Cooler weather! It’s around the corner! I’ve already been daydreaming about my fall wardrobe (P.S. – should I go for the Quant or the Kitty for my fall boot?! I love both of these brands so much. Also debating whether to do an animal print or go practical with black or even trendy white), but I’ve done a deeper dive on refreshing my sweater game in anticipation…
+This is very on-trend for a good price. I like it in the millennial pink color, but there are a bunch of options!
+I’m drawn to the dimensions of this cable knit. And what a fun color! I’m into that kelly green hue right now — I am also eyeing these fun slides in the same color (on sale!).
+A classic. I’d order a size up and wear with skinny jeans and some smoking shoes. I want to curl up in a window with a cup of coffee and a good book in that outfit.
+Speaking of classic — I adore this flag sweater from RL. It’s the perfect back-to-school look, even if you’re a decade out of school! I love the idea of it with dark wash denim or even white jeans and some loafers.
+One of my favorite sweaters from last year. So comfortable and breathable. Also a throwback — it looks like something one of the boys in Dead Poets Society might have worn.
+$100 cashmere in a rainbow of colors. Love the sophisticated look of a cashmere sweater with perfect fitting jeans and sharp flats. They’ll take you anywhere.
P.S. Before we let summer get away from us, you must consider these late-in-the-game additions: a $23 sandal that looks a helluva lot like something by The Row or ODLR (I cannot decide which color! Navy is so sophisticated and would look amazing with a white dress, but green! yellow! so fun!), and the chic-est little blouse I ever did see. Would look excellent with those slides in the navy!
P.P.S. Speaking of sweaters, I’ve wanted to buy Mr. Magpie one of these tuxedo bear sweaters for like twenty seasons in a row. Would look so adorable for a holiday party…AND, also, speaking of Mr. Magpie, I think he needs one of these classic Baracuta coats for the transition-to-fall.
By: Jen Shoop
If a song were to play every time you entered a room, what would you want it to be?
I’ve been musing lots on beginnings and endings recently, and so this was an entertaining diversion to undertake while walking Tilly the other afternoon.
I think that if you had asked me in my 20s, I would have wanted a hip-hop song, something with a serious beat and flashy lyrics. Something that would inflate me. I loved Outkast in college, mainly because Mr. Magpie did, and I probably would have wanted “Bowtie,” “The Way You Move” (it was, improbably enough, our song…), or “I’ll Call Before I Come” (yikes double entendre). Or maybe something from Kanye — I loved “Good Life,” “Flashing Lights,” “Amazing.” Or possibly something from Notorious B.I.G. There’s something to be said for the boldness of such an entry: here I am; don’t underestimate me.
But there would also be something humorously disingenuous about it. I was reminded of this when I watched the movie Tully the other day and the protagonist’s yuppy G-Wagon-driving husband and sister-in-law sit down to a chichi meal prepared by an in-home cook, saying: “Alexa, play some hip hop.” You’re meant to cringe or smirk when you watch the scene. So, too, might be the reaction if one of those hip hop anthems from the oughts blared upon my arrival.
No, nowadays, I’d want something different, something that is a truer reflection of me. Maybe a Van Morrison ballad — anything from his Moondance album, come to think of it, which is one of my most favorite albums of all time. Poetic, jazz-y, soulful, with the occasional blare of a sassy trumpet. Or maybe something by Madeleine Peyroux, whose voice sounds like honey and heartache. She sings in lilting French on occasion (listen to “J’ai Deux Amours”…) and, though contemporary, feels of a different era. Or possibly a heartfelt ditty from Lake Street Dive, whose song “Mistakes” is one of the only songs I’ve ever repeated several times in a row. (Are you a repeater?!) Yes: I’d want a song that leaves people thinking, whose lyrics are poetic and evocative, whose chords are wistful and hopeful all at once. The kind of song you think about — or emote around — for awhile.
What about you?
Post Scripts: The Shrimps Handbag and Other Finds.
+In the photo above and below, you’ll see the current street style It Bag darling: Shrimps’ Antonia bag. I love all these little boxy/basket-y bags that have been so en vogue of late. Such a throwback to the 50s. Will pillbox hats come back too?! You can get the look for less with this $70 steal!
+Does anyone else watch Southern Charm on Bravo? I have been very out of the loop on reality TV since mini was born, but I couldn’t sleep last week and stayed up watching Southern Charm. UM, Ashley is the devil. (!!!) My favorite personality is Chelsea — I like her down-to-earth, roll-with-it earnestness. And I also like her style, even though it’s very much not my own. She’s led me to want to wear ribbed knit button downs like this tucked into high-waist jeans (currently have my eye on these).
I feature a ton of amazing finds on the blog, so I thought I’d share some of my favorite purchases thus far this year:
+Bumble & Bumble Thickening Shampoo and Conditioner. I love the scent, feel, and aftermath of this shampoo and conditioning set. It truly works, and it leaves my hair soft and fragrant. Mr. Magpie and I will probably never switch to another product!
+SZ Blockprints Kitty Dress. So many of you have written to express equally rave reviews — but these dresses are the absolute best. They are comfortable, lightweight, chic, and versatile. I wear them while out in Central Park chasing mini, running errands, or just lounging at home. My mom mentioned that when she comes back from playing golf with my dad in the early evening, she doesn’t feel like putting together a whole new outfit — this dress is just the ticket. Casual, easy to throw on, stylish.
+Aerin Lauder Evening Rose perfume. This heady, floral scent makes me feel sophisticated and romantic. It smells like a rose dangling off a trellis in the moonlight in a garden party surrounded by candles and a live jazz band playing Ella Fitzgerald. AKA THE STUFF OF DREAMS.
+ProSource Accupressure Mat. Mr. Magpie uses this daily — sometimes twice daily. I’ve used it when I’ve had knots in my back or just need a release. Maybe the best $20 I’ve spent in a long while.
+Nicola Bathie Flower Earrings. I wear these constantly — they go with everything, and can elevate a straight-forward white blouse to a serious statement look. (Also adore these.)
+Outdoor Voices Dipped Leggings. So fun and different and chic — and such great colors! These do run very small, though — word to the wise.
+Lululemon Back Into Tee. You can’t tell from the way it’s styled on the site (blech, I’d never have bought it if I’d only seen it online!), but this is a super flattering and comfortable workout top. The sleeves are cut trim and snug but the body of it is flowy and relaxed. Love. I own it in the space dye color.
+Chanel Beaute Des Cils mascara base. This keeps selling out everywhere, and it is truly a wonderful product. I hate adding an extra step to my daily routine, but it’s worth it for feathery, full lashes.
+Golden Goose Sneakers. It sounds silly to spend so much on a pair of sneakers, but they’ve gotten a lot of wear and they make me feel just that tiny bit cooler when I’m wearing something straight-forward, like jeans and a button-down. They’re comfortable (a bit heavy, though) and stylish and I like them equally with jeans or a dress. (See how I style them here.)
+Invisibobble. A total upgrade from the Goodys I’ve used forever. These never fall out and don’t leave a kink in my hair. I’m also always shocked that they return to their original coil if you leave them out for ten or fifteen minutes.
+Acrylic Drawer Organizers. These are in virtually every drawer in my house. A tidy drawer does wonders for the mind — I’m not joking. I’ve turned into a complete believer in keeping things super organized and even labeled with my label maker. It simplifies life! Any shortcuts welcome…
+Rowenta Steamer. Powerful, easy to use, small enough to throw in a suitcase. If I’m really short on space, I use Crease Release, which does a pretty darn good job in a pinch.
+Kule striped tees. These are well-made, come in great colors, and are super soft. I like to layer them under joveralls or with a pair of chino shorts and my GG sneaks for a day of adventures with mini.
+Saloni dresses. I know I talk at length about this designer, but I absolutely adore each and every dress I own of hers (and I now own five I believe). The shapes are elongating and elegant — they somehow make me feel tall and I’m only five feet. My most recent acquisition is the Ruth Dress, which I wore on my anniversary and Mr. Magpie loved.
+Soda can organizer. A game changer for an often over-stuffed fridge. It just love having all of the cans out of the cardboard boxes, lined up neatly. This one is genius because it includes a top so you can stack additional cans on there or use it to stow other items.
Not purchased this year, but used heavily of late…
+Annabel Ingall tote and Parker Thatch tote. I use a Goyard bag as my diaper bag, but when the nanny is here or I just need to jet out on my own to walk Tilly or run some errands, I don’t want to have to unload everything, so I tend to just throw a few essentials into a spare tote, and it’s typically my Annabel Ingall or my Parker Thatch. These are such great bags. The Ingall is very well-made and comes in wonderful colors (mine is pastel pink). The Parker Thatch is heavy-duty canvas and looks so chic with my racer stripes and initials. I actually used the latter in the Hamptons quite a bit because I found it was easy to transport from a sandy beach to the chic eateries in Sag Harbor.
+Prada card case. If I am not traveling with the diaper bag, I’d prefer to pack just a credit card and ID and be on my way with this.
+Le Specs Sunglasses. I know I’ve featured these about 34008908 times, but I just love the styling of these affordable shades. I own pairs by higher end designers, but always gravitate towards these — possibly, if I am honest, because I know that if I lose them or they are scratched or crushed by my daughter, I won’t lose my mind…
+Essie Gel Couture in Rock the Runway (bright coca cola red) or Pre-Show Jitters (pinkish-white). This is not “gel” per se — but it lasts a good two or three days longer than the regular Essie formula, which is totally worth it. My salon has a great selection of all the gel couture colors, but these are my favorites.
P.S. These loafers for a little boy are TOO DARLING and such a good price! They look like they are from Tod’s! I also think this tutu dress in the gray/white combo is an affordable and darling little look for a mini ballerina…
P.P.S. Just ordered this. I think it will look super chic with a pointed toe loafer like this this upcoming fall. (Or get the look for less with these.)
By: Jen Shoop
My Latest Snag: Mini Golden Goose Sneaker Lookalikes.
I had to showcase another new pair of shoes I found for mini today (sorry for the trend): I had mentioned that I was sad that these Yosi Samra sneaks did not come in mini’s shoe size, and was therefore ecstatic to find Nicola Bathie point me in the direction of this precious pair from Zara (shown above on Instastory). Now she can coordinate with my Golden Geese.
+My new favorite hair tie. (P.S. – You all were right! I LOVE this thing. Also, FYI, one order on Amazon comes with THREE hair ties. I thought it was only for one and was thinking, “Better not lose this damn thing!”)
Earlier this week, you may have had trouble accessing my blog. This is because we were adding a security certificate to our site to add an extra layer of security and things became more complicated than they needed to be. Unfortunately, the installation process was beyond my own technical ken, so all I could do was sit back and wait for our developers to rectify the situation.
Having worked on technical products for three different start-ups, I know that site outages for various reasons are not uncommon. And I also know that though they are an inconvenience, many of us in the modern era have come to accept them as a routine, temporary happening: “Oh, that site’s down. I’ll come back later.”
And still I lay in agony. It was as though the basement of my house was flooded and there was nothing I could do about it. The feeling of possessiveness startled me: even though I knew we would be back up and running in short order, I felt a breathless, irrational anxiety.
Upon reflection, I realized that I felt this way because my blog is an extension of me, a space fitted to the contours of my evolving thoughts, sensibilities, experiences, fancies, aspirations, frustrations, failures. It is a mirror of me. It is my chronicle and my arbiter. So seeing an ugly technical error message serve up in lieu of the familiar look and feel of me – well, it felt horrific, like turning to look at my reflection and finding a robot in lieu of myself.
+This book looks delightful for those of us who enjoyed Princess Margaret’s character in The Queen.
+I’m super excited to read this book after one of my book club members (I see you, J!) raved about it. (I love a juicy bit of investigative journalism, especially on the topic of a potentially sociopathic female founder…!) Also, are you reading along with next month’s book pick?!
+I love this $24 Victoriana blouse in the white/ivory. Very Veronica Beard! I’d wear it under a pair of joveralls or with skinnies and a statement blouse.
+Might order a pair of these jammies and stow them away for mini while on sale!
I wrote a lot of papers in graduate school at a small white desk underneath a window in my “garden apartment” on R Street — “garden apartment” being a euphemism for “basement,” which, incidentally, I didn’t quite mind because it meant my best friend and I could afford to live in a stately Georgetown row house when we were young and undeserving of access to such high end real estate. My bedroom was in the rear of the house and it had a door that led out to a small, brick-lined backyard scarcely used by the proprietor, an elderly French woman who lived above us. I would occasionally find her teetering around out there with her caregiver’s firm grip on her arm, fussing feebly over herbs and plants in terra cotta pots, and I would avert my eyes and, if possible to do so stealthily, draw my blinds. She was warm though clouded in our admittedly limited interactions, but it felt wrong to encroach on her private tours of her backyard and — if I am truthful — it was uncomfortable to look upon her senility. There had been an afternoon when her caregiver had rushed down the steps and rapped on the door loudly — “Miss! Miss!” — in pursuit of help. Madame had fallen and she needed my help lifting her. I saw, too, the arrival and departure of doctors, of other elderly friends, of family members. There was a feeling of proximity to death.
Meanwhile, I would sit at that white desk under the garden window reading and writing. I regularly woke at six a.m. and worked, on an empty stomach, until nine or ten before breaking for breakfast. I was always at my best then, hungry and lucid and youthful. I would occasionally hear signs of life above: the dragging of a kitchen chair, something dropped, the muffled hum of voices. I would bite my lip at the sound of a thud, waiting anxiously for the attendant padding of feet after, hoping that I wouldn’t be left in a position to debate whether or not to run upstairs and check.
I noticed over the course of many such mornings that, with any written assignment, I tended to spend sixty or seventy percent of my time on the opening paragraph alone. Beginnings, it seemed, were the hardest. My preferred methodology was filling vacant sheets of gridded paper with notes and phrases in fits and starts until, suddenly, I would find myself in a flow, and the thesis would emerge in scrap form amidst a tumbleweed of observations. I would then craft the introduction and sit back in relief. The meat, the body of the argument was never a challenge. And I never gave much thought to conclusions — who cared? I’d re-state the thesis in some clever way, tie in a quote, and keep it brief. It was only the beginnings that gave me trouble.
Possibly owing to the predominant medium in which I now write (informal, diary-like blogging), beginnings no longer hold me up. I sit at my desk and go. (How do I have so much to say? Someone recently asked me this. I guarantee that you would be hard-pressed to find a woman of thirty four with less on her mind.) I now find myself struggling with the endings. Sometimes they are awkwardly clipped, their brevity in ungainly disproportion with the foregoing — and I don’t have the time to wordsmith a more elegant denouement. Other times they are too cutesy, pat and unconvincing. Sometimes they just peter out. Every now and then, I will write roundly to the end, and there is a wonderful feeling of intactness that follows.
I think a lot about writing. Sometimes I see it as an art, and other times as a kind of strenuous exercise, and still others as a utility. And sometimes, when I am feeling artful myself, I see it as a metaphor for life. Over the past few weeks, I have had occasion — unwanted, in a certain sense — to think about mortality. It started with this Cup of Jo post (read to the end), where she asks whether we have given any thought to how we’d like to be remembered when we pass away. Oh. And no, I have not. And then there was the Goop podcast featuring Dr. Lucy Kalanithi, a doctor who specializes in end-of-life care and who was also married to the celebrated author and neurosurgeon Paul Kalanithi, famed for his book When Breath Becomes Air, a memoir in which he grapples with the question of what makes life worth living as he faces terminal lung cancer. In the podcast, Dr. Lucy Kalanithi muses poignantly on grief, dying with dignity, and the medical protocols that can get in the way. In the midst of these encounters, my father called me and told me that his beloved aunt had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He had this to say: “I admire her. She is looking at it straight on. No woe-is-me. She is staring it straight in the face.”
I sit here and think of a young and naive me, struggling at beginnings and turning uncomfortably away from the specter of death living above me in that Georgetown row house on R St, and I see next to her a not-so-young and not-so-naive me rushing through beginnings and now lingering, faltering at the endings as they seem to crowd closer in. I have matured beyond the phase of averting my eyes, but remain nowhere near the strength of mind to stare an ending straight in the face. Despite having come to terms with the death of one of my best friends at the age of twenty five, I feel wide-eyed, perplexed, alternately lachrymose and angry when my mother says things like — as she did just the other day — “I have enough skincare to last four decades in my bathroom. When I die, you’re going to be overwhelmed by the bounty.” This is the season of life, I suppose — with young children, with aging parents, with the mounting weight of what we hear on the news and from friends and loved ones. I must begin to learn about — to borrow a phrase from Julian Barnes — the sense of an ending.
Post Scripts: Things I Want for My Home.
In case the above was as bit of a downer for a Friday morning (Eeyore over here), here are some new discoveries for home that I’m dying over:
+Still in love with my new Hinza totes. Guys, I use them for EVERYTHING and even debated shipping one to my mom but decided that it was a bit much and will just bring her one next time I see her. (When I love something, I want to buy it for everyone I know.) I’ve learned in the past week that they are perfect for shopping since they actually hold items upright and the bag doesn’t flop around everywhere. I also like the handle length because it hooks tidily onto my stroller (I love these hooks). They are also ideal for schlepping toys and gear to the splash pads around Central Park — easy to rinse out and wipe down after.
+I have heard really good things about these stepladders. They fold super slim and are actually attractive enough not to have to hide in a utility closet in case you want to keep it handy in the kitchen! I want the mint colored one!
+This could be so fabulous in the right living room. It’s very much not in keeping with our current style but I love it.
+Two cookbooks I’m eyeing: this one purely based on how great it would look on a bookshelf/coffee table, and this one, because I really miss baking. (More cookbooks you must own here.)
+Can you imagine how extra it would be to wallpaper a room in Schumacher’s Birds and Butterflies print (have loved this print for oh so long) and to accent with this wall sculpture?! I adore it.
+It is mortifying to admit that while I had every intention of keeping my shoes tidily organized in bins, I often end up sliding out of them and slipping them under my bed. I just bought one of these to accommodate the pile of underbed shoes.
I was wistful early on, in those bleary-eyed weeks of new motherhood, when it seemed that mini changed by the minute. Time was moving fast and slow; if I blinked, I’d miss a new expression, a first, a last. I am even now nostalgic, weepy for those newborn, birdlike squeaks and squawks, her angelic stupor when well-fed, her wide-eyed alertness at a new sound or a bright color or the crooning of my voice. In the movie Tully, one character says: “Kiss your baby goodnight — she’ll be different in the morning.” She was changing in realtime, and I knew it, and I felt a lump in the back of my throat when I’d creep away from her bassinet and pour myself between the sheets.
And then there was a string of weeks when we moved to New York and settled into a new life, when she was around eight months old, and I was flying by the seat of my pants. I was too worried about just making the basics happen — finding her a quiet place to sleep amidst hotels and our new box-clogged apartment, getting her into a new schedule, figuring out what new solids she might take, trying to decide when to wean, weaning, keeping her clothes and bottles clean when we were migrant and then without a dishwasher. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to linger long over the swift and cruel passage of time. I was moving at what felt like blinding speed. Everything had changed overnight, and I was too whiplashed and dizzied to think about my girl and how much she was still changing before my eyes. Maybe this was a kindness, a reprieve from the intensity of new motherhood weepiness and worries; I don’t know. Is it unseemly to turn to mush every other day, as I did on occasion in those early months?
And then, there was a parade of months where she learned to crawl and I learned how to care for a crawling baby, and then she learned to walk, and I learned how to care for a walking baby, and then she learned how to pull herself onto sofas and chairs and strollers and other generally precarious perches, and I am still lingering there, in the waves of don’t-be-too-anxious-let-her-learn and oh-my-god-please-just-get-down-from-there. These months have been fast and exhausting, and in many ways I feel like I’m swinging from monkey bar to monkey bar, just trying to keep up with my precocious (she can’t yet talk per se, but my, my is she expressive) and hilarious and endearing and brave and sharp little girl. (Does every mother to a 1.5 year old describe her own child in these terms, I wonder?)
But there is a returning wistfulness that pummels me with mounting frequency these days. I collected a bag of outgrown clothes to donate, and tears lined my lashes. I sorted through a bin of old toys to make way for new ones and — oh my, how have we moved beyond the Sophie days? I tilted my head to take her in the other day, leaning back lazily against the couch, her legs crossed at the ankles, looking more a thirteen year old than a seventeen month old, and I stifled a sob. I observed a mother sitting in Central Park with a baby girl who couldn’t have been more than a month old and I put my hand to my heart. “Oh,” I intoned gently, instinctively. The vision of them, their closeness, the baby’s newness. I could almost feel my girl of three weeks in my arms again. Her smell, her heat, her leaning onto me. The curl of her unhappy lip. The shock of her dark hair. The glitter of her curious eyes.
+This is currently my go-to water bottle for mini while we’re out an about. They’re super sturdy, the images on the sides don’t get easily scraped off, they’re mold-resistant, and they hold a lot of water, which makes me happy in these steamy August days. I think I have to buy a second!
+I mentioned recently that mini prefers utensils that she can use to actually spear her food — and just came across these! So fun and colorful! #Inthebasket
+Added this to my most recent Prime order. SunnyLIFE makes the cutest little gear. (How cute is this bib!?)
+Loving this sophisticated peplum turtleneck tunic! Would be such an easy spare outfit to throw into my diaper bag with a pair of black leggings for the inevitable spill/mess situation this fall.
+Mini is going to be attending ballet classes this fall (!) and I had fun revisiting all my picks for her here.
By: Jen Shoop
“Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.”
I stumbled upon this quote by food writer Clementine Paddleford the other week and have been carrying it around since. Like a spare coin in a winter coat pocket, I’ll turn it over now and then, reach for it in moments of idleness. Magpie-like, I cotton to its linguistic symmetry: the echo and reprisal of the bone. And I rather like the sentiment, too: we shouldn’t sit back and wish for things in situations that warrant action and mettle.
But would I be splitting hairs if I said that I disagree with its dichotomization?
Because I often think that hopefulness can be its own kind of courage.
A couple years ago, there was a terminal illness in my family. My sister called me one afternoon and said, “Would it be wrong of me to pray that she survives, entirely healed?” I paused, my heart in my throat. She added: “Can’t I pray for a miracle?”
It takes a beautiful kind of boldness to ask such a thing. It reflects an enormous faith, a staggering optimism. She knew, too, the odds.
I think also of the many entrepreneurs I have known who have dared to imagine a different way of doing things. Yes, what’s most often talked about is the doing in these stories, the backbone, as it were. We love to hear about the hustle, the late nights, the 234 closed doors before the one yes, the extreme sleeplessness and cold calling and ramen-eating. But we hear far less about the wishfulness at the dawn of such enterprises, the outsized ambition it takes to say: “I can imagine it differently. And out of this entire multi-billion-person world, I am the one who can make it happen.” Sure, this ambition can come from dark places — avarice, self-aggrandizement, self-promotion, jealousy, ruthless competitiveness — but it can also be borne of genuine curiosity, an engineer-like compulsion to improve a flaw or workflow, a desire to fix something. (One mentor told me that good entrepreneurs are always “looking for the duct tape,” meaning that they’re drawn to solutions forged haphazardly, temporarily, as there’s likely a better, sturdier way about it.)
I think finally of the toast my friend’s father gave on her wedding day. He said that when they brought her home from the hospital, they laid her on their bed and turned on a little music box that had been given to her as a gift. They gazed down at their beautiful, two-day-old daughter while “When You Wish Upon a Star” tinkled across the room, and they both cried. I have lingered long on the vision of their tender, fawn-like hopefulness as new parents, its shape so familiar and moving to me.
And so I know that I am taking Clementine Paddleford’s lovely sentiment and throwing darts at it, but in my final analysis, I pray that I am a woman of both backbone and wishbone, and that my daughter is the same.
Post-Scripts.
+My top pick for my fall boot has a kitten heel. I love that the kitten heel is en vogue right now, as it is highly practical for motherhood. I am drawn to the Alexandre Birman Kittie (this python is to die) or the Aquazzura Quant.
+Thinking I need these for the fall. I just noticed that Everlane’s cashmere joggers are also available (they were sold out for so long!) and am debating whether I need those, too. (Many of you have offered rave reviews!)
UPDATE ON 8/27: The in-person book club will now be meeting on 9/20 to accommodate Yom Kippur!
Howdy! First up: next month’s book will be Fatima Farheen Mirza’s A Place for Us. I was deeply compelled to select this book after Sarah Jessica Parker’s stirring, evocative description of it on a Goop podcast. I occasionally “hate listen” to these podcasts, but this one was a full-on love listen. I have such respect for SJP. She is articulate, deeply kind, self-aware, ingenuous, elegant, razor sharp. Her way with words is deeply moving. (You should follow her Instagram account, where the captions read like poetry.) SJP recently launched a new imprint under the Hogarth book imprint and Mirza’s novel is the first book she has published. Listening to the book’s provenance on the Goop podcast left me especially hungry to read it; I am normally blind to such backstories, and I found it thrilling. A young author fresh out of a prestigious writing program with multiple imprints vying to publish her book: what! And hearing SJP’s shockingly accessible and self-deprecating description of how nervous she was dealing with the author’s esteemed, blue-blooded agent and how surprised and fortunate she felt when Mirza “picked” her imprint after multiple extended conversations–it all reminded me of the principle lesson I learned while in the formal working world, which is that everything is personal in business. You cannot redact the human element in decision-making, even as it pertains to the most number-driven of transactions. At any rate. I was so tickled by the entire story, and by SJP’s loving stewardship of this book and this author, that I must read it. So that will be our September book club pick. Let’s plan on finishing by September 19th.
Local ladies: email me (jennifer@thefashionmagpie.com) if you’d like to be on the list for the next in-person book club. If you’ve already attended or expressed an interest, I’ll include you on the invite, so no need to email me. We’ll meet possibly for the last time this fall on Wednesday, September 19th, in Central Park at 7 P.M. Thereafter, we’ll need to come up with an indoors convening space owing to dropping temperatures!
Now, onto the reviews…
Book Review: My Cousin Rachel.
Four stars. This book was a fem lit thriller on steroids — the writing excellent, the plot tightly knit, the characters rich and round and curious, the narrative layered. I cherished the central conceit of the novel: DuMaurier’s inhabitation of the mind of a young, presumptuous 24-year-old at his first brush with love, sex, and adulthood. This move was nothing short of brilliant, as it enabled DuMaurier to make sly, pointed, and often hilarious commentary on misperceptions of the opposite sex. (At one point, Rainaldi tells an impressionable Philip: “A woman of feeling does not easily give way…their emotions are more primitive than ours.”) We watch as Philip comes to his own conclusions about “the way of women” — our impulsiveness, our moodiness — just as we watch him demonstrate the self-same qualities to extreme. (I also laughed out loud on multiple occasions during one visit to my nail salon as Philip described Mrs. Pascal’s “horselike face” and “hands like boiled hams.” DuMaurier completely nailed the boyish immaturity of the protagonist!
But, moving beyond the book’s genius mechanics, I also found the interwoven themes of ownership, inheritance, gender, identity, duplicity and duplicitousness, secrecy, illness, sex, and transgression a rich tapestry. It’s interesting to think about the plot stripped down to its basics: at its core, a widow deprived of an inheritance for reasons unclear; an inheritance in limbo until its heir comes of age; a dramatic re-gifting of the inheritance; and then a return of the inheritance to the original heir through an “act of God,” an accident, deus ex machina. In each of these stages, we go back and forth trying to determine whether Rachel has caused these happenings or not. Did she poison Ambrose? Did she fritter away his money? Or were these the confused suspicions of a dying man? And then: Did she manipulate Philip? Or was he a naive, lusty boy of 24 who might have fallen in love with any woman in such close proximity? And then: Did she poison Philip? Or, again, were those the fancies of an ill boy? All in, we watch “a man’s world” — inheritances, property, guardianship — dismantle itself at the feet of a bewitching woman who DuMaurier prevents us from fully knowing. She is always “shawled and secret,” behind a veil not just because she is in mourning but as a general proposition. She is maddeningly unknowable.
On its surface, owing to the spectre of the hanging criminal we meet in the first few pages, the book seems a cautionary tale against getting too caught up in the heat of the moment. Ambrose warns a young Philip: “See what a moment of passion can bring upon a fellow.” Of course, Ambrose later ignores this advice, instead chasing Rachel until his own ruin — and then Philip discards it as well, following in Ambrose’s footsteps. And so we are left to conclude that passion can be ruinous and in any case should not be trusted.
But there is more to this book, I think. There are insightful observations about the mechanics of relationships, about the perceptions and misperceptions of the opposite sex, about the unknowability and mystery of another person. Time and time again we find characters puzzling over one another, musing over facial expressions, misinterpreting body language, reacting to tones and subtexts. These passages were often the truest to me, the way we tenderly take in those around us, working to unpack the smallest cues and gestures. The novel’s many doubles, secrets, veils, and hidden lives place all of these very human negotiations in high relief.
Reading Questions: My Cousin Rachel.
+What do you make of the title of the book, and Philip’s use of the moniker throughout the novel? (Why not just Rachel? Why not cousin? Why not Mrs. Ashley?) Why not something more thematic (“Passion”)? Why not something geography based (“On the Estate”)? Etc.
+There are many instances in which items, property, etc. change hands in the novel: a hat of Ambrose’s left behind at the villa and gifted to Philip; the trunks of clothing belonging to Ambrose and redistributed to the townspeople; the strand of pearls worn by Ashley women gifted to Rachel and then rescinded; the property itself. What do you make of the book’s attentiveness to these transactions and exchanges?
+Rachel mentions offhandedly that her first husband, the Count, originally intended to marry her mother, but that she aged poorly and Rachel stepped in to wed him instead. Why do you think DuMaurier includes this detail? What’s going on with the theme of interfamilial, intergenerational relationships?
+Why did DuMaurier choose to write from the perspective of the young man versus Rachel? What was your reaction to this strategy, knowing — as we do — that the author is in fact a woman? Do we think that this book would have been as well-received today in the context of more highly contested identity politics?
+Why is Louise in the book?
Book Review: When Life Gives You Lululemons by Lauren Weisberger
Two stars. It was a light reading month for me. This was pleasant but forgettable — in fact, I can scarcely recall much about the book except for that I found, as one of you mentioned in book club last month, the invocation of the Miranda Priestley character an entirely gratuitous nod to Weisberger’s wildly popular Devil Wears Prada. The rest felt vaguely enjoyable in its label-dropping and can-you-believe-how-rich-and-bored-some-of-these-suburban-moms-are vibe. One thing I found interesting was the book’s treatment of working mothers versus stay at home moms, a topic never far from the mind or heart of any mother, regardless of what decisions she has made with regards to childcare. The plot implies that women with brains and drive should find some way to keep their professional identities alive in order to achieve a kind of balance — a takeaway at once optimistic and offensive. It was annoying, too, that it wasn’t the protagonist’s own agency that led her to find this new “balance” of home and work life; it was her husband’s furtive, behind-the-scenes maneuvering. I wish Weisberger had omitted that plot point, as the protagonist seemed intelligent and self-aware enough to come to such conclusions on her own. Instead, there was a sanitized regressiveness to the decision: “Oh, this is what’s happening because my husband approved it and arranged it for me — la ti da!” The more I think about this, the more my eyes glaze over. Yes, two stars.
Book Review: Something in the Water by Catherine Steadman.
Three stars. I was so bored by the first third of this book that I almost stopped reading it. Once the character gets to her honeymoon, though, we were off to the races and I was laying in bed feverishly turning the pages into the wee hours of the night. I even read a part of the book to Mr. Magpie aloud! Steadman can write some seriously gut-wrenching, anxiety-inducing prose; I don’t think I’ve ever reacted so viscerally to the poor decision-making of a character! I was biting my nails and gritting my teeth for entire chapters. For these reasons alone, I strongly recommend this if you’re into the thriller genre; this one is particularly cinematic (did anyone else love the scene where she shops at Chanel!?) and evocative. I took issue with the protagonist’s character in a recent #turbothot, but I found book’s take on criminality intriguing (spoiler alerts ahead). Steadman blurs the lines between good and evil and the legal boundaries that zigzag through both. For example, the gang leader (forgetting his name and too lazy to check) proves helpful — even kind and fatherly — when the protagonist is struggling to outsmart her sinister husband. And yet he has killed scores of people, including in his own home when his daughter was a room away. His daughter cleans her hands of him and sets out to live a straight-and-narrow life, but she is also quick to state that her father was “a good father” and ultimately reconnects with him. And so we are left to muse over what it means for a cold-blooded killer to simultaneously be a loving father. And then there is the confused arsonist who seems more caught up with the wrong crowd than truly evil — and an inmate who helps her mother commit suicide out of empathy with nary a bad bone in her body. We are even led to question the ethics of the protagonist, who contemplates running off with the bounty herself and leaving her husband high and dry. Are we supposed to think she’s no better than her husband? Or that because she decides not to run that she’s better than he is? Or that all humans have these impulses but some of us are able to suppress them? All in, the book makes its point a number of times, and loudly: we should be careful when categorizing people as criminals.
On My Reading List.
+Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn. The next thriller on my radar, currently available in an HBO miniseries as well!
+Small Admissions by Amy Poeppel. Because we are beginning to navigate the process of applying to schools in Manhattan.
+Battleborn by Claire Vay Watkins. I have long been fascinated by the literature and history of the American West, and this acclaimed selection of short stories engages with and reimagines its mythologies. Also, the author is my age (!) and has won a number of awards. Curious to check her out.
Post-Scripts.
+I am wearing this dress to book club tonight. Or, as of now, am planning to. (I occasionally succumb to Rachel-like fickleness myself. HA!) How can you resist that sale?! I am also contemplating this dress. Such a good price for such a lovely piece!
+Speaking of RT — this $80 stunner looks like it might be one. So elegant with that slightly puffed sleeve. Love!
+I mentioned at some point in the last week that we ordered these darling gingham blackout curtains for mini’s nursery — AND THEY WORKED! She is now sleeping until 6:30 or even 7. Hallelujah. We also considered these, which are precious and elegant all at once.
+Check out the incredible reviews on these pajamas! They look ultra-soft. I like the gingham. I think I might order them for a newly pregnant mama friend of mine! They look perfect for the second trimester and then for post-partum lounging and nursing.
Are you guys familiar with the Swedish Hinza bag? These multi-purpose plastic bags were originally designed in the 1950s by a Swedish plastics company and were wildly popular — until groceries began offering disposable plastic bags, and they fell out of favor. In 2006, the great grand-daughter of the family that had originally designed the bag decided to bring it back, and I’m so glad she did. I came across these bags at The Container Store and immediately bought two. They are chic, easy to clean, and highly versatile. I initially bought one to stow the thick glass half gallon milk bottles that we buy for mini and then return to the supermarket when empty. (There is a $2 bottle deposit on each!) They used to clutter our kitchen counter and I now love using my brightly-colored Hinza to keep them out of the way and organized. (It’s also easy to wipe clean and carry to the grocery!) I bought a second to stow mini’s bath gear — her shampoo, soap, bubbles used to line the rim of the tub, and her washcloths were stowed inconveniently in her bedroom. Now I keep everything tidy in one of these water-friendly tubs. I also think they’ll be highly handy for packing a picnic, stowing beach toys/gear, shopping at the farmer’s market (I like that these have structure to keep pints of berries upright!), toting flowers, or even just bringing treats and wine to a friend’s house at night. I’m in love. Do I need a third?! (You can also find different colors, sizes, etc. on Amazon but for a higher price.)
A couple of other organizational and home decor delights:
+These DKW storage containers. I mentioned that I recently organized all of my spices, and I bought a few of these to stow bulkier things like bay leaves and peppercorns.
+My label maker. Can we just talk for a minute about my thorough and abiding love for this contraption? (Also for some reason on sale for $25 right now — usually $60!). I bought this to help with spice organization (you guys, we have so many spices, including wildly obscure ones like tomato powder and cooking lavender and fennel pollen…!), and now I can’t stop myself. I’m OBSESSED with it. Originally I thought I might also use it to mark all of mini’s toys she brings to the playgrounds and parks (and her water bottles) because I’ve already had a number of things taken — likely by accident, as so many of us parents have the same gear. But then I found these darling labels and ordered them instead. (I also ordered a set for my godson!)
+For #extra moms (haven’t yet decided if I have the patience for this — if only I still had my old Singer sewing machine…): sew these personalized name tags into your kid’s clothing at school!
+I promise this is the last time I will talk about these (…maybe), but I bought a bunch of these to help with organizing our spices and our pantry/front closet, and they are absolutely perfect. Inexpensive, easy to clean, multi-purpose. And I may/may not have use the label maker to indicate which bin is for lightbulbs, which is for our dog’s stuff, etc. A true delight…
+I have been using these bento box tupperware for mini’s lunches out (and, occasionally, Mr. Magpie’s lunches, too). They are perfect — surprisingly sturdy (don’t warp), dishwasher-safe, and accommodating of mini’s often segmented lunches. Our new nanny takes mini out most of the day and prefers to feed her lunch al fresco, as a picnic in the park, so these ensure we can still feed her “normal food” versus resorting to only items that are easy to transport or pouches. (We stopped feeding her pouches around a year I would say, sticking only to finger food / diced-up versions of whatever we’re eating and have not looked back.) I saw another mom using these silicon liners to house grapes and raisins and other small snack-type things within her toddler’s tupperware, and I might follow suit. A fun way to make lunch special and keep everything contained.
+Separately, I’ve been hearing a lot of good things about these stainless steel bento lunchboxes. They’re trending like reusable straws are! Have you guys been hearing so much about those? I need to jump on the train and buy these.
+In France, I noticed that most of my classmates took notes on graph paper versus lined paper, and I was a quick convert. Hence — this drafter’s tablet is calling my name…
+Mini has been waking up between 5-5:30 most mornings this summer. We have tried everything — later bedtimes, letting her “fuss it out” in her crib in the hopes that she will learn to just go back to sleep or to preoccupy herself with toys, a bottle earlier in the evening to avoid an over-wet diaper in the morning, cooler room, warmer room, socks, no socks. She still wakes up between 5 and 5:30. Finally, we heeded my mom’s advice: buy blackout shades. And so we did — these — and I’m obsessed with them. They bring a little bit of her original nursery in Chicago back to life. (Sob — those gorgeous wallpapered walls…) We’re only one night in, but she slept in until 6 today. I’ll take it. Worth every penny! (Also, do I need these tiebacks?!)
+I don’t know if it’s just mini’s age and activities right now or what, but I’m constantly looking for pouches/bags to contain things — like wet swimsuits, crayons, alphabet cards, her doll accessories, etc. A couple of organizational solutions: have and love this wet/dry bag (it’s always always in my diaper bag — incidentally, I think I’m going to start gifting this to all new moms to be!), these reusable snack bags (available in cute kid-friendly prints here), and these reusable bags (I currently use one for mini’s toothbrush and toothpaste, which we keep in a drawer by her high chair so we remember to brush after dinner).
Last week, I took mini to Tisch Children’s Zoo in Central Park and — though I felt stylish in one of my SZ Blockprint caftans — felt a touch bored with my look after observing a chic pea wearing this Zimmerman dress with these Gucci sneakers as she steered her son through the petting zoo. The entire ensemble wasn’t exactly me (those Guccis are a little loud, but they are fierce!), but I liked the frivolity of a floral dress with sneakers and thought: “Well, now. Let’s dust off those Golden Goose kicks and get to work.” I’ll be taking cues from Simply Jules above.
(Aside: try as I might, I cannot get behind the t-shirt-under-a-strappy-dress trend. Too Rachel Green.)
I’d wear any of these dresses with my Golden Goose sneaks, but if those are too pricey, consider a pair of chic Vejas, a French label with mounting popularity that cost a fraction of the price. (You can see them on the second chic pea above.)
Also “out on a limb” for me: I am loving the boxy neckline and puffed sleeves on this look from Arielle Charnas’ new collection for Something Navy (due to be released soon). It feels simultaneously Victorian and modern and I love it — feminine, fashion-forward, yet easy to wear. In anticipation of the line’s launch, I’m gravitating towards similar styles, like this elegant linen blouse, this floral Amanda Uprichard (very into the smocking), and this dramatic Reformation style.
I’m also teetering dangerously on the edge of ordering a pair of Birks if you can believe it. These in the metallic copper are incredible. Imagine with this muu muu. WHAT. It’d be like a whole new (boho-chic) me. I need to sleep on the look for a day or two before I take the plunge, as its so wildly out of my comfort zone! (More on the modern muu muu look here.)
I just discovered the children’s shoe label L’Amour and immediately fell in love with their traditional styling. I ordered a pair of Ruthie t-straps in navy for mini’s fall wardrobe (with this or this and a big white bow?! COME ON!!!). I absolutely love the tear-shaped perforated design on them; they remind me of something I wore as a child. I’m also eyeing the Ollies in understated brown and the Joys in soft pink. Separately — I wish they made these Yosi Samra sneakers in mini’s size! They’re like tiny Golden Goose sneakers!!! So saucy and chic!
You’re Sooooo Popular: The Woven Clutch.
The most popular items on Le Blog this week:
+A heavily discounted, super chic clutch. I have it on good authority from one of you Magpies that this clutch in particular gets a lot of heavy use once in a closet!
+Mini’s new eating utensils. I don’t know why but she absolutely loves them. I think it’s been nice for her to graduate from dull plastic tines to metal ones that can legitimately spear food.
+VERY excited about this hair band currently en route to me thanks to many rave reviews from you all!
#Turbothot: The Problem of the Unreliable Female Narrator in Pop Lit.
For the past few years, I’ve been devouring the stream of pop lit thriller novels that started with Gone Girl and have included home runs by Ruth Ware, Shari LaPena, Paula Hawkins, and the like. I just flew through Catherine Steadman’s Something in the Water (full review pending, but I could not put it down once I got through the slow-moving first third, if that’s indication enough for you to snap it up — and p.s. are you reading along?!) and have Sharp Objects next on my list owing to its imminent release as an HBO series. As I was reflecting on this female-centric thriller genre, much of which centers upon infidelities, lies, and deceptions between lovers and spouses, it dawned on me that many of these novels place an unreliable, unstable woman at their core. Yes, the men are more often than not duplicitous scoundrels, prone to violence and greed. But the women, while they tend to emerge triumphant within the context of this genre’s plot structures, are deeply problematic to me. They are often plagued with deep anxieties, substance abuse issues, breakdowns, and personal traumas. They tend to be overly nervous, prone to passing out, dyspeptic, neurotic, and occasionally insomniac.
Unfortunately, these mental health issues are not conjured with the level of sensitivity they deserve: instead, they become “othering” factors within the mechanics of the book, a means to instill a sense of doubt in the reader. “But did she really see that?” I wonder. And, “But is she lying to me right now?” This was especially true in the Steadman book, where the narrator’s cringe-worthy actions left me scratching my head, questioning the protagonist’s motives and character, and doubting her version of the narrative. There are points in the Steadman book where the narrator speaks directly to the audience, breaking the fourth wall, and her tone is often playfully self-implicating, along the lines of: “But why would I do that, right?!” And I sit there, staring back at her, eyes narrowed in suspicious scrutiny.
There’s something unsettling about the prevalence of this persona in modern pop lit. It’s as if we’ve revived (or maybe we never let die) the trope of the hysterical woman from days of yore — that woman whose powerful emotions and various physical and emotional distresses rendered her dismissible, insane, pathological. (The word hysteria comes from the Greek word for uterus, and so there was a linking of the female body to a psychological disorder whose symptoms included anxiety, shortness of breath, fainting, insomnia, irritability, nervousness, and sexually forward behavior. Sound familiar?!?! Cf. all of the books referenced above.) Interestingly, there’s a lot of overpathologizing going on in other female-centric media right now, including, most notably, Goop, whose predominant message seems to be: you are riddled with toxins! you are besieged with anxieties! you are “less than,” impure, dried up, and need to cleanse your life! Basically, we are all one doctor’s visit away from some kind of jaw-dropping diagnosis. (See this turbothot. I loved all of your comments on this, BTW!)
What is going on here with the linking of the feminine body, vague somatizations, and unreliability? I can’t quite put my finger on the narrative that’s being built, but these thrillers and media outposts like Goop have a disturbing edge to them in their casting of the psychosomatics of the modern woman.
At the same time, it must be observed that the female figures often “win” in these books — and that Goop’s ethos is more about agency and empowerment (“go out and change your life! take herbs, exercise, think! and above all, speak your truth!”) than it is about suppression and silence. In the books, the female protagonists triumph over the pernicious men in their lives, exposing their infidelities and duplicities and often “one-upping” them. And they often use their own cunning and physical grit to do so — that is, they rally their female bodies and female minds to counterbalance the threat of the evil male overlord.
So: what are we to make of this? What say you?
#Shopaholic: The Gucci Princetown.
+The Gucci Princetowns are STILL in vogue. I was worried when I bought them two years ago that they’d be a flash in the pan, but I’m still drawn to them, they remain chic and not-played-out, and they continue to be released in epic new colors and prints. I’m in love with this blue and white floral situation (paired with jeans and a simple white blouse?!), and these raffia ones are pretty chic, too. But mainly I want these fur trim ones in navy velvet. My brother-in-law once saw them and said they looked like there was a dead squirrel dangling off the back of the shoe, but…the heart wants what it wants.
+Now this tiered dress is darling. I saw it and I thought it would look so adorable as a maternity style! (No, I’m not pregnant, but I still find myself occasionally thinking about things from that lens because I found it so darn hard to dress while pregnant! I lived in David Lerner leggings (THE BEST — worth the splurge), Gap maternity tees, chunky knit cardigans, and my Princetowns (no bending over to buckle required! — see above).
+I was excited to see select pieces from designer Cecilie Bahnsen now carried by Nordstrom! I love her dramatic shapes and sizes and mentioned my interest a couple months ago when I first found her. (<<Incidentally, I re-read that post and wanted to buy, like, all of the items in it.)
+Taking a final end-of-summer trip? This is the time of season where I’m not interested in spending a ton of money on anything new as I know it will have a short lifespan. This breezy cabana striped maxi is the perfect solution at only $20. I’d wear on the beach, to cocktails, or while shopping. It reminds me of Caroline Constas!
+The Tot is having an incredible sale on darling traditional clothing like this La Coqueta set (which mini owns!), this two-piece set (currently in my cart), and this stunning Amaia dress, which I believe to be the dress Princess Charlotte wore to her brother’s christening. (More traditional clothing ideas along these lines under pick no. 4 here.)
+These acrylic lidded boxes would be a chic way to organize knick-knacks like hair ties or paper clips — or candy even! — in an office or on a bureau. They look like Jonathan Adler!
+DYING over this stylish dress. Very 1940s, reimagined through the lens of 2018.
+I’ve been talking about organizing our overflow of spices for ages. We tend to buy our spices in bulk from a spicerie that sells them in plastic bags, which is space-saving but also next to impossible to keep organized. I finally have all of the pieces I need in order to organize EVERYTHING. A couple dozen of these, a label maker, and a stack of these (which people rave about for — everything. Inexpensive! Easy to clean! Stackable! And infinitely usable under sinks, in closets, above laundry machines, etc.) My plan is to open a bottle of wine, blast some music, and transfer all of my bulk spices into these glasses, label them on the top, and then organize the bottles alphabetically in different bins (i.e., A-F, G-R, etc.) I’ll keep all of the leftover bulk baggies in a separate bin higher up / harder to reach for periodic refills. WOOOOOO KONMARI. One of you lovely readers (hi, A!) recommended this nifty spice storage contraption and I seriously considered it but it just won’t work for us because our spice shelf is too high for me to reach, and I’d need to lift that entire caddy out each time I’d need a spice. I think it’s easier to have the flimsy bins to slide out as needed. BUT. Read the reviews!!! People love that thing!
I don’t think I can wear anything that falls too far above the knee anymore.
It’s not that I hate my legs or feel that my knees look wrinkly or old. (Yet.) It’s not that I don’t occasionally gravitate towards minis as a style. It’s that I was walking down Broadway the other day behind a fairly well-preserved woman who might have been in her 70s, and I looked down and noticed she was wearing a romper. Part of me wanted to throw her a ticker tape parade or honk a phantom horn in approval.
“You do you! You go on with your bad self!”
But the other part of me thought: “Please don’t let me dress like I’m 25 when I’m 75.”
Hence the recent ban on above-the-knee styles. And though I’ll dabble in trends like Golden Goose sneakers and frayed sweaters, by and large, I am now fairly firmly in the camp of dressing my age, which, for me, typically means dresses paired with elegant sandals and flats — something like my new shirtdress (in the navy?) with these elegant mules or these Chanel lookalikes (on sale for $59 in select sizes!!!)
I’m also taking major cues from the black-and-white-clad street style babes shown above and below:
Interesting shapes and silhouettes, clean lines, and all in high contrast colors.
Below, a couple of pieces that make me feel like a woman of thirty four. Note that while there are some high-end pieces in there, many are under $150 or are seriously discounted!
P.P.S. I’ve been collecting questions I’ve answered over direct message and email for another Q+A like this one, so email me or leave a comment if you have a fashion/shopping inquiry!
