This is probably my most-requested gift guide this year: what to buy for the men in our lives! Below, sharing a roundup of my top picks for holiday gifts for the gents, most under $100.
+Cape Hatteras Oysters. Note the watermen who run this business (a father-son team!) sell by the 100, so this might be a good gift for NYE with your entire family indulging. You can also buy excellent oysters in smaller quantities from Mook Sea Farm. We sent them to my in-laws last holiday season and they were a huge hit.
+New Balance Heat Loft Pullover. A great gift for a fellow runner. I own a quilted heat loft jacket from NB myself that I LOVE. It is exceptional at regulating temperature! Currently 25% off.
+Everlane Waffle Knit Henleys. I always like to tuck a couple of elevated basics into Mr. Magpie’s haul at the holidays. Everlane boasts unfussy styling, decent quality, and reasonable pricepoints.
+PWR Supply Portable Charger. Is anyone else’s husband always hovering around a 5-10% iPhone battery charge?
+Sid Mashburn Oyster Belt Buckle. I gave this to Mr. Magpie a few years ago and have featured it a few times in gift guides since — but it is such an interesting, special gift for a well-dressed, bivalve-loving man, and he earns compliments on it constantly.
+Sleek Desk Chair. Mr. Magpie and I are currently in the market for a proper desk chair in our “home office” (ahem, right flank of our bedroom) as the decorative one we have was not intended for the serious use it is garnering in 2020 and we are constantly complaining about our backs. This desk chair is the most attractive one I’ve found (and gots solid reviews all around), though the two most commonly recommended ones for overall comfort, adjustability, etc are by Steelcase (not particularly aesthetically pleasing) and Herman Miller ($$$).
+Outdoor Voices Hoodie and/or Joggers. Mr. Magpie loves the soft knit and sleek styling of this collection.
+Momofuku Chili Crunch and David Chang’s Eat a Peach. A fantastic combo for a food-lover. The memoir is deceptively easy-to-read: there is a lot of meat on the bone.
+Bean Boots. Both handsome and functional. Love them in the heritage green.
+Sonos Sound Bar. Your man will die over the sound upgrade. This is a good pick for any dude — but if your guy is an acoustics snob (like Mr. Magpie), Kef is la creme de la creme…but then I probably wouldn’t mess around with buying speakers for him if he’s that particular.
+Calm Subscription. Mr. Magpie has been very into this app, which helps you meditate, relax, and sleep better.
+Marmot PreCip Rain Pants. You know the adage I occasionally throw around, “there’s no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing”? These rain pants were an eye opener for Mr. Magpie, who now wears them when walking Tilly or taking mini to school in torrential rain (they can be layered over jeans/sweats). Great also for an outdoorsman. We also both have and love the Marmot PreCip raincoat. Great for running or hiking in inclement or windy weather.
+Ralph Lauren Corduroy Bomber. I almost gasped when I saw this coat with its black watch tartan lining — an instant classic, as handsome on a boy of 20 as it would be on a gentleman of 80.
+Nice Laundry Lounge Shorts. If we’re going to be living with athleisure for the forseeable future, we might as well have the Rolls Royce of gym shorts. (People love these shorts.)
+Maison Kitsune Sweatshirt. For the fashion-conscious gentleman. I love this sweatshirt because it’s sleek enough to be worn over a button-down and cheeky enough to seem cool.
+The world’s best flashlight. This $30 gadget is just the kind of geeky utility item several men in my life would love. It’s super-bright, magnetic, and small. Just think of all the uses (tinkering around beneath a dimly-lit sink, flipping a tripped fuse in the circuit breaker, telling scary stories to children, etc.)
+Chantecaille CBD Cream. If your man suffers from persistent aches and pains (Mr. Magpie destroyed his knees playing baseball in his teens and is currently in physical therapy for them!), many swear by the benefits of CBD cream.
+Apple AirPods Pro. Have written fairly extensively about these, but Mr. Magpie is full-on in love with these and I’d venture to guess that most guys will concur.
+Korin Honesuki Knife. These exquisitely crafted knives are designed specifically for boning poultry, and are best gifted to serious home cooks. (Mr. Magpie no longer buys chicken parts — he exclusively buys entire birds, breaks them down, uses what he needs for a recipe, and keeps the rest for chicken stock. As a result, he breaks down a lot of chickens and has spent a nontrivial amount of time researching the best poultry boning knife. This is it. The brand is no joke and has a range of other knife types, including yanagi for sushi and fruit knives. Delightfully recherche.)
+Spyder Tailored Ski Pants. I remember when Mr. Magpie first took me skiing, I showed up in a pair of poofy bibs and was embarrassed at all the sleek snow pants I saw on the slopes. I hadn’t realized there were aesthetics to contend with. This pair is tailored, slekk, and comes in fantastic colors.
+Granite Ware Lobster and Clam Steamer Pots. These bring such joy to Mr. Magpie’s life. If you grew up in the mid-Atlantic, you know that these are essential to blue crab feasts. We also use them when steaming lobsters and clams.
*Image above features mini’s great-grandmother’s pierogi recipe — written in her own hand and framed as a reminder of good roots.And ICYMI: I also published a holiday gift guide for men today.
For several years, Mr. Magpie and I owned a home in Ukrainian Village on the West side of Chicago. The neighborhood was startlingly authentic in the sense that you could buy the best kielbasa sandwich you’ve ever had for $5 from a rundown little Polish deli around the corner from us, many homes prominently hung Ukrainian flags out front, Masses at the local Catholic Church were often said in Eastern European languages, and, in the small West Town branch of the public library, entire shelves of the diminutive toddler board book section were devoted to titles in Ukrainian and Polish. It was a vibrant area with a strong sense of cultural identity, and it thrilled my mother-in-law, whose Polish roots shone proudly on each visit to see us. On what would be my parents-in-law’s final trip to Chicago (we would move to New York six months later), mini had just been born, so we spent much of our time at home or on brief walks around the neighborhood. One evening, paying homage to my mother-in-law’s heritage, we ventured out to Podhalanka, which The Lonely Planet travel guide correctly describes as “a hole-in-the-wall holdover, a true mom-and-pop joint (with owner Helena up front and husband Jerry in the kitchen).” TimeOut Chicago also astutely captures its no-frills, old-timey vibe as follows: “When we say Podhalanka has an ‘old world’ feel, we mean old world in that ‘premodern comforts’ kind of way. Not that this dive doesn’t have electricity, but it is dark.” This spot is a throwback. It almost feels like you’re eating in your distant great-aunt-once-removed’s basement in Eastern Europe twenty or thirty years ago, especially given the oddly placed couch flanking one wall. The menu is, of course, in Polish, with only the barest of English translations beneath: “rolled stuffed beef” and “pork stew” suffice. The food is, of course, excellent. We feasted on pierogi, golabki, nalesniki, stewed meat, and a cabbage soup the proprietress insisted would be good for me in my postpartum condition. She also made an enormous fuss over one-month-old mini, who snoozed through the majority of our visit in her infant carseat. The owner could not stop exclaiming over her in Polish, placing her hand over her heart, looking up at the ceiling in wonderment. And we beamed back. My mother-in-law was positively in heaven, eager to tell the owner about her Polish roots and reminiscing about the pierogi her own grandmother used to make.
As we, full and happy, prepared to leave, the owner came back over to our table and wordlessly tucked a ten dollar bill under mini’s carseat strap. We thanked her while attempting to press the bill back into her palm, but she shooed us away. “May God bless her,” she said simply. “May God bless her.”
When I looked over at my mother-in-law as we departed the restaurant, she was crying. We didn’t speak about it, only squeezing hands in the tacit way you show affection and understanding to a loved one farklempt with emotion. But I could see the contours of something enormous in her tears, and it looked a lot like heritage, neighborliness, and the ties that bind. How is it that a stranger could express such profound glee at the good fortune of our daughter’s birth? How is it that she could show such unexpected generosity, likely ceding the entirety of the tip we had left her? Her gesture represented the inaugural deposit we would make in mini’s savings account, and isn’t it astounding to think that a kind neighbor was the first person to invest in our daughter?
In the face of the many uncertainties of 2020, it has been reassuring to think back on Helena at Podhalanka, and to remind myself to dial in on the local. I am sure many of you have similar stories of the unexpected kindness of a neighbor, too. If you have a minute today, please share your own Helena story in the comments.
Starting an audiobook habit has proven to be one of the best parts of 2020. I listen while doing the dishes, walking Tilly, and showering, and it has transformed those chores into episodes of delicious distraction. Sometimes I wonder if I am blotting out too much of my free time to think — to just sit alone with my own thoughts — by re-appropriating it for my audiobooks. Most of the time, though, ever the “Type A” busy bee, I am glad to be redirecting what once felt like tote zeit (German for “dead time”) into something that makes me feel good. I also read two times as many books!
I find that I am particularly drawn to audiobooks that optimize the medium — that is, that take advantage of the fact that they are being read ad alta voce (out loud). By this I mean that I am drawn to memoirs performed by their own authors, novels narrated by famous actors, or stories read in regional accents, as all of these renditions offer a little something more than I think I would get from reading the book on paper. Standouts from my listening list in 2020:
+Ann Patchett’s The Dutch House, narrated by Tom Hanks. The characters are exceptional on their own (full, glowing review here) but hearing them read by Tom Hanks is a delicious treat. His voice is so familiar and reassuring and pleasant, and I love the way he will suddenly slow.down.his.pace. in admiration of a particularly meaningful passage. Exquisite storytelling.
+Beth Kelb’s Nobody Will Tell You This But Me, narrated by Beth Kelb. This is a poignant love story between a grandmother and a granddaughter full of wit, wisdom, and warmth. Kelb interweaves selections of her grandmother’s emails and voicemails with her own remembrances, family lore, and renderings of what she imagines her deceased grandmother might say to her from beyond the grave. Kelb has spectacular comedic timing (she is an Emmy-nominated writer for Jimmy Kimmel Live) and is a riveting storyteller. You will laugh out loud and you will probably cry, too.
+David Chang’s Eat a Peach, narrated by David Chang. I was caught off guard by this memoir, which was nothing like I expected it to be. The book grapples with mental health, leadership, success, the perils of the restaurant industry, family, and race, but in ways that felt refreshingly candid and honest given what could have been well-worn territory. I emerged deeply impressed by his bravery, ingenuity, and radical honesty. He puts it all out there. And hearing it read in his own voice was a revelation — sections that might have come off as gloating read with sincerity. And other bits come off surprisingly funny.
+Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables, narrated by Rachel McAdams. If there is anything that will transport you out of 2020 and make you feel like all is right in the world, it is Anne of Green Gables read by Rachel McAdams. Oh my God, what a joy to listen to! I cherished this series as a girl and it was almost twice as delicious to revisit as an adult, both because of the nostalgia element and because it is a winning story about girlhood, imagination, independence, and — reading. The book tells us a lot about reading people in a way that I think empowers girls to be good readers (of texts and beyond). And as far as I’m concerned, Rachel McAdams could read the phone book and it would hold my interest. Her reading is delightful. She does such an exceptional job projecting Anne’s dreaminess and curiosity in the way she carries her voice. Oh! I loved this rendition!
+Lucy Foley’s The Guest List, narrated by Jot Davies, Chloe Massey, et al. I would say this book is a peg below the other books listed here simply because it wasn’t as rich of a text, but I still thoroughly enjoyed listening to a thriller on tape. There was something vaguely dramatic about it — walking around, on the edge of my seat, while walking Tilly on a chilly fall night! Foley manages to handle jumps backward and forward in time and between narrators with deftness and clarity, and uses it to her suspense-building advantage. This is an enormous feat given that I was listening to the book and it is much easier to lose track of narrative threads when you are unable to flip back a few pages to revisit something that happened earlier. I think it was wise to have so many narrators (five different ones, I believe, many with different accents!), as this enabled me to keep the characters and plotlines straight with relative ease. And it was just a treasure to listen to the accents, full-stop!
+Ruth Reichl’s Save Me the Plums, narrated by Ruth Reichl. The book felt a bit slow-to-start, but the food writing is exceptional and it is a treat to hear those sections read in Reichl’s own voice, which is redolent with knowing resignation that can only come with age, experience, and a fair amount of world-weariness. I loved to hear her occasional bright excitement jump out against the pining, mildly plaintive note more commonly found in her reading of her own memoir. You can tell when she is really excited about something, and that earnestness is damn endearing. Did I mention that the food writing is out of this world, too?
+Andre Leon Talley’s The Chiffon Trenches, narrated by Andre Leon Talley. Talley’s tell-all about Vogue, Anna Wintour, and countless celebrities of the fashion world is as juicy as it is heartfelt. Alongside the drama and intrigue, Talley shares his lifelong struggles with body image, sexuality, and childhood trauma as well as the racism he faced (and continues to face) in a predominantly white cultural space. Talley is sharp, aware, and nearly always quick to offer others the benefit of the doubt in a way that I have carried with me since first listening. I would do well to remember the empathy with which he leads his life. And hearing the memoir read in his distinctive, empassioned, loud (!) voice was just the icing on the cake. He is a national treasure.
+Anne Glenconner’s Lady in Waiting: My Extraordinary Life in the Shadow of the Crown, narrated by Anne Glenconner. A true reminder of the fact that no one is sequestered from the threats and tragedies of life. Glenconner, in spite of her considerable privilege, has not had an easy life. She speaks openly about negotiating her way around a domineering husband prone to cruel outbursts of temper and coping with the devastating misfortunes that meet several of her children, alongside some of the extravagances and incredible experiences her life as Princess Margaret’s lady in waiting. All rivetingly told in a way that reminded me to maintain a sense of perspective no matter what 2020 throws our way.
+Jessica Simpson’s Open Book, narrated by Jessica Simpson. I’ve talked a lot (too much) about this book already, but Jessica’s easy companionship and winning, breathy storytelling got me through the worst of COVID-19. If you watched “Newlyweds” as religiously as I did in my college years, you’ll absolutely devour this tell-all about her rocky relationships with Nick Lachey, John Mayer, and her parents; her sexual abuse as a teen; and her struggle with alcoholism. A Magpie wrote something along these lines about her: “I did not know I needed to hear from Jessica Simpson, but I did.” I agree with that assessment: hers is a surprisingly touching and inspiring story.
Notes on Starting an Audiobook Habit.
+I have an Audible subscription that permits me one credit (one title) per month, which is just about the right cadence for me. Sometimes I finish early and splurge on an extra book (they are pricey!), but most of the time, an audiobook/month is a good cycle.
+I nearly always listen on my Airpods but have been eyeing one of these waterproof speakers to keep in my shower, as I currently turn my iPhone up to top volume when listening in the shower and therefore cannot always hear the narrator. I would prefer one of these speakers by Bose (such a good sound system company, and this particular model is available at a pre-black-Friday special price), but it lists itself as “water-resistant” rather than “waterproof” and I’m dubious as to whether permanently keeping it in the shower is the best idea. However, the shower-friendly JBL model gets very good reviews — I gave one to friends for Christmas last year and they raved about it!
+As a side note, I’m fascinated by the way AirPods, Kindles, and other digital reading devices have impacted readership and also the perception of readership. I know there are a lot of Magpies out there who prefer the sensory experience of reading a hard copy (and I agree that you for lose something in the digital experience — specifically, going digital tampers with the heuristics of reading), but I am at heart a pragmatist and I find myself reading much more on a Kindle / via AirPods. I do worry about the impact this will have on my children in the sense that one reason I learned to love reading at such a young age was — I am confident — because my parents modeled that practice themselves. To this day, they are never without a book in arm’s reach, whether killing time in a doctor’s office or relaxing at home. My children will instead see me sucked into yet another screen, and the omnipresence and proliferation of screens in my own life is mildly disturbing. Yet. I find myself unwilling to cede the expeditiousness of a device (and my commensurate enjoyment as a reader) in order to make a point? Is that wrong of me? I can’t tell. Do I trust that my children will still be book-lovers by dint of the prolific amount of reading we do with them? I make a big to do about how the Kindle is a kind of book, and that I’m reading, but I’m not sure if it’s clicked and it feels forced anyhow. Sigh. It’s also interesting that the Kindle and AirPods secret, or hide, the reading material on hand. You never know if someone is reading Proustor a non-fiction expose on climate change or Fifty Shades of Gray. (And on that latter point, I had several friends who reported that they could “only” have read Fifty Shades of Gray on a Kindle — they were too embarrassed to be seen reading it in public! I don’t know what to say about that?) And AirPods — is it the latest Ariana Grande or the David Chang memoir? There is something about the design of these devices that erases or hides readership in an interesting way.
+I think I’ve cottoned to audiobooks so quickly (and permanently) because I grafted the habit onto daily chores. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about listening while cleaning the dishes before, but once I did, it was a revelation. I wonder if there are similar pockets of tote zeit in your life that could be repurposed for listening in small doses. For a time, I listened on the Subway, but I feel like it’s best to keep my wits about me and my ears open down there. But in general, commutes, housekeeping, laundry-folding, bed-making, etc are great opportunities to tune into a book.
+Next audiobooks on my list: Protocol: The Power of Diplomacy and How to Make It Work for You, authored and narrated by Capricia Penavic Marshall, President Obama’s former Chief of Protocol, on the fervent recommendation of a Magpie reader. This book jacket copy had me hooked: “From arranging a room to have an intended impact on the participants to knowing which cultural gestures earned trust, her behind-the scenes preparations laid the groundwork for successful diplomacy between heads of state around the world and tilted the playing field in her team’s favor.” Fascinating! I’m also intending to listen to Mariah Carey’s memoir on tape, which made my fall 2020 reading list.
Now onto my most urgent query: what audiobooks do you love?!
+This running jacket — on sale for 70% off (!) I bought it in ivory but it comes in a number of great colors and I am in love with it. I cannot believe how lightweight and breathable it is given how warm it keeps me, yet I’m never too hot in it. Frankly, I don’t get how it regulates the temperature but it does and I’m smitten.
+AirPods Pro. (Top seller for holiday gifts this year and currently still on sale!)
The other day, I came across this quote from writer, producer, and film director Joss Whedon (brain behind Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Toy Story, and more):
“Whatever makes you weird is probably your greatest asset.”
I loved that. Some of my favorite qualities in my loved ones stem from their idiosyncrasies. I think, for example, of my older brother, who loved fantasy books (especially Redwall), constructed elaborate Lego worlds, wore a Zorro costume for months on end, and had an imaginary friend (named “Di”) when we were young. He was — and still is — fantastically creative and preternaturally able to grasp elements of character and narrative that are often lost on others. This has in turn led him to become an extraordinary writer, teacher, and academic — and one of the most astute judges of character I know.
What makes you weird?*
*I am anticipating that some of you may take issue with the term “weird” here — why must we “other” ourselves and our differences? I think Whedon is intentionally re-appropriating the word here.
+This accent cabinet sells out consistently. So cute (and such a great price!) for housing games in a family room or overflow serving plates in a dining room nook.
+A mom at my school wears this Arcteryx ski jacket on days with inclement weather and I have to say the hood design is genius. I think it’s specifically designed to work with a ski helmet but I am envious of the way it sort of juts out over the forehead, keeping it free from rain without an umbrella!
Unrelated to Bergdorf’s, but Backcountry is offering 20% off any full-price item if you sign up for their (free) rewards program, meaning I just snagged a Patagonia puffer for Hill!
Updated this post after publication to alert you to the fact that Outnet is offering an extra 25% off clearance prices with code FINALS. This means designer pieces are like 90% off. Shop my top picks here.
Q: Kids backpacks. My little one starts kindy in January — the school year in Australia. She will need a decent-sized one as they need 2 water bottles (water in the sunshine!), a hat (“no hat, no play”), spare clothes, lunch, and books. So not a decorative one in that it actually needs to hold a lot. Any ideas? I don’t mind girly but would rather avoid unicorns if possible! Bonus points for monogram and / or matching lunch boxes.
A: Congratulations, mama! I would consider State Bags. They come in all different colors/patterns (some solids, too!), are well-made, and very roomy. Mini owns this exact style and we love it, though you might want to compare it in size to the very popular Kane Kids style, which has the added advantage of having built-in water bottle pockets on the exterior.
Livly Baby’s backpack is also well-loved by several moms who have emailed me on the subject — a lot of them say the size is just right for a small child, but it can still hold a lot.
Q: We just decided on Thanksgiving dinner plans out just my husband and I at a place with no dress code but you can dress as fancy as you’d like and no one would bat an eye. I keep remembering a green velvet dress or a burgundy velvet dress you mentioned wearing one year for Thanksgiving or Christmas? I’m about to dive back through any shopping posts you have related to the holidays but if you have any other suggestions I’m all ears!!! Definitely thinking about a padded headband look…
A: You have such a good memory! I own a green velvet Misa dress that I’ve worn a few holiday seasons in a row now. It’s no longer available from the label except for on websites like eBay and Poshmark. I’m absolutely dying over all the velvet finds in the Outnet clearance section, though! Check out this insanely chic burgundy skirt, just destined to be worn with a blouse in ivory or white (I mean….!!!!) and a padded headband.
I also shared some other dressy Thanksgiving options here.
Cheers!
Q: Fall/winter boots for toddler girls? Not snow boots but everyday (Chelsea style, etc.)
A: I have bought Gap boots for mini for the past few years and let me speak candidly on them: I like the styles (she owns this pair right now — I especially appreciate that this style and many of their others can work just as well with tights and a dress as they can with jeans or leggings!) and you can usually find them at a great price, but they aren’t particularly well-made. I’ve more or less made peace with that trade-off in years past because mini has every year (!) switched shoe sizes mid-season, and I’ve had to buy a second pair in a bigger size, and so she wears them just about as long as they last anyhow. (This pair is so cute!)
If you are more confident than I am that your daughter will wear one pair all season, or are willing to make a bigger investment in a better quality shoe, I can’t say enough good things about the Elephanito brand, and this boot style is perfection. I find the metallics are a fantastic workaround in terms of outfit coordination. They go with everything.
This year, however, I also bought mini a pair of Ugg boots because we walk about 10-15 minutes each direction on our way to school every day and it is COLD and WET in the New York winter, and I really needed something that would hold up and keep her feet dry and warm. (We have also of necessity had to adopt the Scandi outlook that “there is no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing” because we NEED Central Park as a space to run off energy given our tight quarters and the lack of indoor activities this winter owing to COVID-19. So Ugg boots will be in our future to keep mini warm and happy on the weekend playground circuit!) I’ll be honest and say I had a mild case of PTSD about Ugg boots after their huge spike in popularity during my college years. But they really do serve a purpose and who am I kidding? They are COMFORTABLE.
Q: How are you doing? I mean, really — COVID recovery, mini in school, micro at home. It’s a lot!
A: You are so kind to check in on me. I shared some honest reflections on how we’re doing at the moment here, but the sloppy truth is that I feel alternately fatigued by the news cycle and persistence of the pandemic, inspired by what I am reading and the conversations we are having here on the blog, overwhelmed by the monotony and narrowness of my day-to-day life caring for two small children, motivated (on many fronts), and satisfied (also on many fronts). We’ve managed to create a zone of comfort at home by force of routine and a healthy amount of over-celebration of the minor things in life. (Halloween this year was EPIC — so many surprises and activities and treats for the children.) At the same time, I miss my parents and am desperate for a getaway without the children, but we’ll get there. All in, I’m hanging in there! I’m juggling all the same things you and countless other Magpie Moms are, I am sure — so the question is also, how are you?!
Q: On the hunt for chic house slippers that are cute but still warm.
A: My personal favorite is the moccasin style — I have bought these for years and years from L.L. Bean, Lands End, and J. Crew. I tend to wear them into the ground so have gone through a ton of pairs over the past decade or two. They go well with my underlying preppy/classic style.
However, this year, I am eyeing these cashmere slippers (swoon) or these ones (slipper-sock style) as well as these black velvet mules (look like you’re wearing tuxedo slippers at home!) Such a fun way to dress up our ever-expanding at-home/athleisure wardrobes. These sherpa ones also caught my eye — very on-trend.
Finally, this pair from Amazon has a memory foam base (!) and has received over 3,000 five star reviews. Did I mention they cost $25?
Q: Where can I get pretty door wreaths to last the winter season?
A: Maybe an artificial one is the way to go? Target has some pretty and affordable options, like this one, and Shop Terrain always has great options, like this faux magnolia wreath style or this reindeer moss style. The latter would look stunning with an enormous satin ribbon in blush or ivory tied on the bottom.
A: I got you! I shared some of my favorite holiday decor finds here and here.
Q: A sleeping bag for a three year old girl, with maybe a monogramming option? I want something nice but not too expensive.
A: Asweets has very cute styles — we bought mini a tent from them last year and have been impressed with the quality and design. And then this L.L. Bean is timeless (and can be monogrammed!)
Q: A new Christmas tree topper!
A: We just bought this one from ABC Home (a Manhattan treasure!) last year, which has an artful Madonna-and-baby halo-esque quality to it (and is surprisingly lightweight, which is nice because if they are too heavy, they always sit lopsided!) I also love this Anthropologie style. More tree trimmings here!
Q: Thanksgiving and Christmas book recommendations for toddlers, please!
A: Mini has loved this turkey book for the past few Thanksgivings. It’s a silly rhyming book (read to the tune of “5 Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed”) but it also reinforces the idea of subtraction. (Sneaky!) Both of my kids also love all of the Karen Katz lift-the-flap books so this formulaic Thanksgiving one has been a hit. I give the children new books at every possible occasion, so this year, mini will be receiving this Thankful book, which focuses on the small things we take for granted in a super sweet way, and micro You’re My Little Pumpkin Pie. Roger Priddy is always a solid, safe choice, too — full of clear pictures and good vocabulary. Mini’s school also recommended Catherine Stock’s Thanksgiving Treat and Margaret Sutherland’s Thanksgiving Is for Giving Thanks. (Not buying only because she read them at school quite a bit.)
Q: Best cutlery/everyday silverware set? And basically any essential registry items.
A: Do you cook a lot? If so, I still stand behind everything on this “must-have for the kitchen” post from four years ago. I use every single item on that list close to daily and it occurred to me just now that I’ve not yet had to replace any of them. The only update is that I prefer these mini cutting boards. (Great stocking stuffer! We now have two and probably use them both about ten times a day between cutting up fruit for the children, slicing sandwiches, cutting citrus for cocktails, mincing parsley, etc.)
For silverware, we went with a simple set from Williams-Sonoma. Our thinking was that we wanted a set with decent quality that would not be too precious or expensive (they go through the dishwasher daily!) and that a big brand would likely carry for years to come in the event that we needed to buy extra sets at some point. I’m glad we went with something simple because I have gotten bored of some of the everyday glassware/dishes we bought that were too heavily patterned!
I would also definitely register for nice china. I know different people have different perspectives on this, but we use ours all the time and there’s something so beautiful about outfitting yourselves as a couple for hosting future events and celebrations. We actually eat off of ours at least once a week even if it’s just the two of us! (This has been helped considerably by the fact that our fine china is dishwasher-safe.) Order multiples of the serving dishes that go with your set — so handy for bigger festivities. Mr. Magpie and I didn’t register for everyday china — just the formal stuff! — because at the time we both had our own sets of everyday dishes. If I could do it again, I think this might be the only change I’d make: I’d register for an everyday set, too, preferably in plain white with a modest decoration (i.e., something I won’t get bored of and that shows food well) and trim off some of the linens I registered for. I use the linens so much less than I thought I would, but I find we’ve dragged our feet on buying a full replacement set of everyday china so we have a couple sets here of four dinner plates here and there but not “full, complete, soup-to-nuts everyday set.” My favorites in that category are Pottery Barn’s Emma collection and Juliska’s Berry & Thread.
Q: Best thermal pieces for littles and women!
A: I have to rave about these $13 thermals for little ones. Perfect for layering under snowsuits or even jeans on cold days. I also always stock up on the thermal tees from Old Navy for my children — inexpensive but fantastic for layering underneath sweaters. For me, I absolutely live in the thermal tees from Old Navy and Everlane in the winter — amazing for layering and super-soft.
Q: Can you re-post your cornbread stuffing recipe?
A: New York has proven its resilience in spades in the past few weeks. This spring was, frankly, unnerving. New York felt empty but there were so many ambulances cutting across town. I’ll never forget their haunting cadence. And then the curfews in early June afforded the impression of something vaguely post-apocalyptic, to be honest, with the streets devoid of cars. Over the summer, there was a noticeable uptick in crime and suspicious activity. I recall a string of weeks during which Mr. Magpie and I commented that it felt like we couldn’t leave the apartment without confronting something disturbing — I witnessed two fist fights, a drug overdose, open drug use on the subway, an uncomfortable comment about my engagement ring; Mr. Magpie was approached twice in uncomfortable interactions; mini’s school was vandalized; etc. These types of things happen all the time in any big city, but their density over the course of a few weeks jostled us.
I do feel that things have changed for the better in the past few weeks — say, since mid-September. More New Yorkers have returned to the city, the mayor must be doing something to crack down on some of the incidents of crime and violence (?), many stores and restaurants have reopened with varying degrees of precaution, and perhaps we have just gotten to “a new normal” where what once felt strange feels OK.
Mr. Magpie and I have gone out for one date downtown since the beginning of COVID19, and it honestly felt perfectly fine — nothing like a “ghost town,” as NYC has been billed elsewhere, at least. Most people are compliant about wearing masks, especially on the subway, where I have witnessed city employees handing them out for free. Up by us on the UWS, the restaurants, stores, and especially Central Park are always busy. Sometimes I am happy when it’s raining outside because it means my running routes in Central Park will be less trafficked — otherwise, the paths (especially in the areas around the Great Lawn, the Lake, and Jackie O. Reservoir) can be almost dense. I am not comfortable running without a mask in those areas on most mornings, even though it is hell to run while wearing it. Too many people!
All in, I’m moved by this city’s resilience. There was something so touching about watching marathoners complete their virtual NYC marathons in the Park last weekend, and my kind neighbors putting up a sign in the lobby telling us which doors in the building would have (contact-free!) trick or treat candy outside their doors, and the thousands of small businesses who have pivoted and built outdoor dining areas to adapt to these modern conditions.
A: Congratulations! I shared some of our favorite dog gear here, but I really love the fun patterns on these collars and leads at the moment and The Foggy Dog also always has amazing prints for dog beds, collars, kerchiefs, etc. I specifically love this elevated dog bowl set, which we own for Tilly. Works so much better for us than having separate bowls out on a mat (easier to move, less likely to spill, etc.) I wouldn’t spend too much on a dog bed or dog blankets at first — they will likely destroy them with their little puppy teeth. Old blankets or towels are a good starter bed 🙂
Finally, this is not particularly stylish, but we bought Tilly this Kurgo harness this year and it’s even better than our previous one. If you have a strong, active dog, these make life SO much easier.
Q: I would love to know more about your favorite/go-to wines. I’m always looking for new ones!
A: We are spoiled because we have two great wine shops that deliver to us and boast excellent curation (plus highly usable web interfaces). You might draw inspiration there and then ferret the individual bottles out at your local wine shop! We order from Flatiron Wines and Astor Wines and our usual M.O. is to buy a case at a time with a mix of sparkling wine, white wine, and red wine. (Rose in the summer, too.) We like to buy at a variety of price-points, so we have a few nice bottles for special dinners and a few less expensive bottles. (We label all the bottles on the bottom with stickers — green sticker if under $20, yellow sticker if under $25, red sticker if $25+ — so it’s easy to decide what to open on what occasion.) I often start by sorting from least expensive to highest in their search functions to facilitate this cost-aware approach to purchasing and I also usually filter by Astor Wine’s “Staff Picks” — it’s like having a built-in guide. Some of my absolute favorite every day wines are this carmenere (tastes like an earthy green pepper — delicious with tacos, fajitas, etc), this sangiovese or this Nebbiolo (both are super smooth Italians with pasta), and this pinot noir (light-bodied and perfect with roast chicken).
Q: How do you snap out of funks (unproductive ones or otherwise)?
A: I take an intentional, day-long break and focus on other things, especially activities that will recharge my creative batteries, like reading or getting outside. I think the key is intentionality — telling myself: “It’s OK you feel this way. We’re going to take a deep breath and think about other things, and I trust you enough to know you’ll be able to clip back in when you’re ready.” I have found this strategy works much better than when I half-heartedly muddle my way through whatever it is. Back when I had a more traditional job, this meant sometimes I’d put in for a vacation day and just do whatever it was I felt like doing that could take me out of my headspace — cooking an elaborate four course meal, treating myself to lunch with a glass of champagne and a book, getting a manicure/pedicure, reading a book while laying out on the roof of our house (in Chicago, in summer), etc. It has never failed me. Hitting pause is so powerful. I often find I work through things in the background.
Q: Did you sleep train? At what age?
A: I did not — it wasn’t for me. Emory started sleeping through the night consistently basically the day she turned one and Hill started sleeping through the night consistently at around nine months (?) with a few regressions afterward, and the most recent resolved itself when we pushed his dinner back by an hour (closer to bedtime) and pushed his bedtime back by 30 minutes (to 7 p.m.). We were right in our instincts: he was waking up hungry and going to bed before he was fully tired. So interesting how small tweaks to timing can make a world of difference, at least once beyond the first birthday.
In general, my only advice on this front is to listen to what empowers and feels right to you as a mom.
I first discovered Bauble Stockings via a reader comment a few weeks ago, and am so glad I did, not only because it led me to an incredible small business but to the extraordinary woman of substance behind it: Kate Stewart.
In Kate’s own words, Bauble Stockings are “hand-stitched needlepoint ornament-sized stockings that hang out your tree. As tradition has it, they contain, or have a clue to, the final gifts of Christmas, a grand finale for each member of the family.” The concept has its roots in a family tradition: Kate used to help her father select special Christmas gifts for her mother and hide them in a special small stocking on the tree.
But what makes Bauble Stockings all the more remarkable is that they are hand-stitched by Haitian artisans who earn fair trade wages while being able to work from their own home on their own time — a considerable boon in the age of COVID-19. The company currently employs 107 women full-time, year-round. Kate’s admirable social conscience has also led her to donate 5% profit of each sale to the Atlanta Children’s Shelter, an organization that provides childcare for homeless families such that mothers are able to go to work knowing their children are safe and cared-for. In just over two years, Bauble Stockings has donated over $10,000 and offered surprise holiday bonuses to all of their artisanal stitchers in Haiti.
In Kate’s words: “starting this meaningful tradition in your home genuinely creates meaningful work in another.”
Below, get to know founder Kate a bit better as she answers my Proust Questionnaire.
Your favorite qualities in a woman: Generosity of spirit. My company would not be successful, or growing at this pace, if not for women sharing their light with me — from the women who highlight us to the guest artists who design stockings in exchange for a percentage of profits going to a charity of choice to all of the women purchasing, talking about, and participating in this tradition. Together, these actions are creating good jobs for one of the most vulnerable populations in the world: single moms in Haiti.
Your favorite heroine. Elizabeth Newton of ENewton Design. At the beginning of COVID19, she allowed online customers to designate local stores to receive 20% of each sale on her website, and later donated over $100K to stores. To me, she is a role model and a heroine, and someone who inspires me to create a business that helps the communities around me.
Your main fault. Letting go of control.
Your greatest strength. Getting stuff done through decisiveness.
Your idea of happiness. My kids’ laughter.
Your idea of misery. Bad bosses.
Currently at the top of your shopping lust list. Curtains for our formal dining room. (Clearly I’m getting old!)
Desert island beauty product. Sunscreen.
Last thing you bought. Two decked-out Halloween wreaths by a woman who just launched her company at Scott’s Antique Market — one for me and one for my BFF!
I feel most empowered wearing… Holiday brunch attire — it’s my Bauble Stockings dress code and I love it.
Favorite Magpie post. Christmas Gifts for Loved Onesbecause I am a gifting nut and I love thoughtful gifts. I’ve actually given a lot of the items on this list and am excited to figure out how to gift the rest!
Though I think we’d all love a Bauble Stocking stuffed with a special “grand finale” gift (these earrings or a reservation at The Inn at Little Washington with childcare and travel somehow worked out…????), small but meaningful stocking stuffers in a traditionally-sized stocking (shared the ones we use here) are also a cherished tradition in my family. Mr. Magpie has given me some fantastic little goodies in there over the years, from my favorite pocket umbrella (more on that here) to my prized Caran D’Ache pen, and my mother excels at stocking my beauty cabinet each year with incredible new cosmetics and skincare finds. (That’s how I discovered my beloved Laura Mercier eye primer!)
Below, a few fantastic stocking stuffer ideas — everything under $25. This list foregrounds products I absolutely love or have been lusting after for awhile, and would also be a great jumping off point for gifts for colleagues/acquaintances.
8:14 a.m., Saturday morning, 1992. My sisters and I were a riot of bare feet and rumpled nightgowns, Barbie dolls and unbrushed hair. We clambered up the steps of the basement in response to my mother’s call to breakfast — because it was a Saturday, there were stacks of Bisquick pancakes swimming in Aunt Jemima syrup. At the landing, you could take a left to trot past the butler’s pantry into my mother’s recently-remodeled kitchen. But to the right, you’d meet a long corridor lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors that ran nearly the length of my childhood home and ended in my father’s study, whose double doors were nearly always ajar, and from which a constant stream of classical music unfurled at a high decibel no matter the hour of the day. Sometimes, my father would be stretching in there prior to one of his long Saturday morning runs, as he was a marathoner at the time. Most of the time, he’d be sitting behind his broad, leather-topped desk with newspapers, folders, legal pads, and his prized Mont Blanc pen neatly in front of him, or at the small carrel in which our family computer sat — often the site of protracted negotiation with my brother over who got to play the heavily pixelated Jordan Vs. Bird computer game first. This particular Saturday, I poked my head into his office and found him leaning back in his chair, his hands crossed on his chest, his eyes closed. The music — often loud, this time nearly deafening — swelled around us. He pulled me into his arms and we listened to all eight minutes of Jean Sibelius’ “Swan of Tuonela” together. I was young and partly confused by what I was supposed to be doing. My father had taken me when I was maybe six to the National Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center, and I remember puzzling over what I was supposed to be doing then, too — the lights had dimmed to signal the start of something, a hush had fallen over the crowd punctuated by a few awkward and lonely coughs, and then…? I had just sat there, staring at the small box of Junior Mints in my hands and my patent leather shoes sticking straight off the edge of the folding red velvet seat in front of me, casting occasional sidelong glances at my father for instruction. Is this all the orchestra is? Sitting in a row of chairs, staring at nothing, listening? It felt horrifically boring given all the fanfare of dressing up, going out in my father’s gold sedan after I was meant to be in bed, and being presented with the opportunity to pick whichever candy I wanted from the small concession stand in the Kennedy Central hallway, but I could tell by the relaxation of my father’s face, his far-off look, his evident contentedness in just sitting there, that I was meant to appreciate it with the kind of reverence I normally associated with Sunday Mass, which was equally boring to me at the time, though also more unnerving given its high stakes. The look my mother would give me for misbehaving in the pew — shoving my sister, crumpling a paper, giggling — was enough to knock the wind right out of me, and there was of course the vague threat of being scolded by the priest or, as was a distinct possibility to my six-year-old self, being reprimanded by God Himself. (“This is God’s house,” my mother would say, and I couldn’t disabuse myself of the image of Him in an armchair in the sacristy.) The hierarchy of discipline was clear in Church. At the Orchestra, I was quiet because there was simply nothing else to do. No sister to fight with, no mother to whom I might whine about my itchy sweater or my too-tight hair braid.
Listening to Sibelius in my father’s study drew similar lines of quandary, though the experience was considerably more interesting. For one thing, I treasured moments like this, alone with my father, removed from the cloying calls for attention my sisters always brought with them. For another, I found myself straining to understand the music in a way I hadn’t at the Kennedy Center. It seemed to tell a story. If you listen to the piece, you’ll understand why. “The Swan of Tuonela” is a tondichtung, or a piece of music that illustrates the narrative of another art form (a poem, a painting, a novel, etc.). In this case, Sibelius interprets one of the folk stories from the Finnish mythological epic Kalevala, in which the hero Lemminkäinen is sent on a quest to kill a magical swan that floats around the island of Tuonela, the “underworld” of Finnish mythology. Sibelius’ tone poem is full of drama, with intense crescendoes and the cor anglais striking a pronounced plaintive note against the alternate softness and trill of the string section. It is possible to argue that all music tells a story, but the conjuring of specific imagery in Sibelius’ masterpiece is unmistakable: you cannot miss the sudden appearance and mournful elegance of a singular swan floating across a moonlit lake, in imminent danger. I know my father must have heavily annotated the piece for me (“did you hear the swan?”), but, listening back — as I have on countless occasions since — the swan is manifest, as ineluctable as the fate of Lemminkäinen himself in Kalevala.
I have learned much from my father, but sitting in his arms listening to “The Swan of Tuonela” has proven to be a touchstone in my personal education. The serious, private enjoyment he took in sitting alone, eyes closed, with music at full tilt has served as tacit and lifelong permission to lean heavily into art and its interpretation in my own life. There was nothing mushy or whimsical about my father, a serious attorney of vast intellect, straining to make out the shape of the swan and imagining Lemminkäinen emerging from the thicket on the shore of Tuonela on his fool’s errand. There was gravity to his active participation, near-reverence for not only the art but the act of engaging in it. The nave of the Church, the tiers of seating in the Kennedy Center hall — I see now the easy comparison forged in my green imagination. Both bore godly things, but it was home, in the cosset of a book-lined study, where it all came alive.
I am a rule follower by nature. And so I think often of how lucky I am to have had a father who took me in his arms and told me, in so many words — as a matter of fact, without any (!) — that is, by pure force of his gesture — that it is good and right and urgent to care about the story and the idiosyncrasies of its telling, to belabor the details, to sit in receptive divination. In part because of this benediction, I find myself story-telling for a living.
But here is where my knees buckle: do you also gape at the many layers of narrative, interpretation, and re-interpretation in this Saturday morning vignette and my accounting of it here, nearly 30 years later? At the fact that I observed my father and spun my own explication of him sitting in open-minded awe at a recorded performance by a philharmonic orchestra of a musical piece that was itself an exposition of a Finnish myth borne of oral folk tradition? At the way that a story can exist as a quiet bond between a father and a daughter and also a direct lineage back to my family’s Finnish roots? And the way that same story (the Kalevala) served as a significant expression of national identity back when Finland was embroiled in Suomen kielitaistelu, a protracted, class-inflected conflict over the status of the Swedish and Finnish languages in politics and culture in the 19th century?
In other words, do you also marvel at the way in which stories can hold us together, in both the narrowest and broadest of senses?
That doleful swan carries the meaning of multitudes.
**I am planning on stealing the gift wrap look above this holiday — j’adore kraft paper and it looks so elegant wrapped up with that wide satin bow and a sprig of wintry botanicals!
I have shared a couple of small business gift ideas in each of my gift guides so far (standouts? Glassware from Estelle, statement knitwear from Vita Grace, and Roop bags, all of which I own and/or have gifted myself!), but thought I’d share a couple of additional ideas here in case you’re looking to shop small this season:
MOST DARLING MUGS AND JUGS FROM SOPHIE ALLPORT (I BOUGHT SEVERAL OF THEIR MELAMINE CUPS FOR CHILDREN — SO DARLING AND A GREAT, SMALL SIZE FOR TINY HANDS)
A caveat today: This is an intense week. I wanted to give you a heads up that I will not be discussing the results of the election tomorrow, as is consistent with the set of principles I set for this blog many years ago. One thing I have been reminding myself over the course of 2020: look for the things that fill my cup. I hope you consider the same today — and that may mean that you turn elsewhere for the reassurance, conversation, release, coverage, etc that you need at this time and that you hit snooze on the distractions and musings I provide here. Thinking of you all and hoping you are taking good care of yourselves.
****
The other day, my sister called and asked: “What’s going on with you? What’s on your heart?”
Oh!
How to even begin? My heart is full with residual gratitude for making it through such a tough time earlier this year and the joy of raising two healthy and happy children with my other half and the delicious honor of writing this blog for a living. I am obscenely lucky. Whenever I check in with my father about how things are going for him given the pandemic, he says: “Oh, Jen. No complaints here. We’re the lucky ones.” Yes. This year has been unbearable and ruinous for millions of Americans. We are the lucky ones.
At the same time, my heart is heavy with…well, the weight and uncertainty of 2020. Like all of you, I find myself toggling between the staggering slap stats on the news and the functional concerns of quotidian life in the grip of COVID-19: “Where can I perch my three year old on this subway car so as to keep us as far as possible away from anyone else?” “How do I remove this glove without touching the exterior with my hand? Should I put sanitizer on my glove?” Etc. The result is a slow and continuous application of pressure. And I still grapple with anxieties over my COVID diagnosis. I can’t quite square any of it away — the guilt, the fact that I recovered and others did not, the fear, the unbearable pause at the end of the line when I told my mother I could no longer smell or taste anything, the way my husband muscled through the entire thing — caring for me, exposing himself in the process, while also parenting our two small children. It is a darkness.
But the only thing I could say at the time to my sister was: “We’re hanging in there. We’re in a good groove.”
Which also happens to be true, and which also happens to be the reality I prefer to focus on. We have somehow managed to eke out a little channel of consistency in our Upper West Side apartment amidst the chaos of 2020. Sometimes, though, it can be difficult to discern the line between a groove and a rut. Most days, Mr. Magpie and I march on through our days with something like determination, or maybe it’s resignation? No — determination is too imperious-sounding, and resignation reads overly downbeat. We just know the ropes and get it done. We’ve defined our roles and responsibilities and we dance around one another and our respective routines with the deft and practiced footwork of two people who respect each other and have been married for ten years and together for nearly twenty. That is to say — there is no question as to where the saran wrap belongs, and there are often silent, obliging transfers of responsibility when one or the other needs to tap out for a second.
As with all parents the world over, the hours between 6 and 9 a.m. in the morning and 5 and 8 p.m. in the evening are clustered with chores, instructions, carefully-drawn timetables, and what feels like an infinity loop of the same exact movements: the endless clearing of small plates and refilling of small milk cups, the monotonous dragging out and folding up of the mat for mini’s dining room chair, the repetition of the same muted directions (“you may do one more thing before bedtime,” “you have two minutes until you get into your pajamas,” “this is your final warning…”), the same prescribed movements and pauses around our home (we retreat to the green chair when getting dressed in the morning; we station mini with her iPad on the floor of micro’s nursery while he is in his crib so I can prepare dinner at night; etc.) We know which steps we can trim and when to expedite based on where we are in our routine versus the time on the clock. We have it all down to a science.
Most days, I would classify all of this as “a good groove.” And when mini was first adjusting back to school in September, I remember desperately wanting to “just be in a good routine.” The dislocations and adjustments were challenging, especially with the stress of COVID at the door. (Are we doing the right thing? What’s the safest and most reasonable way for us to get to school? Etc.) And I was anxious for normalcy after my own illness and the many ways it temporarily upended our day-to-day. So I am grateful for what feels like “a good groove.”
But there are also days where I really have to dig deep before barreling into the 5-8 p.m. time slot in particular. Days where I just don’t know if I have it in me to negotiate my toddler through the bedtime routine one more time. (How does she continue to engineer new ways to dawdle and balk at the same exact things we do every single day?) Days where I am frustrated to no end by my 1.5 year old flinging pieces of chicken all over the dining room, his eyes wide as saucers at the apprehension that he is not supposed to be doing what is he doing, but he is doing it anyway. Is this where we are now? I wonder. Now I have two recalcitrant toddlers to contend with? But mainly, it’s the sameness of the routine that can feel downright overwhelming. “Baths are the worst,” my friend said the other day. “It’s vaguely dangerous, it’s uncomfortable because you’re bending over, and you have to do it every day.” I knew exactly what she meant. We were both at that moment seeing a rut where we normally see a groove.
But, you know what? That’s OK. I trust myself enough to know that I will still manage to get my children into their beds with brushed teeth and clean pajamas and somewhat-full bellies at some point between 7 and 8 p.m. in the evening, and that we will still arrive, on-time, to school in the morning no matter how many tantrums happen en route. I know because in spite of the occasional moment where I have looked, helplessly, at Mr. Magpie in a gesture that says “I don’t know how to get her out of the apartment this morning,” we have successfully made it to school every single day, come hell or high water. I also know that at some point after my children have fallen asleep, I will lay in my bed and scroll through pictures of them, and that even as I am straining through the nightly ritual of two performances of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” in the dark of my daughter’s room, my heart will swell when she tells me, as she always and invariably does just before I leave: “God bless you and good night, I love you and good night, and I will see you in the bunny morning.” A litany all her own, a patchwork of phrases she stitched together after hundreds of nights hearing similar proclamations from yours truly. (We still don’t understand what “bunny morning” means, but we don’t mind it either.) And you know what that says to me? Sometimes the routines and recitations aren’t so bad after all. And just like that, I’m back in the groove.
Post-Scripts: Comfy At Home Attire.
Whether you’re in a rut or groove, you’re probably spending a ton of time at home right now, and who doesn’t want to be comfy at home? One secret to feeling more pulled-together than sloppy is to go monochromatic — wear shades of camel/beige/tan, or gray, or all-blue-everything. Below, a few recent casual, cozy home finds:
OUTDOOR VOICES JOGGERS (MR. MAGPIE OWNS THE MALE VERSION OF THESE AND LOVEEEES THEM) — I AM INTRIGUED! I ALREADY OWN AND ADORE BOTH THESE DREAMY JOGGERS AND THIS RECLINER SET THOUGH THOSE ARE BOTH “INDOOR/PAJAMA” PAIRS WHEREAS I THINK YOU COULD RELIABLY WEAR THE O.V.’S OUTDOORS FOR ERRANDS
ALSO LOVE THE COLOR/STYLE OF THESE UNDER-$30 JOGGERS, ESPECIALLY IN THE LINDEN AND SULPHUR COLORS
FLECKED COTTON PANTS (LOVE THAT THESE CAN BE “DRESSED UP,” BUT THEY ARE BASICALLY SWEATPANTS…MORE NON-DENIM OPTIONS, INCLUDING LOUNGEWEAR-THAT-PASSES-AS-WORKWEAR HERE)
I’m writing this while shivering at my desk (despite wearing slippers, a turtleneck, a heavy cardigan, and jeans!), and wishing I had this throw over my legs.
