By: Jen Shoop

*Mini is wearing a Sal E Pimenta swimsuit (they run small FYI) above and is playing with her beloved ice cream sand play set, which has been the object of affection of many other children in Central Park.

It’s been awhile since I did a proper milestone post on mini.  She is now 18 months (sob/high-five) and, though I’ve said this about every phase of her life, I really love this stage.  I hope other moms can relate when I say that every new phase is slightly terrifying at the start — terrifying in a way that can leave me wondering: “Oh my God, how am I ever going to get anything done anymore?”  I felt that way when mini started staying awake longer and longer when she was maybe three or four months old.  “Oh my God, I was so used to the old routine of eat-play-sleep that I’m completely out of sorts!  When will I take my shower now!?  When will I have a minute to just be on my own?”  And then, when she started to crawl: “Holy. Crap.  How.  Do. Moms.  Do.  Anything.”  And then, when she started to walk: “Oh good Lord — we live in a death trap.”  But gradually the learning curve levels out and you figure out how to shape your life around your daughter’s newfound skills, and life goes on until the next big thing arrives and throws every semblance of routine and calm out the window.

But right now, at just over eighteen months, we are in a delightful groove.

Mini is sturdy on her feet and increasingly resilient when she does tumble.  She has learned to play happily by herself.  She enjoys sitting and turning the pages of her books.  She loves to color.  She spends long stretches of any given day setting up her tea set at the table, arranging the plates and spoons as she likes them, seating her dollbabies next to her.  Many of these activities require far less supervision than they used to: she no longer eats the crayons, or rips the pages of her books (well, not often), or looks at me helplessly when she can’t retrieve her stacking toy from the toy bin.  She is clever and determined and I’ve often observed her discover that something won’t work one way, and so she tries another tack, all on her own — like the other afternoon, when she was trying to spear a chunk of pear with her fork and it kept sliding out of her way.  After the third or fourth attempt, she paused, turned the chunk of pear to the broadside, and speared it effortlessly.  I was so proud of her for her silent dedication, for her ingenuity.

I love this age, too, because she has begun to communicate with us verbally.  She tries to name everything: birds (which she pronounces “beeyyyyurds” kind of like she’s Australian?!), dogs, berries, cheese, eyes, nose, feet, dada, mama, book, baby, Moana, Gigi and Mimi (her grandmothers’ names).  She babbles all day long and most of the time I have no idea what she’s saying.  I love the wide-eyed, earnest look she gives me as she prattles along as though I should understand her — “mom, get with the program, don’t you see what I’m saying?!”.  She understands everything we say, too; I’m constantly surprised by her ability to follow multi-step commands, like: “Can you get the crayons and bring them over here?”  And she walks over to the bin, pulls out the pencil box filled with crayons, and brings them back to me.  Or “Have you seen baby Lulu?”  And she’ll wander around looking for Lulu — even once crouching to look underneath a bookshelf! — until she finds her and brings her to me.

And, did I mention that she’s exceptionally affectionate right now?  She’ll run over and throw her arms around my knees when she’s been out of the house for only a few minutes.  She’ll kiss me on the mouth in the morning.  She’ll say my name in a happy sing-song voice — “Mama!” — when she sees me emerge from the bedroom.  She’ll rest her head against my shoulder when I carry her.  She’ll blow me kisses goodbye.  These are the tendernesses that make motherhood.

So — yes, we are in a love valley where things feel decidedly easier than they did just a couple weeks ago.

Of course, there is always a tradeoff.  Whereas I feel that she has become more self-sufficient and a little less physically demanding at this age (at least at home — outside the house, she is exhausting to keep up with), she is now keen on testing our limits at every turn.  At Church last Sunday, as we walked up and down the vestibule, she noticed an open door and stepped cautiously outside and then looked back at me for a reaction.  I did not respond.  And so she stepped further, and further, until she was nearing the set of stairs that descended to street level.  I walked alongside her and pointed to the gold sill at the base of the doorway.  “Do not cross this line,” I said.  “You can walk up to it, but do not cross it, or you will fall down the stairs.”

You can guess what she did next.  She crossed the sill immediately and looked at me daringly.

It’s really really really hard not to laugh in these moments.  Let me revise that: it’s really really really hard not to laugh or cry in these moments, because her audaciousness is either hilarious or maddening, depending on how many times I’ve set the boundary in a given day.  I gave her a stern look and took her hand to help her back onto the right side of the sill, and then we engaged in a battle of the wills for a few minutes until I distracted her with a visit to the shrine of Saint Mary.

My parents have passed along only one bit of unsolicited parenting advice, and it is this: “Say yes as often as you can, so that when you say no, they know you mean it.”

This is the age where I understand why this approach is important — and how difficult it is to pull off.  Mr. Magpie have tried to keep rules to a minimum, and to be consistent about enforcing them.  But it is hard, guys!  It is really hard.  It requires patience and attentiveness and it can be so much easier to say “No, don’t do that” or to remove her from a situation wordlessly or to tumble into frustration.  One example: mini loves to smear her food all over her tray and throw it onto the ground.  It drives me bananas.  It’s a waste of food and it makes a complete mess, and more times than I care to admit, when I’m on my hands and knees picking up the mess, she will toss something else onto my head and I’ll just think, “My God, what am I doing?”  I had a long internal debate over how to react to this.  Do I tell her “no” and discipline her?  Do I ignore it and hope she stops?

In the end, I did a kind of combination of all things, but I never said “no”; I’m saving my “nos” for bigger fish.  Instead, I try to keep tabs on where she is in her meal.  The food-throwing usually takes place once she’s bored or finished — so when I see her slowing down, I intervene early: “All done?”  Or I remove most of the remaining food except for a few bites.  If she eats those bites, I’ll continue to dole out additional food in small increments until she’s done.  If she does manage to swipe her food everywhere before I’ve noticed these cues, I say the same thing every time in a shrugging voice that (hopefully) masks the frustration boiling internally: “Oh, no.  That’s too bad.  Dinner’s over, I guess.”  And I clear all her food, even if she’s not had much of it.

I do this because we are trying to save our nos for things we truly care about: hitting, biting, turning the electronics in our house on and off, and pulling on electric cords.  Those are things we will not tolerate, and she knows it, though she will test us from time to time.

So yes, this is where we are: in a good groove, and yet constantly tested.  Who else is navigating this territory?

Post-Scripts. 

+Our favorite gear right now.

+We’ve decided to bring mini’s activity center out of retirement, as it converts into a toddler table (#genius — this toy truly grows with the child!), and I know mini will far prefer coloring on it.  I’m going to buy one of these to organize some crayons and stickers in so she can color to her heart’s content. I’ll keep the rest of her arts and crafts stuff in here.

+We’re still working to move away from the bottle to a sippy cup for milk.  We’ve successfully separated milk from bedtime (woohoo!), but this is the last challenge.  One day, she took her milk out of one of these Nuk sippy cups no problem but the next day, she was adamantly against it.  I did buy these for when she’s ready.

+Mini’s favorite books at the moment.  I would add this to the stack, and I keep this in my purse — she adores it!

+I noticed that mini enjoys removing all the duplos from the bin and then, one by one, placing them back inside.  The same for crayons.  She’s dialed in on the organization element of it.  Everything goes out, then goes back in.  (I wish the same were true for her toys more generally, but alas, they consume our apartment.)  My mom found this sorting/stacking toy and mini LOVES it.  She hasn’t quite yet mastered the difference between colors, but she does enjoy taking them off the peg and putting them back on, moving them around, etc.  Really good buy.  I also thought about buying these inexpensive colored clothespins and a few little bins in different colors so she could sort them by color but I think that’s a little too advanced for now.

+My favorite post on motherhood.

+I am taking a solo trip to DC with mini in two weeks, and I’m already getting organized for it.  It won’t be a big deal — just a few hours by train — but I’m trying to plan out activities to keep her preoccupied.  (Also, this will be clutch.)  I bought her a new book, this Pooh coloring and stickers set (she will flip), and I’m dangerously close to buying this hideous set.  Mini’s favorite activity is going through my purse, removing everything from each pocket, and taking all the credit cards out of my wallet.  I think she’ll get a kick out of it.  I also recently discovered these darling peg doll sets and think she would love the little set with the car — but am I nuts to bring something like that on a train???  Bound to get lost…

+Don’t you grow up in a hurry.

 

By: Jen Shoop

First up: next month’s book club will be Madeline Miller’s Circe.  This book is getting all kinds of buzz.  The premise is compelling: it’s a retelling of the story of the mythical goddess Circe, a powerful though ancillary character we know from The Odyssey.  We’ve read up and down the genres so far in this book club: a blend of fantasy/sci-fi/something else in All The Names They Used for God, memoir-ish (?? can I stake that claim?) in Florida, mystery/thriller in My Cousin Rachel, and family-centric drama novel in A Place for Us.  Reading a modern-day interpretation of a myth should be interesting.  (And I’m course intrigued by the re-framing of a narrative around the female experience.)  Let’s plan to finish by October 23rd.  In-person book-club members: stay tuned on location for our next convening; I have a feeling it will be too cold to convene in Sheep Meadow!

Book Review: Fatima Mirza’s A Place for Us.

Four stars.  This book is triumphant in its representation of the minutiae of family dynamics, the small nothings and not-nothings that we exchange and share together, the minor events that turn major in our memories (and vice versa), the experiences that shape our perspectives of one another and impair or enhance our relationships.  I found myself nodding along — yes, yes!  I have felt that before!  That, exactly that!  There was a piquant truthfulness to everything she wrote: it was all wholly believable; nothing felt shaped by authorial intent or plot convenience.

I could not award it a fifth star, however, because I found the place glacial to the point of tedious.  The entire fourth section of the book is a string of memories and snapshots told from the perspective of the father and while it brings the book full circle, I found myself skimming sections, exhausted by the recursiveness: “Oh no, not another: One day not long ago, Baba had…”  At some point, the layering of small memories felt excessive, even dull.  I hate to admit it, but at some point, I went from exulting in the everyday-ness and relatability of the story and its characters to pondering, “OK…what’s so special about this family?  This is the picture of any family, or every family, and while I get the intent here — we’re all so similar, yes! — at some point, the portrait has lost my interest.”  There’s a scene in the fourth part where the father is looking in through the window of the kitchen, observing his family preparing for dinner.  There was absolutely nothing remarkable about the scene, or about the writing, and I just thought: “This is kind of like watching reality tv, but for someone totally uninteresting.”  (Eeesh, sorry if that’s harsh.)

All that said, I do think that Mirza achieves something miraculous in the summation of this book: she proved to me just how similar a Muslim family is to a Catholic one, or, I would imagine, to a Jewish one, to a non-denominational one, to an atheist one, etc.  I wrote about this point in my essay on siblinghood (#sob), but the book demonstrates that we are more the same than different: our families experience the the same clashes, the same anxieties, the same issues of togetherness and exclusion and  identity and independence.

Fatima Mirza’s A Place for Us Discussion Questions.

+Why do you think Mirza uses the third person omniscient in this book, until the final chapter, which is told solidly in the father’s voice?  (Third person omniscient is the narrator is able to penetrate the thoughts and feelings of all of the characters in the story.)  Why not first person from one character’s perspective, or switching between perspectives in each chapter?  What does this achieve?  And why the shift at the very end?
+What did you make of the title?
+Which character did you relate to the most, and why?  Were you empathetic to all of the characters, or were some of them more difficult to like or accept than others?
+Why did Mirza jump around in chronology?  What was the effect for you as a reader?  Specifically, think about Amar’s campaign for a pair of fancy running shoes.  Why was it told as it was?
+What did you feel about the gender dynamics in the book?  How were women treated, both by the author and by the characters themselves?

Next Up on the Reading List…

+Juicy nonfiction: Currently reading this and it is SCANDALOUS.  I actually wanted to nominate this book for October book club but generally feel that non-fiction books make for tough conversation in a book club forum.  Fiction works better in my experience.

+Juicy fiction: Underwriting by Michelle Miller.  Described as “a tantalizing glimpse into the boardrooms and bedrooms of six young hopefuls behind a Silicon Valley IPO that will launch them into the exclusive world of the über-wealthy—if it doesn’t destroy them first. Each of them is looking for success, but they may have to nail more than the deal to get to the top.”  Um, yaaaas.  This will be brilliant coming off the heels of Bad Blood.

+Serious writing: There There by Tommy Orange.  The story of “twelve unforgettable characters, Urban Indians living in Oakland, California, who converge and collide on one fateful day.”  There has been (in my opinion) a resurgence of interest in the contemporary West and its complicated history with Native Americans.  This seems like important reading.

Post Scripts.

+I am absolutely dying over this striped/belted shirtdress.  Perfect for work and it has such a fab Gucci vibe, but rings in at under $100.  YAS.

+Love the color of this elegant wool coat.  Feels like it should be worn with this, a la a Hitchock heroine!

+

+Speaking of Hitchcock heroines, love this linen shirtdress.  So Grace Kelly!  Would look great with the top handle bag above and these penny loafers.

+Love the “night night” embroidery on these jammies.

+Swooning over the elegant bedding from Angela Wickstead.

+An elegant silk shantung blouse heavily discounted!  Would look so lovely with white/cream pants or skirt.

+I absolutely adore this pleated white swing dress.  Would look so smart with a pair of Gucci loafers.

+We need more storage in our shower, but I had thought the configuration of spigots/nozzles would make it impossible.  Then I found this.

+Literary life raft.

By: Jen Shoop

“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

This is the kind of benevolent platitude that I typically shy away from when I see it posted on social media, usually because it implies a kind of distasteful virtue signaling on the part of the poster.  But I came across the quote above the other day and thought, “Hm.”

How do I make people feel, I wonder?

One of my favorite elements of our September book club pick (full review + discussion questions coming tomorrow) is the way Mirza subtly reveals how our loved ones can occasionally know us better than we know ourselves.  In one passage, the long-time object of Amar’s affection comments: “…I knew you from when you came over and I’d liked you for years.  How you were good in a way unseen to them, to yourself, even.”  The notion that someone might apprehend something about you that is “unseen to yourself even” reminded me of the time my sister tucked a note into my suitcase when I was first leaving for France.  It was long and hysterical and it made me snort with laughter, distracting me from the homesickness already throbbing inside–and it occurred to me how she’d known what I’d need well before I had: a vestige of home, a familiar voice when I was feeling alone.  And then there was a time when my mother casually explained the difference between my brother and I when it came to academics.  We were both high performers, and, one evening, while packing lunches and praising us both on our report cards, she commented: “You know, Tommy needs to crush everything — to master what he’s learning and completely dominate the topic so that there’s nothing left he can’t know.  You, on the other hand, you need to sit in a topic, wrap your whole mind around it, and finesse what you’re learning.”  I’ll never forget those visuals, or the lowkey observational brilliance she displayed in communicating them to me.  The conversation forever shaped how I perceived my own epistemology, my movements and patterns as a student absorbing the world around me.  And how true it was, too — it was never enough for me to simply recite the fact or state the date.  I also needed to be able to put it in context, explain the theory behind it,  grasp where and how that fact or that theorem had come to be.  My mother had quietly observed these truths and shared them unassumingly while slathering peanut butter across five pieces of wheat bread.  Ho hum, she seemed to say, I see everything about you, even the things you don’t see in yourself.

But, more pressingly apropos of the question above — how do I make people feel? — I recall a recent conversation with my father in which he told me that, as a mother, I “ran cool.”  I will forever cleave to this compliment, though I’m sure it was not intended as such.  I’m certain my father expected me to nod with self-awareness: ah, yes.  I do run cool.  But it came as a surprise to me, this appraisal.  And I remember studying myself in my daily interactions with mini for the next few days: Is this what running cool means?  What would the alternate reactions be?  What did I do to earn the status of “running cool”?

And so I similarly puzzle over how I might make people feel.  If I was unable to see myself as a mother of equanimity before it was pointed out to me, I am at a loss in this regard.  But I can tell you this: the query has led me to be more intentional in my interactions with others, as I know how I would like to make people feel.

I hope that when people remember me, they think: “She was kind.  She listened.”

I don’t want to be called “nice” or “agreeable” — too bland — and I already know I am too far afield from a more laudable designation like “She was a woman for others.”  (I’ll leave that accolade for my deserving sister.)  I’m sure many would love to be remembered as “full of life and energy” or “never far from a laugh” or “of the strongest morals and values” or “the most adventurous spirit.”  These are lovely tributes all, but they aren’t me.

Me?  I’d like my legacy to be one of kindness and empathy.  A snapshot of sisterliness.   And so I must get to work achieving that impression, an imperative that has made me highly aware of my daily interactions — with the porter who carries our trash down for us (God bless him); with the cashier at the bakery around the corner, who always greets me with a “good morning, mama”; with the gruff receptionist at the doctor’s office.  I’d like them all to think: she listened; she cared.

What about you?  What would you like your legacy to be?

Post-Scripts.

+I have a couple of events coming up that require a more sophisticated, conservative look.  I am majorly swooning over this Reiss dress, which I saw in the window of their shop and stared at.  I’d love to wear it with my ivory rockstud flats.  Certain styles of the rockstuds feel a little passe but I still love these flats.  They are elegant and edgy and they go with everything.

+I’m not normally into the bodycon fit and flare dress, but that Reiss number completely whet my appetite for the style and left me looking longingly at this Missoni (with black flats and a low bun?!) and this oversized bow dress.  Who am I?!  Will I also started wearing gold hoop earrings?!  But they’re REALLY good.

+This Hunting Season bag just shot to the top of my lust list.  It’s like a little sister to the iconic Hermes Constance bag!

+These are AMAZING shoes for a fall wardrobe, and at a decent price.  The shape is evocative of Celine, and the colorway is perfect for coordinating with all things glen plaid.  (Also — your complete guide to the ultimate fall 2018 wardrobe.)

+Love this $50 paisley dress, and even the way they’ve styled it: with those slouchy black boots!

+This cashmere sweater in the ice blue is in my cart RN.

+This book is a little close to the self-improvement category of literature that I typically avoid, but…it’s gotten good reviews and my curiosity is piqued.

+This media cabinet is SO CHIC!  (And well-priced?!?!)

+I have been such a big fan of all of Ole Henriksen’s products that I’m giving their eye cream a try, too.

+I’ve been in the market for a new brow styler, and this one gets rave reviews.  Any one else tried this?!  It’s in my cart…

By: Jen Shoop

I cannot stop clicking over to Moda Operandi to check out this stunning cocktail dress by Carolina Herrera (shown above, while bodega flower shopping, as ya do).  It’s pure magic.  The lines, the fabric, the print, the nipped waist, the proportion of those dramatic black bows.  Perfection.  I have already made up my mind, some 20 or 30 years before the event, that I will wear a Carolina Herrera outfit to mini’s future nuptials.  I mean, it’s a bucket list thing.

The Fashion Magpie Carolina Herrera Bow Dress 2

I was similarly stopped in my tracks by this gown from the hot label Markarian (take note! — everyone is very into this label right now!):

The Fashion Magpie Markarian Dress

Drool.

In the meantime, a couple of other ways to get that dramatic bow shouldered panache for a little less:

THIS PREEN (LOVE THE COLOR CONTRAST)

THIS ATHENA PROCOPIOU (VACATION READY + ON SALE — USE CODE EXTRA20 FOR EXTRA 20% OFF)

A SAUCY RED LITTLE THING

A COQUETTISH CINQ A SEPT LOVELY IN AN UNUSUAL (READ: COOL) COLOR (ALSO LOVE THIS LINGERIE-INSPIRED ONE BY THE SAME LABEL ON SUPER SALE)

AN ELEVATED LBD ($103!)

RIGHT-ON-TREND LOVESHACKYFANCY (AHEM, #PRAIRIECHIC)

PLAID HAPPINESS (UNDER $100)

FUN STATEMENT TOP BY AN UP-AND-COMING DESIGNER

CECILIE BAHNSEN VOLUME + VELVET

A HEAD-TURNING COCKTAIL DRESS

Finally, my favorite find: a lookalike of that famous bow-shouldered Dolce + Gabanna tile-print dress, but for $129: SHOP TO IT.  And imagine yourself boating around the Mediterranean.

P.S.    Does anyone else watch the man-soap Yellowstone with grumpy-gruff Kevin Costner?  It’s bad-good.  But it’s convinced me that Mr. Magpie needs this in the dark green for his fall wardrobe.  Actually, I wouldn’t hate it if he just wore Costner’s entire wardrobe, oversized belt buckle included.

P.P.S.  I had a productive shopping afternoon last Friday, as you may have seen on my Instastories a few days ago.  First, I went to the Alexandre Birman store on Madison Ave to try on those booties I’ve been droning on about.  While drooling over them (they are RIDIC — and incidentally, J. Crew has a pair of mules with a similar gunmetal-glitter-chainmail kind of vibe that you should investigate), Ramona Singer from RHONY walked in!  AH!!!  I was geeking out in a muted, discreet kind of way, and I immediately texted my sister and my BFF to alert them to the fact that she has really good skin.  (Maybe we should look into her skincare line?)  Then, I visited J. Crew and oh my goodness, their stuff is really good right now.  I love this cableknit in the snow white and soft pink — it fits like a dream (chunky but trim?) and the colors are amazing.  I also love this bow-front blouse (the slightly puffed sleeve!), this cropped leopard coat, and this balloon-sleeved turtleneck sweater in the mustard.

P.P.P.S.  Are you unbridled or tethered and tied?

By: Jen Shoop

I listened to an otherwise unremarkable podcast the other day (#savage) in which the interviewee commented: “I am not a thought leader.  But I am a very good thought follower.”

How honest and how lovely, I thought — first, to know oneself well enough to make such a pronouncement, and second, to perceive that thought followership can be a skill, too.  It implies receptivity, an aptitude for listening.  Open ears, a willing mind: beautiful things.

Am I thought follower or a thought leader, I wonder?  Thought leader feels too grand for self-appointment, and I don’t see myself as a person of extreme conviction anyway.  Yes, I have strongly held values and beliefs and opinions, but I am also impressionable and can change my mind over time.  Further, I’m not the type to proselytize.  (Except for when it comes to the glen plaid blazer you need RN.  HA.)  I’m far more comfortable moderating a conversation than I am standing on a dais.

But there is something else.  I find that my way of understanding the world is by way of pastiche.  My thoughts often dance around from input to input: a tidbit from a movie, an image from an Instastory, the purple-gray quiet of Central Park at night, a turn of phrase from a book, that mohair sweater on Jenny Walton during Fashion Week.  I collect these breadcrumbs throughout the day and then spread them out in front of me and find the path between them.

Maybe I am neither follower nor leader, but a kind of wayfinder between the two.

What about you?  Thought follower?  Thought leader?  Or neither?

Post-Script: Sheer Details.

I love a sheer overlay on a dress or blouse, and I’m ecstatic to see sheer materials cropping up all over the place–so delicate and saucy.  No one works with sheer materials better than Cecilie Bahnsen, though.  How exquisite are the two snaps below?!

The Fashion Magpie Sheer 3

The Fashion Magpie Sheer 4

I would love to wear this silk tulle top of hers.

Self-Portrait also usually has a few pieces with a sheer accent/sleeve — I own a great cocktail dress of theirs from a few seasons back with a mesh neckline that always fetches a lot of compliments.  Hence, my obsession with this dress.  That sleeve!

A few of my other sheer detail picks:

THIS SEE BY CHLOE BLOUSE (SO ROMANTIC FOR DATE NIGHT!)

THIS POLKA DOT TOP

THIS PRADA (BIGTIME SWOON)

THIS AMANDA UPRICHARD CONFECTION (RECENTLY SEEN ON ARIELLE OF SOMETHINGNAVY!)

THIS EMBROIDERED TULLE BLOUSE

THIS WHITE FLUFFY LOVELY

THIS ELEGANT AND SEXY BOW-FRONT BLOUSE

P.S.  A propos of this post: I see myself  as a perennial etudiante.

P.P.S.  What to say when words fail you.

P.P.P.S.  This post makes me weepy.  I love you, friend.

By: Jen Shoop

My Latest Snag: Le Black Tee.

I saw the snap above in an Instagram ad for Nation LTD and stopped in my tracks.  My mom will roll her eyes (“you look so much better in color!”), but I had to recreate the black-on-black look, and STAT.  (Also almost rushed to get French girl bangs again.  How chiiiiic!)  The chic pea above is wearing this sateen style from Nation LTD, but I’ll be testing the waters with this inexpensive J. Crew style.  (I also considered this Club Monaco style.)  I own this tee in the white already and wear it constantly.  It has a great fit and weight.  I like that the sleeves are cut a little short — no one needs a sleeve that hits awkwardly below the bicep; it’s unflattering!

You’re Sooooo Popular: The Epic Cocktail Dress.

The most popular items on Le Blog this week:

+EPIC cocktail dress for $100.

+Shiny and plaid and all the good things.  New Year’s Eve look, sorted.  (By the hottest label around.)

+The perfect blush, blouson-sleeved sweatshirt for fall.

+On-trend, well-priced fall 2018 wardrobe basic.  I’ll wear mine under joveralls or with my plaid blazer.

+Coated, ink black skinnies for the badasses out there.  Would look amazing with a chunky knit!

+Cashmere crew for $100!  I love that donegal color — and of course the blush pink.

+Elegant florals that will work this fall.

+Moroccan tile rug.  Super chic for an entryway!

+This toddler book is trending in a major way.  (Mini loveeees it.)

+Perfect fall mule.  Love the color.

#Turbothot: The Rider, Masculinity, and the Amorphous Forces that Shape Us.

Please take a chance and watch The Rider, the story of a young man with a promising career in the rodeo who suffers a career-threatening injury and is forced to take a long, hard look at himself and the various forces — friends, family, rodeo culture, gender norms in America — that are shaping his identity.  The film is masterful in its nuanced treatment of these “forces.”  In fact, Mr. Magpie and I paused the movie a few minutes in and I said:

“I see where this is going.  It’s an indictment of the hypermasculine — the “just rub some dirt in it” messaging we feed young men, telling them to suppress their emotions.”

Mr. Magpie looked at me, bewildered:

“Oh.  I was just going to say how tough these guys are.”

If that doesn’t sum it all up, I don’t know what does: the film obscures whether the forces that surround the main character are nefarious or benevolent.  Yes, the threats to his wellbeing are real (and impossible to ignore, as the enormous scar on his skull is visible throughout the majority of the movie), but are they well-intentioned?  Hardened and cruel?  Or vapidly repeating what they’ve been told before?  It’s difficult to discern, and it demonstrates how complicated and messy life can be owing to the mixed messaging we consume on a regular basis, especially when it comes to gender roles and expectations.  For example — and this is very narrow and specific and clearly tethered to logistics I am currently thinking through — but as I have been talking about sending mini to preschool, I have intercepted confusing and contradictory messaging related to women’s decisions about career and childcare.  Examples: “Oh, twos programs are for stay at home moms who want their kids out of the house.”  And then: “Twos programs are designed to accommodate the working woman who needs child care!”  And then: “Open houses are typically held during the day, so working women need to take time off work to attend–such a clear message those schools are sending!”  And then: “The entire school day model is outdated and reflective of a time when we assumed moms stayed at home during the day; it’s never convenient to have kids in school from 8-3!  Why not 8-5?”  What the hell?!  How can something as innocuous and well-intentioned as school for a child be shot through with such wildly inconsistent subtexts about women and their decisions when it comes to childcare?   But that’s a topic for another day.

Back to The Rider.  My other justification for impelling you to view it relates to the story’s fascinating provenance: the filmmaker, Chloe Zhao (how interesting that it’s a woman!), was interested in the rodeo circuit and set out to find real-life stories, and so she met Brady Jandreau, who plays himself in the movie, along with his father and sister, who also play themselves in the movie.  (And the acting is actually quite good, especially from Jandreau.)  There is a lot of metafictional meat to mull over there, and I lingered for some time wondering about the gaps and symmetries between the film and the real life story.  Why, for example, would the characters change their last names but keep their firsts?  The injury was clearly real — what else?  And why wouldn’t it have been shot as a documentary, I wonder?  In short, the film’s “setup” draws attention to the lines between fact and fiction, their blurring, in a way that mirrors the complicated overlapping of aspiration/expectation and reality, of the ideal vs. the real life.

Have you seen it?  What did you think?

P.S.  This movie also felt a propos of the controversy surrounding concussions in football — a lot of transmutable observations there — and reminded me of some of my musings on masculinity from a few months back.

#Shopaholic: The Harvey Faircloth Field Coat.

+Harvey Faircloth’s fabulous faux-fur-trimmed field coats are BACK this season.  I bought one last fall and lived in it.  So so chic with some jeans and black flats!

+I’m seeing a lot of mohair sweaters this season — this is a chic way to get the look for less than Ganni will fetch.

+For minis: these bibs remind me of Goyard (#love), a great fall basic for boys, and this corduroy jumper ($20) is precious!  I’d pair the latter with this.

+A chic (affordable!) way to get just a pop of the glen plaid trend.

+I will live in these all fall.

+How stylish would it be to sub out all your mismatched shampoo and body wash bottles for these?  #Hotelathome

+A friend of mine wore this the other day and looked SO chic.

By: Jen Shoop

I’ve whittled down my ultimate fall wardrobe wishlist from across a couple of my autumn-centric posts over the last few weeks.  Below, each and every item I wish was in my closet at the moment.  (Much of which can be summed up by the snap above: glen plaid, boxy cut, and a belt bag.  YAAAAS.)  You’ll notice some of the major trends for AW2018 throughout: jewel tones, glen plaid, a slight western twang, and exaggerated/abbreviated shapes (i.e., puff sleeves, balloon cuffs, high-waists, kitten heels, cropped/boxy cuts).

Two other miscellaneous notes: first, I’ve started a blog-centric Instagram account.  My other account is basically pictures of my daughter (sorry/not sorry), so I thought I’d start sharing more Magpie stuff in a separate space.  There will be random musings, fashion finds, and more long-form writing there.  Follow along if you’d like!

Second: I’ve not featured formal/evening wear in the roundup below, but if I was, I’d readily add this EPIC MINIDRESS OMG OMG OMG ($100).  The 80s are MAJOR right now for evening wear.  Alternately, for a more formal affair, I’m in love with this gown.

Click on images to access details or see my notes (along with alternates) below!


+Rebecca Taylor puff-sleeved floral blouse.  I own this and ADORE it.  Puffed sleeves are very on-trend right now, and the dark floral print is also tres of-the-moment.

+Brock Collection denim.  This cut is IT for right now — sort of an evolution from the relaxed fit of a few seasons back and the traditional Levi’s cut of last season.  High-waisted but body conscious and relaxed.  You can get the look for less with these (really good wash).

+Aquazzura Powder Puffs in navy.  I am so into navy right now.  I know I’ve featured these beauties dozens of times, but I just love the silhouette.  Thank God for the kitten heel (sorry Jen Schuf, I know you hate this style) — I don’t know that I could navigate the Subway in high heels, and Mr. Magpie and I are Committed (capital C) to taking the Subway everywhere, even when decked out in our finest.  It’s the fastest way around.

+BR Cableknit.  (Under $100!)  Love the fog gray color — I’ve been seeing a lot of layered grays and I’m into it.  Imagine this with white denim and that gray scarf or blazer thrown over top?!  If you’re looking for more of an on-trend shape, try this chic sweater instead in a similar hue.

+Supersoft heathered scarf.  Love this layered over something else gray — or, for work, over a perfect white tee like this tucked into some trousers!

+Alexandre Birman boot.  Nuff said.

+Glen plaid blazer.  So we can be twinsies.  And more glen plaid magic here.

+Quilted backpack.  I’ve finally found a functional and stylish backpack for mom duties!

+Chanel vibes for far less!  I have a tweed shirt like this from Zara (last season) that I wore heavily. I’d pair with huge pearl earrings to complete the look.  Also adore this.

+Ganni coat.  Excuse me while I drool all over my keyboard.  MAJOR.

+Pastel plaid scarf.

+Isabel Marant denim.  Super on-trend cut.  Would also look great with a chunky cream-colored Aran knit.  I love the idea of literally borrowing from the boys with this affordable style!

+Green cableknit sweater.  Jewel tones like emerald are so fresh for fall.  (This style in a similar hue has a trendier vibe.)

+New Balance X90s.  I’m not into the whole chunky grandpa sneaker that’s been everywhere (Balenciaga being a huge culprit…), but these are super cool-looking without being over-the-top.  I also love that color!

+Gucci Marmont Belt Bag.  LOVE.

+Balloon-sleeved sweater.  This mustard color is WONDERFUL, and the shape is of the moment, too.  (Can’t be the price either!)  Also love this moss green variation from a different designer (still under $100 though).

+Zara bow-sleeved dress.  OK, this is $50 and pretty much my ideal mom-on-the-go dress.  I’ve realized I just can’t stand off the shoulder or balloon sleeves when I’m chasing after mini / washing things / etc.  Too difficult!  This kind of dress is the perfect, easy-to-wear, easy-to-move-in thing to wear on a casual Tuesday at the library.

+Aquazzura spider slides.  Love the color!  I have these in black.

+Ruffle-neck eyelet blouse.  Because we’re all heading west.

P.S.  ICYMI: THIS BLOUSE IS ALSO MAJOR.

P.P.S.  The years that ask questions, the years that answer.

P.P.P.S.  Keep your eyes peeled for something small and perfect this weekend.

By: Jen Shoop

True mom over here, thinking over a month ahead to the next holiday (also already on the hunt for her Thanksgiving dress — this is currently the front-runner!) — but Halloween is not so far away!  I am currently debating between either a Pooh costume for her (she love love loves Winnie the Pooh, and this book has been a HUGE hit; incidentally, I think I owned it as a child, too!?) or this bee, which a good friend dressed her baby in a few years back and she looked SO CUTE.  The texture on the bee suit is adorable. (Also, mini loves bees?)  One other cute option: a strawberry.  Or check out the Hanna Andersson costume section for some inspo.

Below, sharing a few of my favorite finds to make this Halloween extra special…

Click on images to access product details, or see my notes (with alternatives!) below:

+Hanging bats!  Mini is super interested in bats right now because they have them at the Central Park Zoo and we talk about them frequently there, and also — I got her the bat jammies linked below and she loves to point at them.  (We’re already wearing Halloween jammies.  Woops.)

+Bat jammies.

+My Aquazzura spider slides.  So chic!  Also available, on sale, in green here.

+Cardigan.  Love this color!  It’s going to coordinate so well with mini’s navy-centric fall wardrobe.

+Cupcake kit.

+Personalized gift tags.  I already ordered these for mini’s play group — not sure yet what I’m allowed to fill it with…probably gluten-free-nut-free-dairy-free something…

+Personalized pumpkin dress.

+Bat stuffed animal.

+Burts Bees jammies.  I think these pajamas are REALLY well made for the price.  We have a pair of the rugby striped jammies and they really have held up well.  FYI!

+Skull treat bag.  I actually ordered a personalized treat bag for her from here (I got the black trim with the scalloped monogram for her name!  I also loved these!

+Glitter cat flats for your mini!

+Glitter cat flats for YOU!  (On super sale.)

+The Humbug Witch.  This was my FAVORITE book around Halloween — my mom was so good at reading it.  She actually used to come into my class until I was in maybe fourth grade and read it aloud to everyone!  My Dad, meanwhile, read us Poe by the fireside after trick or treating and scared the bejesus out of us.  A couple of other Halloween books in my basket RN: Little Blue Truck’s Halloween (mini loves this series now) and Room on the Broom.  For those of you with littler minis, my daughter LOVED (and still loves) this Karen Katz lift-the-flap book about Halloween.

Not shown above: these would be a fun Halloween activity.  Mini is very into stickers right now.  I love buying a pack of cheap stickers from Target, handing her a sheet of paper, and letting her go to town.  Great rainy day activity.  And — if you’re into monograms and bows — this would be sweet with a simple navy jumper or something.

P.S.  Back to school outfits for your mini and musings on siblinghood.

P.P.S.  DREAM NURSERY.

P.P.P.S.  THANK YOU TO JENNIFER who alerted me to the fact that my favorite tutus for mini by ILovePlum are somehow marked down to $13 on Zulily through today.  I already snagged this pastel blue one.

 

By: Jen Shoop

It was unseasonably cold that winter in France.  I’d been told it rarely snowed in Lyon, but we had several inches on several occasions–and the day I left for Dijon was one of them.  The city felt out of sorts that morning, straining to accommodate its third bout of uncommonly inclement weather.  The snow followed me most of the way north, dotting fields and obscuring my view out the window of the TER train I had taken from gritty Perrache Station in Lyon to the quaint Dijon terminal.  I was wiry with excitement the entire way, the book on my lap a frustration rather than comfort as I counted down the minutes until my arrival.  I pulled my pastel pink trench coat around me, aware that its hue marked me as an outsider amidst the shades of black, beige, and gray worn by the French.

Once in Dijon, I made my way through the city, a flash of pink in a sea of obsidian, to the address written on one of the pages of my pocket-sized Moleskine, where I kept all itinerary details when I traveled — reservation numbers, hand-sketched maps, cross-streets, timetables.

A porter nodded to me, opened the door.

“Mademoiselle,” he said.

“Merci,” I replied absently, scanning the lobby.  Empty.  I paused at the reception desk, an elegant wood writing desk behind which sat a tall, graceful-looking gentleman in a suit shuffling papers.  Once he saw me, he rose.

“Bonjour, bienvenue, mademoiselle,” he said, bowing at the waist, and then sat again and looked up at me expectantly.

“Bonjour.  Em, j’attends quelqu’un, et puis on va –” I said, and then gestured vaguely at his desk, not knowing the right word for “check in” in French.  (“I’m waiting for someone, and then we will…”)  Even a few months into my semester abroad, there were gaps in conversational French I couldn’t paper over.

“Ah yes.  Of course,” he replied in deeply accented English, the “course” sounding more like “ceh-rrrrrrhhhhh-su.”  The transition between languages was normally an insult coming from a Frenchman, but this time, I accepted it as a gesture of goodwill.   “Please wait here, comfortably.  Can I get you anything?”  I shook my head, thanked him again, and retreated to a couch that faced the glass front door of the hotel.

With every passerby, my heart rose into my throat and then dropped precipitously back into my stomach.  I leaned forward, squinting at the figure of a woman across the street, then sat back with a sigh.  I looked at my watch.  I looked at the clock on the wall.  I ran my fingers through my hair.  I rifled through my bag aimlessly.  I checked the watch, then the clock.  I fussed with the papers of my book.  I sighed.  I squinted.  I leaned back.

“Qu’elque chose a lire?” offered the concierge, extending a stack of magazines my way.  I realized he had probably been observing my spectacle of disquietude; I was a caricature of anticipation.

“Oh, merci, mais non,” I declined.  He nodded once, politely and impassively (had I just insulted him?), and returned to his desk.

Ten agonizing minutes later, I saw her emerge from a taxi wearing a full-length mink coat that had belonged to my grandmother.  The familiarity of that coat — I could smell it without smelling it, perfumed by the Quelquefleurs scent my grandmother had worn all her life — and my mother’s shape in it, the distinctive way she trotted across the sleet-marked street to the door of the hotel, her head slightly ducked, her elegant hands clasping the top of the coat closed.

She was the dearest sight.  Hers was the first familiar face I had seen in this foreign land I’d lived in for months, and her visage, her silhouette, her scent were the very essence of home.

“Mommy!” I wanted to shout, though I’d shed that term of endearment for the cooler abbreviation “mom” when I was about ten, though my throat was too thick to speak.  Instead, I stood and sprinted across the lobby and buried my face in her coat.  My father followed shortly behind —

“Well, hello,” he said with a smile, and then, noticing the tears streaming down my face, nodded solemnly — “oh, sweetie” — and encircled both my mother and I with his own arms.  I was crying like a child, my face red and puffy, unseemly sobs and gulps escaping occasionally in spite of myself.  We stood there in the lobby like a couple of basket cases before my mother put her arms on my shoulders and pushed me away to look at me, tilting her head to the side.  Her eyes were red, but she had arranged her face into a smile.

Wordlessly, the concierge appeared with a box of kleenex, bowed deeply, and retreated without saying a word.  We tripped over ourselves to thank him, but he held up his hand and kept his eyes on the ground as he backed away.

“Well, well,” said my mom, dabbing at the inner corner of her eye and offering me a smile.  “How’s that for a bienvenue?”

~~~~~

My parents and I relive this moment at least once a year, including over this past weekend while eating at Bar Boulud around the corner from my apartment in New York, after my father commented on the restaurant’s stylish design: “This is so French.”

It occurred to me then that all three of us cling to that tender memory of reunion in Dijon as a kind of shorthand for our closeness as a parent-child trio.  But I also realized that Frenchness is in large part why we linger upon that particular memory: the vision of the very American us and our outsized American emotions versus the silent politesse of that very French concierge.  After feeling like an interloper for months, I was temporarily home in my parents’ embrace — and yet that concierge’s kind gesture, so French in its simultaneous awareness of what was going on and respect for our privacy, had built a bridge.  It endeared us to the country as it reinforced the deep bonds between us as a family.

There is something alchemical about travel, even more so about living in an alien country for a stretch of weeks.   Much of the magic, I think, hovers around how we understand ourselves in relation to the rest of the world.  I remember a kind of uncoordinated ballooning in and out of myself as I went from feeling like a Somebody (capital S) within my family, among my ring of friends, at my school, across the various clubs and social groups with which I consorted prior to France — to a nobody (lowercase n), an insignificant speck in an expansive universe, when I first arrived there.  With time, I knitted myself into the nuances of my new locality: I spoke better French, I wore more muted colors, I cut my hair into a chic French style (with bangs!), I learned to interact with the world around me with more subtlety and less eye contact, au style Francaise.  By the end of my semester in France, I felt like a somebody (lowercase s).  And then it was time to shuttle back to the U.S., where I saw my country with fresh eyes — the street signs looked broad and squat and, if  I may, inelegant in a way I’d never noticed; the handwriting on average was bolder and more rushed; the grocery stores remained blissfully open for 24 hours a day, with ice always on offer.  Americans were louder, but warmer.  These awarenesses sophisticated and humbled me.  They reminded me of the plurality of the world and my alternate significance and insignificance within it.  My anonymity in Lyon and on that northbound train to Dijon and then the centrifuge of that lobby in Dijon where my home and heart came back to me.

(If you are thinking about traveling or living abroad, let this post serve as your clarion call.)

P.S. Great organizational gear.

P.P.S.  A prelude to love.

P.P.P.S.  “I love you in the big ways and the small ones.”

By: Jen Shoop

I have yet another girl crush, this time on the ultra-chic Parisienne Leia Sfez.  Her simple and sophisticated look features a lot of on-trend denim, French girl bangs (siiiiigh), perfect-fit tees (these have been restocked in all sizes!), and basket bags a la Jane Birkin.  Above, she’s wearing the cult-following “Antonia” bag by Shrimps that has been all over the place lately — though you can get the look for less with this incredible (under $80) dupe.

The Fashion Magpie French Girl Chic Leia Sfez 6

The Fashion Magpie French Girl Chic Leia Sfez 4 The Fashion Magpie French Girl Chic Leia Sfez 3

The Fashion Magpie French Girl Chic Leia Sfez 2

The Fashion Magpie French Girl Chic Leia Sfez 1

Note that she’s also rocking my go-to summer shoe, the Hermes Oran (there are tons of dupes out there — these seem like the best-made option I’ve found — though if you’re not into copycat stuff and still want the look, these are an elegant style that achieve a similar look), though more often than not with some cut-offs and a perfectly loose-but-slim-fitting button-down like this.  Such a fetchingly chic look!

She’s also sporting a glen plaid blazer (hellooooo, jump on the bandwagon with me!) and another key trend for fall I’ve not yet mentioned: the return of the leopard print.  Leopard flies into and out of style with cyclical regularity.  One year it feels grandmotherly; the next it feels like the freshest thing since maxi dresses came into popularity in the early oughts.  (Remember what a revolution that was?!  My friend once joked that we will one day look back at pictures of ourselves and wonder, “Why were we all wearing ball gowns all the time?”  HA!)  Anyway, I’m into it, and I absolutely adore this cropped coat (with lightwash denim COME ON), these booties (get a similar look for less with these), and this silk button up.

As you can see, she sports Chanel flats with aplomb.  You can get the look for less with these well-priced and beautifully colored flats by Margaux (I love the blush pink) or these by French Sole.

Finally, she has a major bag game going.  You can see her rocking the ultra stylish Simon Miller Bonsai bag in the first pic above, though I think she’d look just as at home with the Staud Bissett bag (swoon) or this bow-topped Mango style which I am D.Y.I.N.G. over (<<under $100!) — or maybe this boxy Clare Vivier, which has such a great shape to it (never seen anything like it!).

Finally, if I were channeling Leia one day, I’d wear this: slouchy plaid jacket (so chic), a puff-sleeved white blouse (so furious this is sold out in my size — it’s the perfect on-trend staple for this fall at a great price), loose-fitting jeans in a light wash, and a pair of Chanel slingbacks (get the look for less with these).

And, speaking of Chanel: Chanel vibes for far less in the form of this fun coat and this frayed edge tweed top.

P.S.  Another big girl crush, and yet another.

P.P.S.  Happy fall shopping!

P.P.P.S.  The art of the polite decline.  Easier said than done, though…

By: Jen Shoop

Prairie chic is dominating the fashion scene this fall, showcased in styles by labels as disparate as Isabel Marant, Loveshackfancy (shown above — get their plaid frothy confection here), and Mango.  This, in concert with the presentation of the contemporary west in shows like Yellowstone and movies like The Rider are all telling me to “Go west, chic pea!”

A couple of my favorite finds…

Click on images to access details or see my notes below — including a few “get the look for less” options!

+Cropped fair isle sweater.  (Get the look for less with this.)

+Slouchy boot.

+Ralph Lauren logo belt.

+LoveShackFancy Angie Dress.  (Almost sold out everywhere ever since SomethingNavy wore it during fashion week!)  Get the look for under $100 with this or this.

+Markarian mini.  This label is SO HOT.  Get the look for less with this (under $100).

+Cable-knit sweater (under $100!)

+Isabel Marant boot.

+Danse Lente shearling bag.  (Ultra-covetable up-and-coming designer.)

+Tiered maxi skirt.

+Scoop-neck blouse.

+Markarian skirt.  Get the look for less with this.

+Zara plaid shirt.

+Madewell handkerchief.

A couple of other options I couldn’t quite squeeze in:

+Flannel shirt, but FASHION;

+A ruffly white blouse — also love this one, or get the look for less with this.  Can you imagine the statement you’d make pairing any of these with distressed denim?  #NEWBLOUSEWHODIS

+Plaid tiered dress for under $120.  #NAILEDIT

+Gap score.

+So on trend it hurts.

+A long sweaterdress.

+Something about this blouse screams: I’m bartending in one of those old Western bars with the swinging doors, but in a high-fashion way.

P.S.  Another MAJOR trend for fall that you need to get in on.

P.P.S.  How do you recharge?  And — some EPIC comments on this post.  (Y’all are smart.)

By: Jen Shoop

It’s been nearly a year since we moved to New York.  I attribute a lot of significance to that move and have come to think of it as a personal watershed: the before-New-Yorks and the after-New-Yorks.  The before-New-York me, and the after-New-York-me.  The before-New-York routines, and the after-New-York routines.

But mainly I have come to think about the move to New York as a kind of purge.  Improbably enough, life in New York feels simpler to me–yes, flashy, sophisticated, busy-as-hell New York, where I can be hard-pressed to find more than an hour of quiet time.  Maybe it’s because the move prompted a divestiture of the home we owned in Chicago, of our beloved car, of so many of our personal belongings.  Even now, though I thought I’d be over it, I miss the enormous, easy-to-fall-asleep-upon Pottery Barn sleeper sofa in our cozy basement, on which we passed endless nights watching the Harry Potter series from start to finish along with every movie out for rent while waiting for minimagpie to arrive that interminable winter of 2016-2017.   We sold the couch because, well, we only had room for one sofa in our new apartment, and the other one was nicer.  But I miss it and what it represented to me: the anticipation, the whiling away of nights waiting for our daughter, the desperate attempt at distraction.  And I still feel wistful when I think about mini’s gingham wallpaper — the pains we went to when selecting it, finding someone to install it; how happy I was in that room, becoming a mother.  But most of all I mourn the sale of the white shiplap-style wood bed I purchased at Crate & Barrel when I was twenty-four and so proud of myself for being able to afford it on my own.  We used it in our guest bedroom and had dozens of loved ones sleep on it while visiting.  I tell Mr. Magpie on occasion — “Ah, but we should have kept that damn bed.”  And he reminds me that things are just things, and that it has found a promising new home: two middle-aged parents picked it up for their college-bound daughter before we left Chicago.  It was a poetic kind of passing-on, now that I think of it; I was saying goodbye to a part of my adolescence as she was heading straight to its pinnacle.  I wonder, though, if she’s kept it.  A silly thought from a silly heart.

But, yes, the move was a kind of purge.  And not only because of the stuff.  There was also the shedding of personas: I had long tethered my identity to my professional ambitions, to being respected in my workplace, to fashioning myself as a kind of nurturer to the other women and men in my office.  I am industrious by nature, and “busy-ness” of the workplace ilk feels (felt?) comfortable, self-defining to me.  But with the move went my longtime self-image as a successful businesswoman, as an entrepreneur.  I transitioned into a part-time stay-at-home mom, part-time writer.  And so too my day-to-day became quieter, more intimate.  Not easier, I am careful to say — just, well, simpler, in the sense that I will often pass a morning stacking blocks and reading board books on the carpet of our living room floor, that carpet that for many years barely saw the tracks of my heels as I strode through our living area to get to our kitchen and idle in front of the open fridge in search of wine or a nibble of cheese after a long day of meetings.  The arc of my day is also less exaggerated: no commute to rile the blood, no interminable meetings to grumble through, no stress from an ornery boss or colleague or customer, no deadlines.  Instead, the fast-and-slow unfurling of a day with my girl, chasing, soothing, prattling, feeding, bathing, singing.  Or, the fast-and-slow unfurling of a day in front of my computer: reading, writing, editing, absent-mindedly eating gummy bears, wincing, nodding, stalling, thinking more quickly than my fingers can move, daydreaming.

I think, too, that my newfound pedestrian lifestyle has simplified things.  No cars, no parking, no sitting in traffic with white knuckles.  Just the stop and go of the lights and the throngs of people, the flick of mini’s wrist as she tosses her bow or snack cup overboard, the pointing at trees and dogs, the dodging of scummy-looking city puddles.  And everything I need is within a few blocks’ walk, too — my doctors, my grocery, my Duane Reade, my dry cleaner, my vet — and so the radius of my life’s happenings is that much shorter than its ever been.  There is something zen-like that comes over me as I’m traipsing our familiar circuit through Central Park for the second or third or fourth time on a given day: I find myself dialed into the details, altogether the same as they were earlier and yet entirely different.  The same impeccably manicured ballfields, the same anxiety around every squirrel that darts in front of us (Tilly is wont to yank me to my knees if she sees them before I do), the same appeal of that no-frills ballpark cafe, the same hazy feel of early September settling across the Park — but this time, a cardinal on the grass, or a melted popsicle on the asphalt evoking the vision of a four year old in sorrow, or the snippet of a conversation between mother and daughter: “no, a place with a hill,” insists the six year old girl, her hand cupped in a gesture of emphasis she’s clearly stolen from her mother; “oh, a place with a hill,” replies her mother, absently and supportingly.   I guess what I am trying to say is this: living an entirely pedestrian life has given me new eyes for the minutiae of life, has afforded me glimpses of so many other New Yorkers and their dramas and victories and quiet nothing conversations with their six year old daughters, and because of all that — life feels simpler somehow.

There is also something unique about New York that forces you to adopt a kind of ruthless, rigorous straight-forwardness about things–and that, too, feels simpler.  There’s no ring around the rosie in New York City.  “Hey, watch out!” Mr. Magpie will call out to strangers when we’re navigating a slow-moving, meandering crowd.  “I’m getting off,” I’ll say loudly to no one and everyone as I finagle my way off a Subway car.  ( A polite “excuse me” will get you nowhere.)  And so I’ve noticed in myself a gradual hardening to the outside world, a simultaneous drawing-in.  I’ll stand in a packed, 90-degree subway car in absolute agony, feeling the slick of someone’s sweaty arm against my own, inhaling the suffocating smell of somebody’s too-strong body spray and sweat, writhing out of the way of an unaware backpack or a pouf of hair — but you’d never know it.  My face, like every other New Yorker’s, is arranged into unimpressed impassivity.  Yah, yah, yah.  Just another day.  Kind of like the Chicagoans and their cold: they accept it, unblinkingly.  It just is.  So to with interactions with insanity — just today, for example, a man said something so obscene to me that I can’t bring myself to write it here.  But whereas I might have fallen to pieces in a former life, now it’s observed as a spectacle from afar; I’m bound to come in contact with crazies in these parts, and I’ve learned to ignore and keep moving.  DNE.  (DO NOT ENGAGE.)  (But do text your best friend about it along with the sick face emoji.)

Ah, New York — so dirty, so busy, so deeply human — and yet the move here feels like an ablution I didn’t know I needed.

Post Scripts.

+Are you a city mouse or a country mouse?

+Oh my GOODNESS, people.  I received a sample of this gingerlily bodywash when I placed my last Molton Brown order (they offer free shipping on orders over $30, and include free generously sized samples) and it smells like HEAVEN.  I can’t stop sniffing my wrist afterward.  It’s the cleanest, most elegant bodywash I’ve ever smelled.  And it’s gender-neutral, too — it just smells like a divine kind of clean soap.  AHHH.  You must try this.

+I have it on good authority that these are, like, the most delicious things ever — like a high-end kit kat.  Will be buying one for Mr. Magpie’s stocking…if I can wait that long.

+10 amazing discoveries.

+A clever solution for those of us without nightstands for whatever reason.

+I saw this $129 dress in an ad in Vogue and am very into it.  Would it not look perfect with these snakeskin Chloe flats?!  I love the pointed toe on these — I’ve heard such good things about Chloe’s scalloped flats but they don’t have as much structure as I’d like in a shoe.  These ones are more my style.

+Thoughts on raising a child in Manhattan.

+These earrings are MAJ.  Would look incredible on a bride-to-be as a big statement against a simple white dress for a rehearsal dinner.  Or, you know, for any of us on any occasion 🙂

+Fall shopping guide.

+I know I set a personal prohibition on minidresses, but THIS!  IT’S SO GOOD!   (More sizes here!  $100.) With a slicked back low bun and navy heels?!!?!?  ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

+A festive pick for the holidays with black skinny jeans or a black fitted skirt?

+My favorite purchases of 2018.

+MEEP!

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