Launching this morning at 10 AM EST: Lake Pajamas x Julia Berolzheimer. Wanted to put out a little reminder in advance of launch because this brand nearly always sells out of its collaborations within minutes, and I was drooling over all of the botanical-inspired pastel prints they have been sharing.
When I was twenty-one, someone told me I was a late bloomer. “All you Nurmi girls are,” he said, referring to my three sisters and I. I was too distracted by the implied compliment — that he saw me as a woman blossoming — to register the prescience of his observation.
Because only now, on the downslope of my 30s, do I feel I am in full bloom.
By that I mean I feel thoroughly myself, from the crown of my head to the reach of my fingertips, no matter where I am. I am me in the drop-off line at my daughter’s school, as I wait for my vaccine at Columbia Hospital, while engrossed in conversation with my four-year-old daughter, when on the phone with my real estate agent, throughout the musing conversations with our lovely caregiver (“but do you think if we moved bath up that might help…?”), as I write this blog, amidst running into loose acquaintances on the street. I am less likely to contort to accommodate the expectations or interests of others, no longer easily mottled by criticism and comparison.
A small barometer, but in my 20s, I hated when people would ask: “Do you know about such-and-such?” (Insert any specialized area of information: the embroilments of a besmirched local politician, “earnest money” in a real estate transaction, the nuanced politics of Syria, the difference between “friends and family” versus “angel” versus “seed” money in early start-up financing, tax credits pertaining to the birth of children or purchase of property, etc.) If I had even a hazy understanding of what the person was getting at, I’d nod to keep the conversation rolling and save face. Nowadays, if I don’t know something, I admit it: “No.” I have come to a place where I view such admissions as implied earnestness rather than stupidity. I suppose I would rather apologize up front for ignorance than pay the price of being exposed as a fraud and losing long-term credibility. (Moreover, most people are thrilled to explain something they know well to the uninitiated.)
In short: I am me, I am me, I am me, in a much more fully realized form than I had previously imagined.
In this sense, I find myself an increasingly reliable companion. I anticipate my own reactions and am attentive when I see the potential for hurt or disappointment. We had some mildly bad news recently, and I recognized the sensation of despondency without letting it take control of my day: “Here comes that feeling again,” I said, and I readied myself. “It’s OK to feel disappointed. Let’s be disappointed. But know that this, too, shall pass.” In the aftermath, I looked back on myself and thought, “Hey, good job, you!”
A friend of mine, noting a particularly accessorized look I was sporting on a casual Tuesday, complimented: “Well aren’t you turned out today!”
That’s just it: in my late 30s, I find myself emotionally turned out: more well-equipped, more fully-clad.
Maybe, though, this is the way of the world: that we come into our own in our 30s. That we begin to curl up, cat-like, against our own idiosyncrasies and interests and foibles and strengths, as we tiptoe towards 50. Maybe what I am experiencing is not belated after all; maybe I needed the slow then fast accumulation of life experiences, losses, and joys, to bring me to this phase of maturation. And maybe I am neither early nor late after all. Maybe this is just what it means to bloom.
+As much as I’ve disabused myself of the notion of being a late bloomer in this post, my mother recently gave my children this great book: Leo the Late Bloomer. I love the way it reminds children that each of us travels at our own speed.
+Two new straw cup styles I bought for micro: this and these. I love the latter, which graduate from straw to small drinking spout to lidless. Also love the colors!
A new batch of coveted and sure-to-sell-out nap dresses will launch today at 12 EST. I’m posting this early because these dresses sell out in seconds and it has helped me in the past to know exactly what I want, go to the site at the stroke of noon, and order immediately. Sort of a thrilling midday rush TBH…
I’m sharing a screenshot of the line sheet here so you can make your plans, but they are re-releasing their navy, blue botanical print, and bubblegum stripe in the Ellie nap dress, which is probably my favorite style they make (super-flattering, super-comfortable, super-feminine and totally acceptable as a day-time dress). If you are new to nap dress life, I would suggest starting there. They will also be releasing their Caroline nap dress in the bubblegum stripe print, which I already own and LOVE, but personally would probably only wear at home/in backyard (Ellie is more versatile in this sense – can be worn out), and two prints of the Katherine, similar to the Caroline but a shorter length. Finally, for the first time ever, they will have little girl sizes this launch (!) so you can twin with your mini-me (more mommy + me outfit ideas here).
In general, I find all of these dresses are cut generously, so I would take your usual size or even size down. All of these styles are a dream for expecting or nursing mamas — I would take your usual size even with bump just by virtue of the way these dresses are cut.
*Image above via Faithfull, featuring their Kiona dress. I also love their Maurelle style. I’m inspired by the way they styled the look above — low bun, gold hoops(I’ve never worn hoops before but I am so into this vibe!), and bare feet.
I live for an LWD. All my favorites for this season…
In my post on reading slumps and how to get out of them, I wrote: “I need a Dutch House or a Ruth Ware, please and thank you,” and one of you reasonably replied: “I’d turn to Patchett herself to deliver a Dutch House-like read — Commonwealth or State of Wonder!” Thank you, eternally, Joyce, for the nudge.
Oh, Commonwealth.
Like The Dutch House, Commonwealth glides by, quiet and elegant in tenor, as Patchett delicately interrogates the ins and outs of family dynamics in settings so convincingly captured in precise language that I can’t believe I didn’t once spend a night at Leo Posen’s rented house in Amagansett, or prop my feet up against that stone hearth in Bert Cousins’ home in Arlington. The characters are nothing short of stunning in both their believability (don’t I know Franny and Caroline Keating?) and in the profound (and profoundly-captured) ways in which they feel and love their way through their complicated lives. Patchett is superb. She is astonishing. She is capable of such memorable, likely-to-be-quoted-into-eternity lines as the one Fix delivers while battling metastasized cancer:
“People are scared of the wrong things. We go around thinking that what’s going to get us is waiting on the other side of the door: it’s outside, it’s in the closet, but it isn’t like that. For the vast majority of the people on this planet, the thing that’s going to kill them is already on the inside.”
But she is equally adept with the small details of life that show us, rather than tell us, who these rich characters truly are: the things they decide not to say, the nearly imperceptible shift in emotions when standing waiting for a mother at an airport in Switzerland, the unassuming tendernesses they bestow on their ailing or aging parents and siblings, performed reflexively and without expectation of gratitude.
And then there is the central, gaping loss of Cal, and the central, fusing force of Franny’s love and the way she persists in keeping the family together almost without thinking about it, just by virtue of being herself. Such beautiful symmetry, and so true to the way families can operate. I also enjoyed the metafictional elements introduced by the character of award-winning novelist Leo Posen and the way in which his presentation of the story of Franny’s childhood nearly competes with the novel unfolding before our eyes in Patchett’s hands. The final line about Franny “keeping something for herself” reified Patchett’s narrative as “the truth” or as true to life as art can be. Leo had missed something in his story because Franny had held it back, and yet we, as readers of Patchett’s work, were privy to that something and must remind ourselves: “This is all fiction.” What a gift, to build an imagined universe so realistic readers cannot believe it is not real. Commonwealth is trompe l’oeil in haute literary form!
That concluding line also made me think of Franny and the other characters in the novel as entities — spirits, forces — that can exist beyond the page, beyond the written word, and that we might never fully know them. There is, in short, something stirring and philosophical about the verisimilitude of her writing and her direct engagement with “real life” versus “fiction” in the plot line surrounding Franny and Leo.
Mainly, though: it was simply a joy to read. The language, the characters, the pace, the settings — I felt like I was waking from a delicious nap after I finished it, sitting still and quiet in a happy haze of satisfaction. With this book, Patchett cemented herself in my opinion as one of the best writers of our time.
Post-Scripts.
+I actually listened to Commonwealth on audiobook, narrated by Hope Davis, and she did an incredible job narrating. Quite a feat given all the different characters! I especially loved the softness of her voice when reading the Beverly Keating bits. More of my favorite audiobooks here.
+You know I love a good shirtdress, and this one comes in great colors. Love the khaki and white stripe!
+Just added these running shorts in the lilac color to my cart. Would look great with this running top from Lululemon in the coordinating pale purple. Who else likes a monochromatic exercise moment?
+My sister just gave me this award-winning facial mask, which she has been raving about. Can’t wait to try! Will report back in my next installment of honest reviews. (Most recent one here, including several items currently available at a discount thanks to Sephora’s spring sale!)
I’ll admit that when I first bought the pearl-studded Lele Sadoughi knot headband that took the street style world by storm about two years ago, I was both thrilled with the style and skeptical that it would last long in my weekly wardrobe. At my daughter’s first back-to-school night (over a year before COVID hit, i.e., in a different lifetime, when we could still set foot in the school building), one of the parents nudged his wife and said: “Look, she’s wearing one of those headbands you’ve been talking about.” I had the thought, then, that I should probably get as much wear as possible as soon as possible because you know a trend is peaking when husbands are aware of it.
But I have been proven wrong: season after season, I find myself accessorizing with headbands, and, earlier this year, Amanda Gorman made them even cooler while wearing one, crown-like, as she delivered her inaugural poem. Headbands are definitely here to stay awhile.
A few of my top picks here, plus more in the text below!
Currently at the top of my lust list: Hill House’s lightly-padded Alice style(01.) in either the moire pink or blue botanical (look for less with this $14 Buru find), although her more exaggerated big sister, The Halo, is winning, too, for a more dramatic occasion. I wore this similarly-dimensioned Lele Sadoughi in corduroy(05.) all winter long and it always felt like the perfect embellishment to my look. (P.S. — I personally love the way HH’s founder, Nell Diamond, goes tone-on-tone, matching headband to nap dress in either the same print or a coordinated color! Tres chic!)
Most of my knotted/statement collection is by headband queen Lele Sadoughi — the materials, construction, style, etc. are all top-notch, and I find them fairly comfortable to wear. My go-to last summer was this denim style, and I wore this velvet bow confection straight through the holidays this year. However, there are countless similar knotted styles for less, including:
THIS $10 EYELET, WHICH WOULD GO WITH EVERYTHING IN YOUR SPRING WARDROBE
I’ve had a couple of recent inquiries about coordinating outfits, whether for family portraits or mother’s day or just because. I have to say that one of my favorite early moments in motherhood was when I dressed mini in a Lilly dress that matched my own. It felt like the attainment of a lifelong dream. A couple of options for you…
Lali has some lovely, airy dresses out, and I especially love their bougainvillea print for mama and mini.
For a matching swim moment, it doesn’t get cuter than Marysia gingham — this for you and this for her — or Minnow’s mosaic print for you, for her, and for him.
Twinning kurtas from Roller Rabbit for mama and mini for your next beach trip.
LENORA EMBROIDERED HEART NIGHTGOWN FOR MAMA AND MINI
Of course, matching with your little one does not mean you have to wear the exact same print from the same brand. There are some great coordinated looks you can achieve. A few pairings you might consider:
Warm weather is on its way and I am filling in all of the holes in my children’s warm weather wardrobes. (I have perhaps overindexed on shortalls/jon jons for micro, especially with the recent Busy Bees sets I found on sale. I have a ton. But I don’t care! It may be one of the last summers I can squeeze him into them!) Below, a few of my favorite shorts for little ones this summer!
THIS PAIR (04.) RUNS A BIT LONGER (TO THE KNEE) THAN I USUALLY PREFER, BUT THEY ARE ON THE SLIMMER SIDE AND COME IN GREAT COLORS, SO I HAVE A FEW PAIRS OF THESE FOR MICRO — LOOK POLISHED WITH LITTLE LOAFERS AND POLOS
CPC is my absolute favorite shorts brand for mini — they are cut short (not baggy) and come in the most adorable prints, like these lemons (mini owned last summer) and timeless seersucker(05). You can occasionally find them on serious sale at Jojo Mommy!
For wearing underneath dresses, I like these bike shorts or these solid-colored ones (I bought several pairs of these in white last summer and they still fit this year).
To pair with shorts, I like Lacoste polos (size up – this style runs small) or embellished white tops like this, this, and this.
I am cautious by nature, especially in my interactions with other people. I am allergic to extreme adventures like sky-diving, bungee-jumping, even rock-climbing and hot air ballooning. I will not scuba dive — I could barely tolerate snorkeling. I tend to imagine the worst possible outcome and will yank my children and even Mr. Magpie if they walk just an inch too close to the edge of the subway platform for my own comfort. As a general rule, I play it safe. Gambling holds no appeal; in the words of Carrie Bradshaw: “I like my money where I can see it: hanging in my closet.” As dark as this sounds, I occasionally find myself plotting possible paths of egress in case a shooter appears in my Church, on the Subway, etc. I am hard-wired to plan for contingencies. I never leave anything to the last minute (anticipator for life) if it can be avoided — even as a schoolgirl, I completed my book reports days before they came due. I check the weather on my phone every morning. I fret disproportionately if I am running close to an expired parking meter or if Google Maps predicts an arrival time even a few minutes over an appointment start date. I prefer not to leave anything to chance, and will needle people when all the boxes on a form or checklist are not appropriately ticked, even if I realize I am irritating because of it, and even if I realize it does not really matter. I will ask the obvious question even if I imply obtuseness. I wear sunscreen daily and never miss a routine checkup for skincare, dentistry, OBGYN. I even schedule annual wellness checks with my general practitioner when I am in good health. I am a rule follower to a fault. I take almost personal offense when I see a fellow dog-owner has not picked up after his dog: he is breaking a serious social contract and making all of us dog-owners look bad! I never cut in line. Mr. Magpie tells me sometimes I make up rules that haven’t been set and imagine being punished for them — and he is correct.
I color in the lines.
And yet.
I am a risk-taker. My professional career stands as a testament to that truth. There were so many rich insights and provocations in response to my post last week about pursuing two degrees in English and my mixed feelings on whether I would recommend the same path to anyone, and one of those comments left me deep in thought about whether my academic career in some way pushed me to be more willing to take risks than I might have had I chosen a degree with a more straight-forward professional application. Like many liberal arts majors, I had to bend the degree to fit various job opportunities, or to search for a position that was sufficiently generalist in its entry-level responsibilities that nearly anyone might qualify, and then create a tenuous argument as to why I was in fact perfectly qualified for it. This meant I remained, out of necessity, open to possibility. I worked for a government consultancy performing the most menial and tedious of tasks (calling government offices asking for information about upcoming contract opportunities), as a nanny, for an academic press, then for two ambitious start-up non-profits. There was also a time where I had carved out a small editing practice, and I had a few professors, a “recovering lawyer” (as my Dad calls himself), and an academic journal as customers — was that truly in this life? There was a period of about six years where I worked dutifully towards a long-term career in non-profit management, and I felt my identity beginning to conform with its shape. “Jen Shoop, tenured non-profit leader” had its own sturdy appeal. I even got to the point where younger members of the non-profit community called upon me for advice. I was invited to speak on panels. I attended lunches and meetings and exchanged business cards with people far more important and seasoned than I. Then I upended that plot line by starting a new business with my husband in an industry it turns out we did not know well enough. In the process, I re-cast myself as an entrepreneur.
My two degrees in English and my many years of writing compel me to draw a legible line between these experiences. There is the writing angle: I have never — not once! — been in a role that did not call heavily upon my writing and editing skills. There is the education angle: nearly all of my undertakings have in some way hinged upon an interest in promoting learning. There is the design angle: in my last four jobs, I have found myself engaged deeply in questions of product ideation and management.
But the truth is that where I might draw a line, confident in its linear arc, there was actually a wild swinging of arms as I leapt — sometimes tumbled, sometimes flung myself — into the unknown. I cannot reconcile my call to entrepreneurship with my play-it-safe nature. They remain incompatible, the unlikeliest and least amiable of bed-fellows. How is it that I am near-allergic to the idea of not purchasing a return ticket back from D.C. on one of these house-hunting excursions in the event that we would like to visit one more property (but what if all of the later-evening trains are full?) and yet I took an absurd gamble to work for a twenty-two-year-old college graduate trying to improve the financial literacy of low-income youth when I had, at the time, been promoted to acting Executive Director of a well-funded non-profit? And how can it be that I will plan what my daughter will wear to school the following morning when I am drifting off to sleep at night, occasionally discarding options because they have not yet been ironed, knowing that just a few years ago, I stepped away from a secure-seeming career in the non-profit world to start something entirely new and unknown?
I mystify myself sometimes. I might be the world’s most cautious tearaway, the most dutiful of daredevils.
How about you? When you zoom out on your life decisions, do you feel you’ve always played it safe or have you taken big risks?
+A rattan umbrella stand! Mr. Magpie and I have bought this exact umbrella stand now fewer than THREE TIMES because Tilly broke the first two while chasing toys in our old apartment. It wasn’t ideally situated…
If you are a Shopbop Rewards member, you now have early access to the sale promotion starting tomorrow: 15% off orders $200+, 20% off orders $500+, and 25% off orders $800+ with code STYLE. (If you aren’t a member, the promo starts tomorrow!) Here are the items I am considering:
BREEZY SEA IN PERFECT PEONY PINK — I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS BRAND FOR EVENINGS AT HOME…THESE DRESSES WEAR LIKE NIGHTGOWNS/NAP DRESSES! SO COMFORTABLE AND NON-RESTRICTING
P.S. Free shipping at TBBC this weekend. I am always drawn to the sale section when I see this promotion — I mean, snag this dress for mini and these matching shorts for micro, no shipping!
One of the houses we looked at recently was owned by a woman after my own heart: storage baskets everywhere, and everything in its place. My agent joked that she wanted to hire the owner to organize her own home! Below, sharing a few of my favorite storage baskets, for many of the spaces in a home that might merit a little exercise in corraling. And even further below: more baskets, arranged by size.
Great for towels in a bathroom, magazines/books, throws in a living room, smaller collections of toys, outdoor or dog gear by the door/in a mud room, top shelf of closet, etc…
What music do you listen to while working? I need some fresh playlists. While pursuing my degrees a million years ago, I listened exclusively to classical music while studying and writing, and I especially loved Chopin’s nocturnes and etudes. I found anything with lyrics too distracting. Nowadays, I can tolerate a wider repertoire, but if I’m in serious artistic flow, I reflexively mute my music so I can eliminate every extraneous input. If I’m doing something less focused, I have been liking Haim, H.E.R., the soundtrack to the “Pride and Prejudice” movie starring Kiera Knightly (thank you to the Magpie who recommended this album!), Taylor Swift, Ariana Grande’s FIRST album (and only her first album), and sometimes my country favorites (though I find I am a seasonal listener of country, preferring it in the warm weather months), like The Chicks (early stuff only), The Highwomen, Sturgill Simpson. But I’ve exhausted them all now!
What are your recommendations? I’m coming up dry! Need suggestions!
