors Leading Us Toward A Long Tail 1. Michael Jackson, AKA The King of Pop We were besieged by images of Mr. Jackson upon his unfortunate demise. Those band-leader/military jackets imprinted, and the style is making its way through our cultural consciousness – in various guises. 2. High-waisted pants After a decade of low-rise pants, followed by a long stretch of skinny jeans, we’ve seen some high-waisted, Charlie!-ad-in-the-1970’s, inspiration recently. A high waist looks much better with a jacket that nips in at the

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Grandmama’s Mirror: Sphinxes, Lions, And Fiendish Cherubs

My maternal grandmother lived in Longmeadow, Massachusetts. She furnished her house with Chinese snuff bottles, lamps made of Japanese dolls, and oyster silk bed-hangings. Many of her belongings had been acquired in travels with her second husband, the Austro-Hungarian named Rene. Everywhere the faint smell of Dior perfume, especially upstairs. Many things rustled. Grandmama hung two things in her entry hallway. One, a set of harness bells on a leather strap to replace her doorbell. Any time someone rang, bells jingled. Two, this mirror. To check hair, face, collar, before we left the house. You know, to make sure everything was “good-looking” enough. When my grandmother died, my

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Would You Take An Early Alzheimer’s Test, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:11am

I’m out of English Breakfast tea, and putting up with Dragonwell Green. This is not a happy state of affairs. I’ve made tea and toast my breakfast for decades. The tea varietal may shift, a bit, from English Breakfast to Darjeeling to Lapsang Souchong, but it’s always black, and always taken with milk. The toast has gone through a few incarnations too, from English muffin, to Trader Joe’s whole wheat bread, and finally, La Brea Whole Grain. But the basic equation is pretty fundamental to my day. Every sip of the bitter green tea shocks me, just a bit. And then I think, “Well, maybe it’s good?” This

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LPC Is At Inside Out Style Today

I’m at Inside Out Style today, answering the lovely and knowledgeable Imogen’s questions. And showing you a picture of my mother, with her hair blowing in the wind. I hope you come visit.

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3 Real Rules To Dressing For A Wedding

“But what, what, should I wear to the wedding?” Is someone you know getting married? Your brother or your husband’s college roommate?  Your cousin, colleague, acquaintance, nanny? Always, people ask, what should they wear? Weddings are the Forest Of Fog And Terrors in the Land Of What To Wear. Like Candyland, if you will. What are the High WASP feelings about wedding dress? Do we care most about, for example, what time white tie kicks in? No. That’s 6pm. And all other matters of formal tradition are answered here. But few resources will tell you you the most important rule. Here goes. You should wear whatever your social

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How To Replace A Closet Gremlin

Almost every one has one piece they wear all the time, unhappily. A sort of gremlin in the closet, always there, never welcome. Replacing it can have a big impact. Even casual or incidental clothing can make you feel as stylish as does a Prada dress, over the long term. But you’ve got to understand why you keep wearing your gremlins, as much as why you hate them. What’s your closet gremlin? It could be the blouse that gaps, (but is the only one that works with the olive green jacket) those shoes that grate, (but they’re your only metallic heels) or an ugly Princeton sweatshirt that belongs

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What To Do With Distress, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:45am

Privilege is a tricky concept. I revel in something we might call, “first privilege.” You know, the phenomenon by which we get to be born, to sleep, to love, and wake up every morning until we die? Most days I get out of bed thinking, “Yes! Time to do it again!” No denying sorrow, or fear, or rage, or boredom. But the privilege of consciousness itself is extraordinary. That said, clearly the Privilege discussed here is more often one of social class, along with the various sparkly artifacts and quirks of a certain class segment. I’ve understood for a while that discussing privilege is risky business. Recent events

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Never Knowingly Undercushion®

It’s Friday. Time to put our heads up, just for a minute, from those desks, computers, tables, wagons, or wheels. Browse some soft and pretty goods. It’s also the time of year when our hemisphere might start to think about spring, even if the season is a ways off. One might even want to spruce up the house a bit, right about now. One very simple way to do this is with cushions. High WASPs like cushions. We tend to furnish our houses well, once, and spend the rest of our lives living in them, fixing up what frays. Cushions have a convenient habit of doing just that.

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How To Squeeze Value Out Of An Expensive Dress

As I have said, my brother’s getting married this spring. The event promises to be creative, given that my brother and his fiance are both therapists, and both involved in the Burning Man community, whereas the venue is old-style San Francisco,  Very happy events, family weddings, and often occasion for new clothes. Except the fading family fortune cannot support the purchase of that festive Erdem or Etro print, at the moment. While it’s possible that I’ll find a dress I can afford (Jessica? Ms. Simpson? I did ask you to call, if you’ll remember), more likely I’m going to repurpose a dress purchased in the previous 18 months.

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Why Do Pearls, Nail Polish, And Loafers Provoke Such A Strong Response?

In a conversation with my sister, the other day, the two of us noticed that Privilege posts on pearls, nail polish, and loafers have provoked the most emotional responses of all. Why? Why would accessories, and those on the periphery at that, provoke strong feelings? I have a theory. These are markers of the feminine. Think about it. Pearls means ladylike. They are strong signifiers of a certain cultural construct, which, whether you subscribe to it or not, most likely you recognize. Nail polish decorate the fingers of women. Those men who indulge in manicures get buffed, not polished. (Unless you are a rock star or an artist.

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5 Accessories I Don’t Leave Home Without

Sophie, at les anti-modernes, tagged me for 5 key accessories. Sturdy Gals aren’t big on accessories unless they are useful. These days I live a pared down life. If I go out for a walk, I bring my iPhone. In a pink case so I can see the dang thing in my purse. I can’t stand missing phone calls, being of the fully-duplexed generation. We didn’t use to have text messaging, remember? Now that I think about it, my peers and I may have been one short blip in modern history where real-time communication – in-person, phone – eclipsed the atemporal – letters, email, texts. I talk to

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When Things Become Wonderful, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:15am

And some mornings you wake up to find that a friend has pitched in. Today, Mater of Materfamilias Writes has a Saturday morning post up. A lovely piece of writing about our day in the city, with that customary Mater tone humming throughout. I suppose it’s the sound of grace. I will refrain from the impulse to sputter,”Oh no, you are too nice, oh I am not….,” remembering that my mother always says, “A simple thank you will suffice.” So you will find, here, root vegetables, carnitas, the Golden Gate bridge from a secret vantage point, and Mater and me in front of said bridge, smiling. Thank you.

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Rest In Peace, Muggs

My father and stepmother lost their dearly beloved lab yesterday. Here is Muggs the dog, as a pup. And here he is last week. Twelve and a half years of such a sweet boy. He will be missed. Images: My stepmother the photographer

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12 Bloggers Who Can Turn A Phrase

You know how sometimes you read a blog and find yourself delighted by the author’s sheer access to language? How some writing evinces an almost physical response?  I thought you might enjoy the suggestions below. Of course, they aren’t the only good writers on my list, by any means, others write clearly, and convincingly and intelligently and with humor. But here are some bloggers who can turn a heck of a phrase. Pretty Far West. Mise writes from Ireland, primarily about interior design. Dry, elusive, warm. All at the same time. elefantitas allegres. Kate started out, I believe, with a wedding blog. Funny, good-humored, expansive. With a fondness

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Pearls, Chemicals, Heat and Dust. India, 1982

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. You can find the previous posts here. I left the Buddhist stupas and Austrian tourists of Sanchi behind. At the railroad station I threw myself and my blue duffle into the Fate Choose Please lottery. Knowing that Shashi Kapoor was filming Heat and Dust in Hyderabad, I decided that if a seat were available on the next

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Guest Post: My Father Speaks About Neckties

Today we are honored by the presence of Professor C. My father. When I explained that you all had asked to hear from him, he was slightly puzzled. His first response being, “Your style is so…” But I explained that he didn’t need to natter on as I do. We talked, with my sister, about what he might write. She suggested he chronicle his shopping pattern,  in which my stepmother buys all his clothes, and some articles hang in closets until the moths are sated. We laughed. Then we remembered one of his more shining sartorial moments, involving a new flexibility in dress code for Stanford University administrators.

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A Very “Good-Looking” Shoulder Satchel At Billykirk

Just before Christmas I was reading les anti-modernes, miss sophie’s youthful, Artsy, style blog. In her gift guide, one of my favorites from 2010 and well worth reading even now, she listed this wallet by Billykirk. Not a brand I’d known before. Nice, huh? Even “good-looking,” as my mother would say. $120. So I clicked over. And found myself even more taken by this shoulder satchel. Both fine and rough, one might say. Both high polish and handmade-ish. Comes in the brown-ish family of colors too. $320. Hmm. This might do well, with a pair of green khaki shorts, jeans, or that elusive summer skirt. The more time

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Significant Carnitas And Social Networks, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:14am

Yesterday I met a blogger I’ve been reading for over a year, Mater of Materfamilias Writes. I met her husband too. Doesn’t seem like a revolutionary event, three people in midlife eating Mexican food in San Francisco. But if I look back to my 20’s, and remember how we met people then, how we forged communities and thereby ourselves, I can’t help but think yesterday’s carnitas were not insignificant. The ways we interact with our selves and others change, across the decades and across technological disruptions, even while remaining curiously the same. Cue Mr. Redding, if you will. I’ve seen technology upend human society twice in my lifetime.

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The Secret Life Of Loafers

I’d like to pick a bone with Pat Benatar. I’d argue that work is more of a battleground than love, and, as a result, more apt to require armor. Down to one’s toes. In my corporate heyday, loafers always served as the modern equivalent of a sabaton. Whenever I heard the distant rattling of sabres, I’d pull my black Ferragamos out of the closet and shoe myself for war. I was therefore somewhat surprised at the comments to my previous post on What To Wear To Dinner After Work In Manhattan. It appears that others do not wave the loafer banner as enthusiastically as I. I ask the

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A Review Of The Mansion On Peachtree

A few weeks ago, for the Lavish! Unconference, I stayed at the Atlanta-based Mansion on Peachtree. It’s a Rosewood Hotel, which is a nice group of luxury hotels. And the Mansion was very nice. One feels, upon entering, that one is visiting a very large private house. Where the host is thrilled to have you stay, albeit not for free. The hotel has a small lobby. broken up into a series of rooms. In December, the lobby is decorated for Christmas, a fire in the fireplace, wreaths all around. The rooms at the Mansion are also very nice. The bed is big and has so much pillowing one

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Privilege Here And There, Over The Holidays

Mice were clearly playing over the holidays, as two of my favorite blogs featured Privilege[d] posts. 1. At  Corporette, the best resource I know of for traditional corporate-wear, my guest post on Advice On What To Wear From The VP/Hiring Manager-Level, was one of the Top 10 Posts of 2010. How glorious to see that the years I spent decoding corporate style, to say nothing of that bow tie one infamous day in 1984, are proving useful to the next generation. Thank you Kat, for welcoming my post proposal. 2. At  Trust Your Style,* Mary Jo Matsumoto asked me to write up a Happy Intention for 2011. Hint:

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What Did You Wear On New Year’s Eve?

What did you wear on New Year’s Eve? A black dress and pearls? Pyjamas and fleece? (or “Pyammies,” as a Swedish accent will sometimes pronounce the word?) I believe that New Year’s Eve can be a time to stretch our horizons. The archetypal liminal moment. A threshold. Where you get a brief hall pass from societies on either side, leaving you free to cavort as you will. A faerie, even, spangled. Around here, this translates to, You May Dress Like A Rocker If You Choose To. So I did. Please suspend disbelief. In the liminal phase there is no disbelief, only existence. A few weeks ago I won

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Have Very Happy Holidays!

Except for a wee greeting on Christmas and again on New Year’s, I will be off until the first week of January. I wish you all peace, and family, and generosity, as 2010 comes to a close. See you in 2011. At which point we may figure out the secret life of loafers, after all.

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Those Fancy-Pants Clothes And Jewels One Wears To Lavish!

Key takeaway. We Baby Boomers are not so good at this all-photos-all-the-time Facebook culture. Case in point. I confess I picked the best photo. There are others, with the standard closed eyes and twisted mouth, here. Via Smilebooth I imagine a style blogger attending an industry conference feels a little bit like an astronaut, called upon to demonstrate zero-gravity in a Walmart parking lot. In other words, she hopes all the equipment arrives intact, but assumes that should anything go missing, she can probably run next door and get a replacement. I packed for Lavish! in good spirits. The first day of the conference, Friday, December 9, I

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Well-Kept Secrets Of The French BCBG, Or, “Bon Chic, Bon Genre”

Today we have a gem of a guest post. Tish from A Femme d’Un Certain Age – known for her deft touch and affectionate voice – brings to life that rarefied species, the French “Bon chic, bon genre.”  or “BCBG.”  Tish’s dear friend, Jeanne-Aelia* of Through the French Eye of Design, introduces us to Grandpère, Grandmère, Papa, Maman, and the children, via her illustrations. About which all I will say is they made my jaw drop in astonishment and delight. Tish, you and Jeanne-Aelia have enriched our delicate examination of style, culture, and class, and I thank you. Note: This post may load slowly, as it is heavy

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Happy 80th Birthday To My Father, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:56am

My father turns 80 on Monday. Tonight my stepmother is hosting his birthday party. My siblings, step-sibling, and I will all be there, as will his friends from Stanford and life in California. 80 feels fairly significant. It’s a privilege to reach 80, whether randomly arrived at, or correlated to growing up in abundance. The construct of “father’ is so complex. Sometimes fathers cause your existence. Sometimes they raise you and provide for you and educate you and fight with you and despair of you. Meanwhile, you grow up. It turns out, so do they. My father was raised in enormous privilege. Born in the last generation where

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A Welcome Mat

To those of you coming over from Penelope Trunk’s blog, welcome. If you are wondering why you are here, which would be understandable, a little while back, I commented on one of Penelope’s posts that I would send her flowers if she wrote about Privilege. She said yes. Surprised the bejeezus out of me. It seemed critical to find flowers that were both exactly right for her house, and something I would choose in flesh and blood, so I did not want to use a standard www.genericflowersthatyoucantcontrol.com service. I spent a day or two looking up florists on Yelp!  and found one in her neighborhood. If farms can

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The Classic Evening Low Heel, With A Teeny, Tiny, Twist

One of the Privilege[d] readers alerted me to this shoe. She says she stood in it, for THREE HOURS, at a Colonial Dames event. I especially appreciate a touch of Roger Vivier squared-toe, to scare off the dowdy spirits. It’s an absolute classic. Can go conservative, with a long taffeta skirt, or black silk trousers. Can venture out slightly more edgy with a mid-century vintage dress, or modern full-skirted outfit. They promise me Miuccia Prada loves her a nerd girl. Even a fancy nerd girl, in satin. Ferragamo, via Arthur Berens. This store is one of my favorite resources for high-end classic shoes. Or just browsing when I’m

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How To Attend An Industry Conference In The Age Of Twitter, Or, The Lavish! Unconference

I am home from from the Lavish! conference, fortunate to have escaped the Great Atlanta Blizzard of 2010. Now that the flood of people and information has subsided, I ask myself, “What did it all mean?” As you know, I’ve attended more than my fair share of trade shows and conferences, hawking everything from industrial gases to software services. But that was before Twitter.* Before the Internet. At Lavish!, I learned that some of the tricks for getting the most out of a conference have changed, while others, in the words of Mr. Redding, remain the same. Let us review. But first let us look at some beautiful

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Extravagance, Economy, Endorphins With Privilege On A Femme D’un Certain Age

Good morning. Do you have your coffee? Tea? Wonderful. Today I invite you to join me chez Tish, she who writes the wonderful blog, A Femme d’Un Certain Age. I have a guest post there, the Privilege[d] Gift Guide, in which we discuss luxury, both imagined and real. It’s a list of what we might want were money no object, and what, in the world of fading family fortunes, can serve the same purpose. Please come visit. Merci mille fois, as Tish herself might say.

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So Many People Launching, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:05am EST

I’m sitting at a table in a hotel ballroom, drinking tea from a too-small cup by the light of a logo-rich slide. The Lavish! conference so far has been data-intensive, exciting, daunting, and plush. I am struck most of all by just how many people there are in the world. And how many of them are launching endeavors. We are not small so much as we are myriad. I find that quite cheering. Have a wonderful weekend.

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What Do Your Work Clothes Say When You Take Them To Dinner?

What should one wear to dinner in Manhattan? Especially when coming straight from the office? Ah. This is a moment with potential for communication or miscommunication, riddled by cultural and emotional signs. As it turns out, you can wear the same basic work uniform over and over, each time intimating something completely different. Take dinner with clients. What’s the goal here? What is your sub-text? Let me put some words in your mouth, if you don’t mind. “Hello dear clients. You are so valuable to us. Please give us more business. In order to facilitate the transfer of your money to my firm, I’d like to add social

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The Important Questions

I have a question. If it’s December, and it is, as the lone leaf and wintry sky below should prove, why is my rose bush doing this? I find myself both mystified and hopeful.

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Discovering Artists: Jamie of Cactus & Quail

Nowadays art comes in many forms. Used to be we made a) art for kings and gods b) art for farmers and hunters. Art for kings hung in churches and palaces, often coming to rest finally in museums. Art for the rest of us we wove into our home textiles and painted on our pottery. The development of a middle class threw the art world into an identity crisis from which it has never recovered. Now, museums are about the architecture more than the collection, home design has become so commoditized that the coolest chicks put wallpaper on refrigerators in an anti-design statement. However, I still believe in

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You Sturdy Huh, Or Saturday Morning at 8:04am

The way we look in the world is a matter of belief and intent. We can, if we want, determine our style. But we’ve got to take command. Otherwise the world looks us over, sees our disarray, makes an assessment, and hands us a card. Which we’re stuck with, for much longer than makes any sense at all. Here’s how I know. This week on Privilege I posted a picture of myself in a Prada dress, in part because several readers asked me to, in part because it’s a beautiful dress and I liked the way I looked, in part because it seemed only fair. At a certain

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The Privilege[d] Guide To Manhattan – Professional Edition

One month you storm Manhattan on an adventure, sleeping in boutique hotels, waking to wander the streets of Soho. Next time you might visit friends and family, camping out on a living room sofa. But sometimes, of course, you have to work. How to make the most of business travel? The top trick to compensate oneself is hospitality points. Probably the most generous program is Starwood Preferred Guest. SPG to its friends. Hotel brands included range from Sheraton Four Points to Westin and St. Regis. Although I am now for all intents and purposes unemployed I can remember the ways of a professional. And I can certainly use

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The Lavish! Unconference

And this is where I will be the weekend after next. Ta da! First blogging conference for Privilege. I realize, belatedly, that it would have been polite to make this announcement when I might have said, “Do come!” Unfortunately, the conference is now sold out. Fortunately, The Broke Socialite, who has put the the event together, says 2011 will be even better. So I will attend as advance scout, to report back to you all on whatever it is I learn, and whoever it is I meet. In case you also consider, on occasion, going to a blog conference, here are the parameters I used to make my

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New York Street Style – Eating Out Like A Local

What to wear to dinner in Manhattan? Do you worry? I might worry, a bit. New York is the center of fashion, after all, its citizens’ documented frequently in the Sartorialist, the New York Times, the New York Social Diary, and the like. All New Yorkers are stylish. Right? Not so much. Locals most often show up at restaurants dressed in exactly what they wore to work that morning. Who has the time to go home to change, or the will to leave home again once ensconced? Oh, the social crowd, they dress up of course. And the art crowd perhaps, although they’d never admit it. But one

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In Which We Apologize For Technical Difficulties

To one and all. I opened up WordPress to edit my post for today, as is my wont, only to find that said post had virtually disappeared. Oh, a few wayward strands of HTML remain, but they are insufficient to provide any amusement. My apologies. I will reconstruct and return. Later today, assuming I can harness my annoyance and use it as a productive nattering force. Discuss amongst yourselves. And if any of that discussion yields the whereabouts of a secret, “Press This And All Will Be Well” button, feel free to let me know.

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When You Cook Too Much Food For Thanksgiving, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:58am

This Thursday, 17 people came for Thanksgiving. We finally located the kitchen counter on Friday afternoon, as we dug out from under. 4 large pots and pans remain to be washed, and with that, we are done for another year. I tried very hard to keep my expectations low. I could not avoid, however, high hopes. The events as they played out in real life left me with some thoughts. And dishes, of course, but those are all now clean. What follows is a dishwasher for hopes. If you will pardon the sentimental metaphor. When You Cook Too Much Food For Thanksgiving And Other Life Lessons Keep your

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5 Pieces Of Jewelry For A Wishlist

The season of presents lies in wait, just around the corner of that large turkey in your refrigerator. What better time to browse some jewelry? There’s little so versatile as jewelry, the stuff of dreams, a tool of power, glitter in a monotone day. I have been known to procrastinate all kinds of important tasks, scrolling through pictures of jewels. Now, as you can see, if you take a quick peak at the right hand sidebar of this blog, Privilege has a sponsor. Beladora. Specializing in, unsurprisingly, estate jewelry. Let me quickly clarify the relationship, so that we can enjoy the images below, free of any nagging worry

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9 Tricks and Tips for A Generous Aristocratic Table, On A 2010 Budget

This year I’m hosting 17 people for Thanksgiving. Or 18.  Two more tables will be added to what you see above, causing our seating to extend out through the living room, almost to the windowed hallway in back.  In any case, the occasion will call for all the plates I own. Some will be gold-rimmed, from my father’s family. Some will be white, from Aunt Crate and Uncle Barrel. Somehow, the resultant table has to approximate, in my heart, the Thanksgivings of my family. I am attached to our traditions. Were I at my mother’s, we’d eat with Miessen and Tiffany. At my father’s, Quimper or something with

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It’s Been A Very Good Week, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:24am

It’s been a very good week. Your comments and stories on the giveaways were a treat. And I quote, “How I maintained my sanity on those evenings alone with my children when my country doctor husband was out? Set a nice table for the children and me with placemats, cloth napkins, silver and candles. Silver, after all, likes to be used and I was lucky enough to inherit settings for both daily and dinner party use. Turn on some terrific music and never, never, never eat standing up or out of a container.” (Katherine) “I was 15 at the time. My father had just lost his company, we

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Privilege Housewarming Party Giveaway Winners

The hostess is in her pyjamas. The night has come to its attenuated end and she lies, eyes closed, arm across her face, on the sofa. It was a wonderful party. As soon as her hand dropped, after the final wave at the final backs of her last friends in the late night snow, she ripped off her terribly smart cocktail dress and donned flannel PJs. Cocktail dresses always require wires. She has flung off discomfort with a last burst of enthusiasm. The dishes are rinsed. Those that did not fit in the dishwasher cover the counter. No matter. There’s time enough for more cleaning in the morning.

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The Party’s End Hovers, Night Darkens, We Review

Time to award the prizes in the Privilege Housewarming Party. Almost. Time for the guests to retrieve their coats and step out into the cold night. Almost. Let’s extend this, just until tomorrow, to make sure everyone has had time to enter. Let’s also review, to make sure you’ve entered as you wanted. First, we had table linens from The Preppy Princess. Even if you think you’re not in the mood for holiday placemats, beachy napkins, or preppy style, do take a look. Imagine the iPhone covers. Yup. A year ago I put together this Polyvore set, relying for the most part on The Princess’s goods. I have

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A Vintage Ferragamo Bag For The Final Housewarming Giveaway

I’m a one bag woman. Once I buy a new purse, the old is dead to me. No matter her glory, I move on. Which has created a little cohort of retirees, lined up wistfully in my closet. The final giveaway on the Privilege Housewarming Party brings one of those quiet soldiers back out to the parade grounds. My old, wait, I mean vintage, Ferragamo. Purchased, if I remember correctly, in the mid 90’s, and carried for 4-5 years. In those days most of my belongings were lugged around in a computer bag, so it’s in middling condition. Here it is. Very au courant, both minimalist and mid-century,

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Plus Size Au Courant, From Fashion To Figure

To this day, a post on Can A Plus Size Woman Dress High WASP? remains one of the most visited on Privilege. Which highlights a problem. What do I mean? If one were to be so bold, one might might say that High WASP style requires Appropriateness above all. I do not know a noun form for Appropriate. If one existed I would probably have to tattoo it on my hip where no one could see. However, I would know. It would help me to remember, when I forget. But I digress. It’s hard to find Appropriate for Plus Sizes. I plan to continue the quest. For today,

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The Elusive Fuller Skirt, From Shabby Apple

My search for a fuller skirt landed me at Prada, in San Francisco. This was perhaps a little over the top. As it turns out, one does not have to go all the way to Prada for that 1950’s look. Deja Pseu has been featuring some styles available for Spring here. And today, as our housewarming party continues, Privilege and the women’s clothing site, Shabby Apple, are giving away a dress. Shabby Apple specializes in dresses, but offer shoes, accessories, even bathing suits. Take a look. I’ll wait right here. As you can see, I recommend the white, twirlable skirt number above. As my mother would say, “Very

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Is There Wisdom, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:41am, EST

This morning I’m sitting on my daughter’s sofa in New Jersey. It’s a very nice day, and I can see blue sky out the window. I’ve been thinking about wisdom. And I rather wonder what it is. Some young women have said to me, in passing, in comments, “You are wise.” Let’s argue their case, as though it has merit. Let’s ignore any self-doubt I feel. It’s not useful right now. I always imagined wisdom as weighty. Involving perhaps a pervasive state of calm, for old souls who reach out and touch your shoulder, always at just the right moment. If so, I am not wise. I gesticulate.

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How To Smell Good On Fridays

A while back, I bought a bottle of perfume. Rose Oud, by Kilian. As it turns out, I quite like the stuff, and wear it most days. As I was finishing up at the Sak’s perfume counter, the saleswoman began loading me with samples of other By Kilian perfumes. Glass tube after glass tube. Which I couldn’t possibly wear or even try on, so overwhelming was the process of choosing Rose Oud to begin with. The samples remain unsampled. Today I am giving them all away. I’ll wrap everything up as nicely as I can and mail them off. Take a look at this old post, where you

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Some Funds Towards Whatever Your Heart Desires, from CSN Stores

And on to more prizes. The giving of presents is one of the ways High WASPs, ordinarily quite averse to visible abundance, indulge without remorse. When we were little, 4 kids in the family meant presents in heaps and mounds around a sparkly tree. Speaking of which, some present-intensive holidays are just around the corner. What better occasion for a $75 gift certificate from CSN Stores, the lodestar of ‘Buy whatever you like for whomever you fancy?’ They ask that I include a link to www.allcoffeetables.com, using the words ‘end table.’ That’s easy. I would like an end table, which I would in fact put into the hall

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The Preppy Princess Furnishes A Classic Table

As the Princess herself would say, hello-hello! While High WASPs may venture into fashionable territory when they shop for clothes, at home they are, well, at home. Which means a return to the classic, the striped, the navy blue. Along with navy’s dear friends, brick red, burnt yellow, and hunter green. We particularly like cloth tablemats and napkins. We like their reusability and the way they treat the earth. We like their texture, their look, their feel. We like the way they muffle the clatter of plates on a wooden table. The Preppy Princess, being one of the best, kindest, most responsible, most sincere examples of our ilk

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The Privilege[d] Housewarming Party

Ding-dong! Knock, knock! Oh, hello! So nice to see you. Let me take your coat and throw it on one of the kids’ beds. Don’t worry. They’re on the other side of the country. They won’t mind. Time for some housewarming presents. At this party, the presents are for you, my guests. We will be having a series of giveaways on Privilege. Six, to be precise. I believe in abundance. The first one will go up this afternoon, with the rest following one or two per day until we collapse, exhausted, on the sofa, and drink the last of the bottle of cognac, even though we know it

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In Which We Appreciate Our Surroundings

Well. Hello everyone. Here we are. If you’re on the blog itself, look around! If you’re in a feedreader, I invite you to come take a peek. So now what? Well, the rest of this week will be devoted to presents. That’s right, presents for you all as thanks for reading. A housewarming party from me to you. I’ve got five or six giveaways lined up, and I’ll put up one or two a day until we run out. More information to follow. Before we move on to presents, however, here’s a brief overview of the Privilege changes. First, you will see that everything is, well, more beautiful.

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The Time Comes For More Beautiful, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:00am

The time has come. My blog redesign is ready to see the light of day. The next time Privilege has anything to say, it will come from a far more beautiful space. I would love it if you continue to find us, read us, talk to us. I say us because while clearly I’m the Prime Natterer, Privilege[d] commenters set a high bar. As we used to say in the business world when we meant Do A Really Good Job. If you subscribe in an RSS feed, you should be migrated without a hitch. The same if you follow in the Google Follower widget. If you come directly

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What Matters Most About Manners?

It appears there’s some confusion about manners. Not only do people debate what are or are not “Good Manners,” they do so imprecisely. I cannot bear imprecise arguments. When one fails to define one’s terms, passionate discussions lead directly into a boggy swamp of opinions. No one advances beyond their own reactions. Let us then deconstruct “Manners,” with an eye towards understanding what, if anything, matters. I believe that most people want to have good manners. Of course, in the interest of precision, we must acknowledge that not everyone feels this way. Some are too overwhelmed by distress, or lack of resources. All their capacity absorbed by coping.

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What Shoes To Wear On An Airplane?

Note. These can be found at Nordstrom’s site. As I will be flying East in a week or two, I have to plan not only what I will wear during my visit, but also my airplane garb. I’m very much the Sturdy Gal in transit. Grandes Dames have their pashmina throws, Artsy Cousins meditate so it doesn’t matter what they wear, Sturdy Gals fly in black yoga pants, black tee, and a black down-lined jacket that can be taken off and on easily as one becomes over-heated dashing towards gates. Oh yes, and we like lots of pockets for passport, reading glasses, and cash to buy bottles of

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The Story About The Prada Peanut Cardigan And Her Friends

It turns out that my story about a Prada cardigan is really a story about a Prada dress. A classic, quirky, iconic, dress. Ever since the W. Magazine vs. Vogue smackdown I have been dreaming of full-skirted beauties. Mooning over the impact they’d have on my waist, my wasted decades, the yearning I have always felt and will always feel for Fashion. Even though I mostly wear navy blue. Sometimes Aerosoles. The dress above is from Miuccia Prada. Something wicked this way comes. But why would anyone currently optimizing jeans, khakis, and Target tees need that kind of clothing? They wouldn’t. I know that. I know that. But

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And By Their Hallowe’en Costumes Ye Shall Know Them, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:23am

Hallowe’en was a big deal in my family of origin. My mom went all out on the homemade costumes, her efforts peaking the year we 3 oldest kids were a mailbox, a pencil, and a letter to the Great Pumpkin. That’s a lot of poster board and Magic Markers. One could argue she spent so much time on this because of the 1950s ethos of motherhood. She didn’t work outside the house. Or one could reject one’s spoilsport tendencies and remember fun. So much fun. Besides, I carried her spirit into my own parenting. My best friend and I, her four kids, my two, would meet up at

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In Which I Explain

Oh yes. The final, and perhaps most important, High WASP emoticon, Translation: It’s been a heck of a few days. Up next week, the more complete story of a peanut Prada cardigan and other mischief. Have a wonderful weekend. We’re not there yet, but it’s coming.

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9 Emoticons For The High WASP

A reader wrote and mentioned, in passing, her wonderment at the excessive use of emoticons in Internet parlance today. She asked whether I had an opinion. I do. ;) Little emotion cartoons are an uncomfortable fit in the High WASP world. We still wish for the days when raised eyebrows sufficed. That said, one might imagine an entire lexicon of High WASP emoticons. If one had to. All of which would indicate, in essence, “I am not sure I should be saying this.” We would never use an emoticon to emphasize, only to mitigate. High WASPs live life in the subjunctive, as Tad Friend pointed out in Cheerful

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Goodbye Tomatoes, Hello Cranberries, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:42am

It’s turned a little chilly here, and we’ve even had some rain. Early for Northern California, rain in October. Overnight I’ve lost my fondness for tomatoes. I feel like, “Well, now that’s done. Time for the holidays.” Not that summer is a chore, but when it’s gone it’s gone. This year everyone comes to me for Thanksgiving. 16 including kids. Erk. I’m thrilled to pieces, if also a little nervous. I love to cram everyone into my small house, muster up extra tables, pull together a hodgepodge of tablecloths, china, glasses, silverware. Buy Brazil nuts, once a year. But I did use to be a better cook than

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5 Reasons To Go Hear Your Idol Speak In Person

Cathy Horyn, Fashion Critic of The New York Times, 10/20/2010 Yesterday, I attended an ‘open discussion’ with Cathy Horyn. I’m not one for attending speaking events. Yesterday reminded me I’m a dope. These things can be very, very valuable. 1. Revealed details bring the picture to life. The fashion industry is in upheaval at the moment, the role of a fashion writer changing. In the past, reportage of breaking news from exclusive foreign runways was funded by department store advertising. Then the Internet appeared, in all its image-laden glory. The advertising, well, it disappeared. Fashion writers now have to report either at a more complex and more opinionated

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What Do You Wear To Meet Your Idol?

What should one wear to hear Cathy Horyn, fashion reporter for The New York Times, speak at the Stanford University Humanities Center? Because that’s where I’m going today. In standard High WASP tradition, one would rather wither in obscurity than be seen trying. Better to settle for a cultural costume then to attempt Fashion. (One might wonder whether it’s not dreadfully tiring to use the pronoun one all the time. Yes. It is.) In my case, the cultural costume of Northern California High WASPs means Levi’s, white tee, new peanut-colored Prada cardigan, Ferragamo Varinas. The Varinas for a certain My-Aunt-Wore-Them je ne sais quoi. Oh, and oone tall,

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Stupas, Tigers, Disco Beats. India, 1982.

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. You can find the previous posts here. Today’s post follows on last Thursday’s far more immediately than usual because it is so much a part of the same story. This photo is to prove, only, that I was dressed appropriately for the company picnic. Just by existing I broke other Indian cultural rules but never dress if

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How You Know Your Children Have Grown, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:50am

My daughter is home. On a business trip. I remember, one morning when she was about 3 months old, I put her into the car seat. Then I walked around behind the car, got in, put my hands on the wheel, turned round to check, and realized she’d been watching me the whole time. She had very round blue eyes, and they’d been following me while I walked, as though she had finally figured out what mother meant. Then, at about 11 months, we put her in a small daycare two afternoons a week. I wasn’t working then, this was just for my general sanity. I had no

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Ardor, Red Dye, Foreign Girls. India, 1982.

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. You can find the previous posts here.   Politely watching snakes. With high-waisted pants and notebook. Fashion is cyclical, technology, linear. Having finished with Delhi, and the Taj Mahal, I took a train to Jhansi.  I was headed to Khajuraho, but had to overnight at the Jhansi train station to catch a bus in the morning.  A

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Finding Work You Love; Blog Awards

I was recently given the awards above, by two bloggers whom I admire. Why? Well they are nice, and authentic, and interesting, but for this purpose because they are working at what they love. The first award was from Delia Lloyd, at Real Delia. Delia writes for a living, at The New York Times and the Huffington Post, among others. Need I say more? My favorite posts are Wednesday Tips For Adulthood, while her Friday Reading links have provided me with some of my more edifying online experiences. The second was from Belle de Ville at Beverly Hills Branche. Belle, in her life beyond blogging, runs Beladora. If

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The 3rd Rule Of China Place Settings

Large Bowl – Swedish Royal Wedding Series “Wait!” you might protest, “Wait! What happened to Rules 1 and 2? Is there a Rule Number 4?” Never fear. Other rules exist. But they require research, time, thought. And some days you just want the frivolous cream, the cotton candy, the butter of life. Rule #3: There is room in your cupboard for a silly set of something. If it matches, well enough. Or contrasts, well enough, to whatever else you use. If it comes with memories, or sentiment, or humor, all the better. Extra points for crowns. Or ironic symbol of your choice. imagesme

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An Ordinary Privilege, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:29am

I went to my brother’s 50th birthday party last night. The group included artists, lawyers, professors, psychoanalysts, harp players, chess players, public health clinical trial experts, and at least one hedge fund guy. Many Burning Man fans in eclectic dress. All there to celebrate. Happy birthday, GMC, known by the family nickname that starts with a P. My brother took his time growing up, paradoxically arriving at 50 still a very young man. He will marry this year for the first time. Maybe it’s more accurate to say he took his time growing into himself, since he hasn’t lived an irresponsible, perpetual teenage life. He’s unusual. Followed his

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The Best Swimming Pool In Napa’s Wine Country

Imagine you have little time for a getaway. Let’s say, for example, you can spare one day and two nights. Let’s say you make your way to the Carneros Inn in Napa, California. You’d wake up here, to morning light and a newspaper in your mailbox.Then you’d amble up the hill for breakfast, pausing to watch early sun over the valley. Eat in the Hilltop Restaurant. When it’s not too hot, you can sit outside and keep gazing at the view and the best swimming pool in Napa. On really hot days, however, you’ll prefer to eat in here. Either way, you’re going to want a freshly-cooked, home-made,

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In Which We Discover That High WASPs Approach Perfume The Same Way They Approach Life. Intoxicated.

It turns out, oddly enough, that High WASPs take the same approach to perfume as they do to life. I know, I know, it sounds preposterous. Hear me out, if you would be so kind. 1. We mean well. Which sometimes drags on to the edge of politeness. But eventually we honor our commitments. A reader of Privilege wrote me back in December of 2009, asking me about High WASPs and perfume. Today, October 4th, 2010, I honor my commitment. A more revealing test of ‘better late than never’ we cannot imagine. Jessica, if you’re still out there, um, sorry. And here goes. 2. When we look back,

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The Master Craftsman’s Secrets For Buying, Maintaining, and Fixing Your Silver

Grande Dame Silver The winter holidays loom. Along with dreams of pumpkins, ghosts, turkeys, pies, Christmas lights, and menorah, come thoughts of polishing silver. Silver is surrounded by myths and misconceptions, like many luxury goods. All the better for exclusivity beyond cost alone. But there are people who know why not to put silver into dishwashers, and what you pay for when you buy sterling instead of silverplate. Recently, I interviewed Martin Biro, silversmith, of Biro & Sons. His family has been in silver for decades. I was happy to hear what Martin had to say. What To Know Before Buying Silver LPC: Let’s start with how to

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The Privilege[d] Guide to Packing for Bathing Suit Resorts

A mesh beach bag my sister found in Los Angeles. Transparent beach bags are good for a) sand release b) finding books, sunscreen and glasses. There’s an entire category of vacation places we might call “bathing suit” resorts. You know, the kind where days are passed by the side of a pool, a lake, or the ocean, and one’s bathing suit is rarely dry. I have often packed my bags for these occasions. It’s my favorite way to spend time off. Tory Burch beaded skirt, five gold bangles, the joys of a tank top, black jeweled sandals I’ve believe I’ve got this packing down to a science, or,

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In Which We Learn The True Story About Softball With The Kennedys

Recently, I told a story about my mother playing softball with the Kennedy family in Hyannisport, Massachusetts. The other day she called me to set me straight. As my mother remembers, there were two groups of young people on that part of the Cape, in the early 50’s. My mother hung with the crowd that lived a dangerous, hot-house life. Frequented piano bars. The Kennedy’s crew called them the “Pansies.” In return, my mother’s group called the Kennedy crew the “Barefoot Boys.” Because, I suppose, they ran wild and free. One year, the softball games between the Pansies and the Barefoot Boys went on all season. Came the

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Old Ladies In Bathing Suits, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:01am

Indian summer this week. Temperatures in the 90s. So yesterday we decided to go to Napa for a few days. Sit by a swimming pool, on a hillside. We leave tomorrow. I’m packing this morning, very happily. It’s not a cold climate, here by the San Francisco Bay. But it does get wet come winter. Ever since I turned 35 – perhaps 40, I don’t remember – I’ve had the sense that summer serves to dry out our bones. Gets in there and bakes the marrow empty. This is a climate where you are well-served to take your cues from the seasons. We do without air conditioning for

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How To Deliver A Difficult Ethical Message

Figure 1. The dead elephant. A reader, T., wrote in to explain that she had recently suffered through a situation which resulted in her leaving the practice of a health professional. As in, “Thank you very much, your services will no longer be required.” She asked, “To make a long story short, would you consider a post on the topic of ‘how to deliver an unpleasant ethical message?’” Unethical behavior, if not confronted, behaves like a dead elephant. Some of us line up in front smiling, others cross their arms, uncomfortable, in distress. How to speak up about the elephant? How do High WASPs do it? It’s not

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Discovering Artists: Anna Mavromatis, “Artists’ Books”

When my daughter was 2 we happened to spend New Year’s Eve in Rome. On the 3rd day, discussions were held about the next day’s plan. My daughter, from her spot on the floor, surrounded by preschooler play with small plastic figures, piped up. “No more churches! No more museums!” High WASPs like art. We collect it. We like museums. We drag our children to them, at very early ages. We are glad that all over this planet, and perhaps all over other worlds in other universes, people are addressing empty space. Art galleries, however, can be intimidating. The hush as you enter. The sound of your feet

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How To Dress Like A Million Bucks. For $31 Dollars

A couple of weeks ago I made a very trendy fashion haul. I went to Target. Someone in Target’s top management is wearing smartypants and sources goods that speak to most everyone. Their tees, in my experience, are top notch, albeit with a somewhat abbreviated lifespan. My haul cost all of $31. My family fortune, as I have said, is fading. My desire to turn myself out well, is not. Voilà. Merona gray and black striped Ultimate Tee, $13. Cowl-neck Mossimo Drapey tee, $10 (this exact version not online). A marinière. Some 70s style. I am telling you, we wore the heck out of cowl-necks in the 70s.

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Rituals In The Empty Day, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:00am

I’ve had a productive week. I managed to exercise, complete blogging projects, and deal with administrative and house issues that have been on my list for 6 months. Or longer. This was not easy. You might wonder, “Why? The woman is unemployed, her children are on the other side of the country. What on earth prevents her from living every day in a blaze of checklist glory?” Well, I find that with no absolute demands on my time, I have to create my own deadlines, my own structure, my own to-do list. And that’s tiring. The effort of talking myself into doing what I have to do wears

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The Privileges and Pitfalls of Traveling Abroad

This is a guest post by Barrie Davenport of Live Bold and Bloom. As you may remember, a while back I wrote a post for Barrie’s blog, about how to live boldly, even when you’re terrified. Since that day, Barrie’s blog has become a Big Deal. However, she has the good manners, even as a Big Deal, to return the favor and tell us a story. To wit, her recent trip to Marbella. If I were pitching it as a movie, I’d say Michelle Obama goes to Spain on a luxury vacation and meets the enraged friends of that flight attendant who took his job and shoved it.

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4 Favorite Minimalists

Having written about stuff just this morning, in the interest of civil and fair discussion I want to present the other side. I had thought to include these links in my previous post, but did not want to be arguing directly against people I like and respect. Here are my 4 favorite minimalists: Metscan. A personal blog on house and clothing by a Finnish woman of impeccable taste.A Gardener’s Cottage. A personal blog on house and garden, by a vegan.Stone Soup. 5-ingredient recipes, minimal fuss, beautiful blog design.Mnmlist. By Leo Babauta. The godfather of this current wave, I believe. Because I could always be wrong, and everyone has

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In Defense Of Stuff

I like my stuff. In fact, I’d have to admit I love it. It’s not a wild love, but it’s certainly a fond one. With some wistfulness thrown in for good measure. Right now there’s a wave of minimalism sweeping the land. As a backlash against the “Buy More, Buy Now, Buy Again” excess of our recent millennium, I approve. The recession has reminded us of important principles. As a backlash against pops of color, and shoes the shapes of aardvarks, and Accessories Are Your Savior, I also approve. Monochrome is a lovely design choice. But I do not believe there’s inherent virtue in the minimal. We’re advised

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How To Make A Delicious Girly Martini

Have you ever noticed how much testosterone surrounds the making of dry martinis? Why? James Bond? A man is made a man by slugging gin almost straight? Here’s the High WASP way. If you like gin, just drink it. We say, “I’ll have my gin now.” We don’t pretend to be doing anything else. I myself love a good martini. But I like it good and wet. Girly, if you will. I spent enough years in sales to feel quite comfortable with my testosterone levels, thank you very much. Here’s the thing. Girly martinis are much better for entertaining than the Sean Connery variety. We decorate our martinis

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Pictures Of You, Or, Saturday Morning At 10:27am

My son is back in New Jersey. My daughter and he went to the U.S. Open on Thursday night. Nadal vs. Verdasco. Had a great time. I texted to ask where they were sitting, thinking maybe I could spy them, up high in the stands. That’s the perspective of a mother, right there. Yes there’s a world-renowned sporting event, yeah the world’s #1 player is thwonking a little ball with a racquet, sure celebrities abound. Just show me my kids. As you can imagine, since they sat all the way up by the big live action screens, cameras might have scanned them, once. Not even my daughter’s red

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How Does It Feel To Share A Family Portraitist With The Kennedys?

Back in the 60’s, my mother had a portrait painted of her children. The three eldest, that is. I was 6, my sister 3, my brother 2. The painter tried several times to cover up my brother’s diaper, but couldn’t. The diaper stayed, my arm got tired, and my sister and now I fall about laughing about how, well, piggie she looked. She no longer looks one bit porcine, but she’s captured forever as, um, piggie. The eldest three children in the Privilege family of origin. c. 1962. Family portraits play an storied role in High WASP families. Especially since we didn’t have cameras back when. Local talent

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5 Good-Looking Products At 5 Very Nice Prices

Let’s talk about good taste. We know it’s not the same as money. Expensive tastelessness is everywhere. However, finding the inexpensive tasteful can take a little work. Advanced tasteful in particular. First level, raise-no-eyebrows style, like a plain white toaster, gray tee, or black and white photograph of your kids is pretty easy to come by. Hard to go wrong. But advanced tasteful relies on the elusive click of good design. Something in material, the shape, the color, or all of the above, makes you suck in your breath and say, “Nice.” These nice goods, when done in a distinctly Anglo-Saxon style, are what my mother calls “good-looking.”

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Labor Day Planting In the USA

Rudbeckia, coryx, coleus, alyssum Here’s to the work ethic. And days off. Hope everyone, American or not, has had a wonderful weekend. Previously: 4th of July

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An Asked Question Is Answered, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:00am

There remains one unfinished piece of business on Privilege. Several of you have asked me to talk about relationships, about marriage. And I haven’t. In fact I am divorced. I feel shame even to type those words, but it is the truth. I was married, for 20 years. Separated in 2006. In the world of divorces it wasn’t the best ever, nor was it the worst. I still live in the same house, my kids are doing well, the process was managed with as little visible drama as possible. And yet to think about the moment we announced our separation to the children still makes my eyes tear,

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Mid-Year Report and Brief Blog Vacation, Or Saturday Morning at 7:12am

Many years in the corporate world trained me to provide regular status reports. Writing this blog is a different sort of work environment. I have enormous latitude. You, my bosses, are very lenient, and smile affectionately as I wander these virtual halls, mug of tea in hand, stopping at your virtual cubicles, showing you my shoes, telling you about my children and my Aunt Priscilla’s wedding. I started Privilege in February of 2009. A year later, I asked you all to give me some direction via an online questionnaire. I thought now, 6 or so months later, was a good time for update on my responses to your

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A Brief List Of Some Very Good Looking Products

Somewhere my sisters are laughing. “Good looking” is my mother’s phrase. Mom’s got great taste, and if I could abstract out her theories I would. Would probably make millions. But for today, rather than talking about the how of good looking, let’s focus on the what. Sometimes, in style, you have to start with the details. For example.A weekender by Dash. In its favor we’ve got navy, stripes, luggage-colored leather, a classic shape. At least I think that’s what she’d say. The knowledge is deeply buried. $210. A crisp, highly shaped, white jacket from Jack Rogers. The same people who make sandals. Brisk, efficient, clean. There’s nothing like

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15 High WASP Practices For Growing And Using Tomatoes

1. Buy an organic seedling at your locally-owned nursery. You approve of capitalism, but prefer not to ravage the planet with the chemicals of agribusiness. 2. Plant said plant in your front yard. What? That’s where the sun is, that’s where the tomato plant is going, the neighbors will understand. And no, we don’t think it’s overly quirky. 3. Install simple drip irrigation. It’s very nice to rough it, and grow food, and all, but we’re not going to stand around with a watering can for days on end. Thank you very much. 4. Rebel against cages. Decide you are going to stake your tomato plant simply, with

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What I Believe Is Called A Smackdown, "W" Magazine vs. Vogue’s September Issue

Last Exit To Brooklyn, from “W” The fashion world recently suffered a management shakeup. Stefano Tonchi left the New York Times Style Magazine, often titled simply, “F,” to head up “W.” Are we, style-lovers of America, happy about the change? Use the handy scorecard below to decide. But first a brief aside. Will we all rush out and purchase the clothes in Mr. Tonichi’s new mag? Heck no. This stuff is expensive. But mid-tier retailers are watching carefully. The zeitgeist so skillfully evoked in September’s “W” will start to infiltrate J. Crew, and Anthropologie, and maybe even Talbots. Like smoke under the doors of closed rooms. You’re Busy,

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It’s Lipstick Time Everywhere, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:25am

This morning I am glad to be, sniffle by sniffle, recovering from 30 days of viruses. I have used up an entire Costco case of tissue boxes. Didn’t know that was possible and assumed they’d be out in my garage for all eternity. This morning I am also glad that you all read Privilege. And comment. And, apparently, take pictures. Here are some photos from readers, following our lipstick adventures of yesterday. From lauren, and her cuttlefish Flickr stream. Click through to see in larger format. A tribute to lip products and their implied special powers. ye old lip product daguerrotype From Emmaleigh504, on Yfrog (a Twitter photo

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The Truth Behind Women And Their Lipsticks

Some women buy a lot of lipsticks. Why? Is it necessary? Do we change our lip color every day? And what is up with that basket of lipsticks on the bathroom counter?Une Femme D’Un Certain Age recently reviewed her lipstick collection. Which got me thinking. Here’s the thing. I buy my lipsticks because they are magic. Little red wizards with convenient pop tops. I imagine I’m not alone. The Privileged[d] lipsticks of 2010. Most days a pair of colored lip balms. I have a drugstore pink version purported to contain grapeseed oil. I have a reddish Burt’s Bees Balm, which I’m told is absolutely fully of pomegranate something

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Ten Signs You May Have A High WASP Guest Room

Sign #1. You furnish your guest room in a patriotic color scheme. Especially when you live by the sea. Red, white, and blue are so nautical. Invest in matching bedding and some throw pillows as an inexpensive way to make everything look like it’s there on purpose. Sign #2. You purchase your guest room furniture from some place reputable, but you avoid family antiques and other treasures. Your guests would feel terrible if they broke something you care about. You would never want guests to feel badly. That’s the whole point of hospitality. Sign #3. You stock up on bathroom sundries. For some reason, everyone forgets razors and

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Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!

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The iPhone 4 Ad We’d Like To See

Apple’s been running a series of ads for the iPhone 4 video chat application called Facetime. In the ads several things happen. A young woman worries about her hair. A younger girl frets about her braces. A woman tells her husband they are going to be parents, a man shows his father the new granddaughter. The former executive in my blood boils. Of course wished-for motherhood and new grandchildren are wonderful. Life-affirming. But why do the only other options involve women obsessed and insecure about how we look? I thought the Android phones were supposed to target men. Doesn’t that leave iPhones for us? Here’s the ad I’d

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Family Extended, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:12am

In Santa Barbara, visiting my mother, briefly. The fog is thick in the mornings, burns off by afternoon. The hibiscus is past its height, but still beautiful. And the Pacific Ocean is blue, large, and anything but pacific. My stepfather has recovered from his January emergency. And in his recovery, is taking very good care of my mother. This comforts me. One of the best things about a family, in times when you are not in need of succor, is the way their rituals and existence extend your own. I feel larger when I’m with family. Safer, even in the absence of apparent danger. So, scrambled eggs in

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Can You Make Budget Black Tie Work? OK, Sort Of Budget?

There, on your hall table. The envelope. It’s thick, uniquely-shaped, of lustrous paper. Inside, an invitation. And there, somewhere near the R.S.V.P. sit the words, dreaded or welcome. Black Tie Requested. Now what? For movie stars, high-level socialites, and other red carpet denizens, time to call the stylist, buy a new outfit, or maybe remix an outfit from an overfull sparkly closet. For most of us, time to fret. We know that black tie usually means long dresses. You can get away with a cocktail dress, but if everyone else will be dropping their hems you may feel more comfortable following the party line. Few of us have

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When Brands Miss By A Quotation Mark

In this version of the famous commercial, Lowenbrau buddies go fishing. Then they eat steak Do you ever find yourself painfully aware that a brand has had you in its sights, fired, and missed? I remember, back in the late 1970’s, Lowenbrau beer ran a campaign featuring groups of young adult friends. They were usually gathering at someone’s house for a small party. Laughing, drinking, hanging out. Which was just what my friends and I did. Or wished we did, even if we didn’t. But then came the jingle. “Here’s to good friends, tonight is kind of special. Let it be Lowenbrau.” Right there we said to ourselves,

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Thistles With Hollandaise, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:05am

It’s August. In Northern California, by this time, everything looks a little frayed. Our rainless summers start to tell. Even though blue skies will last well into October, late summer is, to me, a time when when if we turned our heads a little bit faster we’d see the shadow of sad escaping. What was going up, descends. In some kind of parallel, I believe I’m in the late summer of my own life. But I feel less distress about aging, now that it’s happening, than I used to when I was young and my old age far away. It is what it is. It’s almost a comfort

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The Low-Down On High WASP Sunglasses

The Sturdy Gal, sporting Ray-Bans, on a boat in the Stockholm Archipelago. High WASPs do have their favorite sunglasses. Like IBM in the 1970s, no High WASP was ever fired for buying Ray-Ban. That’s me, up above. And yes, I did Photoshop out a wee bit of my frown lines. I have not yet achieved the nirvana of a vanity-free midlife. Full disclosure. But I digress. My middle sister wears Ray-Bans. And I did a Twitter poll of my preppy friends. While not all High WASPs are preppies, and not all preppies are High WASPs, in the sunglasses arena we’re pretty well aligned. Ray-Bans win in a landslide.

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What Makes A Lady?

When you hear someone called a “lady,” what comes to mind? A dignified woman? A prissy one? Does she wear pearls? Cross her legs? Is she someone you want as a friend? Someone you want to emulate? To avoid? “Lady” is a charged term. I know. Do We Care About “Ladies” Any More? Back when I wrote about wearing pearls, here, one of the Privilege[d] Anonymous wrote to say that I wasn’t one. Wasn’t a lady that is. “You are so WRONG! I just keep thinking you must be a fake because of the things your (sic) write about. Pearl studs and a simple strand of pears (sic)

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Would You Like To Plant Betty Draper’s Garden?

We know how Betty, Don and the gang dress. We’ve seen Betty’s interior design, her knotty-pine kitchen cabinets, console television, and hard-edged sofa. But how, we might wonder, did her garden grow? Little Sally Draper and I share a birthday, more or less. I remember what gardens looked like in her day, at least here in Northern California. Midcentury children played in well-behaved foliage and pink, white, and blue highly structured flowers. Not dissimilar to Joan and Betty’s dresses. Naked Ladies, also known, less colorfully, as Belladonna Lily. Agapanthus, known, somewhat more colorfully, as African Lily. Because so many houses were built all at once, gardens were laid

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Home Again Home Again, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:03am

My son is home from Argentina and Costa Rica. Where he had a phenomenal trip. Turns out that the privilege of higher education includes lots of opportunity to carouse. What happens in Princeton extends to Buenos Aires. I figured you’d want to know. This week my daughter turned 23. Which turned out to mean some celebration, some glitches, and a world class meltdown. Same as it ever was. My strongest feeling in the past few days has been of recognition. “Oh yes. I know this one.” My son, sitting on the sofa, head bent over a device of some sort. My daughter, crying and laughing at the same

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Should You Cringe When You Buy Steve Madden Brogues?

I bought some Steve Madden shoes this weekend, and cringed. Let’s blame a man with a microphone. It was the annual Nordstrom shoe sale. Complete with open boxes on the floor, empty display cases, and cut price footwear. The man with a microphone directed traffic. I usually hate sales. Too noisy, too much visual clutter, too much pressure to Buy Now. But I had been thinking about buying a pair of oxfords, having seen them in New York, and in magazines. To say nothing of feeling the breath of fall under the full heat of summer. So I bought these. And cringed. The Steve Madden brand is not

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LPC is at "Loving Nature’s Garden" Today

Today I’m at Alison Kerr’s blog, Loving Nature’s Garden. Writing about why you should get a cordless electric lawn mower like mine and taking pictures of my lawn. I love my mower as much as I love my granite counter tops. Please take a look. Thank you very much.

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Do You Know What Makes A Good Vacation Souvenir?

I have no souvenirs of my trip to Sweden. At least nothing purchased. I brought home photos, of course. It would have been hard not to, surrounded by such sights. Here’s a last one. The inlet, where my stepfamily docks their boats. The lack of goods isn’t completely my fault, or my virtue for that matter. There aren’t many stores on Ingmarso. However, when we visited Sandhamn I did buy a shirt for my daughter. Her birthday’s coming up. It’s white, tunic-style, with a criss-cross tie. I gave it to her while we were there. I thought about this shirt too, given the label. Some things follow you

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Do Mysterious Baltic Organisms Cause Sore Throats, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:36am

You all have asked me, “Are you glad to be home?” And the answer is, yes. Not glad to be done with vacationing in the Stockholm Archipelago. That was addictive, and one twitches a little on backing off from addiction. But certainly happy in my little ranch house, with the fading family fortune, a Pottery Barn sofa and my wildly growing herb garden. Happy with the little set of rituals I live by. I think almost everyone is glad to be home, when it happens. True home. The only thing is that I have had a terrible sore throat. So bad I couldn’t even drink tea. I don’t

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The Rapture Of A Northern Maritime

There were no berries this year, on Ingmarsö. We traded them in, apparently, for sun. Day after day of sun. No rain means few berries, and the ones that do grow are small and dry. Even the moss on the rocks was crisp. I arrived Monday morning, and was at the mainland harbor by midday. Clouds briefly overhead. We took a boat to my stepfamily’s house Some time, not too long after we arrived, the sun began to set. I watched from the steps. Eventually some darkness. Even in the long days of Swedish summer it gets dark eventually. My youngest sister and her family arrived later that

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What Everybody Ought To Know About Real Swedish Home Style

To some, Swedish home style means something like these below. Seats? I’m not sure. The Grandes Dames among us might dream more grandly. Maybe of Swedish gilt. In fact, as lived, Swedish home design is above all endearing. Made for smiling. Some things are fuzzy, some anthropomorphic. White for dark winters, and color for long summers – woven, or bended, or carved. But little seems to be made without thought, or placed without care. The Swedish interiors I have experienced are places of comfort. Where each detail warms your heart. Sort of like one long wedding, of family to itself. Even in summer, when the interior is, well,

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12 Critically Important Travel Notes

My uniform of black yoga pants, black tee, black pumas + LV and diamond studs usually works fine for travel. A shortage of water for laundry on the island meant I wore a white tee on this return trip. Not so good. I was almost saved by orange Havianas. Not quite. Some airports you have to take your shoes off, some you don’t. The ones where you do it’s bad to wear flip flops. It’s good to have Purell. Just pour it on said flip flops after you have walked with naked toes across that icky floor. Insert feet. The Stockholm airport deposits you right into the center

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Whilst In Sweden; We Have A Meme For July

A couple of memes. One, “Ten Things I Love,” from Juleps and Jon Jons. She’s a newish blogger, from down south. Please go say hi to her, if you have a minute. The other meme, seen in questions below, came from Hostess of the Humble Bungalow, a blogger of our certain age, as we say. Please say hi to her too, if you would be so kind. 1. What Experience Most Shaped You And Why? (That You Love) My little conflation leads me here. The sentence, “That you love,” becomes the answer. Learning to love, whoever and however, has shaped me. Because if we aren’t who and what

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Whilst In Sweden; The Daily Brainstorm Launches

I would like to announce the launch of The Daily Brainstorm. Says Barrie Davenport, editor-in-chief, “The Daily Brainstorm is an aggregate blog with some of the best bloggers on the internet, focusing on helping people have a more meaningful, passionate and interesting life.” The Daily Brainstorm was founded by Mary Jaksch (of Goodlife Zen, Write to Done, and the A-List Blogging Bootcamps & Blogger Club) and Geri Langlois, who is the technology genius behind the venture. Barrie Davenport (of Live Bold and Bloom) is the Editor-in-Chief and Katie Tallo (of Momentum Gathering) the Managing Editor. I met this group via the A-List Blogger Club. Somehow they found the

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Whilst In Sweden; The Sturdy Gal Wears

No little black dresses over here. Of course my sisters and I had to confer to make sure that was really OK. Feels a little naked for High WASPs to travel without a way to dress for dinner. Sense prevailed. Here’s as dressed up as I will be. New metallic orange Havianas. A new belt. Which I’m pretending is Artsy. Do not break my heart and tell me otherwise. Khakis. Diamond studs, I mean, I’m only going to have one pair of earrings for goodness sake. And L.L. Bean chambray. I had to buy a man’s shirt. The women’s weren’t classic enough. And then, of course, it was

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Packing Strategies For Midlife, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:46am

Up early. Time to pack. I like packing, as long as I have enough time. My strategy is to put everything out the day before I go. That allows me to survey the territory (otherwise known as look at stacks and stacks of my stuff), and consider. When I have time to look, I usually get it right. When I hurry, I almost always get it wrong. Younger, I bulled ahead, charging, horns lowered, shoulders working. What I lacked in finesse or foresight I made up for in stamina and quick reflexes. Now I know I have to see things to think about them. It’s hard to see

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Vacation Far Away From The Modern World, Or, The Stockholm Archipelago

Have you ever wanted to take a vacation from 2010? To step into an Ingmar Bergman landscape, especially a happy one? How do you feel about granite beaches, wide skies, wild berries? Consider the Stockholm Archipelago. On Sunday I’m off to spend a week in Sweden. This time, unlike the visit to Belgium, I’m surprising no one. Hence this preview. My stepfather, my mother, my sisters and their families, my daughter, and my stepfather’s children and grandchildren, are all converging on my stepfather’s summer house. Or, as I think they call it in Sweden, the sommarstuga. On an island called Ingmarso. This trip, we will shop only for

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The Sturdy Gal Dreams Of A Grand Resort, v.2011

In recent weeks the fashion industry has been showing its Resort collections. High WASPs love resorts. They are places of tennis, sand, and alcohol. What’s not to like? We aren’t sure, however, what the point is of Resort collections, shown in the summer, and not available until 2011. We think it’s an “industry thing,” which makes us think of commerce, which makes us have to lie down. As long as we are lying down, we will look at the clothes. Good news. There’s something for everyone.* The Sturdy Gal, Artsy Cousin, and Grande Dame can all participate in what the fashion pundits have deemed a “2011 Resort trend.”

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Email Invitations Take The Next Step Toward Good Manners

**Note – I’m not responding to comments any more today because Blogger keeps eating what I write:(. See you tomorrow. This long weekend my family celebrated 3 events. Dinner with my brother and his fiancee, the first time we siblings have seen the pair since their engagement. Fourth of July. Beloved Big Nephew’s 10th birthday. It was a festive couple of days. In an odd harmonic convergence – we’re big on those in California – last Tuesday I got a note from Jill of Paperless Post. She asked if I would write something about their email invitations. Not a sponsored post request, just, would I write something, please?

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Smalls, Swimming, Swinging, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:23am

My youngest sister is in town. With her husband and 3 kids aged almost-10, 8, and 3-and-a-half. Which means I spent yesterday, for the most part, in contact with babyflesh. Oh yay. I had forgotten how it feels when smalls cuddle up to you, engrossed in something you show them. When you’re just the safe seat, the what to lean against. How they breathe all soft. Then we played in the pool. I’d also forgotten what a workout little kids can be. (Not forgotten in the mists of time – one never forgets the work of childrearing. Just hadn’t needed to remember lately.) I swung my little nephew

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The Joy Of Local Boutiques, And A San Francisco Designer

I found my standalone top. Or, shall we say, a standalone top. Now that I’ve found one I realize I may need a few more. So useful for a life lived in jeans, when no jacket is required but one has too much midlife stomach to set free upon an unsuspecting world. What’s more, it’s sourced, as Faux Fuchsia might say, from a local boutique. Not my midlife stomach, mind you, I found that on the highway of life. Or it found me. We don’t know. The top I sourced here. M A C stands in this case for Modern Appealing Clothing. The boutique, in the neighborhood known

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The Best Shampoo And Conditioner Ever

I’ve been washing my own hair for over 40 years. And this is the best line of shampoo and conditioner I’ve ever found. It’s for colored hair, ostensibly, but I’d use it even if I were going gentle into that dark gray. Why? Smells good. Lavender, rose, mint. Feels good, slip to the fingers, bubbles galore. Works well, (to use good again would be parallel, but incorrect) soft, shiny, bouncy, dreamy hair. I switch between the moisturizing, voluminizing, and “essential repair” products. No sulfates. Drawback? Yes. Not cheap. But absolutely delicious, should you want to wash your hair in the near future. Oh, and only the “essential repair”

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Breaking News – The New York Times Agrees

A link from a reader, to Professor Noah Feldman of Harvard, in the New York Times. Unlike almost every other dominant ethnic, racial or religious group in world history, white Protestants have ceded their socioeconomic power by hewing voluntarily to the values of merit and inclusion, values now shared broadly by Americans of different backgrounds. The decline of the Protestant elite is actually its greatest triumph. (The Triumphant Decline of the WASP, New York Times, June 28, 2010) If that isn’t some of what we’re trying to say around here, I will eat my Princeton Reunion hat. Excessive tigers and all. Thank you, Professor Feldman. Thank you very

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How To Plant A Cottage Garden That Feels Bigger Than It Is

I have a little cottage garden. A little cottage garden surrounding a little ranch house built when Silicon Valley was still a twinkle in Fairchild’s eye. When the neighborhood was little. Which it is not any more. But I digress. In Northern California coastal regions, a cottage garden hedges its bets by including drought-tolerant grasses amongst the hydrangea, and relying on Mediterranean flora for inspiration. A High WASP, fading family fortune to blame, may hedge some additional bets, relying on camera angles to suggest the grandeur of her childhood homes. But she will tell you in advance. You deserve that much. So here’s how to plant a cottage

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Bugs Do Not Belong On Upholstery, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:08am

Yesterday I was sitting on my sofa. It is from Pottery Barn, but that’s besides the point. I could see the right hand sofa arm out of the corner of my eye. Up crawled a silverfish. Right onto the peanut-colored faux suede. I am reasonably sane about bugs – not all the way to wise maybe, but sane. However, that crawling silverfish was too much. We all have our limits. Bugs on upholstery is one of mine. I know you’ve got yours. Sometimes life is profound and sometimes, I think, it just isn’t. Have a wonderful weekend.

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Movie Stars, Marble, A Sitar Player. India, 1982.

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. You can find the previous posts here. This story has no pictures. Even at 25, I knew not to take pictures of movie stars in their houses. And this is a story with movie stars. In Delhi I continued to research the film industry. One day I went to a movie theater. I saw a Bollywood version

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How, And Why, To Plant A Cottage Garden Anywhere On Earth

I have a proposition for you, one which I do not expect to be controversial. Here goes. Gardens are wonderful. My High WASP cohort is with me on this one. We do love a garden. And our genre of choice is the English cottage. At home we are not prone to formal plantings of colored annuals, spelling out our monograms. Nor to singular shrubs, lonely, disciplined, labeled. Nor to wallpaper plants, i.e., 60 sad impatiens in a row, advancing before 23 well-behaved azaleas, flanking 7 uniform hydrangeas. While our vacation houses might get a little fanciful – topiaries, follies, the crunch of French gravel paths – at home

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News From Around The Blogosphere

Just a few bits and pieces I thought you all might like to know. Or, in the case of La Belette Rouge’s move to her new URL, http://www.labeletterouge.com, need to know. La Belette is a psychotherapist and writer. She writes about her thoughts, her experiences, her therapy, her self. And she does it in a very original voice. If you wondered where she went, she’s here now. La Belette Rouge. If you’ve never read her, please take a look. If you wondered where I was yesterday, when I wasn’t on Reggie Darling, all has been remedied and I am here, with photos of tiger-infested garments and thoughts about

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Guest Post: Reggie of "Reggie Darling" On His Yale 25th Reunion

Today we have the honor, and privilege, of a guest post from Reggie Darling. Reggie writes one of my favorite blogs on design and hospitality, providing tips on how to be a gracious host, a well-behaved guest, as well an absolutely fabulous array of inspirational home design photos. He and Boy Fenwick, his husband, scour the East Coast for antiques. Boy photographs their finds, and their weekend house in upstate New York, gracefully and compellingly. In short, every time I read his blog I wish either to visit him or own all his stuff. Today, Reggie’s writing about his 25th Reunion at Yale. Since he and I agreed

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Have A Lovely Weekend, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:47am

We have gray sky this morning. High and light rather than low and dark, but still, gray. This makes the peach roses out my kitchen window more vivid, and the pink hydrangeas in my back yard surprising, and bright. Here in the US, it’s Father’s Day tomorrow. Some of us kids will go up to my dad’s house and get fed and enjoy the day and kiss him on the cheek as we leave. I could elaborate, but I might get sappy. And we certainly can’t have that. I wish you all a wonderful weekend. I thank you all so much for reading. I’d dive into concepts of

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LPC is At "Live Bold & Bloom" Today

Today I am at Live Bold & Bloom, writing about, How To Live Boldly When You Are Scared As Heck. Something I may understand, for a change. Barrie, the blog’s author and a career and life coach, did me the honor of asking for a guest post. She and I did a workshop with Leo Babauta and Mary Jaksch on blogging. It was a very good experience. So please take a look at Barrie’s blog, if you would. One caution – I rely on my life story for this post, and I have told these details before. My apologies. If I could invent a new life to have

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How To Get "Tunic" Arms

In our recent discussion of the hunt for tunics, many of you commiserated with my desire to stop sucking in my stomach. “Enough already,” we said. “We just want to breathe as nature intended.” However, many of you also expressed concern over revealing your arms. I believe I have found a solution. And, now that you have had a moment to reconstitute yourself from the puddle of laughter into which I threw you, so unceremoniously, let me confirm. Yes. That is a ShakeWeight. Celebrated on infomercials, so beloved by Ellen DeGeneres that she has made it a recurrent meme on her afternoon television show, and rife with opportunity

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Should Your Kids Really Send Thank You Notes?

Crane notecards. For when I run out of the dragonflies I’m using now. I have a confession to make. Despite my efforts – sleepless nights, Legos embedded in the soles of my feet, the times I reminded myself to say yes instead of no – in one significant way I failed as a mother. (Probably more than one, but this is all I’m ready to confess.) I never made my kids write thank you notes. Why? Because I hated doing it myself. Because my mother was a good mother, and she made me write what seems like hundreds. There was a formula. First you had to say, “Thank

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Hunting For An Elusive Item Of Clothing – The Standalone Top

In the days when I worked, my wardrobe was easy to put together. Set. Wardrobe X = [(tees x jackets) + Armani pants = formal work] + [(tees x jackets) + nice jeans = casual work] + casual jeans + house trashwear + exercise gear + little black dress. (Not to mention the old ball gown waiting in the back of closet for some imaginary event). Now that I’m mostly at home, well, let’s see. Wardrobe Y = [yoga pants x tops = in house and actual yoga] + [casual jeans & khakis x tees = can leave the house at least] + nice jeans + even nicer

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Sports Spectaculars And Motherhood, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:10am

It’s World Cup time. South Africa tied Mexico yesterday – no small feat. Meanwhile, the NBA Championship just finished Game 4 of 7. Los Angeles Lakers vs. the Boston Celtics. Two storied teams from large cities on opposite sides of the country. And all this just reminds me of my son. Equivalently, I cannot hear the word ballet, or even see a tall, flexible young woman teach yoga, without thinking of my daughter. I’m not sad. Although I miss my children, it’s not a constant feeling. But once kids get all up in your rib cage, or you bring them home from weeks spent with a birth mother,

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Things That Come In Threes

Queen Bee Swain tagged me for some 3s. She is one to watch, and young, and full of fire, so I do what she says. A. Three names I go by: Lisa Mom Old Horse B. Three places I’ve lived: Cambridge, MA (I was born there, while my father was finishing his Ph.D.) London, England (Worked in theater administration, 1979.) Glenmore, PA (Air Products and Chemicals. My address started out, “Rural Drop.” Amish families sold their pies at the local convenience store.) C. Three of my idols:I don’t idolize anyone. I’m too old. Nobody’s perfect. I’m certainly not perfect but I’m all I’ve got to work with. So

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We Have A Winner! (Omelette Pan Edition)

As usual, your comments were wonderful. Omelette memories appear, for the most part, to be fond ones. Whether made on honeymoon for Barbara: for a husband by rb and Lori; by a husband for Blog Angel a.k.a. Joella, suburban prep, Class factotum and Queen of Cashmere; by a boyfriend for Victoria; by mom for Staircase Witch, Jennifer, Belle on Heels, JAW, minerrva, and lisa; by someone else’s French mom for Booklady; as a mom by Town and Country Mom; by dad for Maggie, Anne, and palais; by a beloved teacher for cdclaycomb; for oneself as did Alice and Faux Fuchsia; at a college diner for Austyn or a

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Brutal Pearls And Subtle Bright Red Lipstick; The Power Of An Oxymoron

“Cool” fashion usually involves tension of one sort or another. The wearer has enough force of character, or enough vision, to carry off a union of unmatching goods. Combining patterns, textures, or “high-low” elements. While cool isn’t a dominant High WASP trait, some style archetypes are cooler than others. The Grande Dame wears a messy bun with her red satin ballgown. The Artsy Cousin mixes ikat, madras, and pearls. The Sturdy Cousin, well, if she’s cool it’s usually inadvertent. She buys a mariniere t-shirt while biking through Normandy, and upon her return to the US she finds it’s an overnight fashion sensation. But, as a Sturdy Gal myself,

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How To Have A Good Mood Day, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:48am

On any given day, there is almost nothing I have to do. I’m not working. The nest is empty. You’d think, as I did when I was busy with work or children or both, that this life is paradise. Uh, no. I’m not complaining, mind you. But it turns out happiness isn’t just about not getting bossed around. Not just about removing external demands on your time. Because you are always subject to the demands of your self. And the self can be a pretty persnickety master. Some days I am giddy and happy, almost all day long. Some days I am nagged by little jabs of distress,

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Would You Like To Win A Copper-Clad Omelette Pan?

It’s time for another giveaway.The fine folks at CSN Stores got in touch with me. CSN has all sort of online shops – they supplied the Rowallan jewelry keep last year. The company also sells mattresses, garden furniture, and things like TV stands. They appear to do almost no marketing, except this bit where they contact bloggers and offer to give goods away. It’s an interesting business model, were I still in the business of business models. But I digress. This giveaway also boasts a harmonic convergence of epic proportions. In this case, a reader request for my simple spinach and goat cheese omelette recipe, and recent forays

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One Small Purchase In Paris

I did make one purchase in Paris. Two oven mitts and a dish towel. Or, as my best friend calls them, a tea towel. Her parents are British. Many terms linger. That first night, as we wandered waiting for Les Mauvais Garcons to let us in, (never to be but nevermind), we stumbled upon an Olivier Des Forges store on Rue Rivoli. We were lured by a knit linen throw. I know, doesn’t it sound fabulous? All rough texture and nubbly bliss. But it cost something like 200 euros and the fading family fortune wasn’t up for an expensive blanket. The saleswoman pressed on, however, giving us an

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Memorial Day In The United States

“As Americans commemorate Memorial Day, the culture has come a long way in celebrating the warriors, whatever one thinks of the war.” Human societies, despite our enviable enthusiasms, despite the processes we establish and the sheer amount of stuff we make, are just not perfect. Not even close. War, poverty, disease, oppression. Don’t worry, I know that’s not wisdom. It’s just context. Because I believe in my heart that each person is perfect in their nature, and should be cared for in life, and mourned at death. No matter ideology, we can remember those who died in battle, those who mourn them at home, and those who return

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The Green Hills Of Wiltshire, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:24am

I am in terribly good spirits. It’s supposed to be sunny this weekend. In Northern California, by this time, we’ve usually entered a season of uninterrupted blue skies. But it’s been raining when we would have expected sun. I plan to go to the nursery and buy herbs to plant. I am sure I am too late but I don’t care at all. I like the process of walking the just-watered paths of nurseries before the sun is overhead, laying newspaper in the back of my dowdy RAV4 to carry home my plants, and pulling on new gloves. Maybe flowered ones. Sturdy Gals like to garden above all

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Why Do They Call Paris "The City Of Light?"

Why do they call Paris the “City of Light?” All cities have light. And dark, for that matter. Another look at the neon signs and people on a 5eme Arondissement street at midnight. I have a theory. I believe that we may shut down our perceiving faculties in the face of too much beauty. Paris is unrelentingly beautiful. It’s only when the light changes that we actually see, provoked by surprise. The city reveals itself, particularly. Apparently the real answer is that Paris was the first place to adopt street lighting. Well. So they say. Sunday morning I was intent on showing my friend the Sainte Chapelle. We

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Eating In Paris Is Not Like Eating In Other Places. Some People Talk To You, Some People Don’t.

For those of us who like to feel we’ve snagged the best of the best, eating in Paris can cause Street Fair Anxiety. You know the street fair fear of Not Finding The Best, or, Settling For The Not So Good? Wandering from booth to booth not knowing where to stop? Oh. Maybe it’s just me. In any case, a similar feeling can accompany trying to figure out where to eat in Paris. There are so many good places. Great places. And yet the awful lurks. If Paris offered only mediocre food, we’d feel no anxiety. Just grit our group esophagus and bear it. But how to plan

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LPC Is At "A Practical Wedding" Today, Part 2

I am back at A Practical Wedding today for the second and final installation on mothers-in-law. As always, the comments are as insightful as anything I might say. If not more. In a few minutes, my post on eating Paris will also be up. Good thing I like my whole wheat bean and cheese burrito lunches or I’d be sad, sad, sad right about now.

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LPC Is At "A Practical Wedding" Today

To anyone making their way here from A Practical Wedding, hello. If you’d like to know what we’re on about, I hope the list of best of Privilege on the sidebar is useful. Welcome. To all of us regulars, I’m at Meg’s place today. Meg is an admirable young woman, smart, brave, sassy. People like her are why us older women are almost glad to have endured our earlier career indignities. Meg runs a great blog/site on weddings, of the sort wanted by independent brides. And she did me the honor of asking me to write something about mothers-in-law. Which, of course, I have approached from the perspective

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Shopping And Style-Spotting On the Rive Droite. Including What To Wear When You Wash Your Car.

It appears, after all, that chic in Paris isn’t all that different from chic in New York City. If my limited-data observations are correct, globalization is upon us. The fashionable crews of of Manhattan have their Parisienne doppelgangers. Or the other way around. Dishevelment rules the hipster crowd, which I experienced, granted, only in the Marais, but still. Girls wear mini-skirts with volume, or tunics and leggings. Color. Stripes in unexpected places. The mariniere makes a statement, with puffed sleeves for that required hipster touch of irony. In the non-artsy crowd, young, beautiful, and tall women wear black and shiny everything, with white for accent. Impeccable shoes, either

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Jet Lag Is The Devil, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:27am

It’s Saturday. I returned from Europe Tuesday night. I’m still jet-lagged. Jet lag is the devil, whispering dark thoughts in one’s ear and blowing smoke into one’s heart. It’s almost like losing a self, what with inexplicable surges of appetite, energy, despair, irritability. What with not knowing what you can begin or finish. What with the compelling pull of naps at odd hours and consciousness at 1:30am. You might think I’m exaggerating. I grant you that. But the way I felt this week took me back to when my kids were babies waking me up in the night to nurse, or just to see me and hear my

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The Privilege[d] Guide To Paris (for not too many euros…)

In case we were at all confused about the city in question:). My trip to Belgium and Paris was a surprise. This meant that I did not have time to gather all of your suggestions in advance. My best friend prefers the spontaneous. This meant that I was not sure what we were going to do until we did it. I’ll post the trip report, as it actually happened, next week. But you all gave me some great ideas, and I didn’t want them wasted. After all, some of you out there might be on your way and looking for trusted suggestions. Or, you might like to click

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Antwerp Fashion, Real And Imagined

Antwerpen Centraal. A train station. A beautiful train station. From the era of decorative iron.  Thursday, my friend and I traveled from her small town in Belgium into Antwerp. Antwerp has a cathedral. Antwerp also observes Ascension Day by closing all its stores. Hmm. I saw the cathedral. Beautiful. Hung with an exhibition of Pieter Paul Rubens* paintings. More beautiful. I also saw the outside of the Dries Van Noten store, at Nationalestraat 16. Also beautiful. I thought all Dries Van Noten clothes looked like this. Like Antwerp weather. Neutral. Functional. A certain austere beauty. Well, Mr. Van Noten has evolved. Jakarta meets Palm Springs. I bet Jonathan

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Returned.

Back. Uneventful flights, except for the spillage of warm nuts in my lap on the Chicago – San Francisco leg. More words and some pictures to follow. If only jet lag didn’t make me feel like I’m on a on a perpetually shifting and not-too-well-captained boat. Oh well, small price to pay for seeing best friends, Belgian greenery, and Parisienne, um, Paris. Talk to you soon.

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Volcanoes

And I went to the airport, and my flight was canceled, and I got a new flight for tomorrow that avoids the UK, and I took a train back to my friend’s house, and I ate some more chocolate and a ravioli that her son was having for lunch, and that, my friends, was that.

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The 4th Decade Of Visiting Paris, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:02am CEST

The first time I came to Paris I was 18. Almost 19, given, but still 18. On my first visit I walked the streets grinning and thrilled. But in those days I was afraid a lot. It was like walking on the side of a steep mountain – at any moment I might fall down an invisible slope. At 53 I’m not afraid any more. Not that I’m anything special – it comes with age. A benefit available to all. On the other hand, fear has been replaced with a tendency to dither. I caught my thumb in the catch of my cheap umbrella, and found myself at

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I’m In Belgium. No Kidding.

Yesterday I flew from California to Belgium. Hello. From Belgium. My best friend turns 50 Saturday. She lives here. Her husband decided to fly me out for a surprise visit. San Francisco, May 11, 5:30am. Philadelphia, May 11, 4:30pm. Did you know they have rocking chairs in the Philadelphia airport? I did not rock. Brussels, Belgium, May 12, 9:00am. Gateway to Europe. Small Town, Belgium, May 12, 1:00pm Apparently bread is Very Important here. We are planning a trip to Antwerp, and then Paris for one day. Home Monday. Extended coverage to come. Now must wander around delirious with jet lag until dinner and bed. Hope you are

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How To Build A High WASP Collection Of Thingamabobs For Your House

Doesn’t the TV stand wheel in the background add a certain je ne sais quoi? A certain ironic reflection of the snuff bottle’s non-sphere? Can you tell I was talking literary theory with my son yesterday? Bwahahahahaha. This’ll show him not to get his mom going. High WASP houses always have a collection of something or other, somewhere. One way to make this happen is to inherit a group of thingamabobs, put together by a family member, and passed on. These thingamabobs might be works of great value, but that’s besides the point. Another way is to set out on the hunt yourself, again, for works of great

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What Moms Like Best, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:07am

My daughter came home for Mother’s Day. Flew all the way from New Jersey to California. Happy mom. Thank you daughter. Son is working hard in college. Happy mom. Thank you son. I wish all of you a happy day of mothers, in whatever way that means something to you. I’m having breakfast at my kitchen counter, waiting for the familiar sound of my daughter’s bedroom door opening, and the familiar sound of her bare feet on our wood floor.

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15 Ways To Experience The Best Possible Makeup Purchase In The Whole World

Wander into a department store, cash in your pocket. Endure torture at the hands of a tall Russian makeup artist. Buy new makeup you don’t need. Tell your friends. Gain courage. (Known impolitely, but colorfully, as grow a pair.) Storm back into Saks, tell Chanel counter lady every detail of your torture and return the cosmetics. Storm with dignity. When she says, with a look of disdain, “You didn’t have to tell me all that,” reply, with impunity, “Oh, but I thought you should know.” Take your store credit and walk past every makeup counter, slowly. Explain to everyone you are looking for purple eyeshadow but that you

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Where To Shop If You Have Only 1 Day In Manhattan?

It’s possible to spend a week shopping in New York City. Heck, it’s possible to spend a entire life shopping there. But what if you have only a very short time? In that case, I recommend you head straight to Broome Street. Broome Street? Broome Street? Not 5th Avenue? Not Madison Avenue? Not the Lower East Side or the Upper West Side? Yes, Broome Street. In Soho. Where I recently spent only an hour and still came away full of retail endorphins at minimal cost. Sunday I had a flight out of JFK. The long weekend was coming to a close. Time for one quick foray. And I

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The Night I Wore My Louboutins To The Mark Hotel Bar

Saturday night I wore my Louboutin Simple 70s to the bar at the Mark Hotel. 77th and Park. To a certain extent, that sentence says all that needs to be said. But it’s pretty dense, as a communication, so let me deconstruct. I lived in Manhattan from 1979 through 1984. I was young, in my mid-20’s. Besieged with all the doubts of that age, and then some, I could buy the right clothes, I could look pretty good. I never felt cool. Once a Japanese newspaper took my picture for an article on the best-dressed women in business school. I’m serious. But I was quite simply too thin-skinned,

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On The Tyranny Of The Cosmetics Counter, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:00am

I have red, swollen, chafed, eyelids. And I blame it on my High WASP upbringing. As I have said before, my ilk live in deeply ingrained fear of behaving “inappropriately.” Now, this doesn’t mean acting in a “ladylike” manner per se. The full definition of “appropriate” would require terabytes of data storage, since it’s replete with “If/Thens.” More fully described, “If this is true, then that is appropriate. If this other thing is true, then that other thing is also appropriate.” The problem is that we don’t always know, even we who wrote the sometimes silly code, just which behavior applies where. And occasionally we make mistakes with

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New York City Street Style, For Walking And Wearing

We took several walks, in Manhattan. The first night, we walked back to the Crosby Hotel from Momofuku Noodle Bar.* I kept getting turned around, which required consulting my iPhone GPS and muttering. Finally my daughter thoughtfully, um, “released” the phone from my grasp and ran off on a scouting expedition. We found our way. The second day, we walked through the Museum of Modern Art, often known as MOMA. If you walk through the 5th floor, at the end of the 19th century, and then on down to the 4th floor, through to 1970, you will see the entire sorry and hopeful process of mankind attempting to

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A Review Of The Crosby Street Hotel, And Some Budget Alternatives

One of the most important things to plan when visiting New York is, “Which hotel?” No rocket science that. But there are so many of them. So many hotels. And they are often terribly expensive. So, here, for your reading pleasure, is a review of the Crosby Street Hotel, where I stayed last weekend for 3 nights. It certainly qualifies as expensive, since rooms start at around $500/night, but I also have a few budget alternatives in my pocket to share. Remember, the family fortune is dwindling, and sometimes one’s job does not prefer to put one up at 5-star venues. The Crosby Street Hotel is owned by

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Yes, I Do Know It’s Tuesday

Sole purchases – a street vendor scarf and a pair of glasses from the MOMA I got back from New York Sunday night. Today is Tuesday. The plane from JFK was delayed two hours, so I arrived home past midnight. Yesterday, Monday, I had to stare into space. Stare into space and look at my rather random and sparse photographs. Turns out that one can’t put New York City into a lightbox and move its parts around like shoes. “Hey, you, you massive office building, could you please shove on over next to that tree?” And, although the Sartorialist and Tish Jett have figured out how to ask

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Spring Comes To Manhattan, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:12am EST

A few Manhattan thoughts of profound import. 1. The sky has been so blue this weekend we might have been in the countryside.2. The Crosby Street Hotel has friendly service.3. Food is a good thing.4. Loved ones are a good thing.5. My feet are intact but aware of their long journeying.6. People here are wearing floral prints. And scarves.7. The skinny jeans with flats phenomenon is nowhere near done.8. New York has great taxis and a legendary subway.9. You can see the work of laborers – bricklayers, welders, masons – everywhere. No pre-fabrication.10. The sheer number of people is mitigated by neighborhoods.11. Yes, I mean this. In the

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10% Discount And Ciao Bella!

Paula asked about my blog schedule, given that I am off to New York. She also asked if I’d be visiting Tiffany & Co., or Iradj Moini. Oh Iradj, those are some outrageous, luscious big gems. But I digress. I plan to check in here Saturday morning to write the usual whatever-comes-into-my-head-that’s-not-embarrassing-or-maybe-only-a-little-embarrassing claptrap. I should be back to posting by Monday, or Tuesday if the Xanax-induced hangover from Sunday’s flight is too hideous. Have I explained that I’m afraid of flying? Yes. Well. That. In any case, on a final note of thanks to all, Margaret from NaraCamicieSF has this to say. In pink. Because that’s her style

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How Sturdy Gals Do Cool In New York

I’m off to New York tomorrow. So excited. I spent much of my 20s in Manhattan. I always love going back. But it feels a little bit like returning to a high school reunion. A slight frisson of, am I cool enough? Or, in my case, at all? Sturdy Gals are not natively cool. Competent, yes. Loyal, yes. Cool, not so much. But we are learners. And I studied Manhattan for 5 straight years. I have a strategy, for the city I nominate as one of the 5 Top Coolest Cities In The Universe. It might be Number 1, except I’ve never been to Tokyo or Berlin. And

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We Have A Winner!

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. Small slip of paper, please…. Wait. First I wanted to take a minute to thank you for your stories. They were lovely. 69 people told us about clothes they loved, or how they would wear the pictured blouses. Let me mention a few, although I am tempted to simply repost every single one. From the class factotum, who wrote about a nightgown her mother made her, “a mother’s love, tangled up in blue,” to AgathaMChristie’s grandmother’s turquoise sequinned top, to the Stafford Wife taking a pashmina as a security blanket on airplanes, to Walking Barefoot, writing about the robes she wore

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The Happy Path, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:58am

I want to thank you all for your help. Last Saturday, when I posted my question, on what to do about choosing a college major and how to sustain oneself in the early years, I was not sure if it was a good idea. But over 75 people answered in the comment section, and a few more sent me emails. Thank you. Your stories and opinions have helped me build a framework in which to have a better attitude, and therefore a better discussion with my son. Thank you. If I think back to everything you wrote, here’s my analysis. Some young people have a clear early path.

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The True Reason To Buy Designer Shoes

Happy Friday everyone. I wanted to remind you about the NaraCamicie giveaway. I’ll be drawing the name of the winner end of day on Monday. The prize is a $175 gift certificate against any purchase from the store. Doesn’t just have to be my particular favorites:). So if you’re interested, comment here. I also wanted to show you these. Very, very special designer heel taps. They came with the new shoes. Kind of makes it all worthwhile, don’t you think? Have a wonderful weekend.

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Do We Buy Christian Louboutin For Design Or For The Brand?

Smooooooth….Little Black Dress by High WASP featuring Christian Louboutin shoes Remember this? I don’t mean to be coy so let me explain. It’s a Polyvore imagining how I would wear a new Narciso Rodriguez little black dress. Turns out I wasn’t kidding. You see, I’m going to New York at the end of next week. To visit my kids, stay in a new hotel, wander through the city looking. (All those dressed up people walking on rough sidewalks past windows.) During said trip, it’s possible that I will need to wear my little black dress. It’s possible that ever since I acquired said little black dress that I

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9 Pillows That Add A High WASP Touch To Your Sofa, Or Chaise Longue

It has come to my attention that High WASPs believe throw pillows to be a critical component of house decor. That with a naked sofa, or chaise longue, you just haven’t finished decorating. Luckily, should you be inspired to try High WASP decor in your house (for reasons known only to yourself), nifty pillows these days are easily come by. That did not use to be the case. Interior designers were required, with mysterious swatches. Terracotta chenille squares, flecked with blue, strewn across the floor. Although the ultimate luxury is to have a skilled human being directing your pillow implementation, one can now, if necessary, do without. I

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Would You Like To Win A Fab Shirt From NaraCamicie SF?

Well guess what? We have another giveaway today. I feel like a kid. Giveaways are not too common here on Privilege, as I don’t feel right giving away anything I don’t know that I want myself. But this time, the prize is a very generous gift certificate from the NaraCamicie store in San Francisco, for $175.00. Yes. Generous. If you all remember, NaraCamicie is where I found this shirt. Which I love and have already worn repeatedly. Here are some bad pictures that I took of other shirts in the store. Also some pocket squares. Cute, no? A Jackie O, ’60s sort of vibe going on Color… Crisp,

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Parental Worries About Children Making A Living, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:59am

I believe I may have reached a place in my parenting where I do not know what to do. Which is not to say that I’m in a state of anxiety, or a tizzy, or a panic. Only that my children are growing up, and reaching places in their lives where their experience will diverge from mine. Without direct knowledge, I have to research, I have to ask questions, I have to gather information. I’m thinking maybe you all can help. I know many of you are in your early, or not so early-twenties. Thank you in advance. My son is a sophomore in college. At Princeton, as

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What To Wear For Your Second Wedding

My mother married my stepfather in the early 80’s. They held their small wedding, family only, at the chapel at Columbia University, where I was in the middle of my MBA studies. It’s a beautiful place. They held the reception at the Junior League in New York. Another beautiful place. And my mother wore a Chanel shirtdress. Extra beautiful. Which still hangs in the upstairs storage closet in Santa Barbara. It was, unsurprisingly, peach. We shopped for dresses together, mom and all three sisters. At some point we tried on Zandra Rhodes dresses, and laughed so hard we fell over. One sister found a dress that she now

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At "Already Pretty," Subversive Style

Today I am at Already Pretty, explaining my tricks on how to dress with originality even in conservative workplaces. With photos of red shoes and Issey Miyake blouses. Already Pretty is the brainchild, and heartchild, I’d say if I were Northern Californian (oh wait, I am), of Sally McGraw. It’s an oasis of positive body image and very original, exuberant style. She’s also one of the more genuine people I have found in the blogosphere and I’m honored that she accepted my idea for this guest post. I hope to see you there.

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A Vintage Color Analysis, For A Woman Of Style

My mother has Style. Very classic, but with a twist, and a clear sense of color. In fact, she had her colors, “done” back in 1980. This weekend she presented me with an historical artifact. Foxed and faded as old documents often are. If I bring my mother to mind, there’s always peach in the vicinity. Although I can’t say I’ve ever seen her in peach lace, exactly. Apparently, this color typing system, in which you are cast as a season, had been around even longer than I knew. And is that a Liberty print? Copyright, 1963. However, choosing colors to wear is not just about which hues

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Awards and Happiness

I have been awarded membership in the Preppy Mafia by Preppy 101 at All Things Southern and Preppy and the fabulous Beth Dunn at Social Climbers, given the Beautiful Blogger Award by A Basement, and directed to list 10 things that make me happy by Our Friend Faux Fuchsia. Thank you all very much. I have always wanted to put together my own identity, not to have to accept one cut from someone else’s whole cloth. So to be included by a gracious Southern preppy mother of the bride, a Main Line socialite who discusses her riding hobby and her anxiety attacks in the same breath, a lesbian

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Some Bunny Special, Or, Saturday Morning at 5:49am

My daughter called me. Giggling. “Mama, I got the cookie. And the card says, ‘Your mom thinks you’re some bunny special.’” I explained to her that I had won the cookie from a giveaway on Pink Martini’s site. That Pink Martini makes these cookies and decorates them herself. How cute they are. That no, I had not suddenly gained skills to do this kind of thing. That Pink Martini, being a mom herself, had volunteered to make 2 cookies, although I’d only won one, just so that neither of my children felt left out. We talked about what the cookie looked like, how it had a pearl necklace

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And Stately Boulevards Precede Us. India, 1982

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. You can find the previous posts here. I came into Delhi unannounced. I wrote, I expected Delhi to be different. I expected to arrive and find Paris waiting for me. I expected New York City taxi drivers all lined up with air-conditioned cabs and digital meters. Instead I got India. “Hellomadamrickshawscooterhotel? Noproblem20%nightcharge.” A kindly old gentleman offers

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Sturdy Gals Evolve To Artsy Cousins, Or, A Review of The Season Of Second Chances

The Season of Second ChancesBy Diane Meier (Henry Holt & Co.; pages; $25.00) Books for women have a storied history. From Jane Austen, to Georgette Heyer, to countless supermarket novels with heroines named Arabella, or, on another track, from Jane Austen, (the metaphorical head of this Amazon) to Erica Jong, with a mystical detour through Alice Hoffman, and on to a grittier Barbara Kingsolver. By women’s books I don’t mean books with heroines, per se. Some of the great books of the last couple of years, Home and Olive Kitteridge to mention a couple, are not what I call women’s books, despite their heroines. A genuine women’s book

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Color Strategies For The Nervous Among Us

Above, my closet. You may notice, I don’t particularly like to wear color. Why won’t the world just won’t give up trying to make me do it anyway? Here’s what Poppy Buxom* says, Think about it. Black washes everyone out. It makes them look sad. That’s why it’s the traditional color for mourning. It makes you look so terrible that even if you aren’t all that upset at the death of your mother-in-law, you can put on a good show. Who wears black clothes and no makeup? Nuns. The rest of us have to wear a full face of spackle to overcome the effect of the black. I

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5 Things High WASPs Like About Yoga And 5 Things They Don’t

Like Class is apt to start on time No one yells or speaks out of turn The clothing is so dignified It’s a centuries old tradition The brief moment of good will towards yourself and all mankind. Even the universe. Dislike Sweating Grunting Sweating Having to let on that you are trying Happy Baby pose* Image:Nola House Of Yoga*It’s the dignity thing. Why the toes?

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Spring, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:19am

We don’t have dramatic Springs here in Northern California. Since we haven’t been blanketed by snow, no, “Oh my god! A crocus!” moments for us. Here it just rains in the winter. Hills turn green. We warm up a bit, come spring, and everything grows furiously. Eventually, summer. When the sky and sun take over, burning most things once green to brown. Fall feels only like summer wears out. Finally it starts to rain again for the next winter. In any case, although we’ve had lots of hints, I only knew for sure it was spring when I realized I’ve gotten used to closing a tree branch in

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Occasion For Questionable Taste In Objets

When I was in college, my Great-Aunt Priscilla and Uncle Bill lived about an hour away. In New Jersey. They had no children, and treated me like a refugee. Which, having moved from Northern California of the early ’70s to a newly co-ed Princeton University, I probably was. They’d show me upstairs to the little room where I slept. I would nap until dinner. We ate High WASP food of the era. Mostly grey, except the vegetables. I believe they once served canned fruit cocktail for dessert. I ate it. Then we’d retire to the library to watch Mary Tyler Moore. They let me have the good spot

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What Makes An "Extraordinary" Piece Of Clothing Extraordinary? It’s Personal.

Do you ever see a piece of clothing and know, on the spot, that you want it badly? And if so, do you buy or pass it by? And either way, how do you feel afterwards? I was in San Francisco on Saturday, walking down Sutter Street, when I spied a store full of shirts. Different shirts. Unique shirts. Possibly extraordinary shirts. It was a standalone shop selling NaraCamicie, apparently an Italian shirt line. I’d tell you how they position themselves, but all I can decipher from the Italian website and Facebook page is that they have been around since 1984 and are now entering the USA to,

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How Do High WASPs Differ From WASPs?

A shot glass from my mother’s family. It says, “A Thimble Full.” We have to drink a lot of scotch, but with decorum. How do High WASPs differ from WASPs? Well, WASP is simply an acronym for White. Anglo-Saxon. Protestant. No more, no less. However, in America, the broad term WASP is often used to mean a smaller, more specifically defined socio-economic group. n other words, the word WASP is made flesh by daily life characteristics, rather than the root cause/socio-economic background. By gin and tonics, red pants, and an Ivy League degree, rather than history, anthropology, psychology. Which drives me nuts. Since my family falls into the

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Decorating Your Beach House, Or Your Lake House, With Pillows

Recently I won a pillow. From Pink Oyster Designs, via Maya at Daily Vitamin Sea. Thank you Maya, thank you Pink Oyster. Isn’t winning wonderful? I entered because I found the initialed pillow she offered to be quite classic, and summer house-ish. I like initials. Probably all that early training in monograms. High WASPs do like their monograms. (I like summer too, which is icumen-in round here.) These are also pillows-in-good-conscience, as they are made from recycled sails. High WASPs like a good conscience, these days. After I found out I had won, but before any choosing of letters, my stepfather got sick. He’s a long time sailor,

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On The Ground Retail With Style Statements And Cheerful Prep At Target

Liberty of London isn’t all Target USA* has to offer for spring shopping. Last Sunday my daughter and I found some other pretty useful stuff. And, if not useful to us, surely useful to someone. A brief aside. I suffered from the usual large store shell shock upon entrance, and spent some erratic moments flitting from Liberty print to Liberty print, like a moth drawn to polyester flowered flame. However, upon recovering from the visual intoxication, we found some cardigans. Argyle with a twist, in colors bright enough to flirt with disrespect for the hallowed Scottish pattern. Mostly cotton. Cute as the proverbial button. This one made its

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Sunday At Dad’s House, In The Water Feature

On Sunday, after shopping in the morning, we went up and had lunch at my father’s house. The day was beautiful – blue sky, oak trees, lizards running between rocks. My stepmother made soup for lunch. We sat and ate in the breakfast nook. As in many houses with formal dining rooms, it’s common in High WASP houses to have a place to sit and eat in the kitchen. Blue and white is a common color scheme, with yellow, or red, as accent. Those are photos of the grandchildren, and the dog, on the cabinets in the back. After lunch, we went and sat in the hot tub.

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On The Ground Retail With Liberty Of London At Target

If you are young, like fashion and its trends, enjoy color and a bargain, do not read this post. Go to Target right now. If you prefer to window shop before buying, here’s what my daughter and I saw Sunday morning at a Target here in the San Francisco Bay Area. The collection of women’s clothing by Liberty of London, version Target. Our first reaction was, “Ooh, cute!” The collaboration is about the prints, as you can imagine, in their 1960’s England Swings Like A Pendulum Do version. A little bit Peter Max-ish. Made in China, of polyester, but they did a pretty nice job of serving up

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Homecomings, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:34am

On Saturday mornings I take the liberty to write about whatever comes into my noggin. My mother always said noggin to mean head. I don’t know why. This morning, I am thinking that both my children are coming home today. One is in the air now, the other will be soon. I hate airplanes. My fingers are crossed, the house is clean enough, there is food in the refrigerator. To have both kids together will be such a joy. All that juicy baby flesh, grown up. I still have to clench my teeth, when I think of my children, to guard against biting them. My sisters have the

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The Basics Of Basics; How To Build A Weekend Wardrobe

One way to dress with style is to build a wardrobe from nifty pieces, accessorizing with flair. Or, you can focus carefully on basic, fundamental, quality of even the most casual clothing. Optimize a uniform, if you will. Let’s look at the weekend, shall we? Given that another one is just around the corner? I live in black tees. But black tees are a dime a dozen. What makes this basic better than any other black tee, and why has it found its way into my weekend uniform? A wardrobe based on basics, if you will, has to do a few things absolutely right. Define the desired silhouette

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At Lilly Lovers

I am also at Lilly Lovers today. I respond to Anonymous, who asked what to wear to a baby shower in winter, given that she wanted to stay true to her brand. My apologies for not answering until today. If any of you ever see me evincing bad manners, a quick hard stare in my direction is appropriate.

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Patterns, Prints, And General Pickiness

What kind of prints do High WASPs wear? Prints, mind you. We aren’t talking seersucker, madras, gingham, or plaids, which should be woven into the fabric. Funny you should ask. I thought about this for a long time. For the most part, prints make us nervous. By definition, prints have something going on. Which might lead inexorably to attracting attention. Which might cause terrible shame at having Put Oneself Forward. But let’s assume that psychoanalytic tradition has inspired the modern High WASP to break out. Get a little bit wild. Extensive analysis reveals that we dress in shirts that look like men’s ties. However, the answer to why

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Can A Plus Size Woman Dress High WASP?

If finding clothes to support a High WASP style can be difficult for all of us, it is even more frustrating for those in plus sizes. High WASP clothing style is characterized by respect for the social context, clean lines, classic proportions, high quality materials, and subtle, original details. Plus size fashion? Not so much. But Queen Victoria, who ushered in the era of the High WASP in America, was herself plus size. We cannot let an entire segment of the deserving populace go unserved. Those who wish to follow this aesthetic should be allowed to do so. However, I can say that all I wish, and if

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Awards, Of The Bloggish Sort.

I received three blog awards recently, Sugar Doll, Beautiful Blogger, and Sunshine. Thank you so much. As it turns out, they were from three bloggers I read regularly. As it also turns out, all these bloggers live outside the USA. I never expected that blogging would teach me, at 53, new things about the world. In retrospect, was I stupid? That is said with a smile. Of course. We are always stupid in one way or another. In the 6th decade, one learns to regard many flaws with affection. So. I received the awards from: A Femme D’Un Certain AgeMany of you know Tish already. If not, allez-y,

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The Music Of A To Do List, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:44am

If you wonder if someone is human, check to see if they have a To Do list. Key symptom of humanity. My list is long and noisy. I swear it plays music. Mostly to the beat of, “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” Not particularly friendly. Reassuring, on those days when my sense of self is more tenuous, but there’s a price to be paid for structure. (I wonder if animals have To Do lists? Bees, beavers, ants certainly build structures. Mother lions and elephants have babies to care for. Caribou migrate. Do they make mental lists? We may never know. But I digress.) I believe it would be hard to

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What I Have Been Doing Wrong With Skincare. I Will Do Better.

Above you see much what of I’ve been using for skin care. I plan to keep on with some of it, but also make some changes, given what I now understand. Here’s what I have done wrong, and what right, in making my choices to date. Wrong1. Get taken in by a saleswoman, albeit one good enough to found her own company2. Fail to understand the (complicated!) biology behind skin care3. Let my fear of chemicals trump proven research Right1. Use peptides for collagen restoration2. Follow my nose to lavender3. Get sensible about the cost of scented body lotion4. Find the strongest sun screen I can stand to

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The Sturdy Gal’s Short List Of Skin Care To-Dos

Skin care can be confusing. In part, the industry wants us to stay confused so we continue to buy. In part, scientists are out there searching for the pot of gold. We are left bewildered by faraway cries of, “Gold, gold!” as they run from rainbow to rainbow, lab coats flapping. Not surprisingly, High WASP women traditionally follow skin care regimes according to archetype. This used to be simpler. Grandes Dames bought Christian Dior, or Elizabeth Arden, silver-lidded jars from the department store where they shopped. My mother was on Team Saks, consumer loyalty to be taken as seriously as Pepsi vs. Coke. Artsy Cousins loved Dr. Bronner’s

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Why I Didn’t Buy The Gorgeous Chanel Jacket

I read, on the blog Rock the Silver, a post distinguishing between Hunter and Gatherer shoppers. Hunting means searching for a certain item, with focus. Gathering, means, well, gathering. Whatever you happen to find. How about you? I find that some things I hunt, other things I gather. Take, for example, shopping and hair days. This Saturday, I went to San Francisco to get highlights and a haircut, browse (the modern word for gathering) Gumps for pearls and Murano glass, and hunt for khakis. On my way up Highway 101, I got the call that my guy had called in sick. Too late to turn around. I could

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Hair Time, Or, Saturday Morning at 7:43am

On my way to San Francisco for haircut and highlights. I always had an idea that when I was an old lady I would wear my hair gray and short. Must not be time yet. Still going for blond and shoulder length. Not ready to give up swinging it over my shoulder, the general girlishness. Not quite yet. I love my hair guy. I will sit in his chair and we will gossip and he will tell me outrageous stories. Which will prompt me to say outrageous things and laugh too loudly. At the point where we sense others are looking at us out of the sides of

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Survey Says…

The title is cheesy? What? I watched Family Feud too. Once I was allowed, that is, to turn on the television by myself. In the old days, High WASPs suspected TV was an acolyte of the devil. We were perhaps correct. But I digress. Thank you all so much for taking the survey I put up on SurveyMonkey earlier this week. I appreciate your time, your consideration, your thoughts, very much. Let me give you the executive summary. In bullet points. Executives like bullets. As of this morning, I have received 299 responses. I captured the screen shots below yesterday afternoon, when I had received 289 responses –

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Do We Care At All About The September Issue?

The September Issue, a documentary on Anna Wintour, editor of Vogue USA, is now available via Netflix and cable providers. In light of Jane’s post here yesterday on New York Fashion Week, and Deja Pseu’s musings, I wondered what you all thought about the movie. For those who have not seen it, The September Issue revolves around: An industry which speaks first and foremost to itself. Creative and unpredictable talent. An imperious CEO. Not unlike software. Except the clothing. Not a lot of fabric in the software business. But I digress. Most noticeably, The September Issue reminds you how much the top of the fashion industry is about

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Guest Post: Simple + Pretty’s Top Ten from NY Fashion Week

We are lucky to have a guest post today from Jane at simple + pretty. She writes the blog for fun, and because she loves fashion and pretty paper. Every time Fashion Weeks come along, I find I like what she highlights. This season it occurred to me to ask her to give us her take on High WASP style for NYFW 2010. She graciously agreed. But first, can we briefly talk fashion shows? Fashion weeks, even? Let’s be clear. For us regular folks, who aren’t models, and don’t have trunks of clothes to follow us on our private planes, or a different visible social engagement every night,

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Lilly Cheers The Winter Olympics

Today I am at Lilly Lovers. Where Miss Lilly dashes off to watch the Winter Olympics on a wide screen TV. (I like writing this “Lilly…with a twist” series because it is as close as I am ever likely to get to fiction. Everything I say here is as true as I can make it. Everything I say there is pure fantasy. And it’s fun, experiencing fiction, with a character who wants to tell her own story. Silly as it is, it’s fun because it’s not mine, and therefore is invented new every time. To say nothing of the interesting puzzle of relying on one and only one

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Helping To Set 2010 Direction For Privilege With A Short Survey

I have a favor to ask. Not that you don’t do enough for me already, what with reading my posts, commenting, even sending emails. I’m thinking about how to evolve Privilege going forward. Looks like I don’t want to give it up. The experiment took. But since it isn’t Privilege without you all, I thought I’d ask your opinion. About things like topics. And, well, um, capitalism. I made a survey. I will keep it active through Friday of this week. I was unable to keep my tongue out of my cheek, but the questions are all valid and of real concern. If you’ve got 5-10 minutes, I

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What I Learned Most Of All, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:19am

When I got back from the stress and confusion of my stepfather’s near-death, I dropped my bag on the counter, my keys in their dish, and called both my kids. I told them that most of all I had learned that I want an authentic relationship with them. That I need to be able to hear what they feel and tell them the same in return. That I will work towards this myself. That nothing they could tell me would cause my destruction. As a young mother, with young kids, authentic means responding to their needs as best you can. As an older mother, with grown kids, authentic

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All The Working Days Of Navy Blue

I’ve worn a lot of navy over the years. Especially at work. I’m blonde and blue-eyed so I look best in blues. And pinks, but pink would have been troublesome at work. Although I did wear a killer, blindingly pink, linen blazer during my first pregnancy. But I digress. Navy. The meaning and story of navy. I went to business school in the early 1980s, having previously worked for a) Cameron Mackintosh Productions in London b) Circle Repertory Theater in New York c) a consulting company run by a former McKinsey partner who used primal therapy techniques in corporate strategy sessions. This is all true. Upon graduation, I

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What Shoes Can I Wear With Navy Blue?

Like most bloggers, I track my search terms. Guess what’s most common? The meaning of life? Just kidding. Shoes. “What color shoes should I wear with navy blue?” Let us consider why it’s harder to decide what shoes to wear with navy than, say, with gray, or forest green, or burnt umber. Here’s what I think. Women have heard that there’s a rule against black. I am here to conclude, definitively, you can wear black shoes with navy clothing. How did the no black shoe myth get started? I looked around. No trace of origin to be found. I considered. Is it like white shoes after Labor Day,

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The Best Minimal-Prep, Little-Clean Dish For 3 Days Of Eating Alone

Raw chicken is scary. But I like the cooked kind. Much as I love a perfect cashmere sweater, we can’t live on style alone. Turns out we have to eat. And there comes a time for almost all of us when we will be eating alone for a few days. Maybe you’re single and living alone, in a week where the usual diversions haven’t materialized. Maybe you’re coupled, but your partner is traveling out of town for the week. Of if you’re divorced, your children are with the other parent. Grandes Dames may dine out in solo majesty. Order take in from the best restaurants in town. Artsy

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Vintage Simple on Design*Sponge!

Do you all remember Maria from Vintage Simple? She did a guest post here at my request, in which she imagined a possible space for me? Ravishing beautiful. Guess what. Her house is featured on Design*Sponge today. Go take a look. While you’re at it, if you feel so inclined, congratulate her. She’s not only talented, she’s nice. And polite. Worth celebrating. Go Maria. You rock.

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Blog Awards, More Valentine’s Day, Chinese New Year, And Thank You

I have been remiss in acknowledging blog awards. The trip to Santa Barbara to take care of my stepfather put me behind. I’m gradually catching up. I’m going to bend the rules a little (tisk, tisk, tisk), but remember, we’re aiming for eccentric in another decade or two. The Preppy Princess gave me the Beautiful Blogger award, Town and Country Mom the Sunshine Award, and Alanna at Sparkles Of Life the Over The Top Award. Here’s a Valentine for all of you. I didn’t even have to get my fingers sticky. And thanks. I appreciate you thinking of me. Thank You For The Blog Awards! by High WASP

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Valentine’s Day In Midlife, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:15am

It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I hope each and everyone of you enjoys yourself, in whatever way makes you happiest. In a moment of madness I signed up for a swap, organized by Amanda of first milk. Her blog is poetic, childlike rather than childish, and full of wonderful photos. She even went to Paris. I blame the madness on Paris. We were supposed to send 1) A present 2) A small thingie, maybe something sweet 3) An actual Valentine. The photo above, (which I have already shown to Twitter, so apologies for the reiteration), is the carnage which resulted in my house. Let me say only that fine

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What To Wear At A Garden Wedding When You Are The Mother Of A Groom

MJ asked me a wonderful question in yesterday’s Garden Party comments, “Do you have any suggestions for the mother of the groom at a garden wedding?” Well. First of all, congratulations. The human spirit rises for a wedding. I wish you and your son all the best. And now for what to wear. Weddings are the purest single ritual we are likely to experience. Style serves clearly as a handmaiden to culture. But cultural expectations spill into style, as they will, bringing anxiety. To say nothing of the most hideous garments known to mankind. Can you say boat-necked, beige, polyester satin, topped with dolman sleeves of crocheted lace?

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What To Wear To A Garden Party? Because Winter Will End Some Day.

Come February, someone, somewhere, is sick of winter. Someone, somewhere is dreaming of spring and summer. To say nothing of the associated dresses. For High WASPs, spring and summer mean garden parties. Most likely because in days of yore we had a lot of land. Some of which we would make into gardens, in an exercise of man over landscape. Which would then make great settings for gathering friends, family, food and alcohol. (You can disguise alcohol in many warm weather drinks, iced tea, punch, soda, the list is endless.) Garden parties take place any time between 11:00am and 5pm. After 5pm it’s a soiree. An entirely different

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Rajasthan, Weddings, Measurements. India, 1982.

An ongoing and occasional series on a 3-month trip I took to India in 1982. I was 25, and traveled by train across the country alone, writing an article on the then-unknown Indian film industry and combating the anxieties of youth and solo travel. Often includes references to what I wore. You can find the previous posts here. I left Udaipur and traveled up further into Rajasthan. Chittorgarh, Pushkar, Ajmer, Jaipur. I stayed at a government rest house, as advised, where, as it transpired, they tried to kick me out. I was invited, on a train, to the wedding of the rail line’s paymaster’s daughter. I declined. I

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Absolute Rules For What You Wear, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:07am

I believe that there are very few absolute rules. Besides religion, of course, but let’s leave that aside for now. If we aren’t discussing religion, and I am not, what then remains as absolute? To my way of thinking, kindness, violence, responsibility.What we ought to wear? Not absolute. The question of what is “appropriate” dress always needs to be answered with a question. “Appropriate in what context?” I’m thinking in particular about two recent posts. One, my own about manicures and pedicures. The other, on Corporette, about what to wear to trial. I confessed to jumping to conclusions about the wearing of colored fingernail polish, others said that

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Particuliere, Or, Should You Wear Nail Polish To The Office?

Nail parlors were few and far apart when I was young. I feel like I’m describing the Pony Express to someone raised on email, but many historical facts are difficult to absorb. Suburbs had no places for mani-pedis. Except your hair salon. I don’t think I ever saw my mother with nail polish. By the time I discovered nail salons, I had two young children. I could have cared less, at first, about color impact. It was all about getting to sit down for 45 minutes and have someone touch my feet. Without asking me to pick them up and or buy them non-nutritional foodstuffs. Over time, I

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Lilly Pulitzer Does Mardi Gras. Yes. That’s What I Said.

Today I am at Lilly Lovers. Telling another story in the Lilly series. I’d call it silly Lilly, but Muffy came up with a much better title. “Lilly…with a twist.” Imagine pink shifts and feather masks. Mardi Gras! I love New Orleans and its haunted self. I wish the city nothing but the best. Some day I’ll get there for Fat Tuesday. For now, let’s make do with stories.

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When High WASPs Go Hipster. Or Try.

We can recognize High WASP style fairly easily. Pearls. Navy blue. Black Ferragamos and white button-fronts. Hunter green cable sweaters with hunter green wide wale cords and family brooches. Peach cashmere tunics, long gold chains, bags without logos. Even embroidered backpacks from a trip to Thailand. But, now and again, High WASPs flirt with hipster-hood, an urban relative of the Artsy Cousin. Not at work of course. Unless we are gifted with a rare creative gene and work with people who wear skull patterns nonchalantly. Nor for grand occasions. Too risky. Too pronounced a protocol. But on a weekend. In a city. When giddy from the Sunday New

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New England High WASP Meets Swedish Empire, Meets Santa Barbara Semi-Tropics

This is my mother’s house. The living room, one morning last week. Christmas wreath still hanging above the fireplace. Signs of High WASP eclecticism everywhere. My mother said to me, in the midst of the semi-chaos, “You should do something for yourself.” A mani-pedi wasn’t in the cards. But it was completely possible to take pictures here and there. I asked both my mother and stepfather for permission to put up these photos, and they were kind enough to agree. Their house is a classic merger, of old, new, Sweden, New England, Santa Barbara. And a couple of families. For example, desks. From New England. From Sweden. With

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An Open Letter Of Request To Hospitals For Discharge Plans, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:20am

Waking up in the morning to a blue-skyed Northern California is wonderful. Especially when there is almost nothing I have to do. Makes me gleefully and quietly happy. This was quite the week. And far harder than I expected. Imagine someone gets out of the hospital post-almost-dying and comes home. Early. Imagine no preparations have been made. No time to make any. Imagine that the only information you (the care-givers) receive is colored flyers about no salt and low fat and progressive walking, along with hand-scrawled doctors’ notations of medications. Imagine you are faced with a row of prescription vials, a walker, and a styrofoam chest of IV

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My Stepfather Is Doing Well, And We Send Thanks

Many of you who will read this know that my stepfather had emergency heart surgery about a week and a half ago. I came down to Santa Barbara to help my mother when he was released from the hospital. He does a little better every day. It was an extremely serious situation, and is by no means now routine, but the trajectory, if I can use that word, is good. To illustrate, he is sitting in his usual chair, paying bills, as I write. My mother’s sister arrives today to take over. I will go home tomorrow, and am planning a return to -Privilege posting very soon. I

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An Unexpected Trip To My Mother’s House, Or, Saturday Morning at 11:03am

I will be leaving for Santa Barbara in an hour or so. My mother’s husband had surprise successful heart surgery last week. Successful is good, surprise is never what you want. He comes home today, so I’m going to drive down and help my mother get used to the new routine. My intent is to participate in the blogosphere in any case, as the situation permits. I have no doubt that you dear people will understand. None at all. You’ve been very supportive of so many things and I thank you in advance. Have a wonderful weekend.

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What We Older Women Hope You Younger Women Wear To Your First Big Job

I am at Corporette today. A topic dear to my heart. The starter wardrobe for corporate jobs. In which we learn: a) Your clothing sends signals about who you are. Into very distinct cultures. Which vary from corporation to corporation because CEOs want it that way.b) Your professional image is your brand, and it’s got to be one you can deliver.c) The women senior to you are hoping you succeed. Just don’t talk about shoes in front of the guys.d) Shy away from too much fabric, as well as too little.e) Extra points for knowing that, on TV, we all look best in earth tones. Corporette is a

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Key Pieces For Casual Style, But Comfortable

I have struggled, a tad, with how to look casually presentable. Wasn’t previously necessary, given I spent the majority of my time in corporate gear. Last year I asked Corporette how to do casual and remain networking-presentable, in case I was surprised at the supermarket by a venture capitalist. Squeezing avocados, let’s say. Corporette, those good souls, answered with remarkable restraint. No audible guffaws. A fitted jacket in a casual fabric, said they. But did I act immediately? Of course not. I look back now and laugh. Like a horse let out to pasture after her life under saddle, “I don’t have to wear corporate executive gear? I

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Classic (New) Clothing For Pre-Fall 2010

It’s time for seasonal fashion. Pre-Fall 2010. Goodness. Does the industry never stop? New is fine, new drives the economy, new is new. Some of us want to wear clothing that might be called new AND classic. Luckily, some designers oblige. I find it ironic, of course, that they are dubbed, “minimalists.” I’d be more inclined to call the rest of fashion, “maximalists.” Or even, “over-the-top-ists.” Be that as it may, Not that our ilk won’t often revert to navy cable cardigans, Ferragamo loafers, and white button downs. We will. But we, like many, also want to feel that we are participating in the ebb and flow of

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Martin Luther King On Non-Violent Resistance

We’re all familiar with the moving cadences of Martin Luther King’s speeches. Here we see his sheer intelligence. History is irrefutable, the impact of slavery still felt, responsibility shared across the country. Not yet time to put it all behind us.

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Lip Balm, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:11am

I sent my daughter a package this week. She had hit a rough patch, and asked me to send a care package the way I did when she was in college. I love it when my kids need me. Probably because they are, on the whole, independent. Grown. Besides, this gave me a good excuse to go and buy beauty products. I sent her Aveda lip balm in Peony, along with some serious hand lotion, and two tubes of stuff for de-frizzing curls. She lives in New Jersey. Apparently they have real winter in New Jersey, and your lips, hair and hands come under attack. Aveda products smell

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How To Get Started On Twitter, Even If You Are Over 50

Little known fact. I joined Twitter in August of 2008, when a sales lead came in, source marked, “Twitter.” One must do one’s research, after all. I had no idea what the point was. Fast forward to December of 2009. I tried again. Different account. This time I did better. How? You just have to remember that Twitter is like an enormous cocktail party held in a barn. You either want to go with friends, or make arrangements to meet up when you arrive. Best case, your friends know other people at the party. It’s up to you whether you stand in the corner, drink in hand, observing,

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All The Days Of Your Pearls

Did any of you watch soap operas? In the days before reality TV, YouTube, and Twitter/Facebook, they were the only way to indulge in daily, trivial, calming time spent on other people’s supposed problems. Remember the guy intoning, “All The Days Of Your Lives…”? Those are my pearls. Up above. Really more than necessary. I’d say I didn’t know how I got what seems to be so many, but I do. I know. Like this. In the last century, High WASPs had so much money they bought jewelry for their babies. Yes. They did. That bar pin? For a baby. I wear it on lapels now. Plunder from

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What To Wear Instead Of A Scrunchie

In my opinion, Scrunchies get a bad rap. Perpetrated by wearers who pulled ponytails higher than they should. Permed their bangs into a frizz no longer resembling hair. I still love my Scrunchies. They are great for the realities of ponytails. The reality vs. what we see in magazines, that is. Lovely neat but messy creations. Must last all of 4 minutes before the hairbrush guy and the hairspray guy have to fight it out for reconstruction rights. Don’t models or celebrities ever touch their heads? I’m not a savage and I still touch my head. A lot. Which means then I have to pull out the elastic,

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LPC Is At "The Entertaining House" Today

Today I, along with The Blushing Hostess and Miss Janice, am over at The Entertaining House. We are talking about children and manners. I am the last to speak. Which is probably for the best. For example, on how to teach small ones, Start small. Think globally, act locally. Really. Use the words, “In This House The Rules Are…” • In this house we keep our bottoms on the chairs while we eat. • In this house we taste everything on our plates. You don’t have to finish, but you have to try to see if your taste changed. Grownups like different foods than kids, and we need

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In Which We Discover That Laundry Is The Meaning Of Life, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:30am.

Seems like that moment in the year when the Ferris wheel scrapes bottom. That small instant when we wonder, “Are we going up again?’ Skies particularly gray. Air particularly still. Or windy. Either way. This is the time all that holiday festivity is supposed to prepare us for. Except we’re just creatures, and the passage of time and seasons is strong. Given that I’m innately, almost stupidly cheerful, this doesn’t make me too sad. Reflective, yes. A little yearny. Bear with me, if I can ask your forbearance. When the cyclical process of being human pauses in the down notch, go there. Reflect. Or read other people who

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On The Ground; San Francisco Street Style.

Went to the city yesterday. Yes, that’s what we in Northern California call San Francisco. What? It’s not the only city in the world? Well, yes. We know. Never mind. Here’s the final word on San Francisco street style. Hunting. Yes, hunting. Apparently, either on horse, or on foot. Otherwise, why would absolutely everyone be wearing boots? As in, everyone. All kinds. Over the knee? Yup, saw some of those. Up to the knee, with the boots’ uppers either quilted or embossed in a pattern? Yup, saw some of those. Mid-calf, sort of rustic-looking, including buckled straps? Yup, saw SO MANY of those. In closing, if you’re going

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A Simple Thank You Will Suffice

My father reads this blog. (Hey, I had to enlist his counsel when I reviewed Cheerful Money. He used to review books all the time. Still writes them. I wasn’t going out on that limb without expert advice.) So, in the course of time, he read Monday’s post about his dog chair birthday. And, in particular, your comments. He was quite touched, and happy to answer your questions about the paintings, writing, “Would you pass on thanks to your very kind readers for their good wishes. I appreciate them all. As for the paintings, the one on the left (as you look at them) is by a minor

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Can You Wear A Simple Pearl Strand With Simple Pearl Studs?

Joyce Hor-Chung Lau, a reader of this blog and, more importantly, a writer for the International Herald Tribune and The New York Times, asked me this question in a comment. (Wait. Small aside. Is that cool or what? She writes about Hong Kong and China. OK. Onwards.) Question: Would you wear simple pearl earrings with a simple pearl necklace? Well, no, I wouldn’t. Does that mean that no one can do so? No. Does it even mean that no High WASP would do so? No. It means that High WASPs from California (we like a little counter-culture) by way of New York (we like a little flash) and

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4 Ways NOT To Shop At Big Box Stores

Big box stores make me whimper. I think I know why. We’ve all got our ways to understand the world. My professor father taught me to read very early, and I must have decided reading was such an efficient system that it ought to work on everything. I was little. Little ones think like that. Look.Scan.Understand. I go by shapes and words. Big box stores aren’t friendly environments. This weekend I made an extended foray through Fry‘s (a local, 100% full concentration computer geek store), Best Buy, Bed Bath and Beyond, and Crate and Barrel. Just saying those names makes me reel and stumble. Walk into Fry’s. This

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Family Portraits. In The Year 2010.

My father turned 79 the other day. We gathered, some of us, for dinner. We ate in the dining room. Among family. We gave my dad a birthday present. All the kids contributed. As I have said, we’re talking a rather dwindling sort of fortune. What do you give a man who feels like this about his dog? Why this, of course. I wasn’t sure it he would like it. He did. “Family,” and “Portrait,” broadly defined. Images:First 3, LPC, 4th, family, 5th, Hoop Dog Studio via Stuff in St. Louis, MO. They have more dogs of all kinds. And Casey, one of the owners, is extra nice.

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10 Things That Make Me Happy, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:10am. In 2010.

I have been tagged, for 10 things that make me happy, by One Fabulous Mom. She of the tummy tuck that worked, a writing career, and the newly-launched 40 Things To Do Before You Turn 40 blog. Thank you One Fabulous… Let us consider happiness. Not contentment. Happiness. As it turns out, I’m a natively contented person, for better or for worse. Just genetics, not praiseworthy. I don’t do depression, tending on my difficult days towards anxiety. Nor rage, tending in those moments of annoyance towards snaps of irritation. So happy, to me, is the feeling that rises unbidden in your heart. That which begins a smile. Unasked.

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How To Accessorize A Statement Piece, Or, We Can All Wear A Little Black Dress For New Year’s Eve

Let us acknowledge. New Year’s Eve, and the New Year that follows, will be a combination of things you can, and cannot, control. In some cases you will have planned everything, and your plans will materialize. Congratulations. In some cases, you will have planned nothing, and life will come at you like wind around a Manhattan street corner. Cold, large, and in your face. Most often, plans will be made, and shifted, and forgotten. Realized enough. Life is more than the attainment of goals. You can, however, reign as queen of your Little Black Dress. Assuming sufficient financial resources and the absence of true emergencies, life rarely insists

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Monograms, Even When You’re Not Sure What They Mean. And Unexpected Presents.

My mother gave my daughter the necklace above. Not for Christmas, mind you. This was her Christmas present. Theory “Sasha” Cupid Tribal Black Dress. Who thinks up these names? (I’m telling you. Wear this stuff when you are young and pay no mind to any flaws you think you’ve got. They are defeated by your sheer youth and, well, youth.) Which looked so fabulous on, the morning of December 26th my mother emerged from her wing of the house holding something sparkly, and said, “Here darling. I never wear this. Would you like it?” Jaws dropped, just a little. “This would be so much more unusual than a

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How To Survive A (Very Large) Family Christmas, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:10am

I hope everyone, celebrating or not, had a wonderful time yesterday. Let me now review time-honored principles of wonderfulness on Christmas, and other family gatherings. 1. Cook good food. In our case, roast chickens stuffed with lemons and rosemary, (or apples and onions), a rib-eye roast of grass-fed beef with Bearnaise sauce, sauteed kale with olive oil, chile peppers and vinegar, (or pancetta), roast potatoes, salad with home grown mandarins and avocados, and a spice cake with whipped cream, home grown Meyer lemon syrup, homemade caramel sauce, raspberries, and strawberries. 2. Sing songs. Here that meant Swedish Christmas carols alternating with Mariah Carey singalongs. My Mac on the

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From my Finger Paint iPhone app. With a little Photoshop. Because it’s never too late to learn something new. Very, very, very best wishes to all.

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Final Report On Dressing For Kindness

Mostly packed, mostly ready to go. Down to Santa Barbara to see my mother. My stepfather is Swedish. Those Scandinavians do a dang good job of Christmas. Tonight we will eat Julbord, the Swedish Christmas dinner, and the Swedes and Americans will josh each other about herring in all its guises. Swedes eat it many ways. Tomatoes, sour cream, dear me. I will be posting during this holiday week. Ordinarily I might post 4-5 times, the next few days will probably be lighter, but I’ll be here nonetheless. One last thing I owe you before I get on the road. Remember when I said I would dress for

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The High WASP Christmas Tree And Its Friends

High WASPs are, as my mother would say, big pills about Christmas trees. About all Christmas decorations, actually. No matter how evolved we fancy ourselves, come Christmas, we revert. We don’t believe Christmas decorations are decor. They are symbols. They are family. As such, to be revered, experienced for meaning, and rarely changed. Everything has to be highly traditional, as in, the way your grandmother did it, or completely kitsch*. As in the lit-up Santa I bought on West 14th Street in Manhattan that flashed red and played a digital version of Jingle Bells. Christmas tree lights? Um, white. They can be shaped like pine cones if you

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How To Find, Choose, Buy, And Understand Cashmere Sweaters

From Saks. Here. “Good knitwear is like wearing a hug.” So says the Queen of Cashmere. Caron Slimak is the owner and head of a custom cashmere sweater business, Queen of Cashmere. Counts Saks among her retailers. And she has agreed to let us all in on the secrets of good cashmere. Because cashmere is complicated. Why does one sweater cost $79 and the other $550? Both are blue. Both have a label that says 100% cashmere. How can we tell if we are getting our money’s worth, at $79 or $550? And once we’ve got the sweater, or coat, or pair of yoga pants (I know, decadent

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Is Mother Love An Anachronism? Or, Saturday Morning at 9:43am.

Son is home. Sleeping on sheets I washed a few days ago. Despite the the joy that brings me, I am and have been for some time plagued by a thought. It’s not inconsequential. Is mother love out of date? Is the overwhelming love I feel for my children an anachronism? And worse, would we all be better off were I, and mothers like me, to wake up one day in a state of indifference? “Oh, yes, my children. Nice enough I suppose. A responsibility I shall not shirk. Now, where was I in my life?” I understand that in a world of scarce resources and scary beasts

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LPC On Christmas Presents for Les Dernier Moments at A Femme D’Un Certain Age

Good morning everyone. Today I am at A Femme D’Un Certain Age, along with Deja Pseu and Lily Lemontree. Exalted company, to be sure. We give you our thoughts on last minute presents for Christmas. Please join us there. S’il vous plait. I’m attempting to dredge up my vanishing French because A Femme lives in France. I know! How way cool is that! Read on when you arrive, because some of her posts feature illustrations of clothing she and a friend wear. Like this. Maybe even cooler than living in France. Have a wonderful, wonderful weekend. If you celebrate Christmas, and if you aren’t done shopping, don’t worry.

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Udaipur, Egrets, Trains. India, 1982

28 years ago I spent 3 months alone in India, writing an article on their film industry and being 25. I am posting the stories here once or twice every other week. For previous excerpts from this trip, start here. Then here. Then here. Or use the terribly helpful labels and click on “India.” Time to leave Bombay. I had interviewed directors and government officials. Spent an afternoon on set for the filming of a wedding scene. Learned what I could about Bollywood. To know it existed at all being fairly remarkable. I wrote in my journal, …had begun to feel as though I owed something to the

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Do You Fit High WASP Male Style Archetypes?

If High WASP women have Grandes Dames, Sturdy Gals, and Artsy Cousins as style archetypes, who then are their male counterparts? Let me pull these from unconscious memory, dinner the other night, and the works of Tom Wolfe, Richard Ford, and John Updike. Not a rational process. First, and most commonly understood, is the Master Of The Universe. He channels our forefathers early urge to make it big. Doesn’t care how much money was made, back when. Focused on now. He doesn’t think much about style, in truth. Has a uniform. A uniform of dominance. Square jaw, intellect so sharp you bleed at its touch, attention span short.

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Three Archetypal Ski Sweaters. Even If You Don’t Ski.

I had dinner with my mother at my aunt’s house this weekend. Upon walking into my aunt’s kitchen, I couldn’t help but notice her sweater. Yes, since you ask, we do enter through the kitchen. She has a mudroom. I love that moment, coming in from the rain, stomping on the floor, shaking the umbrella outside before you close the door. Warmth. But I digress. I should point out, my aunt is the archetypal Sturdy Gal. Raised three boys. Computer-literate from way back. Hung her own wallpaper. And, to this day, has resisted any culture pressures to conform to the Northern California artsy way of dressing. Turtlenecks without

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The World Is Going Where We Cannot, Or, Saturday Morning at 6:29am

My mother is visiting. I picked her up at the airport yesterday. Difficulties. My mother has resolutely refused to admit new technology into her life. She doesn’t use a computer. She may still call refrigerators, “iceboxes.” Most importantly, given air travel in the 21st century, no cellphone. Imagine now that planes are severely delayed coming out of Santa Barbara. Two hours or more. Imagine flight changes. A daughter, due to pick her mother up at San Francisco Airport, checks the Internet and sees the delays. It’s the 21st century, right? But can’t reach her mother to confirm the schedule. No cellphone, right? The daughter plays it safe, assumes

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Goodbye To The Best Cashmere Sweater I Ever Had

This is it. No doubt. The best cashmere sweater I ever had. Oh, the navy blue skinny rib turtleneck is nice. The Wilkes Bashford sky blue thick rib turtleneck is pretty, and unique. But this one was my friend. Worn to the corporate wars for comfort. With a pair of navy blue pleated Armani trousers. Manolo ballet flats. Pearls in the ears and around the neck. Anything from white button downs to small white t-shirts underneath. In this guise, it’s pale blue, almost golfish in its conservatism. It’s always good to make people think of golf, in corporate life. Worn on weekends for style. With a pair of

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11 Terribly Suitable High WASP Presents. OK, OK, Gifts.

Presents. We like to call them presents. Do High WASPs give a certain kind of Christmas present? Is everything monogrammed, crystal, silver, or very, very old? Featuring horses? Greyhounds? Plaid? Luckily, no. Mostly, like everyone, we want to give our friends and family things they might like to have. We ask each other, before Christmas, “What do you want?” “Well, what do YOU want” “What are you getting for Sister A?” “Do you think Brother-In-Law B will like this?” And, of course, what about Mom, Dad, Mom’s husband, Dad’s wife? Sometimes we give Hanukkah presents. Cultures do change. Thank goodness. Our exchanges are pretty practical. Especially since the

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When Budget Shoes Knock Your Socks Off

These are the Christian Sirianos I ordered from Payless. Now sold out, apparently. $29.99. A second pair half off. Free shipping. This kind of pricing is not common in my usual retail pursuits. So I had to wonder, were the shoes going to be, you know, OK? Yes. They are. Fabric holds up in person. Heels, nice and shiny. Zipper, sufficiently substantial. Run a little big, which means my size 7 Ferragamos, size 7.5 Manolos feet are floating just a tad in the Siriano 7s. This made my daughter very happy, since the 7.5s I ordered as the second pair were released to accompany her on the holiday

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Saturday Morning at 9:17am

The hostess of the humble bungalow left the following much appreciated comment to my post about the Minimalist Luxury Credo. “#5 is puzzling me. I am still digesting. How does one “make someone feel bad” about not being able to have something?We have choices and why would someone “choose to feel bad” ?” My 5th point in that credo being, “Never make anyone else feel bad for what they can’t have. Because, if you pare away everything unnecessary, courtesy has to make the cut.” Other commenters felt this ought to be point #1. I have thought about it ever since. Why? I call this blog Privilege. Not without

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The Minimalist Luxury Credo, Or, A Little Black Dress

In the beginning I thought minimalism meant pared-down design. Mies Van der Rohe chairs. The opposite of baroque, or ornate. Or, the current indie frugality trend? Canning peaches, attaching toilet paper rolls to your walls as art*, reusing plastic bags. But a few weeks ago I bought a very expensive little black dress, and I believe it was the most minimalist action I’ve taken in the last 5 years. Luxury isn’t the antithesis of minimalism, unnecessary is. Let’s be clear. It wasn’t a virtuous purchase. No self-denial involved. I love my dress. Made from a cashmere wool blend, and therefore not itchy, but even so, lined in the

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LPC Is At "Souris Mariage" Today, Redux

Today I am at Souris Mariage (In which Mouse gets hitched), to talk once again about wedding registries. This time, however, we’re talking stuff. Plates and their friends, glasses, forks, spoons, and knives. With pictures. And more general silliness.

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One Lavish Way To Find The Perfect Little Black Dress

Well, I did it. I replaced the Little Black Dress That Couldn’t with the Little Black Dress That Most Certainly Could. First there was Miss Blumarine. Just too dang short for the over-50 and too dang worn for anyone else. Enter Ms. Lhullier. Purchased in exigency, worn in regret. Exeunt Ms Lhullier. Au revoir, mon amie. Tu ne me manqueras pas. But wait, what’s that I hear? Who is whispering seductively in Spanish? Oh, Mr. Rodriguez, I’ve been waiting for you. Thank you for arriving before I develop dowager’s hump and can no longer fit your siren curves. So. Once upon a time I needed a new little

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What Do High WASPs Really Think About Mr. Ralph Lauren?

Ralph Lauren + High WASPs by High WASP featuring Ralph Lauren So how DO High WASPs feel about Ralph Lauren, anyway? Lisa was good enough to write me and ask my opinion. Do you feel that Ralph has cheapened things for you? Things that were inalienable rights that are now marketed to the masses that haven’t a clue as to their origins but fork over the big bucks for a sense of ‘belonging’? Yes, well, Ralph was bound to come up. He’s inescapable. Let’s cut to that ever desirable chase. We admire the man, loathe the brand, and buy the clothes on occasion. Is that a surprise? Maybe

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Saturday Morning at 8:40am

There are some good parts of getting old. Surprisingly, it’s not old lady hair, sore hips, or sporadic visits from the Forgetter Fairy. She’s the little critter who waves her wand at crucial moments, leaving you open-mouthed, searching for the memory you could find with ease on that other day. That other day that you can’t remember either. No, getting older is good because it allows you to understand this troublesome thing called wisdom. A construct surrounded by myths. When I was younger, I imagined wisdom bestowed itself like grace. Like sunlight on a winter afternoon, pale gold, slanting, faded. Broken by leafless trees. Nope. Wisdom means knowing

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LPC Is At "Souris Mariage" Today

Today I am over at Souris Mariage. The charming and artistic young woman from Good Mouse, Bad Mouse is getting married. She asked me to talk about wedding registries. Today I am saying things like, “I recommend you furnish the life you will lead. Rather than collect goods. Life is short. We have to eat, and over the years you will be putting a lot of food into your mouth. With any luck people you love will be eating with you. Maybe around a table, maybe at a kitchen counter. Buy plates for those moments.” Which is rather relevant on the eve of Thanksgiving. I will be back

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How To Give Away A "Keep"

First read all the comments under your giveway post. Be profoundly cheered by a flock of adventures almost like birds in the sky. Then ask your daughter to help write a list of all the entries to make sure nothing falls through any cracks. Go to the mall thinking you will buy place setting cards from Crane to write names on but then realize that they cost $1.00 apiece and you need a total of 115. Debate the purchase anyway because it would be fun but the Sturdy Gal is whispering in your ear so buy a roll of Tiffany blue wrapping paper and proceed to cut slips

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The Quickest, Easiest, Most Delicious, Last Minute Brussels Sprouts Recipe In The Known Universe

via Flickr, grand grrl’s photostream Pancetta, lemons, brussels sprouts, oven, 15 minutes. Or, in a slight expanded version, 1 pound brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil2 ounces pancetta, cut into 1/2 inch pieces1 lemon, cut into quarters and then into paper-thin slicesKosher or sea salt and freshy cracked black pepper Preheat the over to 500 degrees Fahrenheit. Toss the brussels sprouts, olive oil, pancetta, lemon, and salt and pepper to taste in a medium baking dish. Roast on a baking sheet (so as not to trap moisture, thereby steaming your little crucifers) until the sprouts are brown and tender, about 15 minutes. Serves 4.

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Saturday Morning at 8:23am

The weekend before Thanksgiving. Kids coming home. Steel myself for them to be flying through the air. Laundry done, clean sheets on the beds. Plumber scheduled for Monday to fix a broken toilet. All that’s left is a clean floor, ham, and bananas. Had to let that sink in for a minute. No, we do not stuff our turkey with ham and bananas prior to eating it off the floor. Sorry, far too much of a traditionalist in the Thanksgiving department for ground level dining. But the boy child likes breakfast burritos, which mean ham, along with potatoes, eggs, tortillas, cheese, and salsa. I’m apt to have the

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A Luxury Coach To Ajanta And Ellora, India, 1982

The fountains weren’t running at the Ajanta Ambassador. I don’t blame them one bit, in retrospect. I planned to spend an entire three months in India. And I mean PLANNED. It was that or waste a lot of effort on going to a faraway foreign country just to sit in hotel rooms with bad sheets, feeling panicked. I have always made my way through the uncertainties and ambiguities of life by planning. Runs in the family. My youngest sister is known, affectionately, as Plannerina. Although she says kid #3 has finally put Plannerina to rest. But I digress. I took guidebooks to India. Fodors and Let’s Go. I

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And In Further Important Mad Men News….

Remember how we all voted for her? Pretty dang fun. Go here to read the official Mad Men interview with her. Clicking on the image above will take you to her sister Hollister’s site – where I found the announcement.

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Luxury Hotels, St. Regis San Francisco.

I love luxury hotels. Hmm. Maybe not a sign of extreme discernment. But I don’t know if its one of those “Duh!” kind of things, or whether some really don’t care for the atmosphere. Wouldn’t want to presume. So let’s assume we are talking about a quirky predilection. Given my preferences, I’m lucky to have stayed in a fair number of these places. The Lake Palace in Udaipur, St. Regis in Shanghai, Intercontinental in Prague, The Helmsley Palace and 60 Thompson in New York. The Peninsula in Chicago. Post Ranch Inn in Big Sur. The Beverly Hills Hotel with my sisters for my 50th birthday. Where we all

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And It Comes In Pink, Too.

Giveaway here. Rowallan jewelry “keep” or other nifty things from Luggage.com. The keep, BTW, also comes in pink. For my preppy blogger friends:). Voila. Have disabled comments here to make sure they are all in one place and nobody gets lost. Here the stories of adventures are amazing.

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A Rowallan Jewelry "Keep"

Privilege is giving away something to make your travel more, well, privileged. And in our tradition of deconstruction, you can define privilege however you like. But first, the story of this giveaway. I had been contacted by more companies than made sense. Always fun, secretly thrilling and all that. But they wanted me to promote things like orthodonture, or Russian diamonds, or gypsy pendants. Didn’t seem to make sense. Then the kind people at CSN Stores got in touch. They run www.luggage.com. This did make sense. Especially since I planned to start writing about travels. However, I didn’t want to give you all anything without testing it first.

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Telephones, Addresses, Movies. India, 1982

Stories start here I woke up in a strange country. This should not have surprised me. But strange, by nature, is always a surprise. I was overwhelmed with anxiety that morning. But so what? I was always anxious, in those days. In my 20’s. I was anxious, as usual, sitting on a bed in the Taj Mahal Hotel, in Bombay, in February of 1982. Anxiety laps me like a slow flood. I made a to do list for those rising waters. A universal strategy, even in strange countries. “Call the National Film Development Society.” India had a government body in charge of developing their art film industry. I

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Fab Over Fifty – New Site Launching

A new site, called Fab Over Fifty, is launching in January. For those of us over 50, or almost 50, or wanting to understand the women-over-50 market, it’s run by Geri Brin, a former fashion media publisher. Here’s what she says. Now I’m creating a website by and for every single one of us, whether we raised a family or raised the glass ceiling, dress in designer duds or don’t know Dries from Dior. Called www.faboverfifty.com, it will be the place where we can share the things that make us so fab—the shops we love, the creams we swear by, the books we can’t put down, and the

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Saturday Morning at 8:31am

So much has happened lately. I feel accelerated. Which is odd, since I’m not working. But life has its own adrenaline. Not the least of which is this blog. I’m kind of embarrassed to talk about blogging. Very High WASP of me, I suppose. We want to do these things, and pretend we aren’t. But here I am. More importantly, here you are. Welcome. I was tagged, recently, by the adorable, determined, and effervescent Queen Bee Swain. That’s Swain as in coxswain, not as in country suitor. To tell you ten things about myself. Before I start, I tag Mon Avis, Mes Amis. Found her via Maxminimus. She

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High WASP, Meet Steampunk.

I’ve been noticing, over the past few months, several things both remarkable and related. Maybe even a trend. I’ve seen references to “steampunk“, as a fashion, nay, a life style. Words like artisanal, handmade, workshop, applying not only to cheeses. Wedding invitations in the style of old saloon slash rock ‘n’ roll posters. Even the love shown my dear Mulholland Brothers bag and its turn of the previous century air. I kept thinking, hmm, hmm, hmm, this is something. Well, today the New York Times concurs. The late 1800’s are where it’s at. “As with home design, where curio cases, taxidermy and other stylish clutter of the Victorian

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Getting Away For The Weekend, Nonchalantly

When I have to get on an airplane, like all of us, I hunker down. I get out my battered Hartmann rollaway, from the days when wheels on suitcases were still new. If it’s a short enough trip to take just one bag and a purse, I put the laptop into a protective sleeve and slip it into the zippered compartment on the outside of my suitcase. Everything I need to access without fuss goes into my purse. My big purse. I buy water, magazines, gum, in the airport, and carry them on in the plastic bag from purchase. No one enforces the two bag rule on a

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Finding Oneself In India, 1982

I turned 25 in September of 1981. In February of 1982, I took a 3 month trip to India. My ostensible motive for the trip? Adventure. 25 year olds need no more than that. I hoped to start a joint degree at Columbia University’s Graduate Schools of Business and Journalism in the summer of 1982. As it turned out, I was accepted to the business school and not the journalism school. Setting the course for a career I could never have predicted. In 1982, I had no idea that I would eventually work in the software industry, writing data sheets on Java, Microsoft and embedded programming. Running PR.

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Saturday Morning at 7:17am

It’s November. Temperatures that count for cold here. Heat is on. I have a very loud forced air system, and the sound makes me think of winter storms and winds lashing and windows rattling in their frames. Even though the sky outside is blue and all the plants in my backyard still green. Who says we don’t have seasons in California?

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Should The Perfect Wallet Be Stylish?

I can make a fairly serious argument as to why you don’t need a stylish wallet. Consider. Your wallet is usually only out of your bag – we’re talking women here – for a few minutes at a time. Why pay for 6.5 minutes/per day worth of visuals? When you are using your wallet, you are usually paying someone. If that someone doesn‘t have much money, the fact that you do might be sufficient affront. If that someone does have money, they probably want more of yours. No point in signaling there’s anything for the taking. If stuff falls out of your wallet, due to its stylish design,

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The 21st Century Grand Tour, In Which Freud And Jung Come Along.

King’s College Rare Book Collection High WASPs like to travel. My mother, one afternoon, put down the New York Times’ travel section, sighed, shook her head, and said, “I don’t need to read this. I’ll never see Finland again.” My father is prone to private safari-type expeditions, to Africa, to Vietnam, and the British Virgin Islands. Well, maybe not safaris in the Caribbean, but cruises involving boats, crews, and few other people. In our generation, given the state of the once-great family fortune, travel is a little less glamorous. No less compelling. Between us the siblings have worked in London, France, and Shanghai. Studied in St. Petersburg. We’ve

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Why Is Shopping At Costco So Difficult?

Costco overwhelms me. Walmart? Never even attempted. This has nothing to do with my recovering snobbery. It’s a failing and I take full responsibility. Oh I can buy, for example, gum at Costco. Something I know I want, with, most importantly, known variance. Constrained choices. I can handle the difference between Cinnamon, Wintermint, Bubble Gum, and Peppermint. Even Fruit, which, of course has no acquaintance with anything that grew in an orchard. I can sort of handle these kinds of choices. Something I didn’t know I wanted, i.e. a cornucopia of holiday skirts for little girls. At least all choices are visible. I can stand in front of

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If You Hate To Carve Pumpkins

I may have loved Hallowe’en costumes but I never liked the pumpkin carving part. Sticky and slimy at the same time. Scary texture. Stubborn seeds. In this year of the empty nest I said to myself, “To heck with pumpkins.” I took two Whole Foods grocery bags, turned them inside out, cut faces in them, set down two little hurricane-ensconced candles in each one, and surrounded the candles with some gravel for stability. Looked kind of silly in the afternoon. But just fine come nighttime.

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Saturday Morning at 10:44am

It’s Hallowe’en. This means goblins, monsters, ghosts, witches, to many. Here, it’s a sentimental holiday. You know how every mom has a mothering skill they put in their pocket and touch like a lucky rabbit’s foot? Thinking, “Yes, I did a good job. Or at least meant well.” In our house, that’s Hallowe’en. Apostrophe and all. Take costumes, for example. I insisted that they be homemade. For years. Let me just say that my daughter was a strong-willed girl. Brought me to my knees, as a mother of young children, but somehow I had sense enough not to try to break her. Or perhaps I am convincing myself

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Welcome Guests, Or, How To Host A Work Party

Today I am at The Blushing Hostess, writing about how to host a dinner for your team.(Your work team, that is, not QBS’s rowerboys, or my son’s high school soccer team. Sports teams require different dinners. Probably more blushing, less hostess.) To say nothing of two great dipping sauce recipes. If you’ve come over from the Hostess, I would like to extend a very warm welcome. I wrote about hosting a workgroup because, while the prospect can be daunting and anxiety-producing, it’s also one of the best things you can do as a manager building a team. And, I have found, the occasionally exhausting focus on protocol, common

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Guest Post: A place of one’s own

I would like to introduce you all to Maria, from vintage simple. Quite simply, her vision of house style is the closest to mine of anyone I’ve found on the web to date. Almost every time I read one of her posts I find myself sighing with happiness. Somehow her posts create a sense of peace – and I can’t put my finger on how or why. She writes from South Carolina, where, along with lovely curating of the Internet house style world, she shows us the process of restoring her family’s 1920’s bungalow. Hello, my dears, Maria here from vintage simple, visiting LPC’s lovely corner of the

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House Is Where The Heart Is

Little known fact. High WASPs don’t say “Home,” as in, “Oh, what a lovely home.” Has to be “House.” “Home” can only be used as in, “I’m going home.” (I cringe at my own snobbery. I am in snob therapy every day.) I believe, or at least I will invent, that this is because the concept of home is the closest we come to true love. To closeted passion. Clothes are for others, home is for us. Clothes enforce the social divide, at home the divide disappears. Because we are shy about strong feelings, this might not be immediately apparent, but we invite anyone who comes to our

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Living Beyond Archetypes, My Name Is.

You all are great commenters. I swear I wander through my day sometimes with your imaginary voices in my head. Embarrassing, yes. At least I don’t talk to you out loud. Just to myself. Which is bad enough. I did that in the supermarket the other day, mentioning how hard it was to find the right beans, I believe, and from the surprised sideways glance of the woman behind me I could tell I was one step from scary. The fact that I had reverted to wearing my son’s khakis might have contributed to the problem. What? It is hard to find the right beans. Your recent set

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Saturday Morning at 8:33am

My sisters are coming for dinner tonight. And sleeping over. In my world, sisters are A Very Good Thing. On the menu? Something that counts as comfort food for Northern Californians. Especially when one of them was a vegetarian for a rather long time. Oh, said vegetarian wasn’t me. I’m very fond of meat. Even bacon. But I love braising. The smell is as nice as the taste. Especially when sisters are in the house. Braised Cinnamon TofuFrom A Spoonful of Ginger, Nina Simonds(all silly commentary is of course mine) 1 teaspoon safflower or corn oil (I always use more. Can’t help myself.) Seasonings6 whole scallions, ends trimmed,

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In Which I Am On A Surfboard Trying To Stand Up

I’ve been tagged. By Stephanie of even*cleveland. What, she asks, is the 10th photo in my 1st folder? Of course, wild confusion ensued, given my recent change to the Mac environment and my resultant lack of any idea how this operating system deals with trivial things like, um, folders, and um, applications, and um, the relationship between the two. Nonetheless, here is the 10th photo from my ONLY folder consisting solely of photos. That’s me. That’s Hawaii. And that’s a surfboard I’m trying to stand up on. It’s Christmas, 2006. My children are somewhere else, that day, on that same bay. They are standing up. I tag Academic,

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The Good Little Black Dress. And The Bad One.

I bought a little black dress for my 40th birthday. My daughter was 10, my son, 7. When you have children that age, especially if you have been home full-time for a while, and gotten involved in your kids’ school, you will probably find yourself in a large community. Who may want to have a party. Small children will do that to you. We held mine in the backyard. My family paid to have it catered, and for a new lawn. As a present, not random extravagance. I bought pink lawn flamingos as decor. We set up a full bar in the French doors that led from bedroom

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What Is It About Little Black Dresses?

The High WASP woman loves nothing so dearly as her little black dress. Think about it. Although the industry tries, i.e. Boyfriend Jeans and White Shirts, only the little black dress is spoken of in code. The LBD. “What are you wearing?” we ask. “My LBD,” we answer. Little black dresses are, by the laws of physics, appropriate. That’s the point. For whatever reason, I do not know the science behind it, black reads like absence of color. That’s right. You can wear black without making any kind of color statement at all. Like buying IBM, back in the day. Can’t go wrong. Little black dresses absolve us

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Awards, Prizes, And Other Surprises

A recent spell of good luck has left me walking around happy. Rather like when you get out of bed in the morning and the warmth of your sleep stays with you in a cold kitchen. First, I won a giveaway. Winning things reminds me that you don’t have to work hard for everything nice. Kate, at love you big, makes these vintage map notebooks and sells them via her Etsy shop. I won 3. I love them. My intent is to give as Christmas stocking-stuffers. However, I may be unable to resist taking one for myself. I’m a list-maker. Without a notebook list-making becomes a self-flagellating act,

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An Ode To Slippers, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:51am

  I love my slippers. They keep my feet warm. More than that, they make me feel loved. Something about the meeting of sheepskin and foot skin. My father loves slippers too. So much so, that for his 75th birthday each of his 4 children gave him slippers. He had an actual party, meaning non-family, and entertainment. A shindig. Public present opening. (High WASPs don’t say gift. We say present. I don’t know why. Maybe because there is a gift industry.) But we wanted to give him slippers, so we did. He opened 4 boxes, one at a time, while we 4 adult kids doubled over in less-than-silent

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The Summer Of Love?

I, for all my inner yearnings, have not an iota of Artsy Cousin in my personal style. Oh, occasionally I think about it. I consider what it must be like to throw together a creative outfit, possessed of je ne sais quoi, dripping panache. But therein do not lie my talents. I’m better at the appropriate. The luxurious. And comfortable shoes. (Audi? At Fashion For Nerds? Yeah, absolutely. She has Latvian socks. Jill has Global just about everything…) The closest I ever came involved a cultural imperative. Otherwise known as the teen years. It was 1972ish. We were post-hippies. We had been too young to March on Washington,

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Do You Have An Artsy &/Or Intellectual Cousin?

You may have an artsy or intellectual cousin. Might even be artsy or intellectual yourself. All to the good. Art and Intellect are cornerstones of the Renaissance, NPR, Burning Man, and other valuable human endeavors. However, this is not quite the same as choosing the Artsy And/Or Intellectual Cousin style in which to dress yourself. Taking up the Artsy Cousin mantle requires commitment, enthusiasm, imagination. And a closet full of clothes with stories. While there are a few sub-species, (for example, the all-my-clothes-are-black birds of some large cities, or the Pacific Northwestern wood sprites), I do believe this style is, at a high level, universal. Cross-cultural. Not reserved

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My (Blank) Bag Snagged My (Blank) Jacket

Home. With a story. From the last leg of my travels. I was wearing my old Chanel jacket, a pair of dark wash Seven jeans, black Aerosole flats, and a generic black v-neck cashmere sweater my mother gave me. Carrying my Louis Vuitton Monogram Vernis bag. In Amarante. Confession. I did have Manolo quilted ballet flats on earlier but after walking all over Princeton they hurt my feet. I changed. I did not want to slog my way through Newark Airport with a blister. Even a glamorous blister. Now, as I carried my lovely bag, the buckle of the lovely belting leather straps kept catching the underside of

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5 Things To Love (Unreservedly) About Your Body Before You Turn 50

Friendly Italian Women from Flickr. Since they can’t speak English, I will tell you what they want to say. You can see by their smiles. They wish you the best. They wish you the joy of your youth. We all do. What To Love, If You Need A Suggestion Today. 1. Your upper lip.It’s plump. Smooth. Comparatively hairless. Touch it. Appreciate its resilience. Run your finger across that dandelion fluff you pretend is problem hair. Trust me. It isn’t. 2. Your eyebrows.Do you have any hairs growing out of your eyebrows that make you look like an old courtroom lawyers? You know, long enough to have at least

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Saturday Morning at 4:48am

It’s 4:48am in California. But I’m in New Jersey. Where it’s 7:48am. None of the usual tea and toast. In my daughter’s first apartment. Listening to the sounds of a New Jersey morning. It’s louder here. And I don’t mean manmade noise. There are crickets and cicadas creaking away. At least I’m going to say that’s what they are. We don’t have loud bugs in Northern California so I have no expertise in bug acoustics. I also hear thunder. One never forgets the sound of thunder.

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When I Was A Grande Dame. Except I Was Too Young. And Too Intoxicated.

When I graduated from Princeton, in June of 1978, I had no job. I was without training for a job. I had majored in Comparative Literature, Italian, French, Latin. Epic poetry. I knew a lot about metaphor. And metonymy. I sent in an application to American Express to become a travel agent, since I had enjoyed traveling with my family to Jamaica and Mexico, and to France for Princeton. Evidently American Express was not staffed by a bunch of complete idiots because I was not hired. I could have lain around my mother’s house for months with migraines. But a few weeks was really enough. One of my

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The Grande Dame Style Archetype

You know her. You do. If only by her strands of pearls. If only by the look on her face. Who knows what she really feels, what she might suffer, what she fears. We know her by her furs, her shoes, her bags. And the haircut. The Grande Dame. There are those oblivious to her power. I know that. She strikes fear, and sometimes envy, into the rest of our hearts. Oh, sure, we’re evolved. We have confidence now. We have great jobs, loving families, a history and a life we chose. But probably something we are wearing is make do. The Grande Dame Does. Not. Make. Do.

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Style, Or, Alternatively, The Roman Empire.

“Style is the image of character.” Edward Gibbon via the impossible cool. Go look at these iconic photos of cool famous people. If you’re wondering what style is. Or isn’t. Or could be. Or not. *This is for my father, who, as it happens, wrote a book on Edward Gibbon. But not on style.

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What Is The Point Of Style?

The Sartorialist, September 2009 There’s that moment when you stop what you are doing, and think, “Wait. What’s the point?” When you need a corner to come back to in the face of questions. This isn’t always simple. I can’t find satisfaction in situational answers. I want what my software friends call, “the root cause.” I want the answer that doesn’t pose more questions. So what’s the point of style? Here’s my personal answer. I can’t know what the point of style is unless I ask myself, what’s the point of life? Really. I mean, that’s the source. Life is the root cause. And, as I am not

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Saturday Morning at 7:47am

Last week there was a thunderstorm in Princeton late at night. My son IM’d me about it. Son: mom there’s an amazing thunderstorm here.Me: cool (it’s always good not to use too many words)Son: the thunder is almost on top of the lighteningMe: wow (see above)Son: oh it almost sounds like something rippingMe: can be scary (secretly pleased the kid has a way with words)Son: uh, yeah, if I were outsidePAUSE(Mom considers that it may be dorky to say anything about scary thunder to a 19-year old boy)Me: what are you awake for (meaning, why are you awake at 1am and have you done your homework?)Son: the stormPAUSE(Mom

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A Vintage Harris Tweed Jacket And The Possibility Of Moors

You might, one morning when the kitchen has turned cold, ask yourself, “What is tweed, anyway?” This has been known to happen. I realized the other day that I didn’t know the answer. So I looked it up. Tweed means, simply, “a rough, unfinished woolen fabric, of a soft, open, flexible texture resembling cheviot* or homespun, but more closely woven. It is made in either plain or twill weave and may have a check, twill, or herringbone pattern. Subdued, interesting color effects (heather mixtures) are obtained by twisting together differently colored woolen strands into a two- or three-ply yarn.” Tweed is a favorite of sturdy gals everywhere. Tweed

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An Actual Answer To The Julia Child’s Monogrammed Pin Question

It’s my birthday today. (I know, that’s not the answer to the question about Julia Child’s pin, but I’m getting there.) Kindnesses are happening today, phone calls from friends and family, none the less appreciated for their familiarity. It is clear to me that 53 is a most uneventful of birthdays. The real significance is skeins of affection, drawn about me like a knitted shawl. I don’t know what brought me that image but since I can’t even begin to knit for myself the metaphor is apt. Kindness, however, has extended to the Internet. The Queen of Cashmere emailed me to let us all know she has the

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The Beauty of Feckless Prep School Youth. A High WASP Style Archetype.

High WASP Feckless Prep School Youth by High WASP featuring Ted Baker accessories Feckless is a Scottish word. Many meanings. One of them is irresponsible. That’s what I’m after. Irresponsible as only those who don’t yet know how fortunate they are can be. The prep school boy is perhaps the best known of all High WASP style archetypes. He throws his clothes on, always in a hurry, in a hurry to lounge somewhere, not a care in the world, or to lope casually across a campus, lanky, endearingly clumsy with a shy sort of gait, apparently graced with all the world has to offer. It’s all an accident,

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4 Kitchen Tricks To Know Before You Turn 50

I love to cook. I used to do a lot of it. In my 40s I learned a few tricks that made the type of cooking I like to do – Cal/Asian, Cal/Italian, lots of chopping – easier. I thought that in the spirit of the High WASP sturdy gal I would pass them on to you. Style is about ease. However and wherever you find it. These, by the way, are not the kinds of tips you find in Real Simple. You know, those “Aha! uses?” As in, take some sort of oil (which you might not have) and apply it to god knows what (which you

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Saturday Morning at 9:24am

Sometimes the other people who have cute children put videos of said children up on YouTube. I imagine this will be all over the world by the end of the weekend. One of the cutest things ever. If you like cute kid videos I also recommend you go to YouTube and search for “Charlie bit me.” It’s old, but adorable. Nothing at all to do with vampires, fortunately.

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Sturdy Fashion Should Involve A Plaid Shirt

If one archetype of High WASP women is the “grande dame,” another might be the sturdy gal. As a High WASP, she may vibrate at a high pitch, but will still be capable of tromping across frost covered fields, lending a hand to fence-building, or making her own turkey gravy. If needed. What might she wear? First, I now understand that this archetype is driving my recent hankering for the Buffalo Check Jacket. Much appreciated commenters helped me out. Robin reminded me about L.L. Bean’s Maine Guide Parka. Mouse sent me here. Lauren to this gorgeous plaid shirt. Then Miss Muddy Paws pointed me to Thompson Mills. All

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Can We Care About WASPs, Or, The Subjective, Personal, Version.

When one reads books as oneself, one might think about, well, oneself. I mean I think about myself. My apologies. High WASP language. Distance and all that. Tad Friend’s Cheerful Money details the history of his family, along with the mannerisms and habits of Wasps. He calls us Wasps. I call us High WASPs. It’s the same thing. I read his book pen in hand. Felt strange to mark up a hardback book. But necessary. At 52 I can no longer remember paragraphs word for word. I was looking for data points. Sharp pinpricks of recognition. Little snippets that denied or confirmed my own experience. It’s remarkable how

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Can We Care About WASPs, Or, A Review of Cheerful Money (Objective, General).

Life is a scavenger hunt run backward as well as forward, a race to comprehend. But with Wasps, the caretakers lock the explanatory sorrows away, then swallow the key. (Cheerful Money) Cheerful Money:Me, My Family, and the Last Days of Wasp Splendor By Tad Friend(Little, Brown; 353 pages; $24.99) The WASP, or White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, has a place in America’s mythology. Not surprisingly. WASPs were, after all, the source of our first big wave of wealth. We like wealth. We may even love wealth. The question is, while we might feel a prurient curiosity about privilege, do we have any real interest in the WASP story? The species

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Lilly Goes Home

Today Lilly throws on the pink and green standbys to go home for a little peace and quiet at Lilly Lovers.

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Last Rose Of Summer

Can’t fault the effort, now can you? (As always in the world of photos and the web, one which I have not come close to mastering, click each picture for infinitely better resolution and an iota of the feeling that prompted me to get my camera out in the front yard to begin with.)

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Saturday Morning at 8:17am

Sometimes other people have cute grandchildren. These belong to smiles4u2 at My Life Interrupted. She and her husband are raising the the littler girl and the older boy themselves. From the sounds of it, doing a very good job. Go read her post about “little man,” as she calls him. The thought we put into raising our kids is never wasted. Finding the right answer is an extra added bonus.

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The Fatal Preconceived Notion – A Buffalo Check Jacket

I had a hankering for something Pendleton-ish. Not that I don’t have jackets, I do. Also sweaters. But as I age I look a little like a bag of something in sweaters. All my jackets are work jackets. Meaning structure and resultant discomfort. I’m clear. If no one is paying me money, I want to walk in full comfort. I want to feel like I’m in my pyjamas because I frankly could be, at any moment, if I wanted to, and didn’t worry about merging into my sofa. I had a hankering for Buffalo Plaid. Buffalo Check. Whatever you want to call it, looks like the blanket above.

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Can We Survive Fashion Week 2009 In Good Taste?

As we know, it’s Fashion Week. Day after day, designers are showing collections in New York City. We might now wonder, is there such a thing as a High WASP* designer? I reviewed scads of photos of expensive clothing looking for an answer. Research purposes only, you understand. An enormous amount of work, but I forced myself. Didn’t find a designer, per se. Did, however, find designs. And identified those worthy of the High WASP stamp of approval. These aren’t necessarily the clothes I admired most. I have enormous appreciation for avant garde fashion. Give me Yohji Yamamato, or a shirt printed with a striking Rorschach blot, and

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Is There A High WASP Retailer In The 21st Century?

We may want to dress just like our mothers. Or we may want, for many reasons, to avoid our culture of origin, seeing it as baggage. No belting leather lined with watered silk, either. In my experience, however, cultural avoidance is a waste of time. We don’t have to fully embrace our backgrounds, if we don’t want. But what our grandmothers ate and what language our fathers spoke tends to matter in ways we can’t always predict. I have found it useful to pick a position vis-a-vis my heritage and stand there on both feet. I spent some part of my life trying NOT to dress preppy. Didn’t

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Free Completely Adorable Handknit Baby Sweaters For Boy Babies And Girl Babies

Do you have a baby? Do you know some one or several someones who have babies? Jan is giving away the cutest little handknit sweaters. Full of grandma-made-them appeal. I, of course, am babyless at the moment, except for the cuties in my photo album, so I don’t need baby sweaters. Jan’s ex-mother-in-law (it’s a sign of how nice Jan is in my opinion), knit them. Four blue sweaters. We will call them boy sweaters. Four yellow, pink, and green sweaters. We will call them girl sweaters. I dressed my daughter in all kinds of blue. My best friend put her sons into their big sisters’ pink hand-me-downs

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Your Blog Is Fabulous

Wonderful Maureen at IslandRoar gave me this award. Thank you Maureen. Thank you also for writing so likeably about Martha’s Vineyard, your teenagers, and the vicissitudes of life. I bet you are a wonderful friend to many people IRL. Forthwith, my 5 obsessions and the 5 bloggers I would like to pass this to. 5 Things I’m Obsessed About. In Real Life. Let’s say obsessed means unable to stop thinking about. Spending more time on than anything else, either in act or in dream. In that case, for me, my obsessions are listed below. These aren’t what I might like to obsess about, like what did Jason Wu

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Saturday Morning at 6:38am

Luckily for us moms there are now many socially sanctioned ways to spy on our adult and almost-adult children. At least to spy in their vicinity. If they have a job, the corporate website is a great way to feel like you’re in the next cubicle. If in school, there’s always the old college paper. Amazing how interesting financial policies of an East Coast institution can become. For the desperate, I recommend Weather Underground. They show webcams from the areas of coverage. These webcams may not actually be focused on the towns in which your children live. But they are nearby towns. That counts. The skies will be

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Flying The Flag

On the coast of Northern California On 9/11 I think about those who lost someone they loved. And those who had to witness or experience death and chaos. People’s bodies falling through the air. Life, short, fragile, and so sweet I feel it on my teeth, says, “I’m yours forever. I am. Believe me.” Not quite true. If today the collective focus of so many has an impact, if our hopes, for those who hope, and prayers, for those who pray, have import, I hope most of all that peace has come to anyone with personal experience of 9/11. A liberal who votes as a Democrat, I haven’t

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How To Ride A Trend, Or, Rough-Hewn Pumps For Worlds Of Work And Warcraft

Fashion hangs its metaphorical hat on two hooks. The Object of Desire and The Trend. Objects of Desire are whatever your hearts, well, desire. Even large pink hats in the shape of a bedroll. If enough people agree, we have a Trend. Trends are the Holy Grail of fashion. Although ornery creatures of laws of large numbers and statistics and pattern matching, they can nevertheless be wrested to the ground. If we deconstruct. We understand that some trends are real, created by alchemy between inspired designers and a brave person getting dressed one night. One morning. These are the trends we care about. Many more are pretend. These

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"God Am I Fabulous!", Or The Business Of Fashion

We work hard at developing selves. A personal style both reflective and supportive of those selves. Some of us push through our High WASP reticence. We confess to feelings of anxiety and shameful desires for shiny eggplant purses. Others buy new black patent leather half boots or shift dresses covered in green palm trees or beaded vintage cardigans. We might, any one of us, feel that the leopard print scarf we itch to own will tell the story of our self, or even write it. What we can’t forget, not for a moment, is that fashion is business. Businesses want first and foremost to make money. That’s a

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Lilly Plays Tennis – At LillyLovers.blogspot.com

Today Lilly plays tennis. That sly athlete:). My kids were at the US Open on Sunday. I scanned the stands for my daughter’s telltale red hair. No luck. So I called her and used up one of my limited mom-pest cards. It was worth it. *Aaargh! Had the wrong URL! Now correct. I am using up my middle aged lady in a hurry cards too…

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For Your Own Sanity, Answer These 4 Questions Before You Read Vogue’s September Issue

On September 6th, 2009, I walked to a bookstore and bought 6 fashion magazines. Yes. Six. Because this is a town of old hippies, and I am conscious of my milieu, I felt compelled to tell the cashier that I was doing research on the difficulties of developing a viable personal style. I don’t know if he believed me. The magazines were very heavy. I walked home anyway. The weight of the magazines was not the only potential hazard. In my 20’s I read fashion magazines religiously. I swam through Vogue as though it were a deep lake and I a doomed maiden drowning in tweed, gold thread,

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Saturday Morning At 9:42am

Took the boychild to the airport this morning. Think it’s time to start calling him young man. So sweet. Just love the way he looks when he hasn’t shaved. Young man. Love you, Mom

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Rapture. Finding Lunch On I5.

I5 is a long and ugly road. Takes you past tumbleweeds and dusty orchards and feedlots full of hot, sluggish cattle waiting to be processed. Processed is a euphemism. You will see signs saying things like “Congress Created Dust Bowls” attached to wire fencing running alongside. Not much resemblance to the California of our dreams. However, I5 also makes it possible to drive from the San Francisco Bay Area to parts of Los Angeles in under six hours. My youngest sister and her family live in Los Angeles. I live in the Bay Area. My sister had just moved houses, and she asked for a visit. Down we

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How NOT To Buy A Statement Piece

Go to Wilkes Bashford at the Stanford Shopping Center, one day when you are feeling the full force of years of self-denial. Go when you are newly promoted to vice president. Go with a friend who has been an executive for years. Try on a suit from Kiton. White. Cashmere. It will fit you perfectly. Pay the very deferential salesperson, who says you look great, and you will, $5,000. Take the suit home. Put it in your closet. And say, “Goodbye, beautiful skirted suit.” Because you will never wear this out the door. Despite the beautiful details, the softness, the apparent kinship with warm clouds and snow that

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Real World Statement Pieces And How I Loved Them

I do have jackets that get me dressed. Not flocks of them. They do not swoop from my closet like swallows leaving a barn. No flights of fancy. But I have all I need. Which is to say, two. The first I bought 10 years ago. I had gone back to full-time work in 1997, after a few years as a stay-at-home mom, and then a few more years working part-time. By 1998 Silicon Valley was flushed and feverish. Money was pouring into our coffers from optimistic and fool-hardy investors. I was at Sun Microsystems. We made servers. The providers of Internet infrastructure bought servers. We were flush,

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Should You Buy A Statement Piece For The Fall Of 2009?

We hear a lot these days about “statement pieces.” Which begs the question – what statement? What, if our clothes are to begin speaking, do we want them to say? There is a good case to be made for having your clothes say, simply, “Here I am. My clothes suit me. I’m fond of myself and therefore wear clothes that recognize my shape and coloring.” Imogen at Inside Out Style deconstructs this part of the process perfectly. We might also hope that our clothes say, “I have good taste. An appreciation for texture, color, and material that is always ruled by my innate recognition of good design.” You

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Saturday Morning at 7:47am

This summer I have spent a lot of time with the boy child. He’s not in Hawaii, or Costa Rica, or Australia. I am not in China, or India, or New York. He’s on the sofa a lot. I’m on the sofa a lot. We sit together. I have heard his thoughts on great novels of the past 25 years, why he likes reality TV, and the interpretation of Pokemon. I have seen him drive cars, wander around the house in boxers, buy new shoes. All is not one giant swell of mother love, however. I bought him new soap. The Axe began to overwhelm me. Anyone who

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Argyle Memories

I like argyle as a concept. There’s something about the diamonds in the pattern, the crossing lines, the mathematics, that feels right. Argyle reminds me of Fibonacci series, another pattern I’m fond of, although it’s not widely available from woolen mills. But my strongest feelings for argyle now are not abstract. Not all that long ago I had a very sad Christmas. To avoid sadness I went to a luxury hotel. Not an overwhelmingly pure or spiritual choice, but the best I could come up with. This hotel was in Oahu. The Halekulani. Tall, white, directly on the blue, blue bay. Full of families from Japan on holiday.

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5 Ways To Wear Plaid Without Feeling Like An Absolute Fool

Plaid can be tough. It is what we might call a strongly-typed symbol, as in, it’s very hard to wear without a nod to its meaning. No one is apt to say, or think, “I didn’t know plaid was traditional Scottish dress! I didn’t know a raincoat co-opted it into an instantly recognizable brand!” Highland clans and Burberry cast a long shadow. Strong and often garish patterns also make it easy to feel silly, or obvious, wearing plaid. But it’s not necessary. Here are five ways to wear plaid without feeling like a fool. Traditional Plaid, Like My Aunt by High WASP on Polyvore.com My aunt graduated from

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Is Your Family Tartan Authentic?

In my family, we love to think of ourselves as Scots. At least the men do. The women are a little bemused. All that stomping through the gorse, and hammer-throwing, and drinking of whiskey. We have a family tartan. This is it. (The Murray of Athol tartan. My name is not Murray. Let’s just say that if my last name was Smith, someone existed whose name was something like Joe Murray Smith.) On the other hand, this could be it. Because there are at least two Murray tartans. (Murray of Tuillibardine) In fact, the concept of family tartan is apparently, well, created. Fairly recently. There is no such

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Lilly…With A Twist!

I’ve got a guest post up at Lilly Lovers. Using the Lilly Pulitzer brand to tell some stories, with a twist. And a Polyvore. You’re more than welcome to take a look if you like.

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7 Summer Favorites For The AARP Crowd

Queen Bee Swain tagged me for this meme. I’ll let it stop with me. If you like sports, crew in particular, go see Queen Bee. She is a natural born sportswriter. I hope to read her commentary on the 2012 Olympics but I am not sure that is her plan. Oh, and she didn’t tag me for the AARP. She is a wee baby. That was me. Movie: Anything playing at a drive-in. Your father will take you in his crimson 1968 Pontiac Bonneville with the paisley decal on the side. You will get to drink Coke and eat french fries, not something you are usually allowed even

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Saturday Morning at 7:54am

I heard raccoons howling in the night. Thumping on my roof. They must be climbing up my elm. I haven’t even looked to see if they went after my pond plants again. Like I said, this will be a long battle. Sometimes victory is simply continuing the fight. Hearing night howls as no more than a sign that, in the morning, you may have to get wet. Knowing that as long as you keep up the fight, you will have pond plants. You will also be wet. And muddy. Again. Only you know if pond plants are worth it. Me, I’m doing it for the papyrus. Image:Fir0002/FlagstaffotosGFDL License

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Secret Nefarious Villains

As I said, the next morning all my pond plants had fallen over. Again. And this time I noticed that my lovely floating water hyacinths were gone. Vanished. Remember that beauteous purple-leafed plant? Only shreds left by the side of the pond. Alas. Aha. I googled “Raccoons Ate My Water Hyacinths.” Indeed, they did. And climbed over everything else on their way to the water hyacinth feast. This explains the fallen plants. And some recent midnight howling. I haven’t given up. Now it’s a long battle between me and them. Today I put all the plants in the middle of the pond. Thinking those little bandit-faced suckers won’t

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To Be This AND That

Sometimes our efforts to stretch, to take a risk, to be both this and that, leave us humbled. Humbled and muddy. I have a pond in my backyard. I’ve always been the type to avoid home maintenance. It scares me. But it’s never to late to learn, or so I hoped. In the last few years the pond had become more of a puddle. A home for wayward mosquito larvae. I was determined to get it back. To become a High WASP 52-year old former executive and a robust, hardy, no-nonsense woman capable of things like pond maintenance. I bought plants. I put plants in the pond. Set

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Madeleine Albright Says, "Read My Pins".

We are not alone, pin-wearers. Jill, at Stella’s Roar, brought this to my attention. Ms. Albright, our former Secretary of State (and a Wellesley graduate), takes the identity-though-lapel-jewelry process one step further. In 1997, Albright was named the first female Secretary of State and became, at that time, the highest ranking woman in the history of the U.S. government. While serving under President Bill Clinton, first as U.S ambassador to the United Nations, and then as Secretary of State, Albright became known for wearing brooches that purposefully conveyed her views about the situation at hand. “I found that jewelry had become part of my personal diplomatic arsenal,” Secretary

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Monograms and Doc Martens

Writing about monograms (and continuing to find beautiful pictures) I have found myself thinking about identity. One might with good reason tell me I have too much time on my hands. That I need to get a job. Yes. I know. However. Monograms have an immediate implication for identity. Monograms mean something before you even begin to decipher the initials. We assume someone wearing any sort of monogram at all is fairly conservative. (Or making a very ironic comment, if they wear a monogram with, say, Goth outfits. I know, wouldn’t that be funny?) However. My own personal, non-universal, case is a little complicated. I am a more

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You Are A Great (Fashion) Read Award

I received this award from Sher at Fashion after 40. If you look on Sher’s blog, you will see I did however put a longer skirt on our friend above. Awards should mutate and follow the laws of natural selection. I also changed the award name. I am going to trust that I will not get into trouble. Sher blogs about, as she says, Fashion After Forty. She takes a picture of herself, and what she wears, every day. And then she shows us. Her style is cheerful, not at all old ladyish. Not to mention great bathing suits. The terms of this award are to reveal several

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Ironic 50th Birthday Party Decorations

Hello Kitty. Hello 50. And, I made this by cutting Hello Kitty wrapping paper into rectangles of overly varying shapes, folding said shapes inaccurately, muttering to myself about said inaccuracies, pasting said folds with a glue stick, and hanging each bunting bit from a pink ribbon. It was a beautiful day.

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Saturday Morning at 8:08am

My Sister Turns 50 by High WASP featuring Levis jeans Yesterday my sister turned 50. Today is her birthday party up at my father’s. I’m in charge of decor. It will be suitably ironic. Happy Birthday darling sister. On my 50th birthday I floated around a small lake in the Sierras. All Lady of Shalott, except wearing a life jacket, eating a sandwich, and learning how to work an outboard motor. Today promises to be more light-hearted. Smooches to you, S.

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Julia Child’s Monogram Pin And Other Works Of Artists

The little journey down the monogrammed path has left some pretty pictures in my files. Why keep them to myself? PrincessFreckles and Plus Size Bride commented on the pin Meryl Streep wears in Julie and Julia. Apparently the production company did not understand that this item would create a groundswell of trend-setters lusting and searching for photos. Here is a still, which I captured by brute force from the movie trailer. It’s not clear whether this is or is not in fact a monogram. That’s OK. We can pretend. Then we can romp through my favorite antique jewelry sites and find much better pictures of similar items. It’s

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Bags Without Logos, The Ones That Cost More.

Once we place our feet squarely in the camp of delayed gratification, and decide to spend some more money, it’s much easier to get a no-logo bag with High WASP style. As in, if you can and want to afford several hundred dollars, it’s kind of like shooting fish in a barrel. Not that I have ever done or would do that. But I like idioms. Anyway. Bags Without Logos – Midrange by High WASP featuring kate spade bags In this world it’s all about shape, color, texture, materials, and details. (Seen much better if you click through to the Polyvore site, BTW.) The green bag is made

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Bags Without Logos, The Budget Version

So let’s say you want a bag without a manufacturer’s monogram. Otherwise known as a logo. Logos and other branding tchotchkes (Yiddish word of the day) are ubiquitous these days. Hard to avoid. When I bought my new purse, it was displayed with charms attached to the handles. I refrained.But I digress. Let’s assume you want a bag without branding, and that you also want to send High WASP social signals. (It is possible that’s not something you want. I do understand.) Here are some options. Bags Without Logos – Budget Version by High WASP featuring Coach bags First of all, let us take a moment of silence

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Monograms In The Year 2009

I’m game for a little good-natured deconstruction of monograms in this day and age if you are. Symbols are symbols, after all, and I am particularly fond of the cultural sort. Let’s guess that monograms are a way to say who we are. We might think that the wearing of any monogram at all indicates that the monogrammed person is most likely somewhat traditional, conservative. But there’s variance. This person, for example, looks pretty serious about her monogram. Classic. This person is more light-hearted. Preppy. This person, maybe classic, preppy, with an arty edge. But wait. This person can hardly be seen as traditional. Yes. The artist formerly

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The History And Meaning Of Monograms

TP asked me last week what my thinking was on monograms and where one ought to find them. In truth, my thinking on monograms has been pretty much limited to my family experience. In which, as TP said, towels yes, sheets yes, jewelry yes, personal items like mirrors and brushes, yes, silver yes, needlepoint yes, clothes no, accessories no. But that’s just my family, and I have never paid attention to the wider trend. So I did a little Internet research. I confess, I did not find the academic article on the history and cultural anthropology of monograms in America that I was looking for. It may be

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Saturday Morning at 7:33am

Other people have cute children too. I’d like to introduce you to Cody. He belongs to Dani at Weddings Fresh. (As you can see from the legs on the left, she has a baby as well.) Cody is her toddler. Isn’t he adorable? So sturdy. The look on his face. And those flip flops. I imagine maybe he wanted to be just like his daddy. Good thing she lives far to the north or I would have to stalk him. Cody’s starting toilet training. Ah yes. I remember that. My daughter, my first child, attended a little day care place a few afternoons a week when she was

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They Don’t Make It Easy To Exercise On Exercise TV

They don’t make it easy. The other day I got up early, as usual. That isn’t the part that Exercise TV is to blame for. I decided not to take a walk. Not their fault either. I decided to do a couple of Exercise TV On Demand segments. My sister, my daughter and I are all fans. I decided to suffer and do cardio rather than the yoga video with the guy stretching in front of what looks like the Grand Canyon. Or the devastatingly fit women cardio sculpting in a canyon of aspens. I don’t have any aspens in my living room. Still not their fault. Less

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Speaking Of Antique Ivory Mirrors

The mirror, on the right, was my grandmother’s. With her monogram before her marriage. SBB. After marriage she was SBC. And yes, I do have a sister with those initials. The brush is another family item. But not my grandmother’s apparently. And no, I don’t have a sister named A. Now I am wondering, why DID they monogram everything? Because they could? Of course those are paper towels I am using as a background. Thanks for asking.

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In Response Redux

I return to the question, do we, the High WASPs, as a class, as one woman sitting on a Pottery Barn sofa in fact, have anything to offer the world of 2009? We watch our role as the dominant culture fading away, disintegrating. That is what happens. I understand. What then is there to say? I have two thoughts. First, I believe now and always will that our code of conduct is a good one, a sound one on which to build a civilization. It makes for singularly reasonable behavior, unless of course we are in a colonial mode, for which I cannot apologize too often. As you

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In Response

Ashley asked me some very good questions the other day. “Are there really actually a group of people out there who associate themselves as “high wasp”? and truly do uphold the sort of standards you outline? is there a different between a family with money and a high wasp family? does your family really look down on you for wearing certain brands? (many brands i must add, that seem like good ones to me. like for ex, when you mentioned disdain over your banana republic).” Let me get the easy answer out of the way. Because, well, because. My cousin didn’t disparage my dress because it was Banana

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Thread Social

This is an example of High WASP-approved clothing. It’s from a line I had never heard of. Thread Social. We like brands no one has ever heard of. Disciplined, lacking in frou-frou, beautiful in material, restrained but memorable color schemes. Some of their clothes are admittedly more High WASP than others. Take a look at number 18. Some pieces not so much. As in the jumpsuit. We like to think we’re broadminded. Homage to trends is lovely if you don’t get carried away. But please don’t make us wear jumpsuits. Or leggings, for that matter. The best High WASP-approved style will most likely appeal to a range of

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What Brands Are High WASP-Approved?

Last week I was asked, “What brands ARE High WASP approved?” Hmm. We know which brands we don’t like right now. We don’t like Juicy Couture because they scare us. Just the word Juicy scares us. We prefer dry unless you are talking about fresh fruit. We don’t like Coach because they lost their way, although the bags of the late 70’s were perfect. We are temporarily annoyed with North Face because they let their brand promotion overwhelm their function. But, I must point out, we could change our minds at any moment. Because at the end of the day, we want Self over Brand. We want to

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Awards, Mentions, Flabbergastation.

On Friday I saw that Delia Lloyd mentioned amidlifeofprivilege on RealDelia. I was flabbergasted. I really like her blog on becoming a grownup. It is about becoming, rather than one day being done with the process. And she writes, as in she does it for a living, for periodicals I’ve read all my life. I was, as I said, flabbergasted. And grateful. Thank you Delia. Last week I also received the Premium Meme Award from blogger Brown-Eyed Girl. Let me just say that she used to work as a Petrophysicist in Denver and her husband is now a professor of something that involves trips to Iceland. Thank you

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Saturday Morning At 8:43am

Sometimes deconstruction brings nothing but comfort. This is my breakfast. There is really nothing about my breakfast that I dislike. Or causes me worry. It’s tea. Tea has been proven to be good for you. Oh, I know green tea or white tea is better than black, but if I am feeling compelled I switch for my second cup. I started drinking tea in England, the year after college. I like remembering that I was lucky enough to have that experience, to live in England, to work for a man on the verge of a great career. And this tea is organic. So no lurking anxiety about pesticides.

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Rapture. Carnitas.

Some things are universal. Thank heavens. You know how it feels, when you are driving down the freeway, and thinking about the next couple of hours, you realize you are hungry, and then realize your favorite food is waiting for you at the next off-ramp? Tacos. Carnitas. See that tomatillo salsa? The chopped red onions? The cilantro? Making my mouth water now even as I sit on my sofa with not a speck of pork in sight. Best part is the side of pickled carrots. Hot. Vinegary. Check is pretty nice too. Gracias indeed. Rapture.

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Shiny Purple Things

Money is a funny thing. Complicated. I have to admit. I didn’t really buy that purse so that people would know my family had money. That would have been silly. Vuitton does not use pictures of my father’s old family estate as logos, now do they? I just started writing and got carried away with the concept. Made me laugh. And I do so appreciate your comments and compliments. Still, my confession holds true in that I bought the purse in part so people would think I was a person with resources. That wasn’t an exaggeration. Above and beyond the sheer prettiness of objects I have a desire

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No Further Ado. Well, Maybe A Little.

I bought this. Otherwise known as this, “Hmm,” you might well say. “Hmm, LPC, is this, um, OK? Is this, um, actually a High WASP approved bag?” Or, were you truly concerned, “LPC, what on earth were you thinking!” I know, I know. I called my sister. The one in Berkeley who has her Ph.D. in Social Work and Public Policy. She was very honest. She told me that Louis Vuitton is NOT currently a High WASP approved brand. She let me down easy. She said, “On the other hand, they USED to be….” Here’s what I told her. I told her I know. I told her I

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The Other Saturday Purchase

Around about the time I bought my Manolos, I also bought a Marc Jacobs purse. (High WASPs are uncomfortable saying handbag. They say purse. I don’t know why.) You have seen versions of it here, WASP Work Clothes On A Budget by High WASP featuring Old Navy and here, Really, What Would Your Mother Say? by High WASP on Polyvore.com …substantiating my claim that I have carried this purse almost exclusively since purchase. Although I do have another one, just like it, in tan, with gold metal hardware. High WASPs believe that if you like something, it’s responsible to buy it in multiple colors. As of yesterday morning,

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Vote for Porter Hovey For Mad Men Walk On Role

Porter Hovey, Hollister Hovey’s (a fairly tongue-in-cheek promulgator of the masculine High WASP aesthetic) sister, is currently leading AMC’s contest for a Mad Men walk on role. Banana Republic is involved. Go look. Vote for Porter unless one of your loved ones is also competing. This is fun. A heated battle gets the testosterone going. Good for us over 50’s.

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Delayed Gratification. And Too Expensive Shoes.

About 4 years ago, I bought these shoes. As of this morning, they look like this. For good reason. I have worn these shoes 3 days out of 5 every work week since I bought them. They are black. They are flat. They are classic. They are terribly comfortable. They are now dead. Saturday I bought these. “Well,” you might say, “Well, LPC, aren’t those Ferragamos, um, rather pricy?” “Why yes they are, ” I would have to answer. $420, to be precise, and quite non-High WASP in my directness. That’s what happens when you buy no new black shoes for 4 years. You defer gratification. And then

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No! Not Again!

I did these the first time. I am not doing them again. Even though the day I met my best friend I was wearing houndstooth leggings, wheeling my daughter in a stroller, and carrying my son in a front pack. I am telling you, I am NOT doing these again. And you can’t make me. Not even if they look like cool old British book endpapers. Don’t even try. Oh. Wait. I’m 52. You don’t WANT me to do this trend again. My apologies. Carry on. And no, this has nothing to do with delayed gratification except that distractions are common during delays. Carry on. Images: via Couture

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Delayed Gratification And Marshmallows

Delayed gratification. Oooh. Tough. Generally I want it now. Me and billions of other people. In today’s world of increased access to pretty pictures, I might want things that I would not have even known existed a decade ago. Turns out that the capacity to delay gratification at a young age is predictive of success in later life. Well, that explains why High WASPs value DG so highly, doesn’t it? We can say it’s all about virtue and godliness, but it’s really about developing the ability to contribute to capitalism. How do we inculcate this value in children? The dinner table, where else. High WASP families make their

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Just Because They Are Pretty

Here are some flowers. Just because they are pretty. No social analysis or class correlation. Although, now that I think about it, they do look a little bit like the flowers my mother organized for my youngest sister’s wedding. Hmm. M. Foucault would probably say culture is inescapable. But for now, let’s pretend I just find these pretty. Maybe some other people will too. And that’s very nice. Image: Flowerwild

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Saturday Morning At 8:58am

Being a mom is such a funny job. One minute you feel love as strong as life. The next minute you are annoyed that yet again the Izze soda bottle is sitting on the coffee table in the morning. One day, like Laura from A piece of cake, you are watching your children in the waves and California sun, fearing sharks and feeling your heart swell. One day, like – apparently – many mothers, your emails are a source of Internet memeing and chortling. Postcards From Yo Mama is what I’m thinking about. Yes. Two women set up a site where people submit emails or IM conversations from

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How You Know That Time Is Passing

I love to cook. I’ve been buying stuff to cook with for 30 years. As such, and as a Californian besides, I’ve always looked for the best ingredients. Going to Asian markets for actual Chinese long beans. Googling aji amarillo to find out where I might buy Peruvian chiles in the Bay Area. (Failing but that’s another problem). Purchasing actual nutmegs vs. ground nutmeg powder. And, being a California, looking to buy organic wherever possible. Yesterday I went to the grocery store. The fancy grocery store. We have more of those here than strictly necessary to support the population. I was looking for, among other things, red pepper

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High WASP Entertaining, Online Invitations Finale

I’m not alone in this online invitations wave. Just the other day even Abby at Style Me Pretty (on her way to challenging Martha, no?) posted a digital save the date. Offbeat Bride has another one here. These are video. You see, in the case of video, the tool set is already in the hands of the consumer. As opposed to animated web invite design and development, still owned by scary boy experts for the most part. Someone from MyPunchbowl.com emailed me to politely tell me they have another online invite service. I haven’t looked at it, but they were very polite. Chelsea at frolic posted about cocodot,

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What Shoes To Wear With Khaki?

I can’t go on and on about how khaki without proposing some solutions to the shoe problem. It wouldn’t be responsible. Not the done thing. Shoes For Khaki by High WASP featuring Old Navy Because khaki was, originally, military, I recommend that you stay away from navy. Stay away from green. Shun primaries. Shoes with reddish undertones look best, brown, purple, oxblood. Metallic sandals in the right context (see?). And black. Nothing sharper than a pair of black shoes with khaki. For work, black perfect loafers, khaki pants, black alligator belt, black cashmere top. Sharp. Makes my mouth water to think about it.

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High WASP Entertaining, If Online Invitations Were Perfect

Just imagine if online invitations were layered, interactive, beautiful, evocative. (Given that I am not a visual designer, the imagination part is key.) Imagine that there are designers out there and you love their stuff. That part’s not hard. For example, Erin at inkOBSESSIONdesigns. I think her graphics are adorable. This birdie, for one.My personal favorite graphic is her space age flowers. Imagine you wanted to include these in a birthday invitation. And you wanted animation. And there was a tool like Polyvore where the two of you could collaborate. The collaboration part is as important as the actual design and effects. (The problem now is you would

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High WASP Entertaining, The Artifacts

The question is, when to bring out the artifacts? For example, Should we put guacamole in this? Too small. Camellias? Maybe. Nuts? Too big unless someone REALLY loves Brazil nuts. But it’s yours. And it’s family. And it’s pretty. So you bring it, and its peers, out along with the grapevine glazed platters from Crate and Barrel, in a rush of embarrassment, affection and pride. How can you tell this is a High WASP artifact? See those initials? Sure, they are mine. It’s not unusual to have a silver bowl from Tiffany & Co., right? Except those were also my grandmother’s initials. And I was named in some

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Tag, 6 Things That Make High WASPs Happy

Ashley at Paisley and Pearls tagged me to list 6 things that make me happy. How about 6 things that make the High WASP in me happy? 1. Cooking chicken in Le Creuset on an old stove . We like Le Creuset because they’ve been around forever. Because their pots are made from comforting and heavy cast iron. Because you can own these pots for 30 years and while they may wind up laced with old dinners they will work just fine. We like old stoves because we frequently have them at our lake houses. From Amanda at first milk. 2. Prints of vegetables. We like these because

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Saturday Morning At 7:02am

All day meeting yesterday for my job that plays peekaboo. Mostly boo at this point. Another meeting today. I’m stiff from sitting for hours. Listening to business stories. Still tough times. We’re well-run. Tightly run. We have a great strategy. And were surprised by the extent of the economic events of last fall. Our strategy won’t change. But I am hearing how we have dealt with what can politely be called adversity. It turns out that being able to deal with adversity is just as important as having a great strategy in the first place. I’ve been thinking similar thoughts about advice to my kids. No, I didn’t

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Since We’re Friends…

If I really needed to call this khaki, you’d let me, right? Such a benign form of madness. No harm, no foul. The small and the innocent are safe. All is still right when you wake up in the darkness. I knew you’d understand. ImageMiu Miu via style.com P.S. And no I wouldn’t wear black tights, no matter how embellished. This is where I’d wear the infamous metallic sandals. Gold even. Ha!

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Online Invitations Continued, Pingg Gets Closer

In the inexorable march towards premium online invitations, pingg takes huge steps. Oh I am sorry. Can’t you tell I’ve done marketing writing for a living from time to time? Anyway, I want to show you that much of what we don’t like about Evite is in fact being solved. Meet pingg.com. Above is their home page. Aaah. We like the aesthetic. Cleaner. The feeling of celebration right up front with the wrapped presents. (High WASPs don’t say “gifts”. I don’t know why). Go create an invitation. There’s a pretty robust search and browse function to help you find a design you like. If you ever want to

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High WASP Entertaining, Yes, The Online Invitation Is The Way Of The Future

The online invitation is the way of the future. There. I’ve said it. But, we aren’t there yet. The state of online invitations is currently defined by Evite. To the point where people use the word “Evite” to mean online invitation. Like Kleenex meaning tissue stored in a box to blow your nose with. People will often say that they don’t like online invitations when they really mean they don’t like Evite. But let’s not be harsh. Evite was the first. Evite defined the space. They developed the concept and ironed out the bugs. Problem is they didn’t end up with a good user experience. And technology has

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And They Sometimes Call It Nude

But we, we know it’s khaki. It could be shorts. Or a dress.But either way you can wear the “nude” with this bracelet for a touch of the my-great-great-uncle-studied-remote-tribes-in-Africa look that Banana Republic and J. Peterman revered. And Hollister Hovey espouses today. And if you do, as long as everything else is played down, you will get the High WASP seal of approval, although it may come via a sideways glance. Just – please – no metallic sandals here.ImagesShorts from Urban Outfitters via for me, for youDress from Donna Karan via Couture CarrieBracelet from Garnet Hill via une femme d’un certain age

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Tag, 10 Previously Unknown Things

Muffy Martini tagged* me the other day. Muffy is, to my way of thinking, a slightly offbeat preppy blogger. Which to my way of thinking, is a compliment. She likes ostriches, goes to rock concerts, and laughs really loudly on her blog. She may have trademarked HAHAHAHAHA! 10 previously unknown things about myself. OK. Of course, being of a metaphysical bent, I would like to tell you things about myself that I don’t even know. But at 52, I believe that finding out 10 things I don’t know about myself might require a trip around the world, or spelunking, or fasting. So I’ll stick to the rules. 1.

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Saturday Morning At 7:14am

The house is very quiet. All I can hear are birds creaking and chippering outside, and the roar of my refrigerator inside. I need a new refrigerator. This one keeps soda warm, but freezes lettuce. Frozen lettuce does not a popsicle make. It’s like a farming disaster, an early frost, right in the comfort of your own home. On the other hand, I have new flowers and a new iPhone. Yellow flowers in a blue pitcher. It’s easier to buy flowers than a new refrigerator. They have flowers at Whole Foods, a place where I spend a lot of time and money, especially as I am now feeding

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High WASP Entertaining, What Do We Think About Alcohol?

We like it. However we are not apt to be the people bowed in reverence over their collection of single malt Scotch. We are not apt to be the ones discussing merits of boutique gins, Junipero vs. Hendricks vs. Plymouth. Nor, surprisingly, are we much good at sophisticated discussions of wine. Unless of course we are foodies by choice, not by heritage. Then we can get really wound up. Me, I vote for Junipero gin, that faint flavor of juniper berries, bite of the gin…but where was I? Oh yes. Beefeater’s is fine. $10 bottles of Sauvignon Blanc are fine, especially when they are sustainably produced. Scotch is

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Rapture Of Walking Without Music

Today I went for another walk in my neighborhood. I carried a new iPhone, since it’s now my only telephone and I like to call Belgium when I walk. It occurred to me that my software-writing buddies had encouraged me to put all my iTunes music on my iPhone. I could, if I wanted, listen to music. So I gave it a try. Disaster. I cannot walk and listen to songs at the same time. When I walk, I look. I look and think. Like reading a book, only I’m reading my surroundings line by line. When Elvis Costello started singing Alison I stopped dead on the suburban

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High WASP Entertaining, The Family Gathering

Theme parties aside, the High WASP’s most favorite sort of entertaining is the family gathering. Let’s face it. It’s tiring being a High WASP. All that social signaling. I am sighing at the thought. At family gatherings, you will not offend anyone with incorrect signals. The language is shared. You may offend someone by calling them an effing princess, as I once did, or admitting that you don’t like fruit desserts, but at least it’s clear. Not murky. Devoid of anxiety. And more often, you will sit round the table and say things like, “Remember when we were in Mexico and the mariachi band played in the villa’s

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High WASP Entertaining, The Themed Party

Costume parties, scavenger hunts, holiday parties, you name it. High WASPs like parties with themes. When I was at Princeton, my sophomore year I lived with 3 roommates in a 4th floor quad at the top of many, many stairs. A gray stone dormitory. With turrets. At Christmas, we decided to give a party. We sent out invitations. In this case, they were just Xeroxed, handed out everywhere on the gray stone paths of the university. Under arches. In the invitations, we stressed that the party would involve mistletoe, Christmas carols, and punch. We said, dress for the occasion. And, in 1974, they did. Our room was full

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High WASP Entertaining, The Invitation

High WASPs love to entertain. We particularly like dinner parties. They get us all festive and chipper and prepared to throw caution to the wind. If you are a close friend we might call you up Saturday and say, “So, are we on for Sunday dinner as usual?” But for large affairs, or events marking special occasions, we will send invitations.* There are three preferred types of friends and family invitations.** Old school invitations are handwritten as follows. Seldom seen today. Note the gold bumblebee. Apparently the bee is or was a symbol of Freemasonry. Who knew.Most common, especially amongst the AARP crowd, is the hybrid. The design

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A Killer Recipe For Chinese Chicken And Leeks That Belgium Will Love

My best friend moved to Belgium last year. She has been my best friend for 18 years. When I call her, her cellphone says Best Friend. When she calls me, my cellphone says Belgium. My friend, never a fleshy person except when pregnant, has lost a lot of weight since she moved to Belgium. She’s a picky eater, and hates everything that counts as food over there. I’m not sure why. She has always liked my cooking. I don’t know if it’s because I cook well, or just because she loves me and trusts food that comes from my hands. She said to me the other day (thank

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Saturday Morning At 7:22am

Ah. Saturday. Tea. Toast. Morning. It’s also the 4th of July. A holiday which if we’re lucky involves fireworks, lakes, oceans, charred food, cold drinks, children, and watermelon. Let me do my part by introducing Pretty Girl (as she is known) to you. She is Lipstick at the Mailbox‘s daughter. Cute as a bug in a rug my mother would say. Don’t you love the fancy white hairbow? The enthusiastic watermelon biting? The little knuckle dimples on her little hands? Lipstick points out a dandelion growing under the planter. Hmm. Didn’t notice. Happy 4th of July to all.

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My Cozy Theory Is Off To The Theory Graveyard

I had a theory about the recent spate of crochet. I was wrong. I thought we were cozying everything. Not just tea kettles, but stones, clocks, trees. Oh, and Cher’s boobs. But these recent apparitions have changed my mind. This is from a cafe that displays crocheted food. Via design*sponge, prime crochet perpetrator. This is a crochet wedding cake. From Offbeat Bride. A world unto itself. I see now that this is a simpler phenomenon. This is a an art trend. Crochet. The crochet that ate Manhattan if you will. So we must ask ourselves, what next? If we have ceased to cover with our crochet, and begun

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WASP Up Your Work Clothes – On A, Dare I Say, Budget?

One of the wonderful people who read this blog, to whom I am so grateful, wrote me and asked how she could “WASP up” her wardrobe for a new job as a consultant. On a moderate budget. Below is my suggestion for a jeans-friendly office. If you needed to up the formality a bit, change the jeans to black wool pants and wear a white, black, or french blue shirt. The overall principles are as follows: Shoes and bag have to be the best you can possibly afford. It is OK if you carry the same bag and wear essentially the same shoes every day, as long as

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Safe In Harbour, Safe At Home

Work can be hard. It matters to be able to come home. To take a deep long breath and put your feet up on the sofa. Look out the window with nothing in mind. Maybe, imaginary if not real, the smell of the bay and the sounds of sails in the wind. A foghorn. Familiar waters. From Peonies and Polaroid’s etsy store. If you somehow missed her wedding recaps, (maybe you aren’t obsessed with weddings like me?) they are among the most beautiful ever, in both word and image. Beautiful pictures are a good way to recover from hard work. Even better if they are on your wall

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Resources, Because We Can’t Do It All On Our Own

And finally, some resources. Please chime in if you know of others, these are in no way exhaustive. Let me say first that I have always had the High WASP suspicion of following one’s bliss. Bliss is a rather untrammeled emotion. We don’t feel comfortable in the world of untrammeled anything. Another problem is that my bliss might lead me to try to get paid for sitting on the sofa, looking out the window. Or, as an alternative, lying on the sofa reading Us Weekly. People will only pay you for what you do. Not for what you hope or dream. And people will only pay you for

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Career Risk Changes With The Decade

Over the last two weeks I have been writing about my thoughts on how to address your career. You know what? It’s exhausting. You can’t Polyvore career advice, or Flickr it, or quip it. It’s a huge topic, and in order to do any justice whatsoever, there’s a bare minimum that has to be said. Plus I have to muster my declining testosterone and get all square-jawed. Phew. But I’m almost done. At least for this go-round. There’s one more really important idea. Your risk profile changes over time. Getting off the sofa, literally or metaphorically, has a different impact at each decade of your life. Being 20

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Honest Scrap Award From Little Bow Prep

Little Bow Prep has given me an award. She is a high school student, working hard and worrying, as most high-achieving high school students do, where she will go to college. And looking at fashion along the way. I am flattered to get an award from a teenager. It means I have not passed over to the land of old people who must be avoided. And I support her for blogging and slogging her way through the college admissions process. Thank you Little Bow, and BTW, clever name… The award has rules, as these things do. I prefer, however, to call them requests. Here they are: Each blogger

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Saturday Morning At 6:17am

My daughter has finished her first week at the new job. She called me every day on the way home from work. I love to hear what she is experiencing, to imagine her in this new life, and to give advice. But I have been surprised by how often I have to say, “I don’t know honey. It depends.” Although I am more than familiar with corporate life, I lack first-hand information about her particular job, her company, its culture and processes. Companies are different and knowing how to navigate them requires direct and detailed observation. I will never have that opportunity. I met her high school teachers

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Khakis For The End Of The Week

Khaki is another High WASP all-time favorite color. The best kind of khaki trousers are the kind that show up in your wardrobe, coming from you know not where. Mystery khakis. They belonged to your son, or your daughter’s friend. They are a little too big to wear anywhere but home. Walk in the front door, kick off your heels, drop the laptop case, purse, and car keys, go into your bedroom. Off come the navy blue linen pants and the white t-shirt and the work-appropriate bra. Off comes the makeup. Re-emerge in khakis, sane bra, tank top, flip flops. Go pour a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Wander

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What To Do Now Because Doing It At 50 Will Be Hard

Sit down. Stand up. Sit down. Stand up. Silently. Don’t say “Ugh!” or “Umph.” or “Oh…” Hurry. Walk fast and talk at the same time. Cook three courses while drinking a glass of wine. Decide that grad school was a bad idea. Ask someone a question. Remember the answer 10 minutes later. *Or sing Thriller one last time, fall in love, bare your soul. If you were Michael Jackson. R.I.P.

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Risk And What To Do About It

You may not like your career, now, or as you look into the future. If this is where you find yourself, you have two reasonable options, in my opinion. First, increase the amount of risk you are willing to tolerate and act accordingly. Adventure out onto the high seas. I have to tell you though, this is terribly difficult. This is to be or not to be, and screwing your courage to the sticking place, and once more into the breech dear friends. This is what the self-help people make a lot of money on. How gurus make their name. Why patients spend years with psychoanalysts. And at

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Apparently Navy Is Now "Indigo"

Retrogurl at nitro.licious posts this announcement from Lancome. Yesterday in Paris, the Lancôme makeup team unveiled their latest fall 2009 color collection, Declaring Indigo. Created by Lancôme artistic director for makeup, Aaron De Mey, this collection celebrates Paris in all its vibrancy. Aaron chose shades that represent the glamour, the energy and the passion of Paris—indigo blue, bright red and luxurious gold. Apparently navy blue, here in the “indigo” incarnation, is tres now. It’s even being declared. You see, when you have the same style all your life once a decade you become moderately fashionable. Apparently one can even pre-order a makeup bag with navy blue brushes. Excuse

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Fierce At 50, Or, The Risk/Return Curve

In two years of business school, I learned 10 things that were worth the effort. Approximately. Almost all of these fell into the general category of: find a problem people have, make or do something that solves that problem, do it better than anyone else, find a good way to explain why your way is better, and then find the people who care and tell them over and over and over again. Or that accounting is a terrible, terrible invention. Or that good team chemistry can make almost any assignment bearable. Never mind that. In the interest of how to have a career that keeps you fierce at

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High WASP Stationery

I went to the Stanford Shopping Center today, the center for casual, Californian, flowering luxury that it is. The best urns of glorious colored flowers to be found anywhere outside of manor house entryways. I was headed for Papyrus, for stationery. I have to write thank yous to some of my family back east. The High WASP mass market default paper company is Crane. That part was easy. I found these note cards. However, I was not comfortable. The lining of the envelope, although you cannot tell from this picture, is actually an opalescent blue. I tried to make my peace with it. For a few minutes. But

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Award From Wedding Planning In Exile

Bride at Wedding Planning In Exile has given me this award. As it happens, I’ve received it before, but since I am a ninny and don’t put these things in my sidebar, how should she have known? Were I adhering strictly to High WASP precepts I would say nothing, NOTHING, about how I had received this already and I would just carry on. But in this transparent day and age I would like to propose a modification. I will confess to prior receipt and I will say thank you. Thank you very much. Deeply appreciated. Wedding Planning in Exile is, as she says, planning a wedding on the

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Saturday Morning At 6:47am

I’m sitting at my kitchen counter. It’s old. 17 years old. Butcher block. Which means that by now it boasts some fissures, a burn mark or two, and various mottled patches. Don’t get me wrong, I scrub my counter with reasonable frequency. I’d be embarassed not to. But wood seems to have a memory that cleaning substances and Scotch Brite can’t erase. Hmm, I see what looks like a pen mark too. Old homework relic. Time to sand. Rub it down with mineral oil. One of those house tasks that you carry in the back of your mind thinking to take care of. Whether you do it or

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Shoes With Navy Blue, Redux

In fashion, there are always arbiters. To me, east side bride is an arbiter of cool. She may not want to be one, far be it for me to insist. However, as professors always say, for the purposes of discussion, let’s just say she’s an arbiter of cool. And let’s just say, in this case because it’s true, that she said she was tired of Converse and couldn’t I get some Bensimons or some Tretorns. So, always one to respond well to authority, like a good High WASP, I did. Lots of them. Delicious. Rather like a berry salad, only for wearing on your tootsies. Bensimons To Wear

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Telling Stories

OK. So never mind software. Or User-Centered Development. I use software development as a reference because it’s my domain, my particular expertise. The method, however, works more universally. I know from hindsight. From what I didn’t know I wanted. From what I didn’t know I was good at. From what I didn’t know I couldn’t bear to do at all. I can tell these stories now that I am sitting on my sofa, at 52. I didn’t tell myself these stories when I was in my 20’s and 30’s because the stories of I want to have babies and the stories of I want approval and the stories

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What Color Shoes To Wear With Navy Blue?

You have a lot of choices in shoe color for navy blue clothing. Here are some pictures of a few options. Because, despite all the terribly serious talk about careers and lifelong satisfaction, the momentary glee of a good pair of shoes, matched perfectly for your circumstances and whatever you are wearing, cannot be discounted. And why wear navy? Well, navy is the High WASP color of choice, right? Do you need proof? There’s no question that it’s the best suit color for women. As well as the perfect dinner party dress color. And, finally, the defining characteristic of the most beautiful, classic outfit to hit the runways

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The Back Story

Theories and constructs and analysis get you only so far in life. Other people’s mistakes are much better learning opportunities. Here’s how I did exactly what I just said not to do. When I got out of college I said to myself, “I know! I like theater, and I like to be in charge of things. I will go into theater management.” Nice try. Except the part of theater I liked was being on stage in front of many people. And the part of being in charge I liked was having everyone listen to me. And in theater management, real, marbles on the floor, theater management, you don’t

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Fierce at 50, Or, User-Centered Development

What job? What career? I am not an expert. But I have had some great jobs, some truly horrific ones, and am now in a position to sit on my sofa and think. To ask myself, what could I have done differently in my 20’s and 30’s so that at 50 my career would be better than it is? Better for me that is. Me as I am. It’s an enormous question. The only way I can address enormous questions is to break them into pieces and go after each piece separately. Take the blue velvet bag of marbles labeled “Career”, throw all the marbles on the floor,

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Fierce At 50, Or, Having A Good Job Helps

I’ve spent a fair amount of time recently with young people about to take their first steps in the world. Otherwise known as 1100 new Princeton graduates sitting in chairs on a lawn in the sun. To say nothing of my daughter on the other side of the country getting ready to go to her new job. I’ve also recently had a reader do me the honor of asking if I had any advice on careers, as in, how to have one. All of which has gotten me to thinking. I do not believe there is any way around the reality that in order to be fierce at

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My Sister’s New Clothes

My sister, aside from being one of my best friends in the whole world and completely adorable, is exceedingly well-educated. She has a BA from Harvard, a JD from Berkeley, and an MSW and PhD from Berkeley too. As you might expect, her work involves other extremely well-educated people. And, in fact, in her new job she is supervising PhD students. She called me the other day and said, “I’m dropping [x=10x cute daughter] off at Dad’s house and I should be free at 12:30 and will have about 2-3 hours. Can you meet me at the shopping center? I need clothes for the new job.” As you

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Saturday Morning At 8:22am

Took the kids to the movies last night. The 21-year old and the 19-year old both wanted to see Up. Luckily I did too. I cried through the first part. But I won’t spoil it for others. I was terrified through the second part. Turns out that people who are scared of airplanes are really scared of flying houses. I laughed through the third part. Talking dogs, rainbow birds, and 10-year old cartoon boys will do that. I was terrified again through the fourth part. Dirigibles are just as bad as airplanes and flying houses. And cried again in the end. By the time we left the movie

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Neighborhood Rapture

I went on a walk in my neighborhood yesterday morning. First I passed a boy and a girl playing in a front yard. I could hear them chattering in the language of Pretend. “Let’s say we went to the movies, OK?” Pretending to go to the movies as they skipped across their lawn. Then I passed a park. A Chinese grandmother swinging her granddaughter. An Indian grandfather swinging his grandson. California is diverse. I like that. On the next street I passed a medium-sized girl playing basketball in her front yard. She lost control of her ball and it rolled into the street. I bounced it to her.

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The Unbearable Lightness Of The First Job

My daughter starts her job in a week and a half. As I have said before, it’s a real job. A talent development program, with health insurance. A great first step towards figuring out what role work will play in her life. Pays enough that she can live on her own. A very significant event, both as recognition of her accomplishments to date and as a platform for the future. So needless to say I took her shoe shopping. We went to a Marshall’s Megashoe something or other. This is not my territory. I usually buy Ferragamos or Stuart Weitzman from Nordstrom or even Neiman Marcus. I tell

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High WASP Secret Code, Or, What Not To Say

I wanted to respond to comments made here by Julia and Judy. Judy asked me if High WASPs joined organizations like the DAR and the Knights of Cincinnati. Julia asked me if my interpretation of my cousin’s remark about my dress had been correct. These two questions are in fact related. High WASPs are characterized more by what they don’t say than by what they do say. We don’t mind if you join the DAR or the Knights of Cincinnati but please do not post documents confirming your membership anywhere we can see them. You may mention your membership, but only in very limited circumstances, and the mention

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The Story Of Our Dinner In Northern New Jersey

On the Wednesday after my daughter’s graduation we drove to stay with my 82-year old 2nd cousin once-removed-in-law whom I had not seen in 31 years. She put together a dinner party for us. She invited her son, his girlfriend, her daughter, her daughter’s husband, and a few other people from my father’s youth. I had visited her and her husband fairly often while an undergraduate at Princeton. Unfortunately I spent much of my time uncomfortably watching the glamorous side of my High WASP family wear clothes I didn’t own and have conversations I couldn’t grasp. Her son and his friends lived in New York, they were the

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The Long Drive Back From My Mom’s House, #2

We drove back from Santa Barbara yesterday. Got home after 11pm, past my bedtime certainly. Nephew’s team played in the consolation round of the tournament, winning their final game in a penalty kick phase after one period of overtime. I was aghast that they had 9 and 10 year old boys facing the anxiety of the penalty kick, an anxiety so severe and existential that a book has been written and a movie has been made about it. However, like many things fraught with the potential for existential anxiety it turned out to be just fine. Nephew was first up on his side and made his kick. I

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Saturday Morning at 7:19am

I am at my mother’s house in Santa Barbara. On my step-father’s computer. Sitting at his desk. It’s a Swedish antique with a shredding leather top, embossed with letterpress wedding invitation-type flourishes. The desk, of course, not the computer. I can see the ocean out the window, across a narrow strip of lawn, over the hedge at the end of the property, past a palm tree. The ocean lying flat and gray blue out in the distance. Fog and the Santa Catalina islands beyond. My kids are sleeping over in the guest house. My sister’s older kids are sleeping upstairs. My sister and her husband and her toddler

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The Story Of My Daughter’s Graduation

Tuesday I woke up early. I lay in bed. I knew that if personal beauty were my first priority I ought to wash my hair. And then blow it dry. But I hate blow drying my hair because it makes my arms hurt to hold them up over my head for that long. I decided not to bother. I justified my decision as follows. Justification #1. Due to jet lag, inordinate sensory stimulation, Katie Couric, drunken people in the streets late at night, and a comically loud air conditioner at the Nassau Inn, I had not slept much and was too tired to get up any earlier than

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Class of 2009

I am back in California where the sky is blue and the clouds are high and white and somewhere someone is mowing their lawn. My daughter has graduated from Princeton. My son is down the hall calling me to see his photos of Belgium and Paris and my best friend’s family. My daughter comes home tomorrow for 10 days before returning to New Jersey to start her new, actual, pays a salary, has health insurance, job. Amazing. I go in to work for a day before heading down to Santa Barbara for the weekend with my mother, her husband, my youngest sister, her husband, their three astonishing children

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Katie Couric. Who Knew?

We heard Katie Couric speak yesterday at Class Day. She is now an honorary member of the Princeton Class of 2009. I had no idea who she is. I mean, I knew the name. But I don’t watch morning television. Or the evening news, for that matter. So I had no idea about the woman herself. My mistake. You know how sometimes you hear someone speak in public and it feels as though the two of you are sitting in your kitchen, or your office, just talking? And how rare that is? Who knew. She said at one point, specifically to all the young women, that she imagined

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Sitting in Princeton

Sitting in the Yankee Doodle Tap Room of the Nassau Inn in Princeton waiting to have breakfast with my daughter. Kind of says it all, no? Beautiful late spring day in the Mid-Atlantic region but in the way of places where weather isn’t always wonderful, I am underground. The table of my booth is dark wood. Initials carved in everywhere. I know I am sitting in centuries of tradition, but since it’s my turn to see my daughter graduate, at this point I have to make myself notice much of anything else. Sort of like, oh look, Michelle Obama is on the wall, well, that’s great, where’s D,

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Saturday Morning at 10:10am

My children are growing and grown. No chubbiness anywhere in the vicinity. Everyone is in control of their own hair and the clothes on their bodies. Luckily other people keep having kids. Cute kids. Really cute kids. Let me introduce you to Zoe. Oh my god. Have you ever seen such a beautiful little girl? Her mom blogs here with lots of other pictures of her two cute children. My favorite is the one where Zoe wears an Easter basket on her head. And how about Eli?As Ree Drummond would say, stick a fork in me, I’m done. Those curls. The kilt? I have to clench my teeth

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Saturday Morning at 9:59am

My daughter graduates from college on Tuesday. I fly to Princeton tomorrow. I am proud of her. But I will be no more proud of her on Tuesday than I was yesterday or the day before. Almost all her life a part of me has been standing with dropped jaw, watching her, wondering how she got here. When I wasn’t chasing someone down the hall to put their shoes on, of course. The child, because I will never relinquish my right to call her a child, is a creature. I don’t think it’s just mother love talking. Part of it is her physical presence. She is very tall

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High WASP Wedding – Navy #4

Of course a High WASP wedding will be likely to have navy blue somewhere. Might be the people. You can go traditional or, well, less traditional. Might be the table settings. You can go formal, or, well, less formal. With the tin plates below you can even go outside. And when you’re done, you can go, well, away. Bon voyage all. I know I had said I was done with navy. I was wrong. I made a mistake. That happens sometimes. Have a great weekend. Images…Bridesmaids: Project WeddingGroom: Style Me PrettyFormal Tables: Tangorra Events via Style Me PrettyTin Plate: EmilyStyleTowel: Land’s End via Couture CarrieBeach Tote (yeah right

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Rapture. Toes.

Sometimes as I drive up 101 on the way to work I am seized by rapture. I find life to be a blinding light at which we can rarely bear to look. Sometimes I think about whether I can afford a pedicure and if so whether I should have my toes painted blatant or demure pink. Humanity. What to do about it?

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High WASP True Colors – Navy #3

And for the High WASP dinner party at home, a little black dress is a tad too austere. Navy blue will hide the stains from roasted red pepper relish or corn fritters or homemade blue cheese dressing or malted milk brownies or ma po tofu, just as well as black. I could continue. But I will restrain myself. It’s all about restraint. Dinner at Seven in Navy by High WASP featuring Cynthia Vincent shoes

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High WASP True Colors – Navy #2

There are those working days when you plain and simply have to gear up to fight. When what you have to accomplish is going to require your last iota of capability, cognitive, emotional, physical. In the corporate world those days call for navy blue. Every single woman going into law or finance or industry ought to make her first purchase and most frequent purchase over time a navy suit. Or suit equivalent. The particulars can change decade by decade. I celebrated my 30th birthday by buying my first non-suit for work. A navy blue dress that buttoned down the front, big shoulders, wide belt. It was 1986, remember?

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High WASP True Colors – Navy, #1

If the High WASPs had a place of worship, the altar cloth would be navy blue. You can never go wrong with navy. Yes, I said never. Black may be the neutral most favored by the rest of the fashion world but black is problematic for High WASPs. First of all, it’s funereal. Second of all, it’s edgy. In the High WASP world the ultimate sin is to offend anyone, for any reason. Some people get offended, or at least nervous, around edgy. Navy blue is deeply respectful, serious, sober. It’s American. Very American. Look at jeans, the single most important invention of the American innovation engine. Yup,

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No Title

Today I have watched an astonishing number of war movies on television in honor of Memorial Day. Men shooting at each other, at buildings, at airplanes, at bunkers, at gas tanks. It seems that people shouldn’t shoot at each other any more in modern life. But they don’t listen to me and they do it anyway. Even though I wish people did not shoot each other any more I surrender to the parts of the movies about heroes, where John Wayne orders the bodies of the paratroopers cut down, where young men belay each other up hills, where someone runs across a field or through water or down

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Job, Do I Have One Or Not?

The job that got misplaced, then found, is now playing hide and seek. Sort of like a toddler, as in here I am behind the sofa and you can’t see me. As long as you are willing to pretend with me that the entire lower half of my body sticking out does not mean that the upper half is there too. Peekaboo. In other words, I am working part time. It’s somewhat dislocating, working part time. Over the years I have developed such a distinctive work persona, one only tangentially related to my at home persona, that making the switch in the way that part time work requires

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Saturday Morning at 9:59am

My boy child gets on an airplane and flies to Belgium today. He is visiting my best friend. I hate airplanes. I am always a wreck. I have my rituals. Have a good weekend all.

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High WASP Weddings x Crossing Cultures

I’ve been touched by some recent discussions in the blogosphere. Sweet Tea and Accordions and Lace have both talked about wanting to include family traditions while at the same time planning weddings that reflect them as they are in the country where they have lived all or most of their lives. Sweet Tea also points out that some times people from many generations in America appear to co-opt important symbols from other cultures. We apologize. That’s not the intent. But High WASPs have rebellious children too. Or non-rebels who want simply to evolve beyond the culture of their origin. The pageantry of the traditional High WASP wedding has

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Feeding Cheerios To Your Goblins. Or Grape-Nuts.

I have not found that wisdom comes as a large and musical gift from the universe. Knowledge is in fact rarely revelatory. I find that wisdom, such as we might find it, is more like learning how to stock your kitchen cabinets. How many light bulbs of what wattage to have as backup? What size cans of diced tomatoes? Is frozen chicken stock useful? All the little practical details, garnered just by waking up every day and going to sleep at night. Wisdom of self in is many ways the most difficult to attain. It is hard to unlearn, or manage, one’s emotional makeup. I have not found

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My Son’s Graduation, Part II. What I Wore.

I must reiterate. I know and knew that my feelings about my son’s graduation were unnecessary. I knew that I shouldn’t care that these women had more money than I do, that they looked fancier, that they participated in a world I couldn’t join. I should have been able to hold my chin high, and march into that environment without a qualm. For whatever reason (and I do have my theories), I couldn’t. For now just grant me that I was determined to attend my son’s graduation free from social anxieties. What to do? I couldn’t exactly walk around with a copy of the Declaration of Independence hanging

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When High WASPs Have Social Anxiety

Silicon Valley is full of very rich people. As in having a Gulfstream IV doesn’t mean you have the right toys. It’s got to be a Gulfstream V. Twenty Four At Heart calls a similar area of her hometown “Moneytown.” Well we’ve got Moneytown too. You mix private jets with Ph.D.s and people who think all software should be a free platform for rebellion and old hippies from the days of Ken Kesey living up in the redwoods, leavened with a cup or two of accountants who got moved here from Kansas to run the local office and venture capitalists with ADD and a lot of testosterone, and

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Class Dismissed

Julia, the trenchant (big word of the day) bride of DJ and the Remix and EAD, sent me a link to this Atlantic article, written by Sandra Tsing Loh. I really appreciate Julia’s thoughtfulness in sending it along. The occasion is the 25th anniversary of a book by Paul Fussell called Class: A Guide Through the American Status System, but Tsing Loh goes on to discuss the way in which the creative class has replaced old money at the top of the social hierarchy, the new ways in which this class signals how cool they are, and the possible effects of the current recession. While I hate to

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Saturday Morning at 8:05am, Or, I Spilled My Blood For You

My daughter IM’d me last Sunday. She said Happy Mother’s Day. And then she asked what I wanted as a present. I hesitated for a moment, caught up in all kinds of thoughts and feelings. I explained to her that Mother’s Day presents had to come on the day or they didn’t count. That was hard for me to say. I knew it might make her feel bad. I hate to make my children feel bad. My childrearing was always of the sort where I wanted first and foremost for my children to do and feel well. I protected them. From so many things. My Chinese American colleagues

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If For Some Reason You Wanted A High WASP Wedding…

If for some reason you would like to have a High WASP wedding, I’ve got a few pointers. I do understand that a High WASP wedding has no particular virtue. I would not begin to tell anyone they should follow my advice. In other words, while I am sure that what I am saying is correct, it just doesn’t necessarily matter. What you would not be likely to find at a High WASP wedding is one of these. Project Wedding Well why not you might ask? Didn’t we just discuss the joys of gaudy and over the top jewelry? Yes. But those were real diamonds. And quite frankly

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Wearing White Before Ever

Mel and Cricket have both mused this week about wearing white before Memorial Day. Let me say this. I can find no record at all of this rule’s origin. Let me now also say this. Wear white whenever you want. Think about it. Rules are made for two reasons. First, between peers, to ensure efficient functioning. Think soccer, Go Fish, the New York Stock Exchange trading floor. Second, by the ruling power to ensure control of the subordinate group. Think grade school, the Army, Jim Crow. White clothes involve rules between peers to ensure efficient functioning? Bear with me. The unendurable difficulty of laundry prior to the modern

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Guilty Sparkly Pleasures

When I was little I would creep into my father’s study and read the Encyclopedia Brittanica. In those days, a set consisted of something like 20 volumes. The volumes were oversized, and had illustration pages. Called plates, I think. These pages were thick, shiny, suck-air-between-your-teeth desirable. It might have been that I was precocious and hungry for knowledge. But no. I was in search of volume G-H. G for Gems. I would sit on the floor and look at the pictures and shiver. I don’t know what it was. Maybe the facets. A hall of mirrors, endless reflections, not knowing where the end or the center might be.

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People’s Republic of Berkeley x High WASP, Redux

I have two sisters. And a brother. I love my siblings. I see my middle sister most often. She lives very close to Berkeley. Also known in these parts as the People’s Republic of Berkeley. The most salient detail would seem to be that my sister has had a lot of education. She graduated from Harvard. She has her law degree from UC Berkeley, and also a Ph. D. in social welfare. She does work that I only vaguely understand in which she uses research to set policy on issues like homelessness, substance abuse, mothers, and children. In the context of a liberal High WASP family with a

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The Sin Of Sparkly Things

I am about to make a truly egregious High WASP comment. Jewelry, when made of precious stones and precious metals, is never in absolute bad taste. One can wear it badly, inappropriately, rudely, meanly, stupidly. But the jewelry itself is never at fault. Nobody could really question the tastefulness of the above pieces. Sure, the earrings are a serious lot of diamonds, but you know, opening at the opera, the visit of the Ambassador, the day they dedicate your hospital wing, it’s OK. The fleur-de-lis is a little heavy on the flower vs. the de lis, but it’s Victorian and they came by flourishes honestly. Scandinavian anything is

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Queen of ALLL Things

The Preppy Princess has given me an award. Apparently I am now the Queen of All Things. Aside from being kind and helpful, the Princess also runs a business and has already had a career in media. It’s wonderful to see someone who can accomplish so much. And her blog has just enough tongue-in-cheek to make me go back every day. Plus Gossip Girl. Thanks Princess. The terms of this award are to pass it on to 7 bloggers and say 7 things about myself that make me aww-summm. Oooh. That’s really hard for High WASPs. Counts as showing off. So, here’s what I will do. We are

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Saturday Morning at 9:56am, Or, Mother’s Day Parade

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. This is the first time both kids are gone. That’s OK. Not a sad thing, really. I am wondering what they might send me. Last year my highly competent daughter mobilized for flowers. This year she’s getting ready to graduate from college. Lot on her mind. And my son is still suffering from the testosterone poisoning that causes all teenage boys to disappear into a hormonal haze where they remain mute and bemused until one day when you least expect it they emerge as a man, tall, kind, and ready to take care of a family. At least, that’s the story I tell myself.

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High WASP Weddings, Corruption And The Age Of Innocence

Gaudy, expensive, over-the-top weddings of famous people are not unique to our era. Consider if you will the inaptly named Age of Innocence. Does everyone remember, from the deep, dark recesses of high school history classes, a man named Boss Tweed? New York politician famed largely for corrupt practices. How about, from the same history class, or maybe from business school if you studied financial geniuses and possible criminals, a man named J. Pierpont Morgan? As in J.P. Morgan & Co.? As in the financial instruments responsible for the Industrial Revolution? Guess what. They both had daughters. Guess what. Their daughters both got married. Guess what. The New

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The Fierceness Of Flowers

The reputation of flowers, in my opinion, is deeply flawed. Think about it. Even the term, flowery, means delicate, ornate, soft. Have you looked at any flowers in their natural state lately? My roses almost killed me over the weekend. My arms were marked with punctures as though tiny pipes had blown poison darts at me from the suburban rain forest. I got back at those roses. I cut some branches and put them in a vase on my kitchen counter. Now I can see the thorns though the clear glass and the water. Thorns as big as my thumbnails. The flowers themselves are peach or apricot colored,

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Guest On A Practical Wedding : Priscilla And Stanford, 1937

As you all know I have enormous respect for Meg, the young woman responsible for the site, A Practical Wedding. Her writing and thinking is of interest, in my opinion, even if you aren’t planning a wedding any time in the near future. She has done me the honor today of posting the story of my great-aunt Priscilla’s wedding. If you are so inclined, take a peek, if you haven’t already.

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Awards And What To Do About Them Redux

As I suspected, I am guilty of rudeness. This is not what High WASPs enjoy. Aubergine Ink, who blogs in a lovely way about her wedding, gave me an award and I have not responded. My mother always says, in matters of etiquette, “A simple thank you will suffice.” Blame my wayward spirit for the following. Because of my initial lapse in responding I am going to try a different mode of thank you. Aubergine, I made you your very own award. One that no one else will ever win. For anything. Just for you. It is in return for these beautiful photos which make me want to

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Dislocated By Things That Are Ostensibly Normal

Breakfast is safe from any desire I have to live an adventurous life. I eat and drink the same things most mornings. Cup of English Breakfast tea. Piece of La Brea Whole Grain bread, toasted, with a little butter, whipped. I don’t like to scrape hard butter across a tender surface. Another cup of tea. Some Australian yogurt with Cheerios and walnuts. Or when I’m wild, pecans. This morning I was looking at the Cheerios box. Cheerios boxes have looked pretty much like this for a long time: Today however, the Cheerios box scared me: Not because it had honey issues. I don’t do Honey Nut Cheerios unless

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Awards And What To Do About Them

I received my first blog award from another blogger and am both flattered and flummoxed. I am new to blogging and therefore unsure of the protocol. As you can imagine, being unsure of protocol makes a High WASP want to go on a very long safari. To Africa. And then throw in a trip to Egypt on the way back to delay the inevitable. The possibility of offending or annoying someone. So. Thank you Midlife Musings. For the award. Here it is, below. I even put it in a frame. The instructions were to pass it on to 15 blogs I have recently discovered. Eeek. That’s a lot.

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High = Aesthetics

If money is the dark god of the High WASP, good taste is the priestess performing temple rites. High WASPs love to talk about good taste. What is in good taste, what is not. If we had rosary beads each bead would be some instance of the correct aesthetic. (And the scary thing is, out of all this High WASP stuff, the taste piece is the one thing that I can’t give up no matter how strictly I speak to myself. I can understand that other people have the right to their ideas about aesthetics, but I can’t give up the idea that they are wrong. Just wrong.)

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Saturday Morning at 9:00am

I’m not one to trust reports of trends. I get deeply annoyed when people say things like, “It’s been rainier than usual this spring,” after one or two weekends where their shoes got wet. Reports of pandemics are no different. Logically. Misuse of data to support an emotional response. Not my favorite. However. Upon reading that there had been 8 cases of swine flu in New York I promptly IM’d my son and told him, “Do not go to New York.” He has the same innate reaction to knee jerk reactions as I do. Scorn. son: (15:23:45 PM): mom no one has died in the USLPC: (15:23:52 PM):

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Fierce at 50. To Sequin Or Not To Sequin.

As part of my campaign to stay out of Dowdytown, I visit fashion sites frequented largely by very young people. I must say, young people sure do go to a lot of parties. At least the fierce and fashionable kinds of young people. And they wear a lot of clothes with holes in them. Anyway, I like to play a game with myself. It’s called, “What Could I Wear? No, Really?” I found this on nitro:licious. I’m pretty sure I could wear it. Especially since east side bride says this: But I’m pretty sure I couldn’t wear this: Unless east side bride said so. Then I might, maybe,

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Door To Door – 2009

Yesterday I was outside on my front lawn. Picking up rose branches left from cutting roses for my kitchen counter. A man walked up to say hello to me. This was odd. I live in a cul-de-sac and usually people who are not my neighbors don’t walk up to me as I stand on my front lawn. The man was wearing a suit, a very white shirt, and a tie. It was a gray suit, not black, so he wasn’t a Latter Day Saint coming to tell me why I am wrong-headed in my atheism. Besides, they never come alone. The Latter Day Saints always come to me

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Childrearing. Neither High Nor Low

My parents both grew up raised by people on a salary. I hesitate to say servants. My mother had what they called a nurse, my father had nannies. The most cherished of those was a woman from Scotland whose name he still recalls with ease. He and his mother went to visit her once after she had returned to her home. My mother raised us with the help of a neighborhood girl from across the street to get her through the late afternoons of 3 under 4, and a housekeeper who came twice a week. I raised my children without babysitters, until I had to go back to

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High = Experiences

Did I pass all this down to my children? Judge for yourselves. “High”experiences I have had over the years include: As a child, moving from smallish house, to custom-built house above acres of meadow, to house with 35 rooms, to house with 5 acres and horses Progressive private school through 8th grade Visiting my grandmother in New Jersey, the cold pool, the long lawn Summers on the Cape California beach house Hippie private boarding high school – not generally words found in the same sentence Growing up with an art collection destined for a museum Year living in London Museums in Amsterdam Christmas in Portugal Christmas in Hawaii

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High = Money, Final Installment

A Beach Rose commented, on one of my previous posts about money, I do not have access to my “education fund” (not 21 yet), and I honestly could not even give you a ballpark sum. I have no idea what will be available to me when the time comes. The adults around here positively refuse to discuss numbers. Disclosure. Disclosure and children. What should any parent disclose? As a parent you are both uniquely yourself and wholly a priest to a ritual. Childrearing has a component of magic and incantation. The only guideline I ever heard that I respect and find to be free of political taint is:

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Cutting Bamboo In The Afternoon

Waged the honorable bamboo war this afternoon. Victorious. Had to lick wounds yesterday, rose bushes triumphed. Scars to show. Not that the above is what I actually wore. The only things I own in this picture are the sunscreen, the Sigg water bottle, and the Uggs slippers. Slippers in which I do garden, I confess. I’m old. If I want sheepskin on my feet when I am doddering around with pruning shears, dagnabit that’s what I am going to wear. It’s just so beautiful here in Northern California when the sun shines that who can care about the rules? And I think I will dream of buying myself

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Saturday Morning at 9:15am

It’s the boy child’s birthday on Monday. He will be 19. First time he’s ever been away from home on his birthday. I, however, have twice before been traveling on business. Never neglected to celebrate of course, threw birthday parties ranging from homemade carnivals at the park, to a day at the slot car race, to a ski weekend for three. But I prefer that he be gone and I be here. I prefer maternal loneliness to maternal guilt. Looking for something to do, I asked my daughter if the boy child needed a birthday cake. Answer?Daughter: (8:14:49 AM) his friends are throwing him a surprise partyDaughter: (8:14:54

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High WASP Yarmulkes

Good thing? Bad thing? Good theory, bad execution? Horrible application of one culture’s comfort fashion to another’s religious observance? Cheering sign of continued social convergences and the inescapable tide of human tolerance? None of the above? Sign of anything? Anything at all?Image: Kate and Andy Spade bringing gifts to Darcy Miller’s Seder

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When Does It End?

I was driving to a customer meeting this morning. The sky was not so blue as usual. Jet contrails scudded across the upper sky. The lower sky verged on white. This made me want to cry. Then I passed under an iron bridge. It was so beautiful I caught my breath. You’d think I’d be done with such nonsense by this point. By this point in the process of being alive and then eventually dying.

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Another Point Of View From A Very Wise Person

The other day Meg, she-who-is-wise-beyond-her-years, commented on my post about family and money. “Hum. That’s funny. My High Wasp family lost all their money (which is a bit more traditional, I have to say, and you know how we feel about traditions). As a result, our lessons about money were the opposite, but of course from the same root. Root Lessons: Never show off. Honor. Excellence. Hard work, even if you don’t need the money. Integrity. But our overriding lessons were: Always live off the interest, never touch the principal. Know exactly where all your money is. High Wasps don’t invest aggressively. Diversify. Put a lot away for

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High WASP Weddings, The Age of Innocence

The bride in the photo above is not related to me. But she might have been. The text does come from a description of the wedding of one of my grand-somethings in the New York Times. Then there’s this, from another, earlier wedding, of another one of my grand-somethings at the turn of the century. What do you think, is the Times tongue in cheek here? The “usual fall”? The “number of which was very large”? I like the idea that the Times was teasing gently. Although all this is true, I know it doesn’t matter. Fun to dig around anyway. Have you ever noticed when people hit

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Old Lady Hair

I know I said it was old lady hands that made me wince at my own mortality. But at least my hands still do what I want them to do. It’s my old lady hair that I need to speak to. Very, very strictly. When I was young I had blonde hair that hung down my back in a torrent. I wore my hair long and straight for way longer than the cultural norm. But at some point blonde turned into light brown. And then, at some additional inevitable point, a broad stripe of gray showed up and said hello. Hello, yes, you are mortal. At the moment

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High WASP = Money

flickr Was I High WASP with my children about money? In how much I had? In my attitude towards it? In what I tried to teach them? My first reaction is to say no, simply because I haven’t had the quantities that I grew up with. But I think that’s wrong. I had money. Enough money to buy a house in the San Francisco Bay Area on low salaries and no savings. Enough money to stay home with my children until my little guy was 18 months, and even then only work part-time until he turned 7. Enough money to send two children to private schools on still

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Does It Pass Down To The Children? The WASP Part.

I’ve been asked did I pass my High WASP core down to my children. Complex question. I have been wondering that myself, since this blog has made me think about High WASPs in a way I never did before. Much of what I say in these posts I am only now understanding. I open my mouth and things I think or felt or things my parents said to me just emerge. And then I say to myself, who knew? I have been working so hard for so long, having children, going back to work, working, working some more, that I haven’t spend much time in this kind of

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Sunday at Dad’s

It’s Sunday. Temperatures are predicted to reach 90 degrees. The siblings, those of us in Northern California, are going to Dad’s house for lunch. Where we will sit on the deck and eat something probably involving a lot of vegetables and perhaps some grilled chicken. We will drink Perrier most likely although someone might have white wine even so early in the day. And the sky will be blue and we will look out over the black bottomed swimming pool and there will be very little noise other than some birds in the trees. We will be privileged. And with any luck, grateful. I used to think all

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Saturday Morning at 10:06am

My daughter has been in a dance group at Princeton for several years. This semester, given the demands of her senior thesis, she decided not to perform. But she did choreograph one dance. And the music? A synthesizer piece composed by none other than her little brother. (*maternal pride and a good deal of sentiment*). My kids like each other and it makes me happy. Mind you, this is the same daughter who (aged 5-ish), sat on her brother’s (aged 2-ish) chest as he lay on the rug, and refused to let him get up. He, in classic pre-schooler frustration, bit her. At which point, she grabbed him

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High WASP Wedding – Country Club

Bride: Brideshead Revisited. Accoutrements from upper left: Sugar Plum, Flickr, Wedding Graffiti, Style Me Pretty, Artfool, Flickr, Menlo Circus Club, Lynn Lugo, Lemontree, Weddings Unveiled Frequently High WASPs get married at country clubs. The photos here are in part from the Menlo Circus Club, a long-established club in my neighborhood. When we were little, we asked my Dad if we could join. He said no, they didn’t allow Jews or blacks (that’s what we said then as opposed to African-Americans) to join. So neither would we. We were allowed to have a summer membership at the Wianno Yacht Club however. I don’t know if that was due to

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Fierce at 50, When You Are 20 Or 30

Once you hit 50 there’s only so much you have to work with in the fierce department. Those with inordinate style can just push forward as is. You know the ones. They own the perfect necklace from Uganda. Or the Lily Pulitzer shift dress that shows off their tennis-toned arms. Style comes in all political guises. The rest of us have to hope our 20-30 year old selves didn’t, rolling around in their young ignorance, trash our 50-year old beings. So here are a few words your 50-year old self would like to tell you. 1. Don’t diet any more. Please, please, please find a way to eat

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The Knife of Covetousness

I would not want to return to the days of my grandparents. But unfortunately, I am not a simple soul content with the good earth. Even with a push mower. I covet things. I covet thing so much some times it makes my fingernails hurt. I get a longing in my gut. For things. For High WASPs the passion of values is around aesthetics. Moral values are understated. Understood. The done thing. No need to discuss. It is the code and goes without saying. But taste? Taste? The determination of what is “good-looking”? What is “tacky”? In poor taste? For that we might shed blood. When I see

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My Family’s Houses

My several grandparents lived in several places. In a 12-room apartment in a Park Avenue building that’s oddly famous for having had an actual book written about it. In what I can only call an estate, in New Jersey, which has since been converted into a country club, a golf course, a housing development, and other modern conveniences. Perhaps a 7-11. I am not quite sure. And in a large elegant comfortable house in Massachusetts which is, I believe, still there. I also grew up, with my siblings and my parents, in several houses. A conventional ranch house on the San Francisco Bay Area Peninsula, a conventional house

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Cozies Redeemed. Barely.

I have trouble with cozies, crocheted and knitted covers for things that have no need of warmth. I saw this here. I felt my blood pressure rise. Have they no mercy? I am haunted by visions of my future as an increasingly angry old woman, muttering bitterly to herself amidst peeling paint on the front porch, cursing all signs of knitting needles and crochet hooks. Luckily for mankind the possibility of redemption is always with us. Even cozies can be saved by humor and art, our great redeeming capabilities. Along with kindness and forgiveness. (Oh yeah, and lactation.) Things can always get better. So it came to pass.

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Saturday Morning at 11:10am

It’s Easter tomorrow. As an atheist, my relationship to Easter is governed by the memories I have of my young children, baskets in hand. And my memories, as is true for many of us, are governed in no small measure by my photographs. An iconic set of photographs, taken by my stepmother*, shows my children sitting on a step outside a playhouse, dressed in Easter clothes. My son is not quite 2. My daughter is going on 5. My son looks very serious, fully occupied by the enormity of the moment. My daughter is alternatively laughing, poking her brother, and fidgeting. My daughter, who when she was 8

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Food Continued

For my generation there is no longer any such thing as High WASP food per se. The dispersion of the original New England, New York, and Philadelphia crews across the nation put an end to any thought of a unique culinary set. You will find us eating caviar that thinks it’s ice cream at the French Laundry, salads with roast chicken at our corporate cafeteria, congealed pizza brought in by admins for an all-day meeting at our law firms, take out poached salmon from Whole Foods in front of the entire DVD set of the Sopranos, carnitas from the taqueria in the Latin American neighborhood in the next

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High WASPs And Food, Continued

In the my mother’s generation, servants became widely impossible except for the super-rich. And High WASPs were no longer exclusively super-rich, nor were the super-rich exclusively High WASP. What did the young women graduating from Smith and Vassar and Radcliffe and Wellesley in the 1950’s do about food? They knew it was their job. They had read the books. Being High WASPs, they had a deep belief in doing a good job. And so the modern obsession with cooking began. Now I am not going all Al Gore and saying the High WASP invented the cookbook. (Although I understand in fact he had good reason to say he

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High WASPs And Food

In the olden days High WASPs had servants. My mother’s family’s cook was named Willie Mae. She was from the South. As a result, at my grandmother’s house we ate fried chicken. Huge plates of fried chicken. Huge plates of fried chicken under the chandelier. And when we wanted more, we hoped we would be allowed to squirm our lower halves under the dark shiny wood table to search with our feet for the buzzer under the carpeting. And ring for Willie Mae. Food in those days seems to have been more about a display of the resources at your command. But you had to eat what the

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Very Solicitous Robots

Robots keep calling me on the phone. They are such nice young robots. Worried about my financial well-being. In this economy, as they point out, I might need some help. In this economy, they believe, I might need to refinance my house. In this economy, they politely explain, I should call them absolutely right away immediately. I would thank the robots. Tell them not to worry. That I’m doing OK. But were I to pick up the phone I would be sending my voice, filled with my feelings of fondness, down a long tunnel of bits and bytes and wires and cables and switches and I do not

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Laid Off Laid On

Looks as though my misplaced job has found a little piece of itself. Part time. For now. Time to muster up the discipline not to ask questions before others are done talking Time to muster up the testosterone to reply in short, muscular, phrases Most of all, time to blow dry my hair. I just hate holding my arm up in the air for that many minutes in a row. But that’s what they pay me for. And that’s what I spent 30 years learning how to do. Except I still don’t have the hang of the blow drying thing.

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Fierce at 50 #1

I’m just not ready to pack it up and go to Dowdyland. That’s the net. Which has led to such crimes as wearing my son’s surfer sweatshirt. He doesn’t even surf. After a stern talking to from the good women over at Corporette, I am now musing over how to dress in an unsurrendered but still suitable manner. And by suitable, I mean suitable to my goals. Not to any whispered tut-tut-tuts about what I or anyone else “should” or shouldn’t do. It’s simple. I have the goal to put death off as long as I can. And as a corollary, since at the end of the day

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Saturday Morning at 10:03am

I almost wish my kids were down the hall, sleeping. That I had bought some ham and tortillas and potatoes and salsa and eggs to make the boy a breakfast burrito. That I had bought the girl some melon, a banana, and maybe some kind of bakery pastry. That I could make her a cup of tea. But they are on the other side of the county. And that is how it’s supposed to be.

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Patterns

As I have said, I don’t read blogs to find anything out in particular. I read for the experience of new things. I look for patterns. For the experience of a pattern emerging. My Google Reader tells me that the pattern I now maps the phases of life. Young Women, Brides, Midlife. There could be many other ways to categorize and organize and analyze what’s in my Reader but this is what I’ve chosen. I have to say that I don’t find patterns to be peaceful. I have been besieged by them all my life. Clear patterns, emerging patterns, unseen patterns. I can’t look at anything or think

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High WASP Wedding – Cape Cod

Because there’s only so much analysis that’s worth doing. Images from upper left: areohome, via Mighty Haus, Inspirations & Creations, Bride’s Guide, Pingg.com, Snippet & Ink, Weddings Fresh, Project Wedding, (eek don’t know on the cute bridesmaid), Brides High WASPs love Cape Cod. My mother’s family had a house in Wianno on the beach. I went there as a kid and played wiffleball with my father. My mother played softball with the Kennedy’s in Hyannisport when she was young. She said Teddy cheated. But she is still a lifelong Democrat.

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What Am I Reading? Politics and Work Stuff. Oh Yes. Weddings.

The last few categories in my Reader are Politics, The Web, and Weddings. You can see, by peering, that there are very few Politics or Web blogs. I was reading Tales From The Recently Laid-Off, since I was, I think, but then the author got a job. Hmmm. I was reading Wonkette, but I couldn’t stand the yelling. I find most political discussions on the web to be like lying as a small child listening to my parents fighting downstairs. And I didn’t like that the first time around. The Web category? Well, that’s my work. My current, or recently misplaced work. In my life I have worked

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Juicy. No Couture. (Homage to Mouse on the formatting)

I am 52. It doesn’t seem possible some days. But when I look in the mirror closely (which of course at this point has to be a magnifying mirror but one can wax nostalgic even so), I see my blood coming to the surface. All over my body I see my veins coming to the surface. My face, my feet, my hands. This is what happens in Northern California where I live when you plant swamp trees like liquidambars in our semi-arid climate. The roots rise to the surface looking for water that they cannot find below, breaking through lawn after lawn. In many ways. I would not

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What Am I Reading? Young Women

I read the blogs of a lot of young women. Sure, some identify as preppies, some are clearly artists and creative people, others are lawyers, others are brides who have finished the getting married activities. But at my age it’s most important that they are young. In their 20’s, or early 30’s. For the most part they don’t have children yet. And in my life children were the defining act, so given limited imagination and an underdeveloped sense of the political, that that’s how I categorize others. Are they in the age where the question of children or no children hasn’t yet been answered? Are they in the

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The Whiteness of Rice

keeke’s photostream Some of us have such thin skins that we are ambushed by the mundane. How does one survive until midlife if the whiteness of rice can strike you as a miracle?

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What Do I Read? Funny, Midlife, Moms

Continuing the hunt for blogroll optimization, here is the next section of my Reader, decipherable if you squint. I think. Funny (I have a “Funny” category but it doesn’t fit in the screen shot)Many blogs are funny but this category is for what might be called concept blogs, i.e. I don’t care who writes them, I like the concept, and they are good for a laugh or something. I read F*** You Penguin (from my college-aged son), Indexed, and the Tiny Art Director, the hysterical sayings of a little girl to her illustrator father, which makes me laugh until milk comes out my nose. Midlife Midlife is a

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Fierce in Your Fifties

One might wonder, why would a corporate executive, one who used to agonize over curling iron or no curling iron in the 80’s, who wore a bowtie once in those same 80’s (granted I vowed never to do so again when I matched all the men in my office that day), and who has been known to buy a Giorgio Armani jacket just because the new client was a large well-known New York financial institution, why would she read something like some notes on napkins? Because of this. See that Alexander Wang dress in the upper right hand corner? You can wear that when you are 50. You

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What Do I Read? Fashion+Design

In order to expand my blog reading, to optimize it (all those years of searching for optimization in my career do not go gentle into this good night), I am throwing back the curtain to any and all who would like to add their thoughts. This is part of my Google blog reader. As you can see, I categorize the blogs I read. I’m guessing I’m not alone in this, although it’s not very Web 2.0 of me. I ought to have a tag cloud or something. But I came to computing maturity, such as I possess, in the era of folders. So folders it is; Fashion +

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You Too Can Prevent Unemployment

I was talking to my youngest sister, who is also looking for work, although in her case as part of her emergence from the life of a full-time mom of 3. She said everyone tells her, “We’re waiting.” That’s what I hear too. What we want to know is, waiting for what? Must be for someone, somewhere, to spend some money. So you, “Hey you out there! Reach into your purse. Take out your wallet. See that dollar? Yes, the old crinkly one? Give it to someone in exchange for a service or good. And if you can’t do it now, can you just let us know when

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Brief Digression on the Blogosphere

I am new to the blogosphere. The aspects that resemble a desktop I get, I can open up a tool and type, I can cut and paste, I can drag and drop. The aspects that are new, tied directly to the connectedness, I don’t quite get. In particular, how do I find the blogs I really want to read? Technorati says there are 70 million blogs. That is a big number. When I look in places like Alltop, Technorati, BlogHer, they list topics, categories, and tags – usually tags about topics. The thing is, I’m not interested in topics. I’m interested in people. I don’t care what anyone

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High WASP Weddings, Oriental Trading Company

My daughter may actually kill me if I keep putting up her daydreamed wedding. Even though I try to be so accomodating in my imaginary weddings, in reality I am still taking copyright of her future, a cardinal parental sin. No matter how good I am in my imagination, it’s the reality that matters. Too bad for poets, right? But I love weddings, and I plan to continue to examine them. However, in order to prolong my life, we will consider them under the aegis of the “Deconstructing the High WASP” course syllabus. Today we will consider the question of the Oriental Trading Company. One might assume that

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Saturday Morning at 9:49am

I was in the supermarket the other day, Whole Foods to be precise, and the woman ahead of me in the checkout line had a baby/toddler in her cart. The baby had reached the stage of complaining where it was making fairly continuous noise but not yet crying. Then the baby apparently saw its yogurt being checked through but not handed over, and went ahead and cried. I talked to the baby. The baby was pretty suspicious, ducking its head to the shopping cart handle and looking down so as not to catch my eyes. I remember that gesture. But I kept talking, in a sort of, hey

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Ironic Crafts – The Limits of Cozies

They are at it yet again. Cozies. On everything. First it was rocks. They tried to trick us and called it crochet. But I knew. I knew it was a cozy. Now even design*sponge admits this is a cozy. They have a baby bottle cozy. Of course in my case since my children thought bottles were the devil the equivalent cozy was my cashmere sweater. But I understand bottle cozies. You need to keep the bottle warm. Although the thought of sticky milk or formula mixed with crochet does not make me feel too warm or fuzzy. Only sticky. Sources, clockwise from upper left: design*sponge, design*sponge, for me

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Where Did You Go To School, Part 2

I was still 17 when I went to college. I was not a prodigy. My birthday is just in late September. I flew across the country by myself. Parents were less intent in 1974. I stayed with my elderly cousins. They drove me to campus in an old station wagon with wood side panels. We parked outside the dormitory I would live in. It was built of gray stone; with mullioned windows of old glass. The stairway was dark. The room was small. I remember the bunk beds and the placement of our furniture and the size of the windows. And a dogged sense of having to pretend

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Where Did You Go To School? Part 1

Photo of the Princeton Tiger, sitting in the square now surrounded by J. Crew, Banana Republic, and their ilk…. While, were you me, you would not ask, “Where did YOU go to school? (somehow you just know not to ask because, you see, you might embarrass someone) you will certainly say at some point, “Where did he go to school?” It’s one of those questions High WASPs ask almost reflexively. As I think about the last time I asked that question, it was actually, “Oh, did he go to Stanford too?”, since the wife had been identified as a Stanford alumna. It’s the way I asked it that

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Impunity

There’s another key concept to all of this. Impunity. Along with the focus on good behaviour, there’s a parallel and seemingly contradictory assumption that if we do it, it must be OK. Seen through a kindly lense, the assumption would be that all the scrutiny that precedes any act, by self and community, will prevent anything untoward. However, seen through perhaps a more realistic lense, this is simply another way for people to rationalize failure to live up to their own standards. When I went shopping the other week, and wound up to my horror purchasing Naturalizer shoes, I also bought a dress at Banana Republic. When I

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The Inheritance, Part 2

The inheritance is a key component of the High WASP species. That’s how we develop the attitude and the taste. Growing up in privilege means growing up surrounded by deep resources and things of great beauty. Growing up with inherited money means that there is no associated person in the household risking themselves at a very difficult job, nor late night conference calls, nor extended trips to Japan, nor companies on the brink of running out of capital. It is possible that life after a fabled IPO is similar. That I can’t know. In a life of privilege you acquire knowledge and experience that you do not have

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The Inheritance, Part 1

A ways back, someone asked me what a High WASP was. The WASP part is straightforward. White Anglo Saxon Protestant. The High part is more difficult. I believe my answer was disingenuous and I apologize. I said in a comment I thought High referred to education. This was prevarication on my part. I apologize again. We are raised not to talk about money. But the time comes. Please forgive my bad manners. Most if not all High WASPs have inherited money. I was 21. My inheritance was the tail end of a once envious family fortune which allowed people at the turn of the century to marry in

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Unemployment Redux

It’s Monday morning. In the days when my job had not been misplaced, that would have meant many things. Now it means that if I went to Whole Foods at lunchtime I would have to wait a long time for my sandwich. But the most striking difference between employment and waiting to see if they find my job, oddly perhaps given the high level import of earning a living, is that I no longer wake up to my cellphone alarm. Alarmlessness has changed my experience of waking up. Alarms introduce adrenalin before consciousness even has a chance to prepare. They don’t call it an alarm for nothing. You

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Some Celebrities are High WASPs

It struck me that the the best way to identify these creatures is to show you some. The easiest people in this day and age to point out are clearly celebrities. So consider, if you will, Glenn Close, Sam Waterston, and Jodie Foster. Glenn Close was born in Greenwich, Connecticut, and went to Rosemary Hall and William and Mary. Pretty much we could be done right there. High WASPs are rabid about a good education. But no. It goes on. Her father was a doctor who operated a clinic in the Belgian Congo while her grandfather was once married to the heiress Marjorie Merriweather Post. So we have

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Saturday Morning at 10:09am

The boy child has gone back to college. This is as it should be. Luckily I sneaked in a little sniff of his head when he was on the sofa watching television – television which involved tall teenagers bouncing balls around and showing off their tattos while people with faces painted in various colors yelled and screamed. I pretended to be casually kissing him goodnight, since I go to bed at human hours and he goes to bed at bat hours. This head kiss feint is a common maternal behaviour. Why we like to smell their heads I do not know. I only know that when they are

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Mother of the Bride #2

So what if my daughter said to me, “Mom, I just want to get married at City Hall and then all go out to a restaurant in the City (that’s what Northern California natives call San Francisco, like it was the only one of type).” Well not too far away from my little suburban enclave is the San Francisco City Hall. Which is beautiful. If you saw the movie “Milk”, you saw Sean Penn running up and down the its stairs. Now if my daughter said to me she just wanted to get married at City Hall, it’s quite possible that she might look at me in that

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A Few More Indications of Structural Change, And Then We Will Return To Pictures

Final bit on the wedding industry. For now at least. It must be my job hiatus speaking, repressed desires to say words like infrastructure, strategy and content. Actually High WASPs aren’t supposed to talk this much unless handed the microphone by someone in a tuxedo and told to address the waiting audience, who should also be in tuxedos. Which my mother insists should be called dinner jackets, that the word tuxedo is declasse. But I digress. I believe that the changes in the wedding industry – both those past and those future – are recognizable and not unique to weddings. (Although probably not too similar to the liquid

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When In Doubt, Deconstruct

What I notice in the wedding industry is something I noticed in business. In the beginning there is purpose. In the fullness of time, purpose becomes activity. After a while people relegate purpose to the closet in the corner and define their job as marking items off the activities checklist. The only way to stay true to the purpose is to take the checklist apart and remind yourself, and all the people in the irritating meeting of course, why it got constructed in the first place. Deconstructed, weddings are a legal binding of two people into the state of marriage. So yes, you do need a marriage license

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The Brides of Wedding Blogs, Part 2

This being a wide world, there are also bride blogs that I read for nothing but the pleasure of the familiar. Intellectual, aesthetic, emotional, no matter. And, as always when we rummage through the attics of our own people, wherever we find those people, however we decide that they are our people, we exclaim with recognition as we read. “Oh yes, look, I had that sparkly thing on my head! And look, how funny, she’s right, yes I thought that too! And yes of course you want black calla lilies or all white water lilies or wildflowers from a High Sierra meadow!” In my case, east side bride

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The Brides of Wedding Blogs, Part 1

I have read a lot of bride wedding blogs. A lot. And I confess to having done so originally with my High WASP upturned nose firmly in the air. And truth be told I still have to yank that nose down hard. And real truth be told, sometimes I am weak and I surrender and I feel disdain. As I have said before, it is hard for High WASPs to put aside their disdain for the tacky, the cheesy, the overtly sentimental, the overly-coordinated, to say nothing of tawdry and unecessarily earnest color combinations. But I would be letting the side down (sports term, derived I think primarily

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A Little Break – What Is A WASP Again?

I’ve now been asked this question, “But what is a WASP?” several times. In comments. In emails. And since I have the dadgum word all over the blog it does seem like it’s my responsibility to offer a definition. But first, let me just say, that sheer fact that I am asked this question is a sign of the how much the world has changed since I was born. In 1956. Yeah, so last century. WASP stands for White Anglo-Saxon Protestant. We could leave it at that. But like many terms, WASP has several layers of meaning. White. Well, we all by now should have a sense of

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I Love Weddings Almost Most Of All

As you will surely remember, I love wedding blogs. They are full of pictures of flowers, smiling young women with beautiful shoulders, and tulle. What’s not to love? Wedding bloggers were the first blogs I ever read. Sitting at my desk, on yet another conference call where tinny voices slogged their way through project status, trying to decide whose fault it all was. Solution? Wedding blogs. If you’re a woman between 18 and 35, you may know it well already. Unfortunately for fairy tales, for a corporate type glowing brides and tuxedoed grooms sometimes pale in comparison to the vivid patterns of industries. As I see it, the

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Untitled

I should make something clear. Since I hold these opinions – about shoes, purses, typefonts, overt displays of sentimentalism – I CAN write about them. I know them intimately. Since I also know that these opinions are reprehensible in many many ways, I am WILLING to write about them. Otherwise they go unspoken. Look at what happened to Jay Gatsby.

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Ironic Wedding Invitations

MBM asked me a very good question. What is an ironic wedding invitation? Well, in the world of High WASPs, emotions are a very tricky thing. One must have them, after all, being human. But one must not carry on about them. So classic wedding invitations have to say, “Here I am. I am an invitation to a wedding. A wedding is a known ritual in which two people are getting married. That is all we need to discuss.” But an ironic invitation, like this one below, can say a little more. This invitation and reply card etc. says, “Oh look, a somewhat tacky (the ultimate shame) romantic

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What The Mother Of The Bride Cares About

Bride: Claire Pettibone. Images, clockwise from upper left hand corner: Camilla Flowers, In the Now, Flickr, WeddingBee, Jerusalem Tallit, Dempsey and Carroll Right off the bat I have to say I am NOT the mother of a bride at the moment. My daughter is 21 and just graduating college, so I don’t even WANT to be the mother of a bride right now. However, it is never too early to start daydreaming. I love weddings, as I have said, and therefore if I want to imagine my daughter’s wedding, I will. Actually, I will probably imagine several versions, just because I can. So how can you tell this

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5 Things To Watch Out For In High WASPism

What To Watch Out For With Those Tricky High WASPs 1. Colonialism. Exploiting other creatures, i.e. using their capacity without fair recompense, is never good behavior. 2. Disdain and contempt. Except for shoes. I am OK with contempt for others’ shoes. And maybe purses. Oh and some kinds of wallpaper. And since this is High WASPism we don’t have to worry about any pointing. 3. Eating disorders. Yeah, we pretty much invented anorexia and bulemia. 4. Hysteria. Of the Victorian kind. 5. Inability to sob if it looks undignified. One could also argue that Wall Street is another thing that of late has been bad about High WASPism.

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Saturday Morning at 8:05am

It’s Saturday morning. And my son is home from college. My children are grown. They have not a vestige of body fat left on them that I can call my own. Nothing to pinch. I do not own their sweetness any more. But still when they are here it’s like I’ve remembered to put slippers and a bathrobe on after sitting at a cold kitchen counter for hours. Some part of me just wants to hum. Like Winnie-the-Pooh with honey. I had been dying to have children all my life. I worried I wouldn’t be able to, maybe because it was so important to me. I remember to

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Ironic Lilly

Over in the preppy blogging circles the girl called “Hopsy” was interviewed on the Martha Stewart show. How cute to see someone so young stand up so self-possessed. Pink and green might not be my aesthetic but young women making their way can wear whatever colors they like and I’m a fan. In honor, here’s what I would have worn virutally to watch the show. Of course, the shoes look painful. Couldn’t have worn them in real life. But what’s the good of suffering the slings and arrows of human existence if you can’t pretend now and again? Have a lovely weekend.Ironic Lily #4 – by High WASP

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The Unbearable Import of Shoes and Bags

Shoes and bags are terribly important to High WASPs. You can wear anything as long as you have good shoes and a good bag. Which until recently we called a purse. Sad but true. Not sad about nomenclature, sad about own shallowness. We wish it weren’t so, that we were more enlightened. However I am not here to tell the story of who I wish I were. Here are some shoes and bags I would purchase,and carry/wear in full confidence, if the family fortune had not gone the way of the horse and carriage. Bags: Marc Jacobs, Bottega Veneta, Nancy Gonzalez via Barney’s and Saks Shoes: Ferragamo, Stuart

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High WASP Code of Conduct Redux

east side bride added “A firm handshake” to the High WASP code of conduct. Yes. I think our handshakes get so firm in part because we start shaking hands with adults when we are only six. Six year olds have to shake hands very firmly when their handshake partners are large men or their little handies will get crushed. My sister added, in an email to me, “Never complain.” However, as long as you complain in a very ironic manner and don’t use “lay” for “lie” or “I” for “me”, it’s probably OK. My sister also told me I spelled tableclothes wrong. It’s tablecloths. My sister is a

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I May Need Help

I went shopping yesterday. For clothing. This is an unusual happening. I haven’t shopped for clothes in ages except my sortie to Target, which was really more for existential dislocation than purchase. And I haven’t shopped for clothes that weren’t work clothes in centuries. But I went out for drinks with some of my colleagues from my misplaced job, and I saw one of them looking at me oddly. “What,” I said, “You are amazed at my wildly stylish look and the depths to which I have sunk?” “Something like that,” he said. Below is what I was wearing. Yes, really. Notice the High WASP behavior in which

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Ironic Crafts – Make Your Own Teabags

This DIY project over on merriment design, via EAD, where you make tea bags, (you know, tea bags) reminded me of a cooking moment I had once. It was for the Field of Greens cookbook, an delicious but elaborate vegetarian set of recipes, by Deborah Madison of, yes, Greens restaurant in San Francisco. The recipe had artichokes in it. There was an elaborate (surprise) set of instructions on washing and cutting and chopping and scraping 12 whole artichokes. I assumed when I started down the recipe path that I was going to wind up with some architectural construction of artichokes with leaves all lovely etc. So I washed

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The High WASP Code of Conduct

High WASPs may or may not be religious. They may or may not have attended an Ivy League college. They may or may not live in a large house with stables out back. But they all subscribe to the High WASP code of conduct. You learn tenets of the code as you grow up, starting as a very young child, and continuing throughout your life. Note that this is a draft. My sister hasn’t confirmed yet that I have this right. Others may also have ideas. High WASPs believe in the civil exchange of opposing opinions. The High WASP Code of Conduct 1. Look people in the eye

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On What Counts As "Over The Top"

I should tell you my father only likes German opera. He thinks Italian opera is too emotional. He will not even countenance American musical theater. My father’s older cousin, and therefore something like my once-removed or my second cousin, I never did figure all that out, loved New Mexico. Except it was all a little too “ranchero” for him. This should explain some things.

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Nah, It Wouldn’t Have Helped

On second thought, there is probably nothing I could do to rescue my gardening self from witchhood. Since I am sure I would still grab one of my son’s t-shirts. And probably one of the Volcom caps he left behind on the shelf in the hall closet. And would still forget to tweeze my chin. Yeah, I know, really gross. My apologies. I do love these sunglasses though. Ironic Lily #3 – by High WASP on Polyvore.com

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Clearly I Should Have Worn Lilly

A few weeks ago I was gardening. That’s a fancy word for pulling plants out of the ground that I don’t like, especially when they are next to plants I do like. I noticed a large area of the garden that could use mulch. And I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be great if relationships were like gardening? Like the time I drank too much and made inappropriate comments to my son about his grades, wouldn’t it have been great if I could have just cut that puppy back and then covered it with mulch? But that wasn’t my serious thought. I was gardening wearing my son’s sweatshirt.

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Godzilla Meets Mothra: Lilly Pulitzer and Martha Stewart

A big day is coming. Lilly Pulitzer (represented by a person I assume as opposed to a pair of green pants) and Martha Stewart will be on TV together. Lots of people are excited. It’s like Godzilla meets Mothra, Shiva meets Hera, or Mr. Big meets Mr. Darcy. Well, not really. I am amusing myself. Nothing wrong with brand loyalty – it’s the Holy Grail in this day and age. So Lilly Pulitzer was once an iconic High WASP brand. But as the High WASPs have splintered into subcategories, and post-modernism has entered the picture, many High WASPs might now disdain these clothes. This is unecessary. With a

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Mac and Cheese

The good thing about making macaroni and cheese is that absolutely no chopping is required. Yeah, yeah, yeah, there’s the grating, but that’s nothing compared to the requirements of chopping. Think about it.

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In Memory

Someone in my extended family died two nights ago. In the middle of the night. My daughter texted me to tell me. It was not a surprise, one of the illnesses that takes people but gives notice. However, he was young. 44, I think. No kids, but had a wife. Those are always the first questions – who did he leave behind? I will not be going to the funeral, but my kids are. I took care of the logistics yesterday. And I cried, on and off. Sometime I just cried, really without thought, only the feeling of sadness. But I can only go without thought for a

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The Long Drive Back from My Mom’s House

Driving back from Santa Barbara to Silicon Valley I mostly notice the music. In the vast middle area of California there aren’t a lot of radio stations. Those stations you can find seem to be either Christian or Spanish. Of course, some may be both, but since Jesus is a fairly common Hispanic name and I don’t speak Spanish I can’t tell. I can however tell when one of the Spanish stations advertises a restaurant. Being from California I know the Spanish names of common Mexican/Salvadoran/Guatemalan/CalMex food items. So when the DJ started saying Carne Asada, Ensalata, Chile Rellenos, along with words that even I recognized as numbers,

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Long Drive to My Mom’s House

A few weekends ago I drove down to Santa Barbara. I should explain that I live in the San Francisco Bay Area. Sometimes known as Silicon Valley, at least my part of it is. I drove down to Santa Barbara to visit my mother and her husband. By myself. It takes about 5 hours given the speed at which I tend to drive, i.e. fast enough to get there while fingers are crossed avoiding black and white cars that stop you and hand you pieces of paper that mean you have to take tests on the Internet and pay money to the Department of Motor Vehicles. I took

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Ironic Crafts – Wedding Program

Among the many wedding bloggers I really enjoy is a blogger from the UK. She goes by Eli and Me, the name of her blog is Mother and Bride. I actually found her when I was looking for someone who was a mother of a bride to follow, so I could vicariously enjoy in advance what I expect to go through when my beloved daughter eventually gets married. Instead I found a British mother of a little boy preparing to get married herself. Anyway, she posted recently that she looks forward to starting to craft. Programs are among her proposed projects. She writes, “And if a project can’t

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Job Misplacement = Anxiety

When I first misplaced my job, I was secretly thrilled. At least during those moments when I could put aside the fear of dying homeless in my later years and sleeping under a freeway. I was thrilled because I so looked forward to sitting on my sofa for long, undisturbed stretches of time. But now that I am actually here there is a small problem. I might become part of the sofa. I might one day be unable to get up. Being unemployed means no structure to the day. No structure means stretching into endlessness. Unfortunately, this makes me feel like I might be dying. Now I am

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High WASP x People’s Republic of Berkeley

Had a conversation with my sister today. She said she thought that there were sub-groups of WASPs. Yes, I said, exactly what I was thinking! She said, our family isn’t Southern golf-playing WASPs or even New England thrifty WASPs. Actually, I said, you are sort of High WASP meets People’s Republic of Berkeley. Yes, she said, I am a hippie intellectual WASP. But, I said, the WASPs in Palo Alto (another Bay Area suburb in case you aren’t familiar with our area) are also sort of hippie intellectual, but different. Yes, she said, they have more money. They have good cars. They care more about the environment, we

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High WASP Style – IMO

I think I should give a few more examples of what High WASP style is. And is not. Because it’s a dying breed you know. As I suppose it should be. Why High WASP is not, is preppy. Not exclusively. Not as currently defined. As in, I don’t know a single High WASP who would wear the outfit below. Now it’s possible that people from Texas or the South might prove me wrong. Another characteristic of High WASPs is that we do know that we might be wrong. Often. Anyway. Preppy in Land’s End – by High WASP on Polyvore.com High WASPs have a horror of visibly identifying

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Peonies and Polaroids

Clearly the blogosphere is a new form of identity construction – as well as a new form of identity revelation. What’s most fascinating to me is the different communities. As I said before, there seems to be a whole community of self-identified preppy girls. Even more prolific is the community of wedding bloggers and all their sub-types. I LOVE weddings. I have loved weddings since I was in my 20’s. I love them unabashedly. I read wedding magazines in the break between sections when I took the GMATs before I was even engaged. And now I have discovered wedding bloggers. There is a lot more to say about

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Wouldn’t You Rather Be A Big Baby Sometimes?

My employer has currently, as I have said, misplaced my job. This may change. Still, as of now, I am not working. This is unusual. I have worked at a paying job most of my post-undergraduate life. After college until business school in various entry level jobs, after business school for a Fortune 250 chemical company until my first pregnancy, 15 months after my second pregnancy on and off in various marketing and strategy consulting projects, and from the time the child the second pregnancy turned into was 7 – full-time in computer hardware and software. Until now. Being released, however briefly, from corporate life is very interesting.

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Not Working

I, like 2.6 million other people in 2008, and more in 2009, have recently lost my job. Well, technically, it isn’t lost. More like misplaced. Like they are saying to me, “Wait, I know it’s here, in this closet. Just hold on. It should be here, I know it’s here. Hmm, not in the closet. It must be here, in the drawer under the toaster. Hold on, I know it’s here. No, that’s the cable TV receipt. No, that’s the manual for the garage door opener. Hmm. Now where did I put that job?” So far I am rather enjoying looking out the window.

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I Went to Target

OK. So I went to Target to see if my little collage actually existed. One can’t actually cut and paste, or browse and clip, a life. Putting together a life usually unfortunately involves getting into the car. And getting out of the car. And carrying a wallet. So I went to Target. Here’s the thing. Those jeans do exist. However, at Target, what they call a size 2 is what Banana Republic would call a size 6. Chanel might call it a size 8. And Target actually does not appear to carry a size 0. So although those nice Merona jeans do exist, I can’t tell you what

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For the Love of Children

So on the day our new president was being inaugurated, I was also texting my offspring. Who were, the two of them, standing on the Mall trying not to let their various appendages freeze. I encourage them not to lose body parts. The thing about being a mother is that you can watch something as historic and moving as the Inauguration of the United States of America’s first African American president in the context of our history as a slave-trading nation, and still your first thought just might be for the way it makes your children feel. I think maybe I should be ashamed of myself. On the

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In Case You Were Wondering

Let me just say, that despite any and all evidence to the contrary, I find almost every minute of every day to be a terribly profound experience.

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Ironic Crafts – Cozies

I saw this on design*sponge. These appear to be rock cozies. Cozies are usually for tea. via FlickrCozies, as the name implies, are to keep things warm. I don’t really need to keep any rocks warm at this point in life. Perhaps in other years it would have been helpful. If we abstract the concept of a cozy to the next level, cozies are for something you took some time and care with, and that you are looking forward to enjoying. But if you leave this thing uncozied, it may suffer. I do need cozies for other things in my life. My work, for example. Me, with PictureIt!,

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Slumdog Millionaire

The Oscars are tonight. I went to see Slumdog Millionaire yesterday. And I loved it. 27 years ago I traveled alone in India for three months, writing a speculative freelance article on India’s film industry. In 1981 almost no one in the West knew anything about Bollywood. I was also going to India as many 25-year-olds about to get an MBA might do, in terror of growing up and looking for what I mistakenly thought would be my last adventure. I took the train from what was then Bombay, to Rajasthan, New Delhi, Agra and the Taj Majal, Bhopal, the temples of Khajuraho, the oldest Buddhist stupa in

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On a Shoe

Can’t say I agree with this as the archetype of a perfect shoe. Generally for a shoe to be “perfect”, for me at least, I’d have to be able to put it on my foot and then walk to my car. At a minimum. some notes on napkins But maybe it’s just me.

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No, Seriously, What Can We Wear?

So let’s be serious. What does a High WASP midlife woman, tormented by the death problem, and attempting therefore to maintain an ironic stance to her identity, wear? In my 40’s I was working at corporate jobs. As a result, I developed a uniform. Every day I wore a pair of pants, a t-shirt, and a cashmere cardigan. Well, except when I worked for the dot-com when I temporarily wore things like low-waisted corduroy pants and tops designed by arty men from Spain. One must adapt to one’s surroundings after all. Anyway. So for most of my 40’s I looked like this: Cardigan 40’s – by High WASP

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High WASPs and Preppies

Another thing I do on the Internet to ignore the DP (death problem) is to look at things other bloggers post. They are pretty good at this. They find cool things. However, sometimes this blog world causes me consternation. Causes me anxiety due to shifting understanding of the world. For example, it has come to my attention that there is a whole sub-species of bloggers who define themselves as Preppies. Girl bloggers. Preppy girl bloggers. I have no ill-will for any of them. As I have said before, I come from what you might call High WASP. As in the most totemic item from my childhood is a

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Ironic Wine Charms

At the lovely and famous blog, design*sponge, they showed this DIY project today. Making wine charms, you know, so no one else drinks your Pinot. So pretty. However. At this point in my life I do NOT need my wine glass to look any prettier. It looks pretty enough already. It calls to me. Here are the wine charms that I would like someone to DIY for me. By me on PowerPoint since that’s all I know Volunteers?

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The Sunday before Obama’s Inauguration I was lying…

The Sunday before Obama’s inauguration I was lying on my sofa, watching TV. Eventually the President-elect came out to give a speech. It was pretty short. Halfway through the speech, I noticed there was a tear in one of my eyes. I am not a political person per se. I vote, but out of duty rather than passion. I’m skeptical, about almost every form of formal human organization. But here’s the thing. As I have said, I come from a High WASP background. In fact, as is common amongst this social pod, I have an ancestor who was involved in the early days of America. Two, actually. One

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Celebrity Dressing For 52-Year Old Women?

Even though I have to die some day, I like to spend my life on highly trivial activities. For example. Looking at celebrities in dress up clothes. When I was little, my mother would give us all her old nightgowns and bathrobes, which were really I suppose peignoirs, and we kept them in a hamper and would pull them out and play dress up. Three little tow heads wearing pink nylon robes with fake satin and roses. That’s what ladies wore in those days. Anyway. Celebrities. In dress up clothes. In any clothes actually. And lately I’ve begun to wonder if I would ever see anything I, as

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Rain

It has been raining here in Northern California. For those of you unfamiliar with California you might be surprised that we notice the nature of our rain. Those who believe we have no seasons perhaps are not so sensitized as we are to the different rains, or for that matter the different shades of profoundly blue sky. These days it’s fruit rain. Fat, wet rain drops with heft. If this rain were fruit it would be melons that knock hollow, or red grapes that burst when bitten, or strawberries you can smell all the way across the fruit aisle into the vegetables. The technical term is Pineapple Express,

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The Real Issue

I think the real issue here is that I can’t stand it that I have to die some day. This has bothered me in one way or another since I was about 12 years old. I remember very vividly lying on my father and mother’s bed – they were still married at the time – and looking down at my hand. My parents had one of those old-style white chenille bedspreads that we all used to have before Pottery Barn made coordinating Hawaiian folk quilts match with 16 different photo frames and the exact right scented candles. I am actually expecting boring white chenille to come back into

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Valentine’s Day

Here is an interesting if fairly useless fact. High WASPs make their own valentines. They start with one of these.   http://thoughtfulday.blogspot.com/ Then add this paired with this:   To make these:   Made by self on PowerPoint(R) since that’ s all I know. Then you can add a sprinkling of this: And that’s pretty much it. Writing should be done by hand. If you want to get really wild and use red and pink pens, OK, but judiciously. Unless you are between the ages of 2-18. Then you can do whatever you like.

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