Overnight, mini outgrew virtually all of her clothes. I was in denial about it (“can’t we just squeeze by with her size 18-24 mo until the next season starts?”) and then Mr. Magpie informed me her leggings were more or less cutting off circulation (!!). Whoops. Then I was faced with the not-so-pleasant reality of rebuilding a winter wardrobe. Specifically, I needed more warm, casual outfits; I have dresses out to wazoo (and many of them still fit; I prefer a short length anyhow) but for 39 degree stints at the playground, or testing out her new scooter, or field trips to the museum, I really needed more pants with cute tops and sweaters.
Thankfully, it’s sale season and I have scored a ton of amazing finds for her at a discount. Below, my favorite finds, but first — I am heavily drawn to Zimmermann at the moment and have found some insane deals on this high-end label, including this splashy heart-print blouse (seen above), this floaty floral, and this elegant summer dress.
SO — I think we’ve got “winter play” wardrobe in suitable sizing covered at this point. I have to say I admired my own restraint; I wanted to buy her ALL the dresses and pinafores but I really committed to buying mix-and-match pants/tops, and I mainly stuck to my goal, which is truly a first for me.
I will admit to buying this for Valentine’s Day. I actually sized down to 18 months for this one (while every other thing I ordered for her has been 2T or even 3T in some pants — she is TALL!) because I find Cecil & Lou runs really big and I prefer a shorter fit on dresses. (Meanwhile, I’d love to be wearing this and these for the occasion, but wouldn’t fit into them.)
I’m also eyeing a couple of pieces from TBBC’s sale section: this for next Christmas, this for next Thanksgiving (how sophisticated with a huge chocolate brown bow?), and this for school next fall.
P.S. Mama’s Gotta Enjoy Sales, Too…
And because I can’t help myself, a couple of sale finds I’m considering for yours truly:
My closest childhood friend was Australian, and her “mum” was rarely without a cup of tea when at home. I was surprised to find that even her father drank tea; it had seemed such a feminine treat in our American household. Tea was not only a routine part of my friend’s everyday life, but something of a panacea, too: coming down with a cold? Tea. Upset stomach? Tea. Heartache? Tea. In a rage? Tea. I shared this quote from a movie I watched recently, but it bears repeating here:
“How about a cup of clever tea?”
“Why is it clever?”
“Because it always knows just where to go. If you have a headache, it goes to your head; if you have a stomachache, it goes to your stomach.”
I love my clever tea these days, and it’s not only the taste that soothes — it’s the ritual of boiling water, measuring out loose-leaf tea, and waiting for it to steep and cool. Nowadays, I drink tea after dinner every night and often in the late afternoon, too. As Mr. Magpie put it: “You need a vice right now; tea is it.” (Coffee and wine are obviously out while pregnant.) Because of this, I’ve had occasion to explore the finer points of tea-drinking. Sharing what I’ve found below for those of you heading into “dry January” (that’s a thing now, huh?) and looking for something to look forward to after dinner…
+I use my electric kettle every single day — for coffee in the morning and for my beloved tea the rest of the day. I cannot say enough good things about it. It heats evenly and virtually instantly (tea is ideal when water hits over 210 degrees), and pouring out of that gooseneck spout is strangely delightful. My only gripe with it is that the buttons/controls are a bit confusing to figure out at first. But once you’ve nailed it, it becomes second nature.
+I am drawn to the retro-chic aesthetic of this Smeg Kettle. The Bonavita is utilitarian, but this would be show-stopping if you (like us) need to leave your kettle on the counter. A lovely way way to introduce color to a kitchen. (P.S. — Speaking of introducing color to a kitchen, my Christmas rug for the kitchen has now been marked down to only $10! Buy now and save for next year. It was such a fun way to juju up the kitchen before the holidays.)
+If you want to go old school (stovetop kettle), how chic is this in a modern kitchen? For a more traditional/feminine look, love this.
+I tend to buy loose leaf teas and I use either this brewing basket (read the reviews!) or disposable filters from David’s Tea. I’ve gone with David’s Tea filters simply out of convenience, as I buy a lot of loose leaf tea from them, but these get good reviews on Amazon.
+My favorite teas are from David’s Tea, Fortnum & Mason, and Harney & Sons. I especially love Harney & Son’s peppermint (so smooth); David’s Tea Mother’s Helper (so comforting), The Big Chill, and Forever Nuts; and any of Fortnum & Mason’s black teas (<<this would be such a good self-care gift), which I drink more sparingly as I am trying to avoid too much caffeine during my pregnancy. Mr. Magpie occasionally has tea with me after dinner, too, and his favorite is one from David’s Tea called Le Digestif (currently sold out, but this looks similar), which is wonderful for calming the stomach after a big meal.
+My mother in law gifted me a bunch of loose leaf teas from Brooklyn-based Bellocq for Christmas and I cannot wait to try them. They came gorgeously packaged; a really solid gift idea for a tea lover.
+I like to drink my tea out of these mugs, but whenever I visit my mom in D.C., I always drink out of her elegant bone china tea mugs from Tiffany (no longer carried, but they are in that signature Tiffany blue, like these, which would be fun for my fellow Manhattanites). I have my eye on these right now (love them in the pale pink), and of course love these and these. Also, can you imagine a cabinet full of these or these?! Or for Christmas — I’d die over these.
+My mom has an incredible sterling silver tea service set similar to this (only hers comes with a huge urn she puts over a sterno flame) that I absolutely adore. You might consider buying a set of these vintage sterling silver spoons to get a touch of that old school British look for less.
+For your mini: how darling is this tea set?! Mini already has two tea sets (which she LOVES and plays with daily nowadays) — this one, which I also gifted my niece for Christmas, and this one, which is so Scandi-chic (I’ve removed the smaller parts for now).
+This is SUCH a fun top for a big night out — I’m thinking a bachelorette party or a trip to Vegas. I like the idea of pairing it with a black skirt or tailored black pants for a fab 80s-esque silhouette.
+These are SUCH great earrings and a great way to get the heart-shaped-earring trend without being too over the top about it, for those of you who weren’t quite as on board with the size of my Alessandra Rich beauties.
+Ordered this in the snakeskin print — I think it will work well with my bump but would look just as chic without it! Depending on how long it is, I might wear it with my maternity tights and new favorite booties or black skinnies.
+I’m hosting a baby shower in about a month and I am wondering if I can get away with this shift-style dress (will the bump squeeze in?) and my #extra Gucci tights (they are very stretchy).
I had this exact model when I was pregnant with mini but gave it away when we moved from Chicago. I just ordered a new one and it can’t come soon enough. P.S. — More of my maternity must-haves.
+I now wear this sunscreen daily. One of the silver linings of running into a wall and getting nine stitches in my face: I’ve been backed into a skincare routine I should have been doing for decades.
#Turbothot: Well-Behaved Women Rarely Make History.
If you’ve been a reader for some time, I’m guessing you can intuit my reaction to the aphorism above. I agree with the underlying ethos, as I consider myself a feminist in a narrow sense of the word and believe that a lot needs to change in order to accomplish a greater measure of equity between the sexes — much of which requires the mindful disabuse of conventions and norms of generations past, and much of which could therefore be perceived as “misbehaving” within the context of prevalent social and economic “rules.” But there is something charged, freighted in the phrasing that makes me cringe. I imagine a willful child pounding his fists on the ground in tantrum, or an unwieldy woman being carried out of a bar, arms swinging. And while I presume the author of the phrase chose the word “well-behaved” carefully, archly aping the sentiments of a domineering male figure in its coinage (“behave yourself!” this phantom male might tsk at his book-reading wife — ugh), I sometimes wonder whether its subtext is lost, and whether there is now a presumption that to be heard, one must be loud and garish about it.
The movie Colette stirred this internal debate in me. (Have you seen it? It is exquisite in aesthetic — the clothing, the set design, the hair, the music, even the sound mixing! — and the screenplay is gorgeous. There were several times Mr. Magpie and I turned to each other, repeating what we’d just heard in delighted bemusement.) The protagonist Gabrielle (or Claudine, or Colette, come to that) is a fascinating study in gender herself but I was principally interested in the deft sketch of her mother, a quiet but strong-minded woman who speaks her own mind — but civilly, politely. Within the opening few moments, a loud and personable Willy barrels through a conversation on a play by insisting that it’s not worth a viewing. Gabrielle’s mother smiles gently and says: “I’d like to see it and make up my own mind nonetheless.” Later, her daughter comes to her complaining of marital strife, concluding that “I must learn to get used to marriage.” And her mother replies: “Or marriage must get used to you.”
I love this character and her discreet but pointed way of creating space for herself and her daughter. She was a reminder of a lesson I learned while still in the professional world: that sometimes a well-timed question or a thoughtful observation, delivered calmly and humbly, can be more powerful than a booming declaration. It can stop traffic, quell conversation. It can change the trajectory of a decision or an afternoon or an entire season of work.
I suppose what I mean to say is that I am by nature a reserved, rule-abiding, and conflict-adverse person, but I also feel passionately about certain things — equity between the genders being one of them. I will never forget when a colleague at my same level told me to take notes for him, or when countless investors turned to my husband for questions about our shared business that I could just have easily (and occasionally more competently) answered myself. I take grave issue with the presumptions that underlie these experiences, but I would never have responded in kind, in person. It’s simply not in my genetic makeup to stop and take someone to task on the spot. Instead, I redirected: “I can answer that question best” or “Let me jump in here” or “No, why don’t we both take notes?”
Does this make me a non-feminist? Does this mean I’m part of the problem?
Maybe it takes all kinds of kinds to affect change of the magnitude many of us imagine, but I’d like to be counted, whether I perceive myself as loudly misbehaving or quietly creating space for myself and the women around me.
#Shopaholic: White Sandals for an Outdoor Wedding.
+I’ve received so many similar questions from either brides-to-be or guests at weddings asking for comfortable heels to wear for an outdoor or beach ceremony. These are your ticket.
+This dress is chic in the cream/white color in particular. I can imagine wearing it to a wedding-related event as a bride-to-be OR pairing with sharp flats for work.
+These look like those Nicholas Kirkwood flats but cost less than half the price.
+These ceramic vases are gorgeous. Also, the styling in that snap makes me want a navy wall very badly.
Biggest lesson from 2018. I don’t know what the future holds, and I’m OK with that. I’ve learned to live more comfortably in the in-betweens, the valleys when you’re not quite sure whether you’re on fallow or fertile land. I wrote a bit about this on my 34th birthday last June, and my father called me after and told me that he had the exact same revelation around his 34th or 35th birthday. Maybe this is a wisdom that comes only with age (and the heartaches, heartswells, and heartbreaks that attend it).
Biggest regret from 2018. I wish I had figured out a way to visit my sister in London (P.S. — a bunch of her gorgeous pieces are on sale right now!) and my brother in Billings, MT. We needed a year to stay put after the chaos of 2017, but I regret not making the effort to visit them, especially now that my sister is relocating to New York and that it seems unlikely I’ll see my brother and his family in 2019. I recently heard on the news that one common trait among “happy people” (however they define that…) is that they make ample time for loved ones. I wish I’d done the same for these two in 2018.
Biggest achievement from 2018. This blog took off. I am deeply flattered by your readership and proud of the space we have created here together. A reader recently asked for tips on how to improve her writing. I first wanted to say — “when you figure that out, let me know; I’ll take those tips, too.” But then I reconsidered, seeing that my reply smacked of false modesty — because I do love some of the writing I’ve done here, and I think that some of the pieces from 2018 are among the best I’ve ever written. Others are like open-mouthed sobs: catharsis in action. I still cry when I re-read my post on the death of one of my best friends. I didn’t know I carried the weight of her death so close to my heart after all of these years. And I feel weepy when I think of my grandmother and how she kept time. Meanwhile, this post was among my most controversial posts and I felt like I was going to throw up after I published it; I am both ashamed of it and proud of it, and it’s probably small potatoes to most people but it required no small act of bravery on my end. Anyway. This blog — this writing — is my greatest achievement this year.
P.S. I already know what 2019’s will be: the birth of my son.
Favorite memory from 2018. About 34 different memories of mini flooded into my mind, but I have to say that I think I’ll remember something different when I think back on this year: watching Mr. Magpie return to himself. I hope I am not hurting his feelings by saying that I missed him. But I missed myself, too; we were not ourselves for the winter of 2017-2018.
Number one resolution for 2019. Be present. The photo above captures the mood I’m after. No one walks around with her hands behind her back unless she’s committed to living in the moment, observing the minutaie around her. (Also — no cell phone on her.)
Favorite 2018 fashion purchase. I got a lot of wear out of my SZ Blockprint caftans. I paired them with my Hermes Oran sandals and huge sunglasses like every other day of the week. So comfortable and breezy while chasing mini around, and still chic!
Best book from 2018.Circe. No quibbling. (Full review here.)
Top goals for 2019. Deliver a healthy baby in May (that’s more of a prayer than a goal — it’s in God’s hands). Be present, patient, and compassionate in my roles as wife and mother. Figure out our housing situation — to buy or not to buy?! Write more. Read more — and read widely. Spend more time in a posture of gratitude. Wear sunscreen every single day. Possibly publish some of my fiction here on the blog…
Top lust list items for 2019. A four-bedroom apartment. HA. In all reality, I dream of all the things here regularly, but when we do move, I am sure I’ll be preoccupied with whatever new furnishings said move involve, as the intent is to upgrade to a three-bedroom apartment with more space. From a fashion standpoint, I have my eyes on a couple of labels right now: The Vampire’s Wife (I love the line these dresses walk between elegant and funky — how fantastic is this? or this elegant gown?), Acler (this is so sophisticated for an evening event, and this is dreamy for a summer wedding), and Ganni (can’t stop wearing this, and I have this on my radar in the event of a formal occasion while pregnant). I anticipate I’ll be looking closely at their collections this year.
P.S. I’d be intrigued to hear your answers to any or all of the above, but especially your number one resolution for the year. I’ve seen a bunch of people sneer at the concept of new year resolutions — they’re impractical! they set us up for failure! it’s such an arbitrary practice! — but I love the notion of taking time to think about something I want to be better at. If “resolution” is too scary a word, think of it as an “intention.” What’s yours?
P.P.S. I want this mug so badly but refuse to pay $4.95 in shipping when the mug itself costs $4.95. There’s a CB2 on the UES but then I’d be paying $2 or so in subway fees each way. So…it works out to be the same. I’m in a cul de sac here people. What to do, what to do…
P.P.P.S. Mr. Magpie gifted me this cookbook for Christmas and I LOVE IT. I made the french toast on New Year’s Day and it was RIDICULOUS. It’s such fun, loud party food book. It’s decidedly NOT Mr. Magpie’s style of eating — for starters, he’s a purist (“pad thai with bacon in it?!? THE HORROR!”) and he has a refined approach to menu design (ahem, he made beef wellington for Christmas dinner). I love how crazy and fun her recipes are, though. I’m going to use this for my girl nights in, when I have my gal friends over for TV and wine (or not wine for me right now, but ya know.) Also — more great cookbooks and our favorite kitchen gear.
By: Jen Shoop
With the dawn of 2019, I have found myself attracted to a more sophisticated look — a palette of black-white-beige or head-to-toe monochrome, high-fashion silhouettes, and a kind of androgynous vibe. Of course, I can’t actually wear any of these fairy fashion visions right now because I have my own five-month-pregnant silhouette to contend with, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dream. I’m imagining myself in blazers, elegant blouses, trendy bucket bags, trousers –the wardrobe of a well-heeled 30-something woman in Manhattan. Why don’t I wear more interesting pants, for example? I’m stuck in a denim rut and need to dig my way out, taking cues from the ladies above and below.
+Good foundations for a new year: I am very intrigued by La Perla’s new “second skin” bra. I’m normally a Natori Feathers devotee (on super sale here and in select colors here, too), but something about the lines and simplicity of this style have me itching to take a test drive.
+This is the kind of sweatshirt I’d wear if I were one of the chic peas pictured above, heading to, like, Orange Theory or whatever the current fitness fad is. So kewl.
P.P.S. I have a lot of new readers and wanted to say hi! welcome! so glad you are here! This is a medley of some of my most popular posts of all time, in case you’re in search of a distraction from post-holiday hangover at work. HA!
P.P.P.S. Just re-ordered this micellar water (I also like Garnier’s less-expensive drugstore version) and these toothbrushes (<<truly the best; I learned recently you are supposed to use soft bristles to avoid scratching the enamel off your teeth, and these are super well-designed thanks to like 10x the normal number of bristles and an octagonal handle that helps you get all the right angles).
By: Jen Shoop
Thanks to my mother’s generous gift of several sets of these Matouk towels (get the look for less with these), I have been eyeing our master bath with an increasingly critical eye. I also went into intense nesting mode while pregnant with mini and am already knee-deep in it with micro-mini on the way (due in May). I have literally penciled in days over the next two weeks when I’ll have the nanny here and will be tackling specific areas of our apartment. Mini’s closet is a horrendous mess and I need to sort through everything, donate a ton, and make space for micro-mini’s clothing. We do — fortunately — have a storage unit in the basement of our building and I’ve not yet explored under-crib storage, so I feel lucky that we have space to grow. For the time being, I ordered a bunch of these for mini’s too-small clothes (had formerly been using decorative boxes for her clothes but now I’m valuing space more keenly than before — plus, these make it easy to write sizing on the front and see what’s stowed without unpacking everything!) and a bunch of these in the large size for temporary under-crib organization. I’m thinking I’ll use them to stow mini’s toys in a more organized way. She has a bunch of play food/tea set kind of toys that I want to group together, for example, and now she has a whole set of Brio trains from Christmas that she ADORES. Would be nice to keep these organized and begin to engrain the idea of taking one toy out at a time, putting it back in its place, etc. (HAHAHAHA. But I will try.)
But I digress. My point is that between my new towels and my nesting instincts, I am eyeing my master bathroom in a new light, and thought I’d share some of the “upgrades” (we rent, so nothing permanent) I have been eyeing. Although that last comment opens a whole other can of worms: Mr. Magpie and I are now contemplating buying an apartment here in Manhattan come next fall. We know we’ll need to move with the arrival of micro-mini and we also know that moving in Manhattan is like the seventh level of hell and we further know that with every passing month we are finding ourselves more and more likely to stay put here in New York, especially with mini enrolling in a twos program in the fall, micro-mini’s imminent birth, and the ecstasy-inducing news that my beloved sister is moving back here from London in A MONTH. ONE MONTH. I am literally going bananas with excitement. BRB, never going to do anything without her again. And probably never going to leave the city if she stays put, too.
OK. But. Temporary solutions and upgrades to our master bath area.
+I stow all of my makeup and cosmetics in an enormous lucite cube similar to this (we actually have two — one for my cosmetics/products and a second for first aid items) under my sink, but have been keeping a small cosmetic kit with all my must-have every day items more easily accessible so I can just lift it out when I am ready to apply my everyday routine. I am thinking I might snag this small-ish stacking set to keep on my counter or in the space where I normally keep my cosmetic bag instead.
+If we didn’t already use all of our under-sink space for aforementioned cubes, a bin for white washcloths I alone use — and stain — while washing my face (though I did buy and start using these; I’m on the fence with them, as I don’t love the texture, but I do like the idea of not staining white washcloths anymore), and a bin for brushes and curling irons and the like, this looks like a genius idea.
+I know it’s trendy right now and therefore possibly not a good investment, but I do love gold hardware in a bathroom, especially against marble. This is more a line of inquiry when/if we buy a place, but I am drawn to pieces like this mirror, these faucets (not crazy about the central spigot, but love the faucets for hot and cold water), and these drawer pulls (the price!!!) I also love this flush mount for a bathroom. So chic.
+Someone just told me that this spray is like 23982398 times better than your standard Windex for things like bathroom mirrors.
+I’m thinking these are not practical for vanity lighting (the bulb would basically blind you), but I’m including them here because I love them so much. Would look so cute bedside or around a reading nook!
+A smart way to maximize storage in your shower. All of SimpleHuman’s products are beautifully designer. So are 90% of OXO’s (just not their peeler, which I hate) — we have this little squeegee to keep our glass shower door pristine. It’s petite and it stows upright.
+How fantastic would you feel if you swapped out your shampoo and conditioner bottles for these?! (Look mommy, wow — I’m a grown-up now! Seriously, these mark some invisible line between childhood and adulthood.)
+I know I’ve mentioned this before, but Container Store is a great place to buy inexpensive but stylish wastebaskets. I was searching high and low for a simple wastebasket under $100 when we first got married. I wound up buying an overpriced metal one from Pottery Barn that I’ve since divested. I’ve clung to my inexpensive CS finds, though, like this — which I own in two colors and love because it adds a nice bit of texture to a room. Also love this.
+For bathmat: contemplating an upgrade with this and a fabulous monogram, this, this (so elegant), or this. For a kids’ bathroom: love this and this.
+As you’ve probably gathered, I’m leaning more in aesthetic towards a marble-gold-white-towels situation, but I do love zen-like feel of a bathroom with some natural wood elements, like this teak bathmat, these dip-dyed stools, and this step stool. I’m especially drawn to that step-stool, which I know we’ll need soon for mini’s toothbrushing (we currently lift her onto the lip of the counter every night) and toileting. I wouldn’t mind having that beauty out and about!
There is a picture of me on the day I received my first Communion. I am wearing white lace gloves, a veil, and a frilly white dress in the front hall of my childhood home. My hands are folded in prayer and my eyes are as wide as saucers. My mother tsked in admiration when it came back from the photo shop in Cleveland Park: “Oh,” she intoned. “You look…beatific.”
She explained what she meant, but I still — to this day — instinctually invoke an idiosyncratic, personal definition when I occasionally cross its recherche path, and it’s the same as the one I conjured when my mother first used it so many years ago: a wistful, expectant kind of beauty.
I can’t separate the memory of receiving my first Communion from the Mother Mary parade I participated in one or several years of my childhood. They’re conjoined, infused with the same rich and holy significance: I feel a damp, late-spring warmth in the air, my fingers clutching a tight posy of peonies as I stand in the cool vestiary of the Church, lined up with my classmates, singing “Hail, Holy Queen,” my stomach lurching at the responsibility of walking first into the Church, as I am the littlest girl in my class and we are arranged by height. (Do I wait for Sister Teresa’s cue? Do I start walking when the music starts? I panic, and then little Angelica, arguably smaller than I am but somehow placed behind me, nudges my back and we throttle into our expected gait, my face burning, my stomach jittery in anticipation.) A stray ant climbs onto my hand from the peonies my mother had cut from her garden that morning, a wad of wet paper towel around the stems: “To keep them alive longer.” I am determined to remain composed; I flick it quietly onto the ground. I take in the mirrored marble of the altar, the click-clack of my white patent leather Mary Janes echoing across its expanse. The frilled lace of my party socks itches my ankles, but I set my jaw. I place a flower at Mary’s feet in the chapel and then I stand before Monsignor’s flowing white cassock as I receive my First Communion: am I supposed to say something after receiving it? I am stricken. I whisper: “Amen,” a flurry in my stomach. He nods. As I return to the kneeler: Am I different now? My mother, my father, my grandmother, my grandfather are sitting in the pews not far from me. I am one of them now. I look specifically at my mother: I am like her now. At the time, I understand my faith through the lens my mother. I know the rote definitions: “a sacrament is an outward sign of God’s grace.” But she signifies my faith. Half of receiving my First Communion is believing that I am now different in her eyes, that I am more like her. I feel heavy with purpose, somber with responsibility. I am changed. And then bells, the smell of incense, a recessional. Back home, flowers and a white cake with thick blue frosting back; a small white leather-bound missalette from my mother; a pearl-bead rosary from my grandmother, this last gift a cherished possession that will be dear company for decades to come–or, more aptly, for decades to say over the course of decades to come, including during the pregnancy and birth of my own daughter twenty-odd years later.
I have been visiting this cluster of late spring memories for the past many weeks: my mother, the Church, Mary, the warmth and thaw of the month of May, the vision of a beatific version of myself prayerfully, anxiously awaiting a change bigger than I am. I am now five months pregnant with my second child and I feel as though I am walking along a continuum of emotions first born that May when I was seven, when I nervously anticipated my first Communion, when I placed that pale pink peony from my mother’s garden at Mary’s feet, when I looked at my mother in the pew and thought: “I am like her now.”
I feel the same agony of anticipation, the same attentiveness to trivialities now as I did then, all spooled together in an unbroken ribbon from a seven-year-old-me to a thirty-four-year-old-me. And I expect and hope for the same satisfying shapeliness of initiation come May, when my son will be born.
“How do you feel, the second time around?” friends ask of this pregnancy. I think privately of my picture from my First Communion; it’s about as accurate a presentation of my state of mind and soul as I can get. I am nervous, expectant, prayerful, and — if I can say it without seeming too self-assured — paradoxically beatific, both according to my personal lexicon and the more traditional one. I feel more forbearing than I normally find myself, and yet I am also more anxious. I am able to brush certain things off, gain an appropriate sense of perspective more quickly, but I brood over other trivia with disproportionate angst. In the first trimester, I was a nervous wreck. I counted the days and weeks and calculated miscarriage statistics with an alien kind of neuroticism: just three weeks and then I’ll be at less than a 10% risk of miscarrying. I approached each sonogram with a knot in my stomach. But I would also find myself radiating with happiness when my hand would brush over my stomach and I would think: “He is mine.” I strolled the familiar three-block radius around our apartment countless times, carrying my own secret in a kind of serene bliss. I feel less apprehensive in this second trimester, but I still fret over the mild aches and pains and twinges that seem to emerge every day or two.
And so I toggle between tranquility and taut suspense, those twin emotions I first felt so keenly that May day of my childhood. Together, they form a personal kind of beatitude: a wistful, expectant kind of beauty.
Post-Scripts.
+This post in part explains my recent musings on novenas. I have long cherished a special dedication to Mary, and reading through what I have just written, I understand it better.
+For my fellow preggos: get thee to the sale section of Ingrid & Isabel. I already own this in the oatmeal but just added it in the other colorway to my cart. I also added this in the pink stripe. I MEAN. Extra 30% off? Free shipping? Done and done. Not on sale, but do I need these? Y. Also, I was pretty squared away with maternity clothing, but I did add these to my closet. (The price!!!) I love wearing them with an ivory cableknit duster cardigan I own and some flashy shoes.
+I kept nearly all of my maternity clothes and gear, but I did chuck the maternity pillow — it was so bulky! I’m just getting to the stage where I need one of these again. Also, swore by this the first time around and you better believe I’ve doubled down on it during this pregnancy.
+The first things I bought for baby boy? A quilted car coat (now marked way down!) that reminds me of Mr. Magpie (my goal is to dress my son just like Landon, in miniature) and these jammies. Otherwise, I’m trying to bide my time and not get too excited with the over-ordering. (Just wait for month nine, ahem.) I’m also chastened by my experience with mini’s wardrobe: I had a closet full of starchy, crisp poplin bubbles and dresses, sized 0-3M, that she barely wore. I eschewed them in favor of the softest cotton coveralls and onesies. (Incidentally, the best are by Kissy Kissy (<<this is a contender for take-home outfit) and 1212.)
+I’m into this mauve-y pink color (“Organdi”) for early spring. I wear a lot of red nails during the winter (OPI Big Apple Red is my current favorite), but I’m craving a change now that we’re in January.
+These keep selling out and I am SO INTRIGUED. I’ve long wanted their dryer but the airwrap…?! I think I need it. (More hair goodness here and for those asking, I ended up getting an edgy little chopped bob that I LOVE. My stylist gently offered that bangs might draw attention to my new scar given its placement, and I gladly heeded her counsel to opt for a fresh, choppy little bob instead. I’m smitten. This is the first haircut I’ve ever had where I can truly let it airdry and it looks decent! I use a lot of this with it. And ALSO for those asking, I went to see Melissa at Cutler Salon in Soho. She and her salon are beyond my level of coolness, and I am indebted to both for making me feel hip for a minute.)
By: Jen Shoop
I have major holiday hangover right now. It took us six hours to get from D.C. to NYC on Saturday (on a good day, it’s a four hour trip), and by the time we got to our building, unpacked, fed mini dinner, and put her to sleep, I felt as though I’d drunk four bottles of wine. I was delirious, hazy, nonsensical. So we ordered Thai, finished the final episode of Season 2 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (the first half of the series was horrendous; the second half incredible), and then I laid in bed putzing around on my phone for about two hours, chasing down insignificant queries I’d been musing over for the better part of the past few days. Below, what’s been on my mind…and also, before I forget, HAPPY NEW YEAR’S EVE!!!!:
+I love the way 90s “streetwear” labels have boomeranged back into vogue over the past few years. It started with Calvin Klein (thanks to Kendall Jenner, I love — and own in multiples — these bras of theirs), and then Gigi Hadid for Tommy Hilfiger, and suddenly formerly stale labels like Champion seemed cool. I recently saw a very chic lass wearing this Fila sweatshirt (see above for inspo) on her way into a posh gym uptown and I thought, “well hmmm.” Like every other well-intentioned woman in her 20s and 30s, I intend to be a bit more active in the new year, and I’m thinking I’ll start by enrolling in some yoga or pilates classes. To properly motivate myself, I might order aforementioned sweatshirt and a pair of in-the-same-vein leggings, like these. I’m also drawn to these (on sale!) in the pale pink, these, and this coordinating sports bra. And maybe a new pair of APLs. I’m drawn to these in the mid blue. AND. I think I might have just talked myself into buying one of these MZ Wallace totes (I’ve written extensively about my love for their backpack as a mom-on-the-subway) in the silver.
+I had a fantastic massage while on my mini vacation with Mr. Magpie and the massage table was heated. O.M.G. A few of you had written to say that a heated mattress pad had changed your life. I’m jumping on your bandwagon. This is currently in my cart. It appealed to me because it has “dual zones” — as I’m fairly confident Mr. Magpie will never, ever want his side of the bed heated.
+Returning to our petite apartment always has me looking for space-maximizing hacks. I am contemplating buying this for the back of the door to our fairly deep hybrid pantry-and-coat closet; right now we hang a few coats there but I think I’d rather cede that space for a more useful purpose, aka holding our overflow cleaning supplies (and even things like flour and sugar — those shelves look deep!) Reviews are strong.
+I’ve written a lot about white noise machines as a great gift for the holidays, but Mr. Magpie and I don’t use one in our bedroom, as we normally fall asleep with the TV on sleep timer. (I know – – tsk, tsk.) While at home, I noticed my mom had set up a white noise machine in our bedroom (as well as mini’s nursery!) and so had occasion to sleep with it. Oh MAN. I need one, STAT. I immediately thought of the Marpac Dohm, which I have gifted at least twice, to great acclaim, but I liked the fact that my mom’s had various sounds on it. I like the rain and beach settings. This one is currently in my cart, though I’m still searching around to see if I can find one with a remote or app associated as (lazy) I imagine I’ll be flipping it on after we turn off the TV…
+Hanky Panky is having an incredible sale — loads of styles in non-hideous colors available for about 50% off. I ordered a few of these. Can’t live without ’em.
+While in D.C., I was appalled at how dry my feet were. I’d hide them under a blanket any time I had shoes off. And I’d just gotten a pedicure a week prior! Ugh! I am currently debating the merits of this (which looks like a serious business — German! Medicinally packaged!), this (almost 1000 5 star reviews…!), and this. I really trust Origins as a brand; their face mask in particular has been a longtime favorite of mine, and my mom just gave me a tube of this one to try, too. I’m leaning towards the Aveda purely based on strength of review, though.
+My mother gave me a few sets of new Matouk towels for Christmas (joy of joys!): these, with the azure blue piping. I’m thinking I might add the coordinating quilted bathmat with a dramatic monogram to our master bath to complete the look. #Fresh.
+GUYS. I need new shoes like I need a hole in my head, but these beauties are over 50% off and SO ME and STILL AVAILABLE IN MY PIXIE-FOOTED SIZE. (These are 70% off but not in my size anymore…someone needs them badly.) And I don’t need these, right????????? RIGHT?
+While on this most recent trip, I noticed that my beloved Cuyana cosmetic kits are fraying on the inside — the liner is sort of coming apart and flecking off onto all my makeup, which is not a cute look. I have had them for awhile and used them heavily. I’m debating between ordering a new set or trying one of these Goyard-esque sets, which I’ve heard good things about. I’ve never tried this brand but I’m intrigued by all the personalizable options.
I am throwing a baby shower in a few weeks and was particularly excited about the prospect of selecting invitations. I have a weakness for paper. I had long eyed the traditional-meets-preppy designs of Dixie Design, and so had a ball selecting just the right set for my best friend. (I’m not sharing the exact design I went with because I want her to be surprised! This was the runner up — a reminder of those Herend bunnies I was talking about the other day.)
You’re Sooooo Popular: Le Scarf.
The most popular items on le blog this YEAR (yes, the last 12 months!):
+Every time I have featured one of these on the blog, it has sold out.
+My favorite sweater. (Seriously. I think I’ve been wearing it in the last 10 Instastories featuring myself.)
+Such a fun shoe — and now marked down even further. I currently have the blush in my bag. Do I need these?!?!?!
I recently came across an article fetchingly titled “What Straight A Students Get Wrong.” I found it via my friend Hitha, who features “five smart reads” almost every day of the week in her Instastories. I appreciate that she often shares contradictory viewpoints from the DMs she receives in response to these links; I respect a woman who fosters productive debate and permits all voices to be heard.
But I digress.
Onto “the problem” with straight A students.
The crux of the argument is that within a few years of graduation, my hard-earned 4.0 GPA was as worthless as the class ring I somehow convinced myself I needed and then promptly never wore again. (I know that’s a dicey simile as I have several friends who wore their rings religiously for years. #wahoowa #gohoosgo #ireallydoloveuva #justnotthering). The author cites research that demonstrates only the faintest of correlations between grades and job performance. He goes on to point out that brilliant creative types tend to have a history of “spiky grades,” inferring that they prioritized activities that sparked creativity over an even cadence of high scores. He goes on to say: “Getting straight As requires conformity. Having an influential career demands originality.”
OK.
OK.
OK.
I came to a quiet simmer within the first few paragraphs. “Shhh, shh,” I shushed myself, annoyed by my defensiveness. Midway through, I was at a rolling boil. By the end, when he tells me that I should “apply my grit to a new goal: getting a B,” I was apoplectic — not only because I did not care for his know-it-all tone (it smacked of mansplaining and something about it felt like the written equivalent of an irritating tapdancing scene with a Gene Kelly wannabe: stagey, pretentious, and cloyingly carried off with a smile), and not only because I was a straight A student (though this fueled a rage I did not know I had in me), but because — though he does briefly acknowledge this towards the end — his criticisms are misplaced and his conclusions unscrupulous.
If you don’t care for A students, change the grading system. High performers will always adapt to the rubric. Right now, students are maneuvering within the system they’ve been handed.
If you think A students are driven by conformity above all else, my guess is that you are shortchanging and misunderstanding many of them. What about work ethic? What about healthy competition? What about a desire to succeed? What about inborn curiosity? What about overbearing parents? What about going to school on scholarship and feeling a drive to prove yourself? What about loving academics for its own sake? What about not wanting to let your family down?
But even if we accept that A students are “conformers,” I, for one, learned a lot by “conforming” to the grade system, and I applied those lessons to my (not entirely lackluster, thank you very much) career. To begin with, I learned how to evaluate professors early on in order to determine what they’d care about and adapt my study plan to their style. Was Professor X the type to issue fact-driven pop quizzes? Open-ended questions seeking creative responses? Group projects that assessed collaboration skills (incidentally, my least favorite kind of project)? Did she favor class participation or perfectly written essays? Did he prefer frequent office hour visits or the occasional well-worded email? Diagnosing the professor’s style was an art form unto itself and it prepared me to work with and under different kinds of bosses. Because let’s face it: the working world might value “creativity” and “originality” to some degree, but not before you’ve worked your way up the ladder by impressing the pants off of each and every boss along the way. And the only way that happens is by making them look good and absorbing their work preferences, which infers a certain level of familiarity with — yes — diagnosing your boss’s style.
But finally, and most pressingly, I take great issue with the myth of the dropout-student-turned-massively-successful-businessman. Yes, there have been successful entrepreneurs who have skipped school and turned out more than fine, Peter Thiel being the face of that small and bright elite. But to tell students that “underachieving in school can prepare you to overachieve in life” is not only misguided but unethical. I say this pointedly because I worked for many years in the area of educational access and college attainment and the deeply sad truth is that the odds are not in the favor of students who leave school or struggle academically. Now, I know I’m taking his comment out of context and running across the field with it, but even if we presume he is talking to a classroom full of privileged, conformist, straight-A students and that little harm can be done by telling these prigs (using that term facetiously, as I’d count myself among their ranks were I still in college) to loosen their ties a bit (an irritatingly elitist set-up for an article in and of itself), I still find fault with his reasoning and tone: he’s focused on the symptoms rather than the system, and with a distastefully self-satisfied air about him to boot.
Aaaand scene.
Is that the fieriest I’ve ever been on this blog? Pardon.
My chorus, your thoughts?
#Shopaholic: Skin-Clearing Magic.
+I have been reading insane reviews of this “radiance oil,” designed specifically for problem skin. I might buy a bottle to combat my next break-out.
+Back in the day, I frequently gave presentations. One lesson I learned from a speech coach who counseled me was that I should always wear what makes me feel most empowered when making a presentation. When you feel good, your entire carriage changes. I tended to wear high heels and sleek dresses. This is just the kind of thing I’d have picked for such an occasion. Serious but form-fitting — and the frilled collar adds just enough panache.
+I bought mini this magnetic booklet for Church on Sundays and it has been the BIGGEST success. Keeps her busy for a long stretch — and it’s quiet. I also pulled it on our long car ride down from NYC to DC for Christmas, and it entertained her for maybe 30 minutes straight? Genius for car travel and Church. Is it the most Catholic toy ever? Yes.
+Mr. Magpie and I are returning from a lovely weeklong trip to DC and Charlottesville with the beginnings of twin colds. Ugh. While we visited the spa at the resort we stayed at, I was digging the eucalyptus diffuser — it cleared my sinuses. It reminded me that I read good things about this eucalyptus spray for the shower and it sounds ultra-appealing right now.
+This bag came in handy on this trip. It folds up into a tiny square and holds quite a lot. I swear we doubled our baggage on the return. A great gift for a frequent traveler — or yourself. I keep mine in my suitcase.
Currently in Charlottesville, VA for a quick vacation with Mr. Magpie (no mini!) but thought I’d share a couple of things on my radar:
+Mr. Magpie gifted me some of these padded socks for Christmas and O.M.G. I will never wear another sock. Ever. They’re warm like Smart Wool but have a padded footbed that makes me feel like I’m walking on clouds. Heaven.
+I bought Mr. Magpie one of these wireless charging pads, and my mom also gifted them to a couple of members of the family. A big hit. So convenient! (They work on most recent generations of iPhone!)
+Loving these star-print leggings. They look like they could be from a higher end athletics brand carried by Bandier, but they’re Gap, aka 40% off every other day of the week.
+My sister was raving about (and living in) these OV joggers all holiday.
+Have been very into this “flawless filter” for the last two weeks. It works wonders on tired skin. I have also incorporated this sunscreen into my daily skincare routine, in part to stave off the effects of scarring, and in part because — I should really be wearing it anyway. It’s amazing. It comes out in a fluid and it absorbs into skin easily without leaving any white residue.
Can I tell you something absolutely absurd and quirky about us? We have every imaginable cooking utensil and gadget known to man (including a mandolin, a rice cooker, a butter warmer, fourteen whisks, and a partridge in a pear tree), but Mr. Magpie insists on stirring our coffee every morning with one chopstick he’s earmarked for the task. Never a spoon. Never a different chopstick. Just that one, specific coffee-stained chopstick that we’ve used every morning for the past eight years of married life together and that has somehow never gotten lost in the shuffle. Part of me clings to the chopstick, but part of me wants to say: “thank u, next.” I am thinking I might buy Mr. Magpie a set of these as an upgrade option. A we-have-a-child-and-have-done-adult-things-like-talked-about-the-virtues-of-a-stroller-for-over-four-hours-and-we-have-bought-and-sold-a-home-so-we-must-beyond-the-phase-of-stirring-our-coffee-with-chopsticks-thank-you kind of option.
Along those lines, I’m not sure if it’s the dawn of a new year or the bleak realization that I am turning thirty-five in June, but I have been looking around our apartment with a dangerously appraising eye these days thinking about all the other elements of our little nest that I want to say: “thank u, next” to.
+I still long to say sayonara to the old oak chest in our bedroom in favor of something sleek like this.
+I’d like to add new colorful dining chairs to our dropleaf: these, these, these, and these have caught my eye.
+I have been head over heels for Nina Campbell’s Farfalla wallpaper for nearly a decade now. We don’t currently own our apartment, so wallpapering is not an option at the moment. We are probably going to be moving when our lease is up to a bigger apartment anyway — but oh how I love it. I actually think the black colorway could be epic in a small powder room. Maybe, if we get the sense we’ll be staying in our next apartment for longer than two years, I’ll invest in some repositionable wallpaper. I love this for a powder room and this for a nursery.
+Dreaming of upgrading my desk to a custom CEH grasscloth beauty (love this one in particular), but I was just thinking that we could repurpose my narrow, slim desk as a console of sorts if we end up with extra space (#ha) by adding one of these. We could then hide bins of toys/shoes/overflow underneath.
+File this under things never to buy for a small NY apartment, but I daydream about serving up a proper tea situation with something like this.
+If you are lucky enough to have a working fireplace, I love this screen and this one. I have no idea why I was looking at these the other day, as we certainly have no fireplace now.
+These framed intaglios add a bit of old-world stateliness to an entryway or gallery wall.
+Speaking of nurseries, how darling is this baby blanket? I have to say that we received about fifteen baby blankets for mini and we only ever used this one (and man oh man you should hear mini talk about her blanket — she pronounces it “bay-hette” and it slays me). But this bunny one! It looks like Hermes or something. Love.
+And speaking of Jellycat (the brand that makes the blanket above), how beyond are these bunny slippers?! They make me regret buying mini this pair of Elmo slippers. I can’t tell you how many weeks I had these in my cart and kept thinking “no, no, no — I really don’t want to fall into the trap of buying her Frozen dresses and Elmo pajamas and Moana t-shirts.” But then you should see how she reacts when she sees Elmo. She loses her mind! And we have literally never shown her Elmo at home — who knows where she picked this up? Playdate? A nanny? Ah! (We also gave her an Elmo puppet as one of her bigger Advent calendar surprises and her giddiness and squeals when she saw it waiting for her! Ahh! I can’t!)
There was another post I wanted to write for Christmas yesterday, but it felt too maudlin for the joyous occasion, and I hope you’ll excuse its proximity to the holiday here.
I stumbled across the picture above and today’s post wrote itself, coming into focus in a flash, as I transported myself back to the small-town clapboard Church nestled in snowfall I visited not long ago.
About five years ago, I spent Christmas in upstate New York. We were gathering around a loved one who was dying. We brought our merry best, but the holiday was somber, and we were all living on heart-strings. I found my siblings quietly brushing tears out of their eyes when they thought no one was looking, and then laughing too loud and riotously when they knew people were. There were awkward exchanges, lags of unusual silence, ungainly attempts at humor, and we wordlessly forgave those gaffes as we tiptoed around the real reason we were there. We were tacking and jiving inelegantly as we attempted to accommodate an impossible emotional ballast.
On Christmas Eve, we walked two snow-covered blocks to a small white Church similar to the one above, and the rhythms of Mass were a comfort, though my mind was elsewhere. I didn’t want to leave the Church, but then again, I did — I craved distraction, or resolution, or something I could wrap my arms around. Anything but that purchaseless wait. Mainly I worried for my sibling, who would soon be bearing a grief greater than life and we all knew it.
On Christmas Eve, my sister and I stayed up after everyone else had fallen asleep. We sat on a couch in the living room, her face silhouetted against the moonglow from the snow outside, and we exchanged little nothings in the absence of having big somethings to say. We tried desperately to hack into Mr. Magpie’s iTunes account to watch “Meet Me in St. Louis,” a shared favorite of ours from childhood. It holds such potent personal memory for us that she had the Judy Garland version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” (which is from the movie) played at her wedding reception a few weeks before Christmas two years later, just for me. And I cried at her sentimentality not only because it is our song and she carved out a special place on her special night for me, but because it reminded me of our fruitless attempts to watch that scene that night in New York when we were heart-broken and in despairing search for a salve, sitting in the dimly lit room together, anticipating something entirely different from what we’d anticipated the twenty-odd years of Christmas Eves prior.
Christmas hasn’t quite felt the same for me ever since I saw it through the prism of imminent grief, ever since I found my attention fasten upon a different kind of meaning to the word “family.” I felt at once deeply connected to and alienated from everyone, each of us processing the finality of death in our own ways, each of us agonizing for my sibling.
When we gather under brighter circumstances, after years that answer, I feel a richness of emotion I can’t quite put my finger on. It has the shape of gratitude, but it’s more deeply situated, tempered by the weight of that Christmas five years ago, aware of the threatening evanescence of our good health and high spirits. Is this maturity, I wonder? Is this the world-weariness that comes with age and experience? Do certain holidays and rooms in old homes and sweaters we have loved and smells we have hated accrue a kind of layered meaning as we travel through life such that much of what we touch, much of what we interact with on a daily basis, becomes a pastiche of mottled emotion? Where the mere phrase “Merry Christmas” can conjure twenty five separate feelings at once, and some days I clutch onto the Christmas Eve excitement of my youth and others I shy away from the weight of an early January death?
Post-Scripts.
+Now feels like an appropriate time to talk about the sense of an ending but then, maybe, we should lighten the mood. What do you think?
+If you’re still looking for a chic white boot (and none of these are cutting it for you), consider these. Love. This Western-style boot is v. in right now.
+OK THIS IS MAJOR. Perfect dress for a milestone birthday.
+Have always loved these Herend bunnies — what an #extra baby gift for a loved one. Etsy has loads of vintage ones at great prices, too — like this one. I often get questions from readers about what to get a mother/mother-in-law/grandmother who has EVERYTHING, and I like to suggest a sentimental piece of vintage Herend. I bought my mother one of their classic Herend shoes after mini was born as a thank you for all of her care and love, and she already has one for each of her children so I thought — why not one more for a new grandbaby?
+I had a bunch of questions about my pink silk Target headband find and I am obsessed. The quality is great for the price. Do know that it’s a wide headband — more of a turban look — but I’m very into it. You can read more about this collection of hair products — and see how a very chic blogger styles them — at Sincerely Jules.
+New lust list entrant: a Moncler Grenoble bomber. Oof these are CHIC. I love this one (you don’t wear tweed cable knit puffers while skiing?) and this one.
