I wouldn’t have thought it a few years ago, but I’ve come around to the denim overall as a wardrobe staple. And not just any pair of overalls. These, from Madewell. I have been asked about them dozens of times, including recently, by several members of my book club who asked where I’d gotten my farmer frans (I wore them to the last book club with a frilly white blouse and my GGs). They have a magical kind of stretch that elongates and slims the body. Don’t ask me how or why — just order yourself a pair and revel in the lift and length they afford, and the bedeviling feeling of being a child again.
I also own a pair of white denim overalls I found at Old Navy at all places very similar to these that I lived in during the spring, pairing them with Kule striped tees.
I have been eyeing this pair in black, too, and in case my Madewell tried-and-trues just don’t fit you right, check out these from Free People, which have a similar ethos.
Finally, I saw a pregnant lady rocking a pair of overalls with neon pink (!) high-top (!!) Golden Goose (!!!) sneakers and did a quadruple take. She looked epically chic. I think she might have been wearing this pair from Hatch, but there are lots of less expensive options out there, including these, these, and these.
Personally, I like to layer frilly/feminine blouses underneath my joveralls to create visual tension. There’s something startling and chic about a floral peeking out from underneath some farmer frans. A few of my top picks for blouses:
No, really. All boots purchased henceforth must be amenable to a predominantly pedestrian lifestyle — and fare well while schlepping mini and a stroller up and down subway stairs. In other words, they must bear a low or block heel and cannot in any way, shape, or form resemble these impractical beauties of lives past. True story: I bought those excessively priced Iro stunners three or four years ago and essentially broke my ankles trying to wear them for a full season. They are impossible to wear! There is no ankle support so you’re just kind of balancing your feet on a high cone and hoping to God you manage to make it the block to your dinner reservation. Ah, youthful fashion folly.
Today, I’m sharing my top picks for the best fall 2018 boots.
Top Picks for White Booties.
I’m largely inspired by the vision of chic but practical beauty above, aka Alicia Vikander, aka my number one girl crush. (She is just…perfect. And if you like that teddy coat she’s wearing — so do I, and I don’t figure myself as much of a Kate Moss teddy coat type. She’s wearing Whistles’ Yara coat, but they no longer make it in the nubby fabric. You might try this instead — more colors here — or this affordable Zara or or this longer style.) Anyway, white booties aren’t for everyone (I get it), but don’t they look insanely chic?
+These Sam Edelmans nail the Alicia look, and at $140, they won’t make you choke too badly if you end up retiring the white boot style in 2019 or 2020.
+I like the Scandi-sleekness of these by Splendid ($149). They have an Ikea-like appeal that I cotton to and — i I mean — who can say no to that bow?
+In general, I like a high-shaft boot. I’ve been a convert ever since I bought my first pair of Loeffler Randall Matildes, which I still wear to this day. They are so well-made and so elegantly styled. You can still find a few pairs (and some at epic prices) on Amazon. Just a gorgeous boot, and I love the simple little wedge heel. WTTW: they run narrow.
+Flat out gorgeous. Love the simple embellishment of those three gold dots. It’s all ya need.
Top Picks for Ankle Boots.
+Y’all know I’m a broken record on this topic, but these Birman beauties are perfection.
+You can get the Birman look for less with these or these.
+These by Taryn Rose are saucy, and I LOVE these snakeskin beauties, chunky heel and all. And I’m not usually a chunky heel girl.
Top Picks for Shearling Boots.
+I love shearling right now. How good is this shearling Chanel bag?! I lust after these by The Row. They look crazy comfortable and also eye-catchingly different from what you see on the street. I feel like you’d need long, fawn-like legs to pull them off though.
+I love my Sorel Joan of Arctic boots. I bought them while enduring the winters of Chicago (they are impervious to water and crazy warm) and feel they were well-worth the investment. I love them in that updated white/cream situation.
*Image above from Claiborne Swanson Frank’s gorgeous photography book on modern motherhood, Mother & Child.
There is an episode of Family Guy where Brian (the dog) finds out he’s a father and seemingly immediately becomes a bleeding heart whenever a child is mentioned. The subtext is that once someone becomes a parent, she/he also adopts a kind of “concerned adult” persona, emoting around the welfare of children everywhere–and that it’s a little disingenuous, a little haughty.
Mr. Magpie and I loved this snipe when we first watched it, well before mini was a twinkle in our eyes. It was around the time the first of my friends were having the first of their babies, in my mid to late 20s. I would watch with bewilderment as friends who had just a few years prior anointed themselves “Queen of Beer Pong,” or flitted from suitor to suitor with the unimpressed, callous air of a goddess among mortals, or involved themselves in the petty drama of twenty-something college grads would suddenly transform into sensitive, mature parents, ones who sent Christmas cards with professional photos on them and posed their children with placards indicating their age or achievements and nodded knowingly to one another about the triumphs and travails of parenting. I would marvel at their metamorphoses, lingering halfway between disbelief and envy. How can it happen so quickly? I would muse, prodding at them in various unkind ways to determine whether it was an act. Are they Brian-ing? And at the same time: I want that.
Nowadays, Mr. Magpie will occasionally reign me when I’m wandering into prudish patronizing parent territory:
Me: “Oh my God, but with a baby involved!?!??”
Mr. Magpie: “OK, Brian.”
He’ll also call me out when I’ve talked too long about baby gear or inadvertently bored a guest to tears while talking about preschools (sorry, B). I appreciate these rejoinders. They remind me that motherhood is a part of me — not a version of me and not all of me — and also that, for me, matrescence did not happen overnight. These truths of my motherhood are hard-earned and worthy of frequent revisiting — hard-earned in the sense that it took me time and soul-searching and nontrivial swells of guilt to admit them to myself, so conditioned I have been to expect certain things of my experience as a mother. In other words, his gentle retorts are a plea for truthfulness.
But the truth is this: it is difficult to hear a story or watch a movie in which a child’s safety is at risk without immediately imagining the worst befalling my own. I had to stop watching Sharp Objects because I found the topic and imagery sickening to the point of guilt-inducing: why am I watching this?I don’t even want to think about this. And when I re-read Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things a year or so ago (one of the top 10 books that I believe will change your life), I felt ill the entire way through in a way I hadn’t when I’d read the masterpiece the first and second times. I was watching the new Jack Ryan series last night and for goodness sakes, damned if I didn’t feel that familiar tug of maternal concern: ohhh, that little girl, Sara! Get her away from that sooty black-toothed villain! (If you watch, you know!) When Sara runs to her mother in pursuit of comfort, I couldn’t help but transpose onto the story the many cries I have quieted in mini, the many tears I have wiped from her cheeks. I felt something dig in: I will never stop protecting her. I will never let trouble befall her if I can help it.
One of the great surprises of parenting has been access to deeper channels of empathy. I feel myself connect with other moms instantly. Just this past weekend, I saw a new mom struggling to breastfeed her two- or three-week-old baby on a bench in Central Park, and my heart softened for her. The confusion of those early months, the rising panic I was sure she was feeling as her child screamed and she fumbled around the mechanics of the latch, the sweaty strangulation of those damned nursing covers. I knew how she felt, and I wanted to go to her. Instead, I just smiled and nodded at her as if to say — “you’re doing it! you’re doing well!” — and she brushed some hair out of her eyes and smiled back. (I should have said it, though — should have offered: “Good job, mom!” Sometimes we need to hear it.) More than once, I have scooped a child up off the playground floor or steered him out of the danger of kicking feet at the swing-set — and other parents have done the same for me.
But there is also another truth that I have carried with me for decades, one that brought tears to my eyes when I first learned of it years ago, before I could even remotely relate to its significance, and which now takes my breath away when I think of it because I can imagine it but couldn’t possibly endure it.
My paternal grandmother had three children, and one of them was a girl — her beloved, the apple of her eye, my vivacious and bright-eyed aunt. Cancer took her when I was nine, and my grandmother was heartbroken.
“That was her baby girl,” my Dad said, attempting to explain her sorrow to me. I nodded with wide eyes, sad but bewildered by the size of their grief, at the thought that an adult could be a baby to somebody else.
When my grandmother passed away not long after, my father went through the belongings in her home in Painesville, Ohio, a horrifically lachrymose task I cannot bear to imagine. Among her possessions was a calendar she had kept marking her busy social agenda: her bridge games, her social gatherings at the country club, her dinners on the town, her visits by children and grandchildren. My grandparents were an effervescent, socially graceful duo well-loved by their friends, their community. My grandmother used to show me off to her friends when I’d come to visit, calling to other women in the grocery store to come see me — “Oh, Carm!” they’d say, “She looks just like a little Pat.” And they’d chat happily, joyously with one another. Her cluttered agenda stood as a testament to her ebullience, the richness of her friendships.
But then, halfway through the pages: “Pat died today,” written in loopy pencil script, and then nothing after.
“That was her baby girl,” my father again explained. “She was how she kept time.”
Oh. I know now. She was how she kept time. The all-consuming centricity of parenthood, the reframing of all things, the centripetal force of my daughter. The way I will remember moving to New York through the lens of her eight-month-old self, the cramped and harried naps she took in a pack-and-play in the corner of our hotel room, or in my arms on the unmade bed, back when she was little enough to endure my tremulous voice on stressed phone calls and still sleep soundly through it all. The way I will think of the steps in our first home in Chicago through the prism of the sharp pain I felt ascending and descending them for the first few times after my c-section, wanting desperately to get to her but unable to move with more speed. The way my meals, my available times for phone calls, my weekend plans conform to her waking schedule. The way memories entirely unrelated to mini — even my first trip away from her — are in some way marked by her: the photo Mr. Magpie sent of he, mini, and Tilly in our bed, my absence from it an ache. The thud of her feet running to greet me at the door.
She was how she kept time.
I feel in that phrase a depth of grief I can’t plumb, but I understand it nonetheless. You might think me a Brian, but I know now. I embrace the incongruity of existing as my own self and living entirely in her orbit.
She is how I keep time.
Post Scripts.
Hard to follow the post above with anything but a deep sigh. I have been clinging to the image of my grandmother’s half-empty calendar for decades now, unsure of what to do with it but mourn. But today it feels good to share it with you, along with some other random observations to buoy our spirits on a Tuesday:
+FYI — you can now search my site! If you go to the upper right hand corner of my blog, you’ll see a small magnifying glass icon at the top right. Click and search. I know things can be difficult to find because I write in a longer form than is common in the blogosphere, and I often tail-end my musings with a list of various and sundry discoveries. Hopefully this helps!
+Speaking of Polo and sale, I have no idea why, but Nordstrom Rack currently has men’s undershirts on super sale, and this is the only brand Mr. Magpie will wear. I stocked up majorly for him.
+Outnet has a bunch of great new arrivals in — a lot of which remind me of #royalstyle. (Did anyone else enjoy lingering over photos from Princess Eugenie’s nuptials?) I love the slightly prim, old-world feel of the dressing, usually offset by a saucily tilted bit of millinery. Anyway, Outnet has a couple of Kate Middleton-esque finds, like this sweater weather Raoul, this rich green shirtdress, and this fluted-sleeved column dress. All good prices and all excellent picks for Thanksgiving and other autumnal festivities.
+I’ve spotted a couple of well-priced, open-weave sweaters that feel super on trend right now: this with its dramatic cuff/sleeve and this with its cheery colors.
+I now own this tee in about five colors. Perfect layering piece.
+For minis: how cute are these?! And I already ordered these in the camel color. Duh.
By: Jen Shoop
Let’s talk beauty today, mah friends. Summer has come and gone and it’s time for many of us to retire our tinted moisturizers and settle into our foundation routines — and to double down on moisturizing. Below, I’m sharing my latest beauty discovery (nail polish!), reviews of the new wave of products I bought a few weeks back, and items on my radar.
New Beauty Obsession: Smith & Cult Nail Polish.
I have full-on converted to Smith & Cult for my weekly manicures. I find the formula much gentler on my nails (they seem thicker and in better shape than I’ve seen them in years), the color lasts about six days (I am really hard on my nails — a standard Essie or OPI will only last 3-4 without chips), and I flip over the color options. I’m especially partial to Regret the Moon, a milky, opaque white-pink, and Kundalini Hustle, a glossy Coca Cola red. I think I’ll go ahead and order a bottle of each just so I have them for touch-ups — and to bring with me if I’m frequenting a salon that is not my own/does not carry them.
Honest Beauty Reviews: Embryolisse & More.
+La Neige Water Sleeping Mask. I love this stuff. It glides on like gel, smells like clean laundry, and hydrates your skin while you sleep. I have a feeling I’ll be using this throughout the winter, when I am prone to dryness. I wouldn’t say I wake up, look in the mirror, and rub my eyes in disbelief at the effects — but my skin certainly feels soft and moisturized in the morning and I know it’s doing its job.
+Charlotte Tilbury’s Flawless Filter. My favorite product I’ve tried out of the latest crop. It took me awhile to figure out how to use this — I thought at first that I could use it like a foundation or tinted moisturizer, but that’s a bit much (and you’d go through a lot, and quickly). Instead, I use tinted moisturizer first and then apply a few dabs of this along the cheekbones, forehead, nose, and anywhere there’s an uneveness in tone. The effect is gorgeous — skin looks luminous, glowing, “smoothed over.” I’m a huge fan. (Does anyone else use this differently?)
+Ole Henriksen’s Banana Bright Eye Cream. Solid. I still believe the best eye cream known to man is La Mar, but I only permit myself to indulge in it every now and then. It is so expensive! But it does work. This eye cream does a nice job of hydrating and brightening the eye area, and I like its texture — it blends in easily with no greasiness and it feels cool to the touch.
+Guerlain’s L’Or Radiance Primer. Sigh, I’m not sure if I believe I need a primer. I’m not like skiing in a full face of foundation or finding myself in high intensity situations where I need my makeup to look picture perfect for ten hours straight. BUT. This stuff smells great and ensures that makeup glides on like a breeze. It’s a good base layer and it smells like heaven to me.
+Dior’s Browstyler. This is a really good product if you can afford to be precise — meaning, if you have the patience and inclination to basically draw individual eyebrow hairs into place. I am usually too harried for this kind of activity but on the occasions I have taken the time, this stuff is really excellent (the tip is super-fine). You simply cannot tell the difference between the browstyler strokes and your own hairs! It is incredible. That said, I am already missing a chubbier pencil style that I can use with less attention to detail.
+Elf Clear Eyebrow Gel. A reader suggested I look into this and OH MAN AM I HAPPY I DID. It costs $3 at my local Duane Reade and I’ll never not use this. It goes on clear (duh) and keeps brows in place without making them crispy. Love.
+Bare Minerals Gen Nude Liquid Lipstick in Swag. I actually went into the Sephora at Columbus Circle to buy Tilbury’s highly-touted matte lipstick in “Pillow Talk” only to discover that my store did not carry Tilbury’s products. I got sidetracked by the Mare Minerals collection instead and went home with a gorgeous “blushing mauve” color that I have been wearing on the daily. It is the perfect natural-looking pink and I love the formula, which glides on, dries matte, BUT does not leave lips parched! (I also love Stila’s All Day liquid lipsticks — such good colors! — but find that they dry my lips out excessively!) Also, it tastes like mocha. Never a bad thing.
+Marc Jacobs Highliner. I love this product when I want something super easy to apply with a kind of smudgy/smoky finish. (If you’re looking for a laser-sharp edge, look elsewhere.) This product glides on like butter and the color is super saturated. Love.
+Chanel Eyeshadow Primer. I was a bit underwhelmed by this product. What I was looking for was an eye primer with its own hue — something like Laura Mercier’s Eye Basics, which I often use on its own, without a “top coat” of shadow. I just want something easy to swipe on that evens out the eyelid and brightens the eye area — and that can extend the life of eyeshadow when I do feel like getting dolled up. Chanel’s product is clear and kind of…unctuous. It feels more like a lip gloss than anything else, and I can’t say I feel it extended the life of my eye shadow when I did wear it on top. So, all in, underwhelmed. I’ll be going back to Laura Mercier’s staple (I buy it in the linen color).
+Embryolisse Lait Creme. I was super excited to try this “wunderproduct” with a massive cult following, but my skin HATED me when I used it. I developed a rash all over my face — tiny little bumps! Horrifying. I immediately discontinued use and my skin went back to normal in about 24-36 hours. Interestingly, a few readers said they had the same reaction — maybe there’s some ingredient that we are allergic to? A friend of mine in the beauty industry mentioned that most allergic reactions in beauty products pertain to fragrance ingredients! I was disappointed as I had thought this would be a great addition to my travel dopp kit since it can be used as a primer, makeup remover, moisturizer, shaving cream, or even after-shave balm. Eh well.
+Caudalie Elixir Eau de Beaute Spray. Another “French drugstore” classic. I could take this or leave it. I found the scent overpoweringly strong, and I’m usually that weirdo who prefers strongly-scented products. I know some are super sensitive to smell, but I like when a cream smells like rose petals or a primer smells like peppermint. This smelled like mint and…gasoline? I don’t know how to describe its smell but it is POTENT. I love using sprays like this to prime and then set my makeup. Again, not sure how necessary this step is in my own life, where I rarely am out and about for long enough to anyone notice if my makeup has withered by hour eight, but I do like the way a spray can “soften” the edges of your makeup after you’ve applied it. This Caudalie product does the trick, but if I’m honest, my absolute favorite spray for setting/hydrating is Chantecaille’s Pure Rosewater, whose price tag is tantamount to highway robbery. It smells like heaven on earth, the applicator is divine (a light, airy spritz that perfectly clouds your face), and I’m a sucker for the packaging. PSA: Many say that this inexpensive Mario Badescu facial spray achieves the same effect for $7.
+Bare Minerals Mineral Veil Setting Powder. OK, this came as a surprise in a little gift set from Sephora and I am IN LOVE. I use it on top of my undereye concealer (I use this brush to apply) and occasionally sweep it across my whole face if I’m really going for a full look. It is super light, non-cakey, and somehow leaves skin looking bright and radiant and non-powdery. So good.
Beauty Discoveries.
Whew. It’s been a busy few weeks of testing products so I’ll probably pump the breaks for awhile — I usually refresh my beauty routine twice a year, as I run out of things. But, a few things I wanted to mention that have come highly recommended:
+Belif Water Bomb. The last two makeup artists I’ve gone to have used this gel cream on my skin and it is WONDROUS. So refreshing and hydrating and I can’t believe the price tag. I’m thinking I will swap this in when I’m out of my Ole Henriksen facial moisturizer.
+These makeup towels are too cute! I might add these as a gift in my mom’s stocking, or to accompany a cosmetics gift for a girlfriend this holiday (I love giving my favorite cosmetics away as gifts — see more present ideas here).
+I’ve never used Nars’ The Multiple, though I know it has its own tribe. I’m thinking this could be the kind of thing I carry with me in my purse for quick touch-ups — a swipe on the cheeks and lips and BOOM, instant pick me up.
+I’ve heard REALLY good things about this skin cleanser, in case my favorite (Tata Harper) didn’t cut it for you.
+I use my Truffle clear pouches to organize cosmetics when traveling, especially by air, since the size is TSA-approved — but they are admittedly spend-y for what they are. I found this $10 Sonia Kushuk style that would work just as well. A little less styling, but the same effect: easy to find what you’re looking for!
You might have seen this if you follow me on my new @thefashionmagpie Instagram account, but I recently pounced on a Goyard dupe for my laptop. I’m not huge on lookalikes/faux bags, but this one got good reviews and, every now and then, I just think: “I like this and I’m going to get it.” And so I did. $38, free returns, no regrets. I’m now realizing it could swap in for an oversized clutch if I’m so inclined. Whee! Now if I can only convince my girl Inslee to hand paint some letters on the top…which reminds me: her new desktop calendars are now live and they are gooooood, especially for the bibliophiles among us.
I was flattered that Inslee mentioned in an Instastory that part of her inspiration for her new book-centric desk calendar was joining my book club. She mentioned that it was something she did “just for her” — not for her business, not for her baby, not for anyone else or any other purpose. I loved that. It led me to wonder: what do I do just for me? If you think about it, so much of our everyday lives is consumed by the needs and wishes and influences of others, whether we are mothers or not, and even in the context of seemingly innocuous things that we don’t necessarily mind, like what to make for dinner (but what does Mr. Magpie want?), or where to grab lunch (but Julie is gluten-free!), or when to call our parents (but mom will be eating dinner now…) or whether we can make it to a playdate on time (but mini is still sleeping!) This isn’t a bad thing, of course. Quite the opposite: I aspire to live my life as a woman for others, though I know I fall well short in that category. (My legacy goals are more realistic.) And there is grand virtue in considerateness, empathy, generosity of spirit, selflessness.
But.
We don’t need to be martyrs about it either. Sometimes we owe it to ourselves to be — well, how should I put it? I hate the negative implications of the word “selfish” or “self-centered.” I suppose I mean to say that sometimes we need to show ourselves some love, some quiet freedom, some permissiveness, even in the narrowest of ways. The other day, for example, I realized that every time I got up to run to the bathroom or change the laundry or grab something out of the other room, I felt compelled to tell Mr. Magpie. I don’t know how long I’ve been doing this, running this ongoing commentary about my comings and goings. I don’t know whether it registers on him. But I know why I do it: so that he’s not left with mini for more than a few minutes wondering where I’ve gone. I do it to reassure him I’ll be back to co-parent with him presently. I do it as a courtesy. But — it was over the top. Sometimes homegirl just needs to run into the bathroom to pluck a stray eyebrow hair or grab a Kindle or take a minute to stand in silence in the bedroom behind a closed door after a battle of the wills with a toddler. And none of these things need to be annotated.
And so, the other day, I left the living room unexplained. And returned promptly. And everything was as it was.
It was small, petty — and just for me.
Other things I do just for me:
+Get a weekly manicure, without fail, and often at the end of the last “working” day of my week, when I have the nanny for a final hour and have wrapped up work on the blog.
+Buy a bag of gummy candies at “It’s Sugar” (<<actual name of the store; horrible) down the street and eat them until I make myself sick.
+Decide to take the longer circuit on my midday walk with Tilly so I can listen to a bit more of whatever podcast I’m into at the moment. (Right now, NPR’s new season of Serial. I have mixed reviews on it at this point, but I’m pot-committed. Next up: Last Seen, which has gotten insane reviews — all about the true story of a major art heist.)
+Go to bed early so I can read under the covers, alone.
+Buy oatmilk (Oatly is SO GOOD) and a box of cereal. Mr. Magpie hates both of these things, so it’s all me, baby. Alarmingly, I find myself drawn to “old person” cereals like Basic 4 (it is so so so good though), but I used to be a Special K Red Berries girl.
+Buy an afternoon soy milk latte. It takes five minutes to walk to a good coffee shop around the corner, and it’s a total and unnecessary extravagance, but my oh my does it make me happy.
+Close the door to the bathroom before bed so I can take my time washing my face, staring at my pores, plucking more stray eyebrows, and layering on all the lotions and oils a girl could ever want without feeling rushed or watched.
+Organize my desk and side table drawers using these. No one else ever goes into these drawers but me, and it brings me joy to find them tidy.
+Turn down my sheets before I get into them. I remove the decorative pillows and shams, tighten the sheets and spray them with crease release when needed, and fold back the duvet. It is like heaven to get into a prepped bed like this and I can’t explain why.
+Splurge on hand sanitizer with a better scent than the run-of-the-mill Purell at Duane Reade. No one cares but me, but yes — it brings me joy. I’ve also heard good things about this brand.
What do you do just for you?
#Shopaholic: The Balloon-Sleeved Sweater.
+Ordering this. Usually this brand’s sweaters are far more expensive — and the color and shape are SO right now!
+I have a pearl encrusted sweater I bought at Zara last year that fetched me more compliments than the remainder of my wardrobe combined. H&M has a chic variation on this theme on offer for only $40!
By: Jen Shoop
A couple of months ago, I wrote an homage to you, my Magpie readers. In writing it, I realized that I carry you with me every day, all day, my personal Helicon, my own chorus. Your comments and emails tumble through my thoughts; your names routinely recur in conversations with Mr. Magpie and my mother (“did you see the comment from Anna today?”); your interests lead me to consider styles and topics I might not otherwise have examined; your observations and encouragements and brave admissions (Elizabeth Schimmels!!!) humble me; your often gentle and diplomatic though occasionally deservedly sharp words of caution or surprise shape my musings, offering me guardrails when I am at risk of drifting too far.
This is writing: me, in conversation with you. Each post half-formed until you’ve received it. I often wait, tender-footed, until your comments appear in my inbox and I can assess my own writing through your reactions to it. Do you know the tremendous role you play in my writing — in all writing, for that matter? For centuries, humans got this wrong. For generations, we positioned the artist as a gifted god on a pedestal, Her Word as Gospel. Our role was subserviently exegetical. It wasn’t until the 20th century and its attendant wars and the havoc that they wrought on our understanding of The Way of The World that we shed those old-timey fictions as to The Order of Things and thought: “Maybe The Artist is not in fact all-knowing. Maybe, actually, her intentions don’t matter at all. Maybe art comes alive when the reader breathes life into it.” Literary theorists took many of these new “truths” a bit too far for my taste in positing that, actually, there is no stability at all in meaning. We interpret what we interpret; we create and uncreate art as we bring our own experiences to it. I do not believe this is wholly true. I believe that the artist has a perspective and the reader has a perspective and when those forces meet, a kind of magic happens, even when that magic yields anger or opprobrium or — the most hurtful reaction of all for a writer — dismissal.
Am I flying too high right now?
Let me rein myself in with this conclusion: you are the patron, the chorus, half of the creative spirit behind this writing. I sense your contours as I write. Mr. Magpie has often told me that when he played ball, there was something gorgeous and mystical about when the baseball hit “the sweet spot” of his bat.
“It kind of radiates through your body,” he explained one day. “It just feels good. And the sound. It’s a specific sound — the ball connecting with the bat, and the whole thing echoes through your body.”
That’s how I feel, too, when I’ve written something on pitch with you, your eyes over my shoulder, your head nodding: something connects, aflare, electric.
Thank you for this gift.
Post-Script: The 8 Most Popular Blog Posts of 2018.
In honor of this gift, I am sharing the most popular blog posts I have written thus far this year:
Ladybird, Loss, and the Visitation. I have a hard time with this post. Is it narcissistic or masochistic that I re-read it every few weeks, crying? I even one time recorded myself reading it aloud and I don’t know why. There is something in its emotional timbre that I wanted to hear back. Oof.
Together, the popularity of these posts tells me a few things: first, that you enjoy my M Series and that maybe I need to jump back in that saddle. I dubbed these posts the “M Series” because they were part memoir, part “magic” — magic in the sense that I took artistic liberties in the presentation of the details. Everything happened as I described but writing gave me the space to order and fine-tune the minutiae in a way I’d never have been able to if asked to share the story of us verbally. I spent long draughts of afternoons reflecting on those days in Lyon in particular, conjuring the exact feel of the city, the thrum of first love, the tenderness of separation. I wrote the series first because Mr. Magpie is the love and joy of my life but second because I saw it as a kind of calisthenic to prepare me for writing fiction. Fiction is a wholly different beast than the kind of memoir-ish writing I usually share here: it’s a different headspace, a different lightwave. I saw the M Series as a bridge between the two. And it proved helpful: I have written long sections of a fictional piece I hope to one day share when it’s in a more polished form. It’s a love story (what isn’t?) but it’s also about the age-old tension between fate and personal will, a topic I have long grappled with from a feminist perspective in that women have had specific kinds of holds on their “will.” It will one day be called Maiden’s Choosing, the title of the third book within George Eliot’s masterpiece Daniel Deronda, and when you read it, you’ll understand why. I digress, but — your readership of my M Series has put more wind in my sails to persist in this project.
Second learning: the popularity of my post grieving the death of one of my best friends from high school reminded me that we all have suffered our own devastations, and that it is a beautiful, restorative thing to sit alongside others in mutual acknowledgment of those heartaches, even when we don’t say anything at all, and even when we still occasionally cry about them, eight plus years after the fact. That post was a stunning kind of shiva for me.
Third learning: y’all is chic! I love that amidst the heavier fare, there were well-loved posts on trends. Everything in balance, right? The asymmetricality of this blog is a reflection of who we are: yes, we wear our hearts on our sleeves and think deeply about our worlds and our roles, but we can also go crazy over a pair of shoes and talk long and deep about the virtues of Ole Henriksen’s truth serum. (<<If you buy nothing else from this blog this year, please indulge in this.) Which brings me to…
Post-Post-Script: The 10 Most Popular Products Featured on Le Blog in 2018.
Together, these items remind me of the breadth of your womanhood: you are attentive at home, you read a lot, you aren’t afraid of a fashion statement, and you blend the high-end with the budget buy. I think we would get along famously.
Post-Post-Post Scripts.
+One of my personal favorite posts this year was this one on turning 34. It is some of the most honest writing I’ve ever found in myself.
+If you can’t tell with the reference to Mount Helicon, I’m midway through Madeline Miller’s Circe, our book club pick for this month, and I’M DEAD. IT IS SO GOOD.
By: Jen Shoop
My sister recently asked me this, and I spent the better part of a morning lingering over it. It’s not often someone asks something this optimistic, and I was flattered and humbled by the subtext that she felt I had done something right. Further, it’s hard to discern what’s worked versus what we can chalk up to her innate personality, and any of the responses I worked up felt oddly smug, self-congratulatory. (Why am I so much more comfortable soliciting input on my struggles and questions as a mom (ahem)?)
After some time, I offered three replies.
First, I feel I’ve done a good job raising an adaptable girl, one who was oddly calm amidst the uprooting of our lives last fall and one who generally tolerates changes to her routine with aplomb. This is as much a benefit to her as it is to us: it has enabled us to live our lives with less stress. I believe we achieved this by sticking to a routine rather than a hard-and-fast schedule, by rolling with the punches, by following her cues. Sometimes her nap is pushed back an hour. Sometimes dinner is at four. Sometimes we talk loudly with friends outside her nursery while she is sleeping, just a pocket door away — because there is nowhere else for us to sit in our apartment and we need to live our lives, too. All in all, I think we have cultivated a resilient, independent little lass who is a part of our family rather than the epicenter of it. Maybe that sounds cruel to say, but I’ve always worried Mr. Magpie and I would erase ourselves and our interests if we changed everything to accommodate mini. We’re not infallible, of course; there are still times we find ourselves sprinting home from dinner, or declining an invitation because it doesn’t jive with her routine, or, you know, cursing ourselves for buying train tickets that encroached on her nap time. But we have worked at this, and I think it has paid off.
Second, I feel I’ve done well at raising a bookworm. We read every single day, multiple times a day, and we have since the day I brought her home from the hospital. She will spend a good portion of her afternoon turning pages on her own, pointing out the animals and shapes. I have been hellbent on this. (Some of our favorite books here, here, and here.) I have also found books to be a good way to give her a sense of autonomy, as I will often present her with two or three book options: “Which one?” And she will point with her stubby finger and her borderline Italian accent: “DEEES one.”
Third, I feel I have avoided coddling her, especially when it comes to routine tumbles and bumps. I am often astounded at how quickly she picks herself up, dusts her hands off, and goes back to playing. It was hard at first to bite my tongue but as long as I don’t react, she doesn’t react. I’m proud of this, proud of her persistence — and the same holds true for activities and tasks that she is struggling with. It is so hard to watch her fumbling to take the top off of something or straining to fit a puzzle piece into its spot, but I have learned to sit back and watch. Maria Montessori once wrote: “Never do for a child what she believes she can do on her own.” I have taken this to heart and have tried my best to encourage her to do things herself — put on her own shoes, open a drawer, fit the pieces into a shape sorter. Altogether, I think I have done a passable job at quietly observing her rather than intervening.
All of these are heavily caveated because there are so many occasions where I fall short of these aspirations — but, in sum, I find myself to be fairly consistent and intentional about them. I walked around for the next few days mentally preening these replies, wondering if they were accurate or self-indulgent or entirely beside the point. As I laid down last night, I thought: probably none of this matters next to the bigger (biggest?) truth of motherhood, which is that I have loved her unconditionally and fully since she was born.
What about you? What have you done right as a mother?
Post Scripts.
+So many of you recommended a toilet trainer to place on top of a toilet seat vs. a mini potty (“potette” as one of you put it — how elegant). (You’d also need a step stool like this or this.)
+Mini has been very into using our broom, but, mid-sweep, has also nearly knocked over a lamp, a vintage ginger jar I inherited from my grandparents that is probably worth more than our entire living room, and a glass vase. I promptly ordered this set for her.
*Chic pea above is wearing head to toe Oscar De La Renta.
I’ve had a lot of requests recently for suggestions for formal/semi-formal events this fall. ‘Tis the season, I s’pose. (I cringe to admit that I listened to the Charlie Brown Christmas album one recent Saturday. #dontjudge). Below, my favorite cocktail and evening dresses right now:
P.P.P.S. I’m not usually big on knock-offs, but I bought this laptop cover on a lark and don’t regret it for a second.
By: Jen Shoop
In the context of some of my home-centric posts over the last few weeks, I just discovered that Serena&Lily is running its annual friends and family sale and everything is 20% off with code HOMELOVE. I currently have a set of these dip-dyed stools in my cart because they seem endlessly versatile; I could just as easily imagine placing them in my bathroom to stow towels and perch on while mini bathes as I could in our entryway for holding my purse, our living room as a stand-in for a drink holder, our nursery for added decor, our bedroom for a potted plant. See below for additional styling options!
P.S. Did you know you’re supposed to clean your washing machine? Yikes. I did not. This brand gets good reviews. I looked at a few other brands and many users complained about the strong chemical odor they gave off. Separately, apparently you can clean your dishwasher by placing a Pyrex glass 2/3 full of white vinegar on the top rack and letting the dishwasher run. (Do these notes qualify me as Martha Stewart in training?)
P.P.S. These are literally the best laundry baskets ever. Super sturdy, don’t warp, and I love the handle design — makes carrying them so much easier and more comfortable. (Also — they stack easily!) However, I’ve also heard good things about these collapsible ones for those of us short on space. I manage to stow our basket above our dryer, but I probably would have bought these if I didn’t already have the Container Store brand when moving into our “petite” New York apartment. Finally, related to laundry: I love all things Laundress (in particular, I swear by their wool detergent and their crease release for keeping my bedding crisp between launderings), but have been somewhat disappointed in their signature detergent. I don’t think the scent is strong enough (and that was basically the entire reason for splurging on the detergent TBH — LOVE their signature scent) and I don’t think it’s tough enough on stains — and with a toddler, we have some major stains happening on a regular basis. I have gone back to using Mrs. Meyers’ products, which I think do a really powerful job of cleaning and leaving a fresh scent (and they do have a variety! I like the basil scent and the lavender scent.) For stains, though, it’s all about the Dreft spray. That stuff is POTENT and has worked magic on many items I had written off as permanently destroyed.
P.P.P.S. These tongs bring joy to my life. I can’t explain why. I suppose I like having just the right implement for preventing burnt fingers nearly every morning. (I have toast and fruit probably five out of seven mornings a week.) Beyond that, they’re the perfect length (have you ever used super-short or super-long tongs? The worst) and they have just the right amount of give to them. They also have a magnet so you can affix them to the side of your fridge if you’re nifty like that (I keep mine resting on the toaster top though). Anyway, that’s way more than you ever wanted to hear about toaster tongs. CODA.
P.P.P.P.S. OK, sorry for all the post scripts BUT I also wanted to mention that I ordered one of these kitchen rugs awhile ago and it is a delight. Inexpensive, stylish, comes in a range of lengths to accommodate your kitchen layout, and machine-washable (amen amen amen). It brings a kind of country chic to our traditional kitchen. I might order a second so I don’t have to go even a day without a clean one underfoot. (Also, Tilly loves curling up on it.)
By: Jen Shoop
I’ve found myself heady with deja vu the past couple of days walking Tilly through Central Park. The leaves are turning; the sky is November-gray. There is a chill in the air. I’m reminded of the evening walk Mr. Magpie and I took with a nine-month old mini after Thanksgiving dinner last fall. We’d decided to stay put in New York for the holiday because the move to Manhattan had done a number on us and we weren’t up for voluntary travel. The night prior, on an “insider’s tip,” we’d walked twenty blocks in brisk, 30 degree weather to watch Macy’s inflate the balloons for the Thanksgiving Day parade. We were smug with native Manhattanite knowledge: “we’re like the real New Yorkers,” we thought. The crowd at 79th and Columbus– comprised largely of tourists, we noted, with disappointment — was thick and stagnant; after 40 minutes of shivering and nary a Snoopy float in sight, we turned back, dispirited, and thawed out in our apartment with glasses of wine. “Well, we’re not insiders yet,” I shrugged, that all-too-familiar feeling of dislocation I’d been harboring since the move resurfacing unpleasantly.
The next morning, we left the apartment to walk Tilly and found our street deserted and eerily quiet. No cars, no foot traffic. We learned that Central Park West and many of the side streets perpendicular to it had been blocked off for the parade. Observers had been camping out on the banks of the street since early dawn. And here we were, casually walking our dog and happening upon the parade, mid-stride. We looked at each other: “No, now we’re like real New Yorkers.” We ambled along the largely-empty sidewalk in front of our building, a sparse crowd of maybe 10 people between us and the floats. We waved to Santa. We craned our necks to take in the Snoopy balloon, that specter we’d watched through our television sets on Thanksgiving mornings for thirty-some years. We thought: “Now this is magic.” I knew immediately that this moment, standing on the curb of CPW with my little family, would be a cornerstone memory in the story of how we fell in love with New York, how we’d come to be anointed as part of the New York tribe.
That night, before the Thanksgiving dinner we’d managed to pull off in our narrow galley kitchen, its counters about a tenth the size of the ones we’d enjoyed in Chicago, Mr. Magpie offered to read the Thanksgiving prayer my father has read every Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember. It’s written in my mother’s loopy script, photocopied so many times it’s faintly legible. Something swelled inside. Mr. Magpie is not a Catholic; he does not attend Mass with mini and I. And so I recognized in this gesture the depth of his commitment to the three of us as a family unit, adopted religious traditions and all.
“For food in a world where many walk in hunger;
For faith in a world where many walk in fear;
For friends in a world where many walk alone;
We give you thanks, O Lord.”
I bowed my head as he started to read these lines, but mini started squawking and I looked up at her. Mr. Magpie stopped after the second line, broke off abruptly. I glanced over, wondering if he was waiting for mini to settle down before he’d proceed, and noticed instead that he was clenching and unclenching his jaw. He cleared his throat once, then again. Then took a breath, and read the last two lines.
I walked around the table, squeezed his shoulder. We sat quietly for a minute, composing ourselves.
After dinner, I insisted mini and I accompany Mr. Magpie on his nightly walk with Tilly, though it was past mini’s bedtime and bone-chillingly cold outside. We poured some of the juicy, jammy zinfandel from dinner into a travel mug, buried mini in fleece, and headed out the door. We walked around the perimeter of Heckscher Ballfields in a satisfied haze, the crunch of leaves beneath our feet. The park was almost entirely empty. We moved together, a cluster in motion.
I have been revisiting this memory the last several days, feeling the same swell inside each and every time, startling myself with the prick of tears as I think of the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, the breaking of curfew to stroll together around the park, the prodigious gift of family when many walk alone.
Post-Scripts: Thinking Ahead to Thanksgiving.
+There is a recipe for sweet potatoes with crushed peanuts on top that will change your entire life in this cookbook (one of our all-time favorites). Please add it to your Thanksgiving day menu. You’re welcome. [Updated after publication on 10/10/18: One reader requested that I share the recipe here. I found it online here. The recipe calls for sorghum syrup, which my grocery does not carry, so I ordered it online here: http://bit.ly/2yrgCrK . If you’re like, “Great, now I’ll have 1/2 a jar of sorghum syrup I’ll never use,” worry not. I’ve used it as a substitute for molasses and honey in other recipes.]
+I like to get dressed up for Thanksgiving, and so does Mr. Magpie. But if your family is more casual, maybe a chic new sweater with your denim — something like this, which looks virtually identical to a Ganni sweater that costs about three or four times what this one does, or this. (Love the fur-cuff sweaters all over the place lately…)
+For those of us who prefer to get dolled up — last year, I bought a deep green velvet wrap dress from MISA. This is strikingly similar and far less expensive, and I also love this one in any of the colors. Would look great to pair the pink with a burgundy shoe, but navy and silver are festive on their own. I also love this velvet style from Saloni. There’s just something about the holidays that calls for velvet. Alternately, go on-trend with this, which has a kind of alluring 70s vibe to it that I’m into, and I love that golden color!, or this, which nails the prairie chic trend. (I’d wear the latter with black suede pumps.)
+In all likelihood, though, I think I’m buying this cream fit and flare number, which I can imagine myself wearing in infinite permutations. It would look great with emerald green or cranberry red accents for Thanksgiving.
+I have a number of friends and readers who are pregnant right now and have asked for input on styling for formal occasions. For Thanksgiving, I’d recommend this (not maternity but forgiving) with sleek black pointed toe mules or this (also comes in a cranberry color, but I prefer the ivory). Don’t forget the maternity tights.
+For minis: I ordered this for mini this year; she wore this smocked beauty last year. This floral smocked style could be super cute, though I must present a caveat for Cecil&Lou items — I find that they run a little baggy/loose/voluminous, which can have a kind of weird Little Lord Fauntleroy effect that I’m not into. I like a shorter hem and a trim fit on mini — think Shirley Temple. That said, I have found some really cute stuff from there and the prices are much better than elsewhere for the traditional look.
+Alternately for minis: I also like something less obviously Thanksgiving-themed, like this, this, or this. And then there’s that $25 H&M steal, which would be perfect for the occasion as well, especially with a pair of pom pom knee socks (mini owns these in multiple colors). Finally, love this with a big chocolate brown bow.
+For tabletop, I love my turkey tureen. Yes, it’s made the trek to New York with us, where it’s occupying precious shelf space. But I love it for some inexplicable reason. I like it against a linen runner like this, maybe with mini boxwoods as the greenery and a boxwood wreath on the wall. (As an aside, I still daydream about one day owning the Juliska Country Estate collection for Thanksgiving/fall. I love it so. And I also love these bird plates.)
After last week’s reader Q+A, I received a flurry of follow up requests but one jumped out at me as worthy of its own post: the best gifts to give a girlfriend.
After feeling frustrated by the gift round-ups I’d seen online (no but who really buys those things for friends?), I wrote a long post on gifts I’d actually give for Christmas last winter, and I’d still stand by every item on that list as a good starting point for those of us who want to keep the price tag under $150 (often, under $100 and even under $50).
I’d add a couple of new discoveries to this list, though — almost all of them $100 or less:
+I love to give friends my favorite beauty products. I can be borderline evangelical about the things I love that work well for me and I want all my cronies to get in on the action. This year, my favorite new beauty finds that will probably find their way into the hands of loved ones at upcoming celebrations are: Ole Henriksen’s truth serum ($48) and LaNeige’s Water Sleeping Mask ($25 — a new discovery and I’m INTO IT). I haven’t yet tried Summer Friday’s Jet Lag Mask ($48), but people have been going bananas over it and it might also be a solid pick for a friend who follows the beauty circuit closely. (Ahem, my sister Eleanor.)
+Zojirushi thermos ($28). These are THE ABSOLUTE BEST thermoses for coffee. They keep your beverages piping hot all day and are a dream to drink out of (I like the design of the lip). I love to give really high-quality everyday products like these to friends. (Check the reviews!)
+Scout foldable travel bag ($40). I can’t stop talking about this bag for travel. It weighs nothing, packs up into a small square, and has come into heavy use on every occasion I’ve used it, whether standing in as a laundry bag, toting beach gear, or serving as extra packing space when we’ve bought too much on the trip.
+An Everlane cashmere sweater ($100). I’m sorry if you’re tired of hearing about this, but I can’t get over the price for the quality, and I love the colors. Plus — who wouldn’t love opening a box with a plush cashmere sweater inside?!
+J. Crew dreamy joggers ($69.50). Guys. Guys. Guys. These are magic. I never want to take them off. They are super soft and, though I love J. Crew’s dreamy pants as well, I like that these are cuffed and not dragging on the ground. Also: they have pockets, which prove startlingly helpful for schlepping my phone around while I’m carrying mini, a glass of water, etc.
+I’ve given a few friends Smythson notebooks for various milestone occasions, like this one for engagements (<< on sale for $56!) and this one ($75) for pregnancies. They are luxurious and highly useful for those of us who are listmakers — plus, a little splurge-y something that we probably wouldn’t buy ourselves. In a similar vein, I love the idea of monogramming this passport wallet ($95 with monogram — be sure to sign up for emails to score 10% off) for a frequent traveler.
+A little over the $100 target range, but my favorite straw box clutch from the one and only Pam Munson (<< read my interview with her here!) just went on sale for $132. I absolutely adore this clutch and think it would make the perfect gift for gal with feminine, preppy style.
+An engraved gold bangle. I love the elegant cursive they use! I can imagine engraving a term of endearment/nickname on one of these for one of my sisters. I actually just now convinced myself I need to order one with mini’s name on it! (Also — this would be a wonderful gift for a little gal or guy celebrating First Communion.)
+A monogrammed jewelry round. My mom gave me one of these years ago (I believe from Leontine Linens) and I still use it to this day. These are the kinds of things that surprise you with their utility — oh, so nice to have a place to stow my pearl earrings at night! Or, now I don’t need to throw my jewelry in a plastic bag when I travel.
What other gifts do you have in mind for your loved ones? Recommendations?
P.S. If your friend is fashion-forward, you might pick something from here or here. And if you’re looking for a teen, check out the suggestions here — including the excellent reader comments!
P.P.S. Cherished the comments on this post. I want to give each of you a big fat hug.
+These under-the-bed shoe organizers. I had to be realistic with myself — I just wasn’t taking the time to properly return and organize all of my shoes to shoe bags and sort them neatly in the bins in my closet. Instead, I would line my shoes up underneath my bed, which inevitably turned into a mish-mash of shoes and a lot of crouching down, searching for a missing mate. These organizers prevent my shoes from getting dusty or scuffed down there and also promote a good “return policy.” I just cannot let myself toss my shoes under the bed when this is a literal inch away from making my life that much neater.
+These spice jars. Oh the deep and abiding joy these have given me. I used to reach up into an overstuffed bin, fishing around between baggies and jars, never quite sure where I’d find coriander or ginger, never completely convinced that we were actually out of peppercorns. Now I have the spices organized alphabetically into two identical bins, and each jar is labeled on the top so it is easy to scan and find. (And can we stop and talk about the labelmaker?! It is pretty much a neat freak’s best friend. So delightful.)
+These utility bins. I use them throughout our storage closets to organize lightbulbs, batteries, dog stuff, etc. I like them because they are neat-looking, inexpensive, and easy to wipe down. I also use these little bins for smaller things like different sizes of batteries, pens, etc.
+Underwear organizer. So, so much better than reaching into a pile. #thingsorganizedneatly
+Acrylic shelf dividers. A brilliant, unobtrusive way to keep sweaters/t-shirts organized on a closet shelf.
+Drawer organizers. I could probably buy 50 of these and still find uses for them all. These are ideal for “junk drawers” (sort rubber bands, clips, pens, etc.), desk drawers, and bedside tables.
+Beyond the physical tools that help me lead a tidy life, I also have my own processes for staying sane when it comes to day-to-day tasks. I use a thick day planner (like my mom…)to map out my to-dos against the calendar date. To make sure nothing slips through the cracks, I’ll jot down things I want to remember to tackle in the future, i.e., if I make a return at J. Crew today, I will write down on one day next week to “confirm return” or “track package.” If I emailed someone today asking for something, I’ll add a note two or three days hence reminding myself to follow up. I’ll add reminders to mail rent, to renew cards, to place the monthly order for our pantry/linen closet from Google Express. This in turn frees up the space in my mind otherwise occupied by fretting about whether I’ll remember to do something, or whether that package actually got there, or when I need to send the rent check in.
+I use Amazon’s subscribe and save program for items I order every single month so I don’t even need to think about them: laundry detergent, diapers, wipes, kitchen gloves, soap. I just set it and forget it.
+Whenever a box/delivery arrives, I immediately unwrap everything and stow the contents, break down the box, and dispose of the packaging. You’d be surprised at how much space the wrapping takes up and how much extra clutter it can add to your home. And — Captain Obvious here — how much more configurable items are when they aren’t bundled together. (Especially true of things like bar soap, toilet paper, toothpaste.)
+When I had a more traditional job and the volume of email I received was daunting, I used canned responses in Gmail like it was going out of style. Using this tool, you can pre-write responses. This was especially helpful when I was in a sales cycle and had a very repetitive series of messages I sent out, but it was also useful in another sense: I am an inbox zero gal, and I cannot get anything done until I’ve whittled my inbox down to nil. The only items that will be in my inbox at any given time are “open” or “pending” matters, i.e., orders that need to be delivered, conversations that need to be followed up on, etc. This was horrible for my productivity, as I’d often prioritize clearing out my inbox over meatier items on my to-do list. So I came up with a canned message that said: “Thank you for the email. I’ll get back to you by Tuesday.” Then, when a new email would come in, I’d triage, either responding immediately if it was urgent or archiving it with the tag “Tuesday Follow Up.” I’d then clear my Tuesday afternoon, sit down with a latte, and respond to all of the follow up emails in my “Tuesday Follow Up” archive. This meant my inbox was empty and that I wouldn’t accidentally forget to follow up with someone. Voila.
+Finally, and I’ve written about this exhaustively, but the app Wunderlist has been a true life-changer for Mr. Magpie and I. Wunderlist is a shareable list app that exists in the cloud, meaning that two of us can update the same list simultaneously. Genius. We use it to keep track of grocery lists (so whoever is at the grocery knows what we need), household tasks, checklists before travel, etc. We especially found it helpful before mini was born, as there were loads of admin items we needed to divvy up and tackle. I also use my own personal lists on a daily basis to keep track of errands that need to be run and — often — blog post ideas I have.