A tiny train passes in front of New York’s Grand Central Terminal, expressed in acorns and twigs and cinnamon sticks. On view at the U.S. Botanic Garden in Washington, DC, through New Year’s Day. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
The US Capitol nestled among the poinsettias and seasonal greenery. On view at the U.S. Botanic Garden in Washington, DC, through New Year’s Day. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
The Santa Fe depot in Shawnee, Oklahoma (it was built by the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway) and a friendly-looking toy train. On view at the U.S. Botanic Garden in Washington, DC, through New Year’s Day. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
Here’s the Supreme Court. Look at the bright red sticks standing tall behind and to the left of the tree—great idea! On view at the U.S. Botanic Garden in Washington, DC, through New Year’s Day. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
Santa’s Workshop, of course. On view at the U.S. Botanic Garden in Washington, DC, through New Year’s Day. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
The budding-artist section of the gift shop at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC. It’s the source of many a fine Christmas gift. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
Overall view of the National Gallery of Art’s gift shop. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
IT’S THE CALM before the storm at the U.S. Botanic Garden, the magical greenhouse at the foot of the U.S. Capitol. By this weekend the lines will curl like Christmas ribbons out the door and onto the plaza, with grown-ups and restless kids waiting impatiently to view the annual holiday train exhibit.
For today and maybe tomorrow, however, it’s nearly a private show.
This year, the trains are in the West Gallery, with tracks running around the room and overhead, bustling G-gauge models curtsying before vignettes that feature railway stations from across the country rendered in acorns and twigs and cinnamon sticks, all nestled in poinsettias, ferns and draping moss.
Here’s New York’s Grand Central Terminal, there’s Maui’s Lahaina Station, and over here’s the Chattanooga Train Shed. Into the mix, more fanciful waylays intended to delight the kids: A little red train that looks like R2D2 from Star Wars zips past Montana’s East Glacier Park Station; a happy-faced turquoise toy train skitters beneath a dinosaur; a holiday train chugs past Santa’s Workshop, itself surrounded by charmingly elfish houses that would suit Marie Antoinette’s hamlet at Versailles.
While miniatures normally curdle my gizzard (those gardens featuring plastic fairies and “cute” latrines can’t disappear fast enough), each of these constructs from Applied Imagination, an award-winning crew of creative artists, botanical architects and landscape designers, is a masterpiece.
For a taste of the show without the lengthy lines (and trains) you can opt to stay in the Garden Court, the main hall of the building with its fabulous trees, hundreds of unusual poinsettias, giant animal topiaries and a dozen amber-hued models of Washington’s iconic buildings and structures, from the Smithsonian Castle, to the Jefferson Memorial (with a dome made from a gourd), to the magnificent U.S. Capitol. The installation, they say, took more than 600 hours to build.
I don’t know what they call the twin flower beds in the center of the room, but do look at the red sticks that punctuate the greens. They’re actual red sticks from a pile of sticks! (Okay, tall twigs.) I had this confirmed by the kindly volunteers at the desk. If one can steal no other idea from this show, one can certainly steal this. A few broken branches, a can of spray paint and voilà!
Of course, the rest of the Botanic Garden is open for wandering. I suspect the jasmine is about to bloom on a fence in the Mediterranean Gallery; pause there to sniff. While you’re at it, also admire the single, ridiculously large lemon dangling heavily from the potted tree—if it hangs in there. The orchids are little skimpy at the moment, but still admirable, and there’s always the tropical jungle, the centerpiece of the place. Close your eyes and you’ve flown a few thousand miles away.
Side trip! If you’re looking for last-minute gifts and stocking stuffers, wander across the National Mall to the National Gallery of Art’s gift shop, one of the best in the city. There are gorgeous art books, including a fine selection of garden and gardening-inspired tomes, including signed copies of The Gardens of Bunny Mellon, which any plant lover would drool over.
When Baby was a baby I would get most of her gifts here, as the buyers here understand pink and purple and glitter.
Among the reasonably priced scarves and jewelry are grown-up gifts too, ones that tempt the inner child—art supplies, for instance. There are all manner of little kits and brushes and coloring sticks (and books) that will have you slapping on a beret and making like Monet at sidewalk cafes, sketching the people and buildings and gardens over steaming cocoa, even if you have the skill of an 8-year-old.
One can daydream, can’t one?
The holiday show at the Botanic Garden runs through New Year’s Day. Admission to the U.S. Botanic Garden is free. Hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily. For more information, go to the website.
COULD THE BEST part of flying these days be what happens on the ground? And I don’t mean the overpriced consumer lures in airport corridors. I mean the random acts of kindness and the distractions some airports offer, presumably in an effort to be more than humdrum waiting rooms.
“Flight Canceled” were the telling words at the departure gate. No reason given. The ultimate Darwinian experience—on your own negotiating a return trip you thought was solid until minutes before. Frustrated passengers raced up to desk agents. I joined them, panic-stricken, my first time in years of solo air travel being stranded in a city far from home.
Not that far, actually. Pittsburgh (PIT) is barely an hour from Washington’s DCA, though, on this late November night, it might as well have been the moon. Friends had dropped me at the city’s international airport (served by no public transportation) where I was assured of no delay. But the posted departure time kept changing. The unexpected force of a November storm had slammed airports farther east, making it difficult for “our equipment”—that quaint euphemism for cramped jet-propelled tubular conveyances—to show up as scheduled.
It was tempting to wander the airport for amusement. The Pittsburgh airport offered a most curious item: a machine in the middle of a main passageway that claims to give a passerby a picture of his/her individual skeleton! It didn’t seem to be working when I passed by a few times but the thing is probably meant to acknowledge the city’s reputation for advanced technology research of many kinds. The Minneapolis airport has a whole bunch of free time-wasters (such as a children’s game and gym area) and a guide on how to do a complete walking circuit around the whole place. A couple of the southern airports have those charming white rocking chairs dotted along the corridors. And Washington’s National Airport has the Gallery Walk, with changing art installations, and the mosaic floor medallions in the main concourse, engaging to study while walking over/wheeling over them.
But I wasn’t looking for distraction at this hour. There was immediate business to attend to. Rebook, of course. Then? The airport hotel was full, someone said. Outlying hostelries had busy signals or long waits for callers inquiring about rooms. “Sometimes they say they have a room just to get you off the phone. Or they say they have a room and, on arrival, they have none left,” a seasoned traveler lamented.
Would “equipment” for my new flight be in place by 6:30 the next morning? The busy gate attendant took time out to check. “They are bringing it in later tonight,” she said. Always the mysterious “they” and a promise you hope to believe.
Since weather rather than mechanical matters was the problem, the airline wasn’t responsible for our well-being. A coupon might help with expenses, she volunteered. (Only about $20 worth, I was to learn.) Sleep on the airport floor or join the lottery? Pittsburgh’s population is only around 300,000. How many hostelries can there be in the ‘burbs, I wondered.
The man next to me was busy rearranging his life with a list of local hotels open on his laptop. “Could you tell me where you found a room?” I asked in my most supplicating voice. Without looking up, he gave me a number. I called, got lucky and then, imagining long lines of other stranded passengers waiting outside for taxis, pressed on: “Could we could share a ride?” This was “Kevin” from Alexandria, Virginia, a software specialist in logistics. No wonder he knew his way around.
Thirty minutes and some 20 miles later, a cheerful hotel clerk handed over our keys. A few hours of feigned sleep and I joined Kevin at 5am in the lobby for another taxi ride. Which he paid for over my protests.
Security took forever. Being of the “certain age” not usually required to remove footwear, I started walking blithely through the metal detector. I was stopped at once by a stern-faced blue-uniformed TSA attendant. “Not so fast. You have steel in your shoes,” she informed me. That was news to me. The X-ray machine had found a cobbler’s gift of firmer ground support in my newly reconstructed boots. Bending down to unzip the offending pair, I offered my age anyway—just one woman to another. She must have been impressed that I could get around without pacemaker or cane, etc., and so gave me a smiling “congratulations.” She was a good-looking gal of middle age herself, so when she complimented me I thought a friendly gesture was in order. “You, too,” I said, patting her on the shoulder in conspiratorial fashion.
Another spontaneous encounter to brighten the day.
Waiting to board, I overheard two women talking about their time back at the hotel. Sold out, the clerk told them when they reached the front of the line. A stranger turned around and offered them free of charge the extra room in the suite he had been assigned. The women were “corporate relocation specialists” who had been attending the same conference: “Competitors, not really friends,” one told me, laughing. They spent the night together in the same bed and never saw their Good Samaritan again. He had slept in for a later flight.
If faith in humanity isn’t your thing, consider investing in the airport hotel/motel industry. Profits are assured, airline behavior being about as unpredictable as the humans they purport to serve.
The Watermelon Towel, left, and the Fig Towel can dress up any kitchen (and get some gifts crossed off your list). The towels are $24 each at cometcloth.com.
Combat Boy, left, and Bad Hair Day kitchen towels are funny and on sale. Each is $18 at cometcloth.com.
There go the Roma tomatoes marching all across you. The Tomato Apron is $42 at cometcloth.com.
Thin disks of radish make for a cheerful overall pattern. The Radish Apron is $42 at cometcloth.com.
MOST OF US have lots of photos squirreled away somewhere. So does Renée Comet. The difference is that Renée is a professional, and gifted, food photographer, and her photos are crisp and juicy. Also sweet (watermelon) and lively (two blue crabs facing off against each other).
With decades of fruits and vegetables and turkeys and chickens behind her—shot for ad campaigns, cookbooks and packaging—Renée decided to sift through the images and take some of them into the third dimension: Now you can wrap a phalanx of tomatoes around your torso as an apron or dry the coffee cups with an edible-geranium-leaves kitchen towel. I confess that I never use my Comet Cloths. The amazing-looking Watermelon Towel and the field of sliced radishes hang in the kitchen, cheering me up whenever I glance over at them. (They’re kinda like puppies that way!)
Renée calls herself a commercial photographer, and she is, but she also knows how to produce less-than-perfect, real-home-cook-looking dishes. Back when I was editing the weekly Food section for The Washington Post, Renée was my go-to, for inspiration matched only by reliability.
Renée and her husband, Marty, have applied their usual high standards to the tea towels and aprons. They’re cotton duck, made in America and finished and packaged with flair. The towels range from $18 to $24, the aprons are $42, all available at Comet Cloth. Next year, who knows? Mugs? Bongo drums? Who can say?
Years ago, Renée collaborated on a wonderful book, The Artful Pie, with friend and fab food stylist Lisa Cherkasky, another member of my dream team. The book is a classic and the images are still fresh and lively and the recipes delicious. Wow, that would make a great twofer (or three- or more-fer)—a copy of The Artful Pie ($18.25 at Amazon), a Radish Apron ($42) and a Figs Towel ($24). Christmas shopping, consider yourself done.
—Nancy McKeon
MyLittleBird often includes links to products we write about. Our editorial choices are made independently; nonetheless, a purchase made through such a link can sometimes result in MyLittleBird receiving a commission on the sale, whether through a retailer, an online store or Amazon.com.
Christmas 2018 at the White House. / White House photo.
FIRST LADY and ex-Slovenian model Melania Trump was given a green card under a program created for those of “extraordinary ability,” informally known as the “Einstein visa,” at which I have been known to snicker.
Yet, she does have a genius for wonderfully bizarre holiday decorating.
Last year the East Wing hallway was lined with a gaspingly lovely parade of white branches, lit from below and casting ominous shadows. This year, there are blood red trees—which one or more wag pointed out would resemble the cast of The Handmaid’s Tale if you clapped white bonnets on their tops. They’re perfect for strutting about in Cossack boots and a riding crop, reviewing the troops.
The other night President Trump stood outside one portico or another announcing something or other, flanked by a striking arrangement of red berries stuffed into lead-black urns. Part funeral, part Japanese wedding.
“America’s Treasures” is said to be the theme, but there’s a helluva lot of red here. Is this a secret signal? A wink?
Overall, there’s an air of violent melancholy one finds only among Eastern Europeans, of which I am one.
Picture Melania as Marlene Dietrich as Catherine the Great in The Scarlet Empress, charging up the castle staircase on her white steed, sword in hand. Picture Melania crunching moodily through the snow-encrusted wonderland of Dr. Zhivago, which appears to be re-created in the gingerbread White House.
The illustrator Edward Gorey, whatever his heritage, may be her patron saint.
Even in rooms that initially seem bright, there’s a darkness to this White House. The white-lit trees in the Grand Foyer are decorated with huge red balls, of course. But glooming above the chandelier’s glitter is a mysterious shadowy projection, an impression of leaves and what appear to be paper-cut snowflakes, sharp white against the creamy ceiling and echoed across the checkerboard floor.
I will steal this idea. Often, the drawback with laser and projection lights is that objects placed in front of the projector disrupt the pattern. Shooting up at the ceiling allows for an uninterrupted canvas. There is already a kaleidoscope light in my possession, the white beam moves slowly, casting hypnotic shadows.
This will work well, I think, with goulash and a crusty loaf.
But that’s just me. LittleBird Kathy isn’t so high on all the red: “My impression of the red trees is that it would be like walking through a blood clot.”
Well, there’s that, I guess.
LittleBird Nancy has a milder reaction. “Years ago I took my little niece and nephew to view the White House decorations. After waiting in line forever, we walked into a room lined with impossibly tall live (I think) trees, all covered with snowy glitter (or glittery “snow,” hard to remember). It was magical. I could see myself lingering among Melania’s red trees and feeling part of an art installation. But then, also years ago, I was thrilled to walk into a giant Louise Nevelson cube and marvel at the comfort I got from the monochrome sculpture. (My boyfriend, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with it.) So I’m good for this.”
WE’VE READ ABOUT the dying-off of coral reefs, thanks to, oh, so many things, most of them our fault. Now, in its own way, the Pantone Color Institute has stepped up to the plate, named Living Coral the Color of the Year for 2019.
As an interior paint color, coral, living or otherwise, isn’t the easiest hue to, well, live with. But if the Pantone blessing directs more attention to the twisty, branchy stuff, all the better.
Lovers of coral don’t necessarily rally around the color of the same name. While there are dazzling fashion items in that color family, it’s the shape and the texture of those “marine invertebrates” that make hearts beat faster when depicted on table linens and pillows and other household items. It’s kind of like leopard print: People keep thinking it will fade as a trend, but some “trends” are simply classic. So here’s a small roundup of coral for the home, all without endangering the Great Barrier Reef.
—Nancy McKeon
Left, Roland Nivarois coral floor-length silk gown. The vibrant coral color is a wonderful foil to the dark vintage-chic coat dress from the collection of Parisian Didier Ludot.
John Derian’s hand-decoupaged decorative items never get old. His vintage and antique images adorn platters, pin trays, wall plates; here the glass “Red Coral” dome paperweight, $60 at John Derian..
From Caspari, “Curiosity of the Sea” paper cocktail napkins are $5 for 20; paper lunch napkins are $6 for $20. To find a local retailer, call 434-817-7880 and press 1. Or go to Caspari online..
From Schweitzer Linen in Manhattan comes dramatic “Coral Reef” bedlinen from Italy, made with 300-thread-count Egyptian cotton. A queen-size set (1 flat sheet, 1 fitted, 2 standard shams) is $513 at Schweitzer Linen..
Also from Schweitzer Linen is this Aubusson-style “Atlantis” silk tapestry pillow, 22 inches square; $330 at Schweitzer Linen..
Coral just keeps coming at us, doesn’t it? No wonder: It looks great. This powder-coated aluminum candelabrum is almost a foot tall and weighs a hefty 12 pounds. Almost gone, it is available only in white, on sale for $159.20 at Frontgate.. The candles are sold separately.
Coral-patterned fabric is always in style. From left, classics from Scalamandre (“Corallina Velvet”), Duralee and Kravet. You can find a nice array of coral-inspired fabrics at DecoratorsBest and Calico (calicocorners.com).
This “Catalina” quilt from Bed Bath and Beyond is $129.99 to $149.99, depending on size. It’s part of the store’s Coastal Collection.
And here it is, Color of the Year for 2019, courtesy of the Pantone Color Institute.
MyLittleBird often includes links to products we write about. Our editorial choices are made independently; nonetheless, a purchase made through such a link can sometimes result in MyLittleBird receiving a commission on the sale, whether through a retailer, an online store or Amazon.com.
Nestled among the peacock feathers on the Cavanaugh mantel is the family menorah that will mark the Jewish Festival of Lights. Oh yes, there are potato latkes, too, but not on the mantel. / Photos above and on the front by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
MY LATE UNCLE Jimmy’s menorah rests in a bed of peacock feathers and lights on the mantel. Tonight we’ll light the fifth candle commemorating the Jewish Festival of Lights, Chanukah, or Hanukkah, or to get technical, חֲנֻכָּה.
Being a bi-family, next week the menorah will be packed away and something Christmasy will takes its place. But as we are in the midst of the first holiday, I thought we’d discuss the potato, which is, after all, a plant.
As it happens, one uses potatoes for latkes, the potato pancakes that are integral to the festival, unless one uses zucchini, which is . . . no. I have written of latkes before, but the tale is eternal. Like the retelling of the Passover story: Once again the candles are lit and the potatoes fry.
I don’t grow potatoes, though I did once inadvertently, when a sweet-potato vine in one of the window boxes miraculously developed a spud. I remember (this was several years ago) staring at it in wonder when I yanked the frostbitten plant and discovered this misshapen growth that could only be called a potato. A pretty stunning event, that.
We didn’t eat it. There was something distressing about the thought of consuming what seemed like a cyst at the base of five feet of bedraggled foliage.
It was like vegetable soup, which was a problem for me until well into my 30s. I found something unpleasantly mysterious about that thick greenish sludge with unidentifiable bits submerged. Then one day I said to myself: What do you think is in vegetable soup? And I replied: vegetables?
That was an aha! moment, and neither here nor there, though I now eat vegetable soup with no distress.
Returning to the subject at hand, the potato. Specifically the latke, in which potatoes are the dominant feature, and even more specifically the latkes my mother made.
Mama could make grown men cry with her latkes, which I consider to be about as aspirational as one can get. I’ve gotten close enough that there have been occasions when I have heard the words: “These are better than my mother’s.” Could there be a more heretical statement from a Jewish guy’s lips?*
These have a perfectly crisp and golden-brown crust with a soft, almost creamy interior. For this Mama used a grater with a wire grid, which does not shred the potatoes, like hash browns, but makes a slightly chunky mush. I use the food processor fitted with the “S” shaped blade, which I have just discovered is called the sabatier blade, which is not only faster and easier than a grater but also leaves your knuckles intact. Mama passed away before the dawn of the food processor, which is a shame. She would have been delighted.
Her basic recipe makes 6 to 8 latkes:
2 large potatoes, grated
1 small onion, grated
1 large egg, lightly beaten
Scant teaspoon salt
Scant teaspoon pepper
½ cup matzoh meal (or flour if you don’t have meal)
**Pinch of sugar
Vegetable oil
Peel the potatoes and cut them into 6 to 8 pieces. Peel and quarter the onion. Using the sabatier blade on the food processor, chop 4 or 5 chunks at a time. Each batch should take about 12 seconds on high. Do not overprocess. The result should be a slightly lumpy mass.
Put the mush into a large bowl, add the egg, salt and pepper, sugar if using, and mix well. If the batter is extremely watery, you can pour off some of the liquid. Generally this is not necessary—draining can deplete the moisture. If water drifts to the bottom between batches, mix it back into the batter.
Add the matzoh meal, which makes for an exceptionally light latke, or flour. What you want is a batter that’s the texture of oatmeal.
Heat oil in a large frying pan until a flick of water flits across the surface. Drop blobs of batter from a serving spoon into the hot oil and lightly flatten. You want them to float, not stick to the bottom of the pan.
Fry about five minutes per side, until golden brown. Timing will depend on how big you make the pancakes. To keep them crisp, remove them with a slotted spoon or tongs and drain on a wire rack or brown paper bags—either is preferable to paper towel, though that will do in a pinch. Eat as immediately as possible.
If you’re frying for a crowd, doubling or tripling the recipe is easily done: Just double or triple the recipe. The problem with making bigger batches is that it’s hot, tedious work when you’d prefer to be drinking with your guests. Also, wine and hot oil do not mix well, I have found.
The solution, which took me 30 years to realize, is to fry them to a pale brown earlier in the day, leaving them to cool on the rack—not in the fridge, which gives them an off flavor—and then, just before the meal is served, re-frying them in hot oil for about a minute per side, until golden. Pretty much as one would do with French fries.
If the pan is big and the oil is hot, you should be able to serve 25 to 30 latkes in about 5 minutes.
—Stephanie Cavanaugh
* This is not the case with goy (not Jewish) boys, who generally have nothing to compare them with, and simply find these delicious.
**My big sister, Jeanie, who makes divine latkes, says to toss just a pinch of sugar into the batter: “It’s magical.”
LittleBird Stephanie talks about her gardening, sometimes. But she’s also a very good cook.
Shrimp and White Bean Bruschetta. / Photo here and on the front by Stephanie Witt Sedgwick.
This story first appeared in December 2017. We decided the time is right to run it again.
DEEP INTO the holiday season, I’m churning out platters of finger foods. Holiday cocktail parties, end-of-year parties and family parties are all converging and it feels like I’m carrying trays of food to almost every one. I don’t mind. I love making holiday party food, but I always want to make sure that the hors d’oeuvres on my platter are the first to go. I’ll admit to a little culinary competitiveness, but mostly I want to make sure that if I make it, it gets eaten. I have found there’s a pretty simple secret to achieving my goal: shrimp, big, beautiful shrimp—no pre-made, packaged shrimp cocktail platters for me.
I start with raw shell-on shrimp and clean and cook them myself, and the bigger the shrimp the better. Yes, it’s some work, but it’s way worth it in the end results. I vary the preparation, as much to keep myself interested as to entice my friends, colleagues and family. If the weather cooperates I keep the tails on and grill the shrimp. If not, I can turn those same shrimp into a roasted version, a crostino or a canapé. If I’m short on time, I might even make my own shrimp cocktail platter with a homemade double-lemon cocktail sauce. Whatever the preparation, every piece will get eaten.
With all the shrimp, peel and devein the shrimp. From there, it’s up to your imagination, or mine:
Grilled or Roasted Lemon-Herb Shrimp With a Kick: Marinate the peeled and deveined shrimp in olive oil, lemon juice, lemon zest, salt, freshly ground pepper and a pinch of crushed red pepper flakes for 30 to 60 minutes. Grill or roast until just cooked through. Arrange on a platter, or thread 1 or 2 shrimp onto a small skewer before plating. You can refrigerate these, but bring them to room temperature before serving.
Shrimp and Cucumber Canapés: I stole this one from Martha Stewart’s Hors d’Oeuvres Handbook (Clarkson Potter, 1999). Make a lemon-dill butter by mixing softened butter with lots of lemon zest (yes, there’s a lemon theme going on), chopped dill, salt and pepper. You can make the butter days in advance and refrigerate until ready to use, or you can make it as little as one hour before using. When ready to serve, bring the butter to room temperature. Cook the shrimp however you like but cool them as quickly as you can, either in an ice bath or in the fridge. Cut each shrimp in half down the back—like butterflying, but cut all the way through to produce two flat shrimp halves. Then take an English cucumber and, with a vegetable peeler, cut long wafer-thin slices down the length of the fruit (yup, cucumbers are fruit). Thickly butter a slice of sandwich bread. Take one of the long cucumber slices and sit it into pieces the length of the slice of bread—you should be able to get at least two 3-to-4-inch lengths from each strip of cucumber. Place the two cucumber slices on the sandwich bread, basically creating two “stripes,” one down the right side of the bread, one on the left. Cut off the crusts of the piece of bread. Cut each piece of bread into four cucumber-topped squares. Top each square with one of the shrimp halves. Repeat until you run out of shrimp or energy. Serve within an hour.
Shrimp and White Bean Bruschetta or Crostini: Cook the shrimp any way you’d like. Cut each shrimp into 2 or 3 pieces and place in a bowl. Add an equal amount of cooked navy beans. Dress with olive oil, chopped chives and parsley, sherry wine vinegar, a pinch of sugar, salt and pepper. Refrigerate for a few hours or a day. Prepare crostini bases by toasting thin pieces of French or Italian bread, or bruschetta bases by cutting thick slices of French or Italian bread on the diagonal. Top each slice with the shrimp and bean salad. Garnish with additional chopped herbs and serve immediately.
Five amaryllis bulbs in wax will soon be just festive enough to get me through Christmas while I pack up my house to move. They came from Trader’s Joe’s. / MyLittleBird photo.
I TOTALLY agree with the notion that too much is often just not enough. But as I square my shoulders to face The Season, I’m also squaring them to face the prospect of packing up the house and moving. Oooph.
Which took me to my neighborhood Trader Joe’s this week. My splendid mantel decoration is the result of that excursion, and soon to be splendider, when the amaryllis start to bloom.
That’s it this year: five amaryllis bulbs in wax. You don’t water them, you don’t have to find five cachepots to contain them. I’m taking the Trader at his word, that these puppies will soon delight me with trumpets of color. Which color, I don’t know. They could all be red, maybe white, not a clue. I’m told by the checkout guy that I’ll know in about a week. But for the moment they look splendid enough to me, just marching across the mantelpiece like that.
Peacock feathers, all fluffy and bright. Isn’t that how the song goes? A peacock-feather garland tops the Cavanaugh mantelpiece. / Photo here and on the front by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
I IMAGINE MY home as gender neutral—that is, if Sherlock Holmes had wed Madame de Pompadour. A keen mix of books and feathers, mahogany and gilt, leather and velvet. A place where visitors arrive and say . . .
Where the hell am I? Which I take as a positive.
In the summer it skews masculine. Drapes come down, rugs come up, dark wood is haphazardly polished. It would be nice to have a maid. That’s an aside.
The couple who bought the house next door for 14 times what we paid for ours 35 years ago have a team of maids scurrying in several times a week, spending much of the day doing I don’t know what. The neighbors are both out working, and they spend most weekends at their country place. How much of a mess could they make?
That was an elaboration on the aside.
To return to the subject at hand . . . As the year turns and winter approaches, our house becomes more elaborate. Not fussy or frilly (or god forbid cute), but frosted with what I consider a dusting of tarnished glamour.
Drapes go up, rugs go down, the fireplace becomes the center of the room, of our lives, as The Prince and I shiver economically in the 50-degree house, bundled in multiple sweaters, throws and socks, sipping wine and watching genteel British murder mysteries on WETA UK. Come back, Sherlock!
Around the fireplace is, as is often the case, a mantel. Above it is a large mirror layered with a picture of an Incan Indian being tortured, feet to flames, executed largely in tiny feathers and a few judicious daubs of paint. It’s an antique piece that once had a visiting practitioner of feng shui in near swoon. She gazed at it frozen, clutching her pearls in horror at the violence we were perpetrating on Baby, then of tender and impressionable years.
At which I cackled.
Along the mantel, throughout most of the year, are various this’s and thats: a collection of interesting rocks; miniature lanterns that resemble bird cages for Bee Hummingbirds*; a few bronze figurines. Nothing fragile, as we tend to gesture largely.
As the holidays approach, the mantel becomes more decorative. For decades I’ve woven a garland of ivy snipped from the garden walls and mingled with dried hydrangea, glittered branches, ribbon and tiny white lights. A menorah goes in the center for Hanukkah; this is replaced with more glitzy dreck for Christmas. We’re a bi-family.
Allow me to backtrack here for a minute.
In September we met up with Baby and her Personal Prince Pete in New Orleans. He needed to attend a conference; we needed to poke about the French Quarter, which is where we came across something so necessary to my life I just can’t tell you.
There, in a shop whose name and location I can’t recall, was a mantel draped in yards of peacock plumes, a voluminous feathery boa all iridescent greens and blues. As if the entirety of Whistler’s Peacock Room had been condensed into a rope.
Baby, who is brilliantly sensitive to my desires (and also expects to inherit someday, not that I would ever accuse her of avarice), intuited that this garland was a necessity, and so one is mine. Mine. Oh, it’s mine.
Until I polish the menorah, and My Prince hoists himself into the attic for the boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations, the boa is simply threaded with minuscule lights, joy enough. Six feet in length and wonderfully fluffy, the feathers shimmy ever so slightly as one passes by.
I’ll add a little glitter—because what is life without glitter?
I should like to have a peacock one day, I think, and then think again because they are rather foul fowl and unpleasantly loud, the Fran Dresher of birds. Gorgeous to look at, a misery on the ears.
Reduced to a garland of feathers, though, the peacock is the most glorious of birds.
—Stephanie Cavanaugh
*Per MNN.com: The smallest bird in the world is the bee hummingbird. It is only 2 to 2.4 inches long (barely larger than a bee, hence its name) and weighs a light 0.056 to 0.071 of an ounce.
Rodarte exhibition at the National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington DC. / Photo by Floto+Warner.
Rodarte exhibition at the National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington DC. / Photo by Floto+Warner.
Rodarte exhibition at the National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington DC. / Photo by Floto+Warner.
THERE IS ART, and there is fashion. There are art exhibits, and there are fashion shows. In recent years, though, the latter have morphed into the former. Or is it the other way around?
No matter. Museum-goers know how to gawk, whether it’s at the paper couture of Isabelle de Borchgrave in Pittsburgh, the over-the-topness of the recently concluded Vatican show in New York, the finery of the czars in the Kremlin museum or the exquisite tailoring of Norman Norell (the Museum at FIT). And fashion folk just may see ephemeral confections as things worthy of a longer half-life than the current Harper’s Bazaar.
Now the National Museum of Women in the Arts in Washington DC has weighed in with its very first fashion exhibit. For that they chose arguably the artiest of today’s clothing designers, the Los Angeles-based Mulleavy sisters, Kate and Laura, whose 13-year-old luxury label, and oeuvre, are known by Rodarte (a variation on their mother’s maiden name, Rodart).
If you don’t know Rodarte, it may mean that you don’t regularly browse the aisles of Bergdorf Goodman in Manhattan or Fred Segal in LA (or a dozen other upscale outlets) or click through the pricy images at Net-a-Porter or Moda Operandi. That’s probably all right with the Mulleavy sisters, the inspiration for whose couture-level clothing has cycled through nature and Goth and anime and punk and Renaissance Italy, not the local cash register. The sisters started the line in 2005, with 10 hand-finished pieces. By 2008, a Rodarte gown was in the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute’s permanent collection.
Viewing a retrospective of the first 13 years of Rodarte is more alluring than scouting it out in store or online. And the National Museum of Women in the Arts has made it possible. And, by the way, the museum shop is selling a book of Rodarte paper dolls!
—Nancy McKeon
Rodarte, National Museum of Women in the Arts, 1250 New York Avenue NW, Washington DC 20005; 202-783-5000, nmwa.org. Admission is $10 for adults, $8 for seniors and students, free 18 and under. The first Sunday of each month is free to all. Open Monday through Saturday 10am to 5pm and Sunday noon to 5pm. Rodarte runs through February 10, 2019.
This dinner-ideas story was first published in March 2018. The holidays seem like a good time to give it a new life.
MY FATHER HAD a pure, unwavering love of lamb chops. Our freezer was full of loin chops—singles and doubles—which he loved to grill and eat with a napkin stuffed into his shirt like a bib. His absolute favorites were the lamb chops from the rack—the baby lamb chops. The only thing sweeter than eating these at home was getting them for free at weddings and bar mitzvahs.
A good “affair” was one where baby lamb chops were served during the cocktail hour. In order to procure his more-than-fair-share of chops, he would station my sisters and me, and later our husbands, by the kitchen door from which the waiters emerged with their full platters. So yes, the picture was something like this: grown women and their dates hanging out and grabbing chops. Our chop-grabbing skills, honed over the years, often eclipsed the skill of the bar mitzvah boy’s, and I know my father’s love of chops lasted longer than half of the marriages we witnessed.
Along the way, we all came to share his love for rack of lamb, although not so much his grab-and-gorge methodology. I cook my own, and I love them even more because of how simple they are to prepare. They are pricey, but so easy to make and delicious to eat that I find they’re well worth it. I can season and cook the racks in 30 minutes, or less. And as long as I pick small, tender racks, I’m not compromising anything by quick-cooking them.
There’s nothing new about cooking lamb; the classic techniques are still the best. Look for racks that are 1 to 1¼ pounds. Anything north of that tends to be gamey or too fatty. I was taught how to prepare the racks French-style, by cutting away the fat from the tips of the bones, but today racks come pre-Frenched.
When I’m in a rush, I simply rub the racks with oil and salt and pepper and all the prep is done.
If I have more time, I sometimes go for the classic combo of garlic and crushed rosemary.
If I want to be fancy, I can top the seared chops with another classic—Dijon mustard and breadcrumbs.
If I want some spice for dinner, I add garam masala to my salt-and-pepper mix.
But that’s about it. This is one case where I don’t like to go too crazy with the seasoning and risk overshadowing the taste of the lamb.
To cook in the oven, here’s my preferred method: Line a rimmed sheet pan with foil and preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Brown the racks on all sides over medium-high heat in a sauté pan and transfer to the prepared sheet pan. Finish cooking in the oven until the lamb reaches your desired temperature, depending on the size of rack somewhere around 15 to 20 minutes. I like mine more on the medium side, around 140/145 degrees. My father was more a medium-rare guy at 130/135 degrees. Find your temp and stick with it. Let the racks sit for 8 to 10 minutes before slicing them into chops.
To cook on the grill: Carefully brown the chop over direct heat, but be ready to move to indirect heat if there is any sign of the dripping fat flaring up. Do not let the racks be exposed to the burning fat—it will leave a horrible burnt taste. Finish cooking over indirect heat.
If there happens to be chop-lover at your dinner table, splurge and make sure you have an extra rack. If it’s left over, the chops are great reheated quickly in a hot sauté pan the next day.
What are you saving all that bread for? Go out and spend it—support a museum. / iStock photo.
WE ALL KNOW that some of the best gifts come from museum stores, which have evolved over the past few decades to allow us to take a bit of the museum experience home with us.
So . . . are you going to be in Auckland this Sunday? Or Miami? Santa Fe? Oxford? Washington DC? More than 1,000 museums in all of those places (and obviously many more) will be participating in Museum Store Sunday, November 25, 2018.
Yes, it’s a shameless grab for your holiday-spending cash. But what better places to spend? Go to museumstoresunday.org and start plotting your shopping—and remember that many, many of those institutions offer online-shopping possibilities.
GRRR! “I’ve never met a leopard-print I didn’t like.” That was Diana Vreeland, the doyenne of style who has yet to be eclipsed though she’s been gone from us since 1989. Like her, I defer to no one in my commitment to things Panthera pardus (I just looked that up).
Now some fashion editors are suggesting that leopard-print is endangered, making way for . . . tiger. Really!? Well, yes, I’m seeing some tiger items, and they’re handsome (it’s a trickier pattern to accommodate), but I still like to think it’s spots all the way.
I’m clearly in sync with Hilary Alexander, who has just published Leopard: Fashion’s Most Powerful Print (Laurence King Publishing). The book is a trove of incredible images—Colette in 1909, Princess Grace of Monaco in 1959, Miss Piggy in 2011. Looking back at celebs in the 1960s—Queen Elizabeth, Elizabeth Taylor, Jackie Kennedy—it’s a bit startling to recall how much chic was projected by wearing (surely unknowingly) an endangered animal as a trophy coat.
I’ve long suspected that animals, and their skins, won’t be completely out of the fashion equation until the aesthetic itself meets defeat. Faux fur is great, and has become incredibly good, but it keeps the look alive. And I think the cavewoman in all of us apparently still wants to strap on a hide (and, man, those fur coats are warm! No wonder animals walk around all year round without clothes on).
In the end, leopard will thrive as a classic print on clothing and even upholstery (look in the book!). Sure, this cat will make room for that other Big Cat (I’m partial to cheetah as well) and move aside for fashion flings with zebra. But as Jenna Lyons, former creative director of J.Crew, put it (page 89), “As far as I’m concerned, leopard-print is a neutral.” So there.
I poked around, high and low and the comfortable middle where most of us reside, and found a bunch of things to roar about.
—Nancy McKeon
LEFT: This leopard-print merino wool crewneck sweatshirt is $89.50 at J.Crew. RIGHT: Lambskin and lamb fur take on a tiger print in this coat from Missoni. It’s $8,675 at Farfetch.
LEFT: The Sienna Handbag in brown zebra-print hair calf with leather handles is $368 from J.McLaughlin. (There’s also a sweet Sienna Clutch, $138.) CENTER: J.McLaughlin’s Fairmont Coat would look great in the evening in black-and-gold zebra jacquard, $378. RIGHT: Back to the cats, the Glacier Neckwarmer in cheetah print is $78 at J.McLaughlin.
LEFT: Aquazzura is stepping right into the animal kingdom with Blossom, zebra-print calf-hair mules, $850 at Moda Operandi. RIGHT: The luxurious silk-blend Leopard-Print Pussy-Bow Blouse is from Dolce & Gabbana, and it’s $1,295 at Moda Operandi.
LEFT: The Grandin Road catalogue has gone waaaay into the animal kingdom. These $79 throws can be had in Snow Leopard, but also in Pheasant, Peacock and more. The pillows shown are $39. RIGHT: At Maison Alaïa, the spirit of Azzedine Alaïa lives on. The leopard print knitted hooded sweater is $3,260; the midi knitted skirt is $2,120. Both at Maison Alaïa.
LEFT: The Hair Calf Mini Hobo Bag from J.Crew sold overnight, before we could share it with you! But there’s an even more swashbuckling Hobo in leather and leopard-print hair calf, $378. (There’s the cute leopard Harper belt bag too, $128.) CENTER: The No. 2 Pencil Skirt has cotton and elastane for stretch. It’s $98. RIGHT: The Girl’s Reversible Puffer Vest is on sale for $54.99. They’re all at J.Crew.
Lands’ End is having fun in the wild this season. LEFT: The Women’s 100 Fleece Ruched Pattern EZ Touch Gloves, $14.95, have the fingertips touchscreens love. RIGHT: These are Lands’ End Women’s Suede Moc Slippers, $54.95. The lining is faux fur. NOT SHOWN: Talbots is not showing any leopard-print moc slippers, but for outdoor wear it has a very handsome Ryan Loafer in Classic Leopard hair calf. It’s $129.
Lands’ End offers fleece jackets, Half-Zips and pullovers. But this Quarter-Zip Fleece Pullover is the only one we found in leopard print ($39.95). There are more than a dozen solid colors and prints.
Supermodel Claudia Schiffer in Christian Dior claims the cover ofLeopard: Fashion’s Most Powerful Print, but tucked inside is Miss Piggy (2011), opposite a serene Zsa Zsa Gabor (1965). / Laurence King Publishing.
Pages from Hilary Alexander’s Leopard: Fashion’s Most Powerful Print. The 1960s were dangerous for the Big Cats: Queen Elizabeth, Elizabeth Taylor and Jackie Kennedy all sported their trophies. / Laurence King Publishing.
MyLittleBird often includes links to products we write about. Our editorial choices are made independently; nonetheless, a purchase made through such a link can sometimes result in MyLittleBird receiving a commission on the sale, whether through a retailer, an online store or Amazon.com.
HOST AND HOSTESS gifts? Of course you can take a nice bottle of bubbly, but that’s hardly creative—or memorable. Here’s a list of possibilities, inspired by the garden, that don’t require, you know, any actual gardening. Bonus: Everything is available without budging from your desk chair!
—Stephanie Cavanaugh
Terrain mini tree
One can get lost for hours in the field that is Terrain.com. A nifty gift would be their Little Living Tree, a miniature Norway spruce that would illuminate any corner with tiny battery-powered lights and raindrop ornaments of some sparkly material, possibly plastic but maybe glass, they don’t say. The two-foot-tall (or so) tree costs $88, arrives potted and might live to celebrate another holiday if you give it a little water.
Bud vases from the Smithsonian.
The Smithsonian’s online store has three sweet bud vases on sale for $8.99 each—so act fast. Hand-painted in blue on a white ground, one is round, another has a flared edge, and the third resembles three stacked bubbles called gourd-shaped. Pretty on their own, even more charming with a flower or a sprig of greenery and a bow.
RIGHT: Candleholder from MoMA. LEFT: Curly willow branches from somewhere.
Nettleton Hollow is a favorite resource for glittery birch branches and fresh curly willow branches. A few weeks after sitting in a vase of water, the tall, coiled willow branches three or four feet tall will be covered with tiny green leaves that continue to develop into a gorgeous arching display. Five branches in bloom are a fantastic sight. Nettleton Hollow will send you 10 bunches of 10 or $97.50, plenty for yourself and gifting.
Trader Joe’s always has a selection of itty-bitty pots of flowers, so cheap it’s nearly impossible not to stick one or several in the bag with the brie. For a modernist centerpiece, mingle tapers, tea lights and flowers in the Museum of Modern Art’s $70 Stumpastaken candleholder by Swedish designer Jonas Torstensson. It’s made in Sweden of recycled aluminum, making it perfect for your most ecologically correct friends.
Paper placemats by Vicki Sawyer for Hester & Cook at Blue Sky Environments.
For the not-so-correct, but time-pressed, consider paper placemats by Vicki Sawyer, for Hester & Cook. There are numerous designs, including doves and owls and ducks, but my favorite is “Backyard Party,” a quirky lineup of assorted birds in leafy crowns on a black background—a quick and surprisingly elegant way to jazz up a holiday table, no ironing needed, and you just toss them when dinner’s over. $26 to $28 for 30 mats at various retailers and online at Blue Sky Environments.
Projection lamp from Amazon.
When was the last time we had snow for the holidays? With a projection lamp, you can stage snow showers all winter, indoors and out. Put one in the garden and look out at the flurries, or set it in the dining room for a buffet blizzard—think about your flaky friends and relatives in Florida. Available in most hardware stores and, need it even be said, from Amazon.
RIGHT: Aspen Sparkle Garland from Restoration Hardware. LEFT: Peacock feathers from Amazon.
Speaking of lights, the Restoration Hardware catalogue twinkles with options, including glitter-encrusted faux branches, their lacy limbs prewired with warm white LED bulbs. RH offers an elegant 6-foot-long Aspen Sparkle Garland for the mantel ($49) and a dazzling 18-footer ($115) strung with 180 lights for the banister.
I had a dreadful time looking for a white feather boa strung with tiny white lights; I guess I have to do it myself. But I could be pacified with a bunch of peacock feathers. The ones offered by Amazon are ethically sourced (they shed their feathers naturally several times a year and grow new ones), with 20 30-to-35-inch feathers per bunch for $19.51 (don’t ask me, I don’t set prices).
RIGHT: Silvery cachepot at Ballard Designs.LEFT: Butterfly garland from Amazon.
Over the years we’ve painstakingly collected bejeweled and feathered birds and shimmery butterflies for the Chanukah Bush, the mantel and the staircase. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad that one can now go on Amazon and create a fantastic collection in a few minutes, but one can (and one will). They come as a garland with eight butterflies for $20 at Amazon, but you can use them to ornament that boring bottle of wine.
I know a few people who don’t like paperwhite narcissus; that would not be me. The deliciously decadent scent of these little bulbs is in inverse proportion to their unassuming size. Deliver a handful in a paper bag or amp up the special by popping them into a silvery cachepot by designer Bunny Williams, from Ballard Designs $69. By the way, paperwhites always seem to be sold nested in rocks, but potting soil is just fine.
LEFT: Always-cheery amaryllis from Target. RIGHT: Amaryllis “Napoli” from White FlowerFarm.
Trumpet-flowered amaryllis bulbs are another possibility for that cachepot. Scentless but spectacular, the bulbs flower in shades of pink, red, bi-colored and pure white. White Flower Farm offers an amazing 70 varieties, starting at about $18—available in burlap bags, baskets and a variety of handsome containers. (We show the $69 “Napoli.”)
Or just go with a basic red bulb offered by Target. Their unnamed variety red amaryllis in a jolly red metal pot goes for $12.99—buy it online or in stores.
MyLittleBird often includes links to products we write about. Our editorial choices are made independently; nonetheless, a purchase made through such a link can sometimes result in MyLittleBird receiving a commission on the sale, whether through a retailer, an online store or Amazon.com.
The island of Chios is famous for its mastic trees but also for the curious decoration on most of the buildings in the village of Pyrgi. At left, a woman in the bottom left foreground sorts resin from the mastic trees as a sole tourist walks through the streets. / Photo left by Ann Geracimos, photo right from iStock.
A narrow street in the village of Pyrgi on the Greek island of Chios. / iStock photo.
The precious “tears” of mastic, the resin that is harvested on the Greek island of Chios. / Photo by Ann Geracimos.
Chios’s mastic forms “tears” used in spa products.. / iStock photo.
As gnarled and twisted as old olive trees, mastic trees appear in “gardens” such as this one on the Greek island of Chios. / iStock photo.
A scene in the Mastic Museum on the Greek island of Chios. / Photo by Ann Geracimos.
Exhibits—ancient botanical drawings and newly created maps—in the Mastic Museum on the Greek island of Chios celebrate the tree unique to the island. / Photo by Ann Geracimos.
Sunset and traditional windmills, a daily treat on the Greek island of Chios. / iStock photo.
THE RESIN drips slowly down to the ground, oozing out of precision cuts made in the bark and branches of the mastic tree—a sight locals call “the tears of Chios.” You can think of the process as being just like tapping maple trees for maple syrup, but with nicer weather. Carefully tended fields on the Greek island of Chios are full of these trees. They are a precious commodity going back hundreds, possibly thousands, of years. Dried and sorted, the translucent droplets resemble tiny pearls, their value enhanced by the fact they are found nowhere else in the world.
Many merchants on the island have grown rich on them, so difficult the harvest and so great the demand as an export needed in the manufacture of such items as chewing gum, varnish, adhesives and flavoring.
Except when nature doesn’t cooperate and adverse weather—such as too much or too little rain at the wrong time—interferes. Cultivation is done by hand in early stages, a process greatly determined by tradition. When the crop fails, locals have been known to look elsewhere for blame. “One time during the 1970s,” a friend reports, “it rained during harvest season and the mastic congealed. The locals blamed it on men landing on the moon.”
In good times, apparently, there is more than enough product to go around. Enough, at least, to market the plant’s versatility in a different form, as a personal health and beauty aid. Today, a complete line of these goods is available locally and online: soap, shampoo, creams, oils, facials, etc.—whatever is needed to look better and feel healthier.
Mastic (or its preferred name mastiha, pronounced mas-TEE-hah) long had found use as a sweetly resinated liqueur, sold lately under the luxury brand of Kleos, “glory” in Greek. Mastiha’s medicinal properties, directed at oral and digestive disorders, build on a reputation that promoters say goes back to Hippocrates in the 4th century BC. Shoppers and lovers of botanicals can find a range of products at www.mastic.gr/en-us.
What’s not to love about this northeastern Aegean island, Greece’s fifth largest? The mastikachori for one thing—some two dozen fortified mediaeval villages in the south that have been integral to the plant’s cultivation since the 14th century. Among them is Pyrgi, an eye-opener for visitors who have seen their fill of European walled cities. The town’s unique feature is the startling presence of decorative dark gray and white geometric designs covering the façades of nearly all the buildings inside the city walls. Strings of red tomatoes drying in the sun hang off upper balconies lining the narrow stone streets. During the mastiha harvest season, it’s common to see women villagers bending over wooden trays to sort the precious tears with experienced hands.
Worth the trip, too, by bus or car, is the handsome new Mastic Museum, not far away. This sprawling glass-walled structure is dedicated to everything you need to know about the island’s most famous product—what UNESCO terms an Intangible Cultural Heritage. The building is splendidly placed atop rolling hills with a commanding view of green mastic trees growing in terraced formation in every direction. Visitors can tour the extensive indoor exhibits and walk freely around outside. There is a cafe and shop, full, as might be expected, of everything mastic, including some superior original jewelry designs. (This visitor couldn’t resist a fabric necklace piece made to resemble the leaves of a mastic, or maybe olive, tree.)
An island famous as home to some of the Greece’s most prosperous shipping families— think Chandris and Livanos—never has needed either mastic or tourism to survive, making it that much more desirable. Accessible by plane and ferry, it sits less than three miles from Turkey, below Lesbos to the north. It’s possible to take day trips to either place from bustling Chios town on the east coast. Not far away, too, is a renowned religious center, the 11th-century Byzantine monastery of New Moni, another UNESCO World Heritage site, containing outstanding mosaics and relics.
Which makes the place especially alluring during spring and summer, and well into fall, when the buoyant seas are warmer. Keep in mind, too, less blissful memories of some of the beaches that saw the arrival, especially a few years ago, of flotillas of refugees in black rubber dinghies coming ashore at all hours, wet and bewildered.
I recall only too well the time I was out swimming in a bikini and saw those rubber rafts full of desperate migrants pull up to the beach, escaping from Iraq and Afghanistan through Turkey, which is visible a few miles away. I quickly scurried back to my room to change into more modest cover, then ran to take the bag of shoes and boots I had carried with me from home, a donation from a DC neighbor.
A really sorry sight, but at least the day was sunny, no lives were lost, and there were public showers for the men (women didn’t venture to do it) and buses to take them into town. Just one step more on their long journey to a hoped-for new life.
Many refugees remain cloistered out of sight in crowded conditions elsewhere on Chios—many thousands more on Lesbos—awaiting a transfer to the mainland that may never come.
But the seas, the trees of Chios, the mastic, will—nature’s moods allowing—be there as always.
—Ann Geracimos
Ann Geracimos contributes periodically to MyLittleBird and for her own blog, www.urbanities.us, where she writes about city living—in cities and places that feel like cities.
When writers talk about whimsical Victorians, these delightful chairs are what they mean, certainly not the queen. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
ELECTION NIGHTS are nail-biters around here, though not for the obvious reasons. In this little corner of Capitol Hill, wins and losses bring visions of rugs and wicker, woks and candelabra, a treasure trove for the scavenger.
From the sidewalk-shopping perspective, the bigger the election shake-up the better.
Those not thoroughly infected with the Washington DC bug will pack their little wagons and head home, wherever that is. Invariably, there are treasures to be found in the leaving. These often land on sidewalks on Thursday, bulk trash day. One salivates.
In truth, Washington is always mecca for the scavenger. People are forever leaving on mysterious and important missions, choosing to discard exciting things that just won’t fit or suit wherever they’re off to.
One of five faux boxwood balls, Smith & Hawken tags still attached, now anchors the fall window box display. / Photo by Stephanie Cavanaugh.
Some months ago we brought home two large, rather elegant urns for the garden in a composite material that looks like stone. These were perfect for summering the parlor palms that are now inside for the winter in smaller containers. Frostproof (unlike clay and ceramic), they’re now filled with spring bulbs and topped with pansies and cabbages for winter color.
Then there were two delightfully whimsical Victorian iron folding chairs pulled from the curb. My Prince sanded them and painted them verdigris; they’re wonderful on the garden path, a place to settle in beside the pond and watch the feeder fish—goldfish commonly fed to your boa constrictor that we buy 10 for a buck. The raccoons consider them lagniappes.
Also curbside were five faux boxwood from Smith & Hawken (they still had the tags), really excellent ringers that are now the centerpieces of the window boxes. A triumph of a cheap fix, if I say so myself, necessitated by the uprooting of the asparagus ferns that would have cringed at first frost.
Such abundance has forced us to grow pickier about our pickings, having filled needs several times over. We now look only for the rare and wonderful. For instance…
In August, heading to the pool, our 1989 Mustang rattle-trapped past a pile of something that needed inspection, so I put the Prince in reverse and discovered a bistro table and chairs, another Victorian find, that someone decided was beyond repair. The wooden tabletop was broken in three, the chair seats were busted through. But the base of the table and the chair frames were lovely and twisted iron that was so fine it would give your decorator palpitations.
Here’s where I urge you to get a Prince of your own. Forget the lawyers, the doctors (except, perhaps, a plastic surgeon), and certainly not a journalist. Indeed, we once hired a hungry journalist to assist with the repainting of the front of the house with disastrous results. But that’s another story.
What you want, at a certain stage of life and income, is someone who still has enough muscle to haul stuff around, and the skill to fix anything—from a busted lamp to, in this case, a cunning little bistro set, which now has a restored top, stained a deep cherry, and new seats
This will be the center of my little greenhouse this winter, perfectly lovely among the lemon blossoms and geraniums, I fancy.
—Stephanie Cavanaugh
LittleBird Stephanie can, it seems, find inspiration . . . anywhere. Read about it every Thursday.
THANK GOODNESS Halloween is upon us: Now I can stop whining about the heat and humidity and start complaining about the cold! Time to survey the condition of the Ugg boots in the basement: Check! Also time to see if Costco has those fabulous knockoffs again: Damn! Good news only if you wear a size 6 or 7 shoe—other sizes are outta luck. And where did I put those suede mittens!?
Footwear, headgear, gloves for outdoors, soft things to wrap around chilly shoulders at home (why spend all that money overheating the house when you could be spending it on Botox, right?). That and a few cups of hot chocolate should get me through the winter. And a fire in the fireplace. And good friends. And maybe a fluffy dog or two. Yeah, that’ll do it.
Here are a few suggestions.
—Nancy McKeon
When cold weather hits, start with a cozy throw. LEFT: A Tibetan Faux Fur Throw, 50 by 60 inches, is $99 in Ivory, Graphite or Nickel at Restoration Hardware. RIGHT: The Minx Blanket, made of sheepskin from New Zealand, the country with more sheep than people! It’s from Bowron Sheepskins, and comes in Ivory, Dark Brown or Black. 4 feet 9 inches by 5 feet 10 inches, it’s $499 at Bowron.
LEFT: If you want to pull out all the stops, go for this Patchwork Mink Blanket from Pologeorgis. Only(!) $5,400 at Moda Operandi. RIGHT: If you don’t claim this 50-inch-diameter Luxe Faux Fur Bean Bag, your pooch surely will (and why not?). It’s on sale for $239 in Arctic Fox, Lynx, Chinchilla, Mink or Wolf at Restoration Hardware.
Winter leads to plaid. Ballard Designs offers a few options. LEFT: The Suzanne Kasler Plaid Throw channels the traditional Royal Stewart and Black Watch tartans plus a version in pale neutrals. They’re acrylic, 50 by 70 inches and $79 at Ballard Designs. RIGHT: In a slightly offbeat color combo is this soft, handwoven acrylic Autumn Oversize Plaid Throw, 50 by 60 inches. It’s $79 at Ballard Designs.
LEFT: Feminine and warm don’t always go together. But this quilted Vest for All Seasons and Northcountry Flannel Shirt combo shows they can. The Rose Wood-color vest goes great with the Rose Wood/Mocha flannel shirt, but the vest also comes in Mocha and eight other colors, if you’re more comfortable playing down the “girl” in the pink (at my age, i’m trying to play it UP!) . The vest is $79.95, the shirt $69.95, both at Coldwater Creek. RIGHT: If the Ileana sweater from Yeon doesn’t say “warm,” I don’t know what does. It’s a mix of angora, wool and cashmere and a little synthetic for durability. To balance the exaggerated fold-over collar, it’s cropped just a bit below the waist It’s $1,295 at Moda Operandi.
What every winter wardrobe needs: a shearling bucket bag from Mansur Gavriel, in pink or toasty brown. It’s $595 at Moda Operandi.
LEFT: From Bowron Sheepskins, comes the single-sided Minx Pillow, 16 by 24 inches, in Ivory, Dark Brown and Black. It’s $72 at Bowron. RIGHT: Also from Bowron, an elegant silk blanket with a lambskin border. It’s 2 feet 6 by 3 feet 4 and $99 at Bowron.
Less extravagant than a sheepskin but still toasty. LEFT: From Lemon, a Double Berber Blanket, 52 by 68 inches, in oxford or white sand. It’s $99 at Lord & Taylor. RIGHT: A Sherpa and Jersey Throw, in white/navy (a thin stripe) or heather gray. It measures 50 by 70 inches and is $117 at Bloomingdale’s.
Don’t get cold feet. LEFT: The Black Watch tartan makes me feel warm just looking at it, These loafers have a fabric upper and a faux-leather sole. Mine just arrived and they’re very handsome indeed. They’re $178 from J. Crew. RIGHT: LittleBird Janet has had Ugg’s Ansley slippers for years and loves them. They have a wool lining and insole, plus a rubber sole so you can take out the garbage without suffering. They’re $100 and come in nine colors at Ugg.
LEFT: Here’s something toasty and oversize from Maison Margiela. It’s a dress (if you dare) or tunic of mohair with exaggerated dropped shoulders, a turtleneck and pockets. It’s $1,270 at Need Supply. RIGHT: From Pologeorgis, the pink-and-perfect Two-Tone Fox Fur Earmuffs. They’re $250 at Moda Operandi.
I dare ya! From Y/Project come the thigh-high and incredibly exaggerated Red-Check 110 Thigh-High Wool Boots. In case you’re interested, they’re $1,570 through Lyst.
Did I mention that BIG is the trend when it comes to puffers? LEFT: This stylish, even ladylike houndstooth-check puffer jacket from Bacon is $785 at Saks Fifth Avenue. RIGHT: This Michelin Man-looking coat is faux vinyl (polyester made from recycled plastic bottles!) and $119 at Zara.
LEFT: A few years ago my dog-park pal Lew was hired to teach for a year at the University of Alaska at Fairbanks. His first and best bit of preparation: buying a parka from Canada Goose. He hasn’t regretted it for a moment since. Here, the Kinley Insulated Parka, in seven colors including bright red and Classic Camo, is $825 at Nordstrom. RIGHT: I felt a little silly living in the Mid-Atlantic states and buying a fur-lined trapper hat, but those late February nights walking the dog were so much the better for it. Let ’em laugh! The Canada Goose Aviator Hat trimmed in coyote fur in $295 at Nordstrom.
Later on, by the fire. LEFT: Step 1, remind yourself what the fireplace is for. Then toss on a Color Cone for some blue and green flames. A 1-pound bucket of Color-Changing Color Cones is $19.95 at Plow & Hearth. (A bucket containing 2½ pounds is $29.95.) RIGHT: Step 2, sit down and enjoy what many tastemakers have said is the best hot chocolate around. Rich in part because it’s made with milk, not water, the drink comes from Guittard Grand Cacao Drinking Chocolate. A 10-ounce container is $6.99 at Target.
How about really cozying up? Adopt a Great Pyrenees or two! A few weeks ago my friends Walter and Mary brought home Betsy and Frankie, seen here. These older dogs are b-i-i-i-g bundles of fur . . . and love. Just wrapping your arms around these guys will get your body temp up and your blood pressure down. The Appalachian Great Pyrenees Rescue is the place to contact.
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