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I have to say, Hailey Bieber in these St. Laurent Sulpice sunglasses had me contemplating the style seriously. Once I tumbled out of my stupor, I realized I could get the look for less with classic Ray Bans. This inspired me to put together a little roundup of trending pieces for less. (BTW, has anyone tried Bieber’s beauty line, Rhode? I know people go insane over their new product drops. I think there was a wait list to check out for the most recent one? The peptide lip treatment is $16 and seems to be similar in concept to our Magpie favorite UBeauty lip plasma.)
Which movie do you think deserves the Oscar for Best Picture next Sunday (3/10)? ( A full list of nominations here.)
We have an ambitious viewing program to watch several that we’ve not yet seen (or that were just released) over the next ten days, but I want to make a heartfelt plug for “Past Lives,” a quiet, resonant movie written and directed by Celine Song about the people we meet in life, and the connections we make or miss with them. The story asks: can we reclaim the lost ones, and at what costs? The movie’s grappling with the age-old tango between fate and coincidence is refreshingly modern, especially woven as it is into an immigrant story: how can Nora (nee Na Young) choose between a childhood friend-turned-long-distance-confidante, with his ties to their hometown of Seoul, and someone she has learned to love almost out of convenience, or happenstance (she meets her husband at an artist’s retreat, and they advance their wedding date in order to procure her green card)? And is she choosing, anyway? Or is her romantic arrangement pre-ordained? The movie makes much of the Korean concept of “In-Yun,” or the notion that in our incarnations past and future, we have encountered and will encounter certain special people to whom we will be drawn over and over again. Midway through the film, Nora rejects the concept as a romanticization, but Hae Sung’s whole-hearted embrace of “In-Yun” as an explanation for why they cannot be together lodges firm at the other end of the line.
I could not take my eyes off of Teo Yoo (Hae Sung), who acts beautifully with his eyes, and with his body, too. The subtlest movement of his hands — say, the pushing of a suitcase to his side, or their stiff placement at his sides — communicates volumes. I cannot believe he was not nominated for Best Actor. It’s not that I don’t appreciate a Cillian Murphy or a Paul Giamatti, but this was a movie of intimate, artful scale, without much apparatus around its quiet script, and he shone brightly and believably in its center. On this point: the pace is meaningfully slow, and the dialogue dances effortlessly between the convincingly extemporary and the profound. I think it is heartily deserving of its Oscar nomination, though it is difficult to imagine it squaring off against the gargantuan proportions of an “Oppenheimer” or “Barbie.” For this reason, I doubt it will win, but I wish it would. Perhaps Song will win for best screenplay? (I enjoyed “The Holdovers,” which is somewhat similar in scale (dialed in on the dynamics of a relationship) and also nominated for best screenplay, but I find no contest comparing the two on the merits of craft and theme: “Past Lives” is melodic and full-bodied in ways “The Holdovers” is not.)
Of course, reflecting on “Past Lives,” I find yet another instance of Gretel and her breadcrumbs: in one review of “Past Lives,” film critic David Ehrlich draws a connection between Celine Song and Richard Linklater, writing: “On paper, “Past Lives” might sound like a diasporic riff on a Richard Linklater romance — one that condenses the entire “Before” trilogy into the span of a single film. In practice, however, this gossamer-soft love story almost entirely forgoes any sort of “Baby, you are gonna miss that plane” dramatics in favor of teasing out some more ineffable truths about the way that people find themselves with (and through) each other.” Ehrlich concludes: “It’s a movie less interested in tempting its heroine with “the one who got away” than it is in allowing her to reconcile with the version of herself he kept as a souvenir when she left.” Perfectly put, but of course, I would have lacked all reference points were it not for you Magpies, who upvoted the Linklater “Before” trilogy in my recent request for under-the-radar romantic comedies (see the full crowd-sourced list here). Astounding, how often it is that we find the exact words, references, texts we need at the exact right moment. I continue to live by asterism, a realization that feels perfectly at home within the hazy after-math of “Past Lives.”
This post may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.
+This $110 skirt looks just like SEA. I’m digging the idea of styling a full white skirt a la Doen, who was running this chic ad I can no longer find of a gal wearing the skirt with a gray sweatshirt like this. You can see me in a white circle skirt from Staud here, too — looks for less here and here.
+If you’re thinking about a low-key Oscars party at home, may I put in a plug for truffle popcorn, Kolsvart candy, and champagne? Theater snacks, gussied up!
+This dress sold out once but was restocked. She’s perfect for spring — very flattering. Runs TTS.
+This striped button-back top is adorable as a part of the matching set, or with white pants/jeans. Also love J. Crew’s just-launched Quinn ballet flat – perfect for those of us curious about the mesh trend but not willing to go all the way.
+As the thaw sets in, I have to mention that I own this top in several patterns, and it’s on sale for 50% in several right now (of course, I also love the full price options…). SO good to tuck into jeans for those first few milder days of spring. This brand runs really big. You can size down one or two sizes. I also lived in one of their Saffron dresses all last summer, and this cheerful pink floral is 50% off ($119!). Also runs really big, FYI. So easy to toss on and go!
+My most-worn bag last summer. Super roomy and no one else has anything like it. I promise you will be the talk of the town! I already pulled it out for the spring/summer season. I’m wearing woven bags now.
+In the fitness lane, currently eyeing these dry-fit tanks, these Vuori sports bras, and this perfect half-zip. I have the Amazon lookalike for the Lulu half-zip, which I love, and which means I do not need another, but…the color!
+These underwear are a splurge and I only have one pair that I compulsively grab out of the laundry basket as soon as clean, but how fun in the new maritime stripe with the matching tank or bra?!
By: Jen Shoop
This post may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.
A little digest of discoveries and micro-trends on my mind at the moment.
01. Waistcoats as tops. Aligne sent me the gorgeous black one above (20% off with code JEN-20) and I wore it to dinner at Petite Cerise on Friday with some friends. I felt like a proper lady, especially because I paired it with my Dior slingbacks, out on their maiden voyage (10/10 would not recommend from a comfort standpoint, but damn are they chic! — you can usually find a good cache of them on TRR. Caveat emptor!). Similar waistcoat looks here, here, here, here. I prefer the ones with a bit more length versus the cropped styles, which feel a bit costumey to me?
02. Perfumes! Magpies have created a vibrant little “scent enclave” in the comments section here, sharing their favorite seasonal perfumes and layering techniques. One of the brands that came up a lot in the still-unfolding exchange: Le Labo, and specifically its The Noir 29 (shorthanded as TN29). Color me intrigued! My first interaction with Le Labo was in San Francisco, when I stayed at the Mark and discovered toiletries from the brand in the bathroom. I immediately ordered a set for myself, and don’t know why it hasn’t crossed my mind to revisit the brand since. I’m contemplating ordering to test myself; my go-tos for the past two years have been Byredo’s Blanche (a fabulous clean scent that is easy to layer with other scents) and Mojave Ghost (my tippy top favorite — immediately makes me feel more elegant, pulled-together, and interesting), and Jo Malone’s English Pear and Freesia (which my girlfriend and I call “The Midge Perfume” — it smells like something a fancy woman who wears silk scarves and leather gloves would wear, in the best way). The perfume brand Who Is Elijah just coincidentally reached out to me this week, too, and is sending me some samples to try (I requested their woody-floral Nomad based on description, and also this sampler set). A Magpie commented: “I’ve used Who Is Elijah in the last 12 months. They’re an Australian niche fragrance start-up whose goal is to make luxury, niche-quality fragrances at an accessible price point without compromising on the perfumes. I’ve worn Eau and it’s sexy and summery while also being intriguing for the cold months. I’ve read great things about Nomad and His/Her from the range.” Please join the conversation with your favorite scents!
03. Chartreuse! I think I started loving this color because of Julia Berolzheimer, who often wears it paired with other rich and vibrant gem tones. A few items in this colorway that I adore: this silky suit, this short-sleeved cardigan from Zara, this top from Sandro, and this clutch from Cult Gaia.
05. I haven’t worn a slip dresses in a hot minute, but I had to order this Cami NYC. It leapt off the page! I immediately imagined styling it with a jean jacket? (Who am I?) I ordered it for a little romantic overnight getaway with Mr. Magpie coming up soon, along with this red dress as back-up option.
06. SoldOut just launched an “everything shirt.” This brand is very serious about nailing the basics, and a great starting point if you’re looking to source the ingredients of a well-made capsule wardrobe.
07. Mentioned this yesterday, but Sezane really killed their latest Rome-inspired collection, which launched on Sunday and promptly sold out in many styles. I can’t believe their Domitille dress is still fully stocked — I ran for this one because I wore a long-sleeved rib knit dress of theirs with a similar, non-itchy material composition all winter long. The colors are very Missoni. Loveee and cannot wait to style with a straw/woven bag and leather sandals. Also wanted to mention that if you liked the little roundup of lace/macrame jackets I shared on Saturday, you may love this sweater from Sezane.
This post may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.
Meredith Melling nearly broke the Internet when she wore the outfit above back in 2015, and the image has been re-circulating the past week or two since Melling (at the time the photo was taken, an editor at Vogue; now the founder of one of my favorite brands, La Ligne) has launched a similar style of denim herself. The copy on the site reads: “Based on a vintage style co-founder Meredith Melling was snapped in for a street style blog that went viral. We recreated the silhouette, added a touch of stretch and made sure they were Meredith Melling approved. Pair back to one of our denim shirts to replicate Mer’s timeless look.” (Note that you can get 10% off sitewide with code MAGPIE10.)
Proof positive that denim on denim just never goes out, but I have to say I’ve seen a lot of fantastic denim pieces in fresh silhouettes and applications this season that bear noting. I’m dialed in on the denim ballet flats from A. Soliani below. With jeans, with ecru pants or skirt, with a white dress, with black kick flares…! A new neutral. I also cannot wait to wear my Aligne denim dress as the weather thaws (20% off with code JEN-20). If the style is a bit to edgy for you, try this minimalist Banana instead.
Below, a few additional denim favorites available right now.
Et pour les enfants: sweet spring sweatshirts and ribbed leggings for girls, linen shirts and linen shorts for boys (European prince vibes), and whimsical balloon print sweaters for babies. And fun tees like this and this, both of which I just bought my son!
P.S. More great recent children’s finds, to which I’d add: these classic checkerboard Vans I just bought my son.
Ed. note: republishing this essay from the archives. Every time I revisit it, I’m plunged back into the “vacillation of my teenage self,” where every interaction read like a cipher, and then moved by my early romance with Mr. Magpie, who “also told me that I was pretty and smart–just straight-up, baldly, with no nervous beating around the bush or ambiguity. If there is anything more exquisitely thrilling for a girl at the age of eighteen or nineteen, I have yet to hear about it.“
May we lean into romance this Monday!
******
When I moved into my first-year dorm, there was a boy with swoopy blond hair who walked down the hallways as though he owned the place. He had a laidback kind of swagger, and he was always tumbling in and out of quick conversation — affably, with a winning grin — with passersby he knew, calling the boys by their surnames or inscrutable nicknames I presumed they had earned after nights of drinking bourbon together, and often pausing, with his hands arranged somewhat shyly in his pockets, to address the girls with a demureness whose sincerity I could not parse. I later learned — in the way all girls learn things about boys they find attractive, through careful eavesdropping and artfully-feigned casual inquiry amongst friends — that he did not live in my dorm and was instead dating a girl on the floor above mine. All of which made perfect though disappointing sense, as mine was the dorky dorm, reserved for Echols Scholars, and it would have been puzzling if he had in fact been single.
Still, I couldn’t help but observe him with interest as he ambled into the large theatre-style lecture hall for an introduction to Political Theory course we both were taking on Monday and Wednesday mornings. It always seemed like he was canvassing voters, pausing in the aisles to glad-hand and kiss babies and the like, and I would watch him sprawl out in his seat afterward with a self-assurance that both repelled and intrigued me.
One morning, he slid into the seat next to mine and tapped his hand on the small square of folding desktop on which I’d neatly arranged my gridded notebook paper and pens.
“Nurmi,” he said (my maiden name), not so much a greeting as a naming. And he then held out his hand and introduced himself.
We sat next to one another in that lecture hall most Monday and Wednesdays thereafter, though I wasn’t sure why, and he often walked with me most of the way back to New Dorms after class, too. He was smart in the most appealing of ways: he read all the assignments and made meaningful contributions on the infrequent occasion the professor solicited conversation in the large lecture hall setup, but he did so without bravado. I can still remember the way his face — normally arranged into a kind of sly, knowing smile — would clear into an expression of earnest curiosity when talking about Crito or The Prince, which we sometimes did on our walks along McCormick Road. More often, though, he’d shuttle between brief conversations with other students beelining towards their next classes and then freewheeling inquiries about me and my interests. He rarely offered much about himself, often deflecting with a joke or returning the conversation to me, and I always felt as though I’d shared too much when we parted ways. One day he staggered backwards in performative agony when he discovered I was not familiar with Van Morrison —
“You’re killing me, Nurmi!” he said, just as a good friend of mine caught up with me and whisked me off into another direction.
“You know he’s dating Emily,” she said, once we were out of earshot, her eyebrows raised. And I could feel my face flush. I knew and liked Emily. For the past few weeks, I couldn’t tell whether — or refused to admit that — I was crossing an invisible line in girl code, but my friend’s reproach proved that I had been. But he had been the one to sit next to me! Can’t a girl and guy be friends? We usually talk about Leviathan, anyway! I’m not flirting! As I rallied these defenses, I also thought: The lady doth protest too much.
It seemed too dramatic or perhaps self-aggrandizing to say something directly to him, as if his company could only suggest romantic interest, and so I instead took to arriving late and sitting in the back. The first time, he turned and gestured to the seat next to him and I waved him off as if I’d explain later, and then careened out of the building before he could catch up. From then on, he sat with other friends. He would occasionally track me down on the walk back to New Dorms, but I’d give him as little of myself as I could: one-word answers, nods, distracted replies. It felt awful. However, if he was in any way confused or wounded by my sudden withdrawal, I could not tell. He seemed just as chipper as before, an observation that confounded me and also confirmed my mounting suspicion that he was, simply, a politician in the making: friendly to and unflustered by all in an impersonal kind of way. Our companionship dissipated and by the end of the semester, we never walked down McCormick together. I was pleased and irritated by my progress, but by then I had crossed paths enough times with the handsome and mature third-year in the engineering school who would one day kneel on the steps behind the Rotunda and ask me to marry him to be thoroughly distracted.
One evening towards the end of that semester, though, we found ourselves face to face at a fraternity party and he said: “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my long-lost friend Nurmi.” There was a lot going on around us, and we just stood there for a few minutes in the first awkward silence in which I’d ever seen him embroiled, me willing myself to tow the line and him just standing there, and both of us pretending that the party around us was too loud to permit conversation. Somehow, I extracted myself, disappearing into the crowd to find my friends.
The next morning, there was a CD in a thin plastic case outside my door, with VAN MORRISON / MOONDANCE scrawled on the top in black Sharpie. There was also a post-it on the case in his writing: NURMI.
It was a feeble overture, if that’s what it was? Had I imagined the awkwardness between us? Had my presence the night before simply reminded him that I’d never listened to Van Morrison and, in a moment of thoughtful friendliness, he’d burned the CD for me? The lyrics of “Moondance” were electric with innuendo, though — they represented an elaborate wooing. Or was I reading too much into them?
Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance With the stars up above in your eyes A fantabulous night to make romance ‘Neath the cover of October skies And all the leaves on the trees are falling To the sound of the breezes that blow And I’m trying to please to the calling Of your heart-strings that play soft and low And all the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
I knew I wouldn’t want my boyfriend leaving that album on another girl’s stoop. But —
Nothing else. I did nothing to acknowledge the gift and neither did he and we barely crossed paths the rest of our four years at the University of Virginia. Or if we did, I was too deeply in love with my eventual husband — whose polite but more assertive interest in me was easier and kinder to navigate — to notice.
Re-reading the lyrics to “Moondance” brings me back to the vacillation of my teenage self, to the puzzling over social rules and romantic interludes, to my youthful tendency toward strained and under-resourced over-analysis. It was like learning to read in the dark, by feel and the occasional shard of moonlight. But learn I did: the swoopy haired boy’s enigmatic interactions with me made Mr. Magpie’s much simpler to understand, his soft and low heartstrings easier to hear. Even before we were dating, Mr. Magpie would walk me all the way home, all the way up to my door, even listening for the click of the lock on my side before leaving, though I lived in the opposite direction of his own apartment. He’d jump out of his Jeep Cherokee to open my door for me, hold up his arm to make a little bubble of space for me in a crowded bar, and shove drunken Wahoos out of my path when tailgates or football games were getting out of hand. It was chivalrous, but even then, before we officially belonged to each other, I saw that he was not only protecting me but making room for me and letting me know in no uncertain terms that he wanted me to fill that space next to him. He also told me that I was pretty and smart–just straight-up, baldly, with no nervous beating around the bush or ambiguity. If there is anything more exquisitely thrilling for a girl at the age of eighteen or nineteen, I have yet to hear about it.
Or maybe this line of thinking is not generous enough to Mr. Magpie, whose goodness and earnestness require no interpretation: he just was. He just is. He so fully eclipsed that first-year episode and a semi-serious boyfriend the following year and everyone and everything else besides — that when I now think of Van Morrison, I principally recall the moving croon of the alto saxophone in “Into the Mystic” while Mr. Magpie held my hand on a balcony in Miami a year into our marriage, and I was so overwhelmed by him–by my outsized luck in having him–by the deep-in-my-bones, “born before the wind” rightness of it–that I found tears in my eyes that I did not need to explain.
So on a random Tuesday in October, listening to Van Morrison, I think to myself: is it luck or providence or the thousands of tiny decisions I made in the year 2002 that I landed in this moondance that has lasted nearly two decades?
*Names changed or omitted to protect privacy.
P.S. More on the story of my relationship with Mr. Magpie here, and more specifically about our relationship at UVA here and here.
This post may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.
+I want about 10 pieces from Sezane’s new L’Avventura collection, which launched yesterday. The color palette and beautiful motifs are beyond! Items are selling out quickly, and I managed to snag the Calitta dress and the Domitille dress! The colors are so, so good. I also love the Tyler trousers, the Jorden blouse, the Bella dress, and their iconic Emile cardigan in the gorgeous yellow pastel. Ahhh!
+A neutral polo sweatshirt. So versatile! Wear in lieu of a blouse for something unexpected. Imagine with a full skirt, trousers, etc.
+Fashion editors are claiming that “preppy is back.” (Did it ever go away?) And this time they’re dubbing it “Ralphcore,” in reference to earlier-era Ralph Lauren iconography. Apparently these chino hats are majorly trending.
+This fun pareo sold out but is now available again for pre-order. I have my eye on it. Would be so fun with these punchy sandals.
+This skirt turned my head. Never seen anything like it! The pattern, the tie, the grommets!
+Clever travel solution for Lego-obsessed littles.
By: Jen Shoop
This post may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.
A week of transition: my parents moved out of their home in N.W. D.C. into a beautiful townhouse four minutes from us in Bethesda; my sister visited for likely the last time before her baby girl is born in a few months; and we continue to adjust to life without Tilly, a grief whose size I had not anticipated. “Meanwhile, the world goes on.” You know? Such a cruel and auspicious fact of life. You could be crying into your shirtsleeves realizing you’ll never hear Tilly harangue the garbage men again, and yet there they are, collecting the trash week after week: life continues.
I am perhaps fixated on the garbage theme (you may have noticed it in my short fictional piece from Friday); permit me to me add some color. My parents gave us the sectional sofa from their family room as it would not fit in their new home, and we installed it in the basement. The children were ecstatic: so much space to sprawl! They each have their own “wing.” “And,” said mini, “it was Mimi and Grandpa’s.” Its provenance added to the appeal: a sofa with a backstory. The sectional suits the space better, and enabled us to shed the shabby, decade-old, threadbare Jayson Home couch that had previously lived there and was at one point the most expensive thing we’d ever bought for ourselves, and therefore a point of serious pride as new homeowners in Chicago, IL. We brought that sofa to New York, and Tilly more or less lived on it there (I can still see her face propped up on the arm), as did we, during the many long months of pandemic life. We then brought it to Bethesda and demoted it to the basement, where the children often performed scary gymnastics from its arms and tuned into afternoons of Disney in its embrace. I arranged for a special “bulk pick-up” of the sofa with Montgomery County and watched as two men effortlessly tossed it into the trash compactor, which summarily ate it, leaving nothing behind. I was struck by the specific, searching ways in which the heart works as I stood there in my robe by the front door. The way that sofa carried so much — new homeowner pride; pandemic angst; a growing family in postures of recline and recklessness; the memories of our dog — and here it was, being unceremoniously flung into wasteland. For the record, we are normally passionate about finding second homes, new lives, repurposings for everything we own — especially Mr. Magpie, who buys rechargeable batteries, and reuses all plastic bags, and composts everything he can. We typically sell or donate what we don’t need, but this sofa was in bad shape. But it made me think about the way things filter through our lives — what we gain and lose. The inheritance of the sofa, the loss of the dog. The things we assign value to, the things we tell ourselves not to be sentimental about. There I was, experiencing a powerful wave of Sensucht as I watched the sofa disappear, and I thought: it’s just a thing, Jen. It’s not Tilly; it’s not my New York life. But sometimes these objects are such convenient places to collect and pin the memories.
Onward, as we say —
A few snapshots from the week!
+My MIL gave us this beautiful vintage Royal Doulton figurine of an airedale in memoriam. We put it in Mr. Magpie’s office, where she liked to spend her time at his feet. I shared this photo on Instagram and was overwhelmed by the tender-hearted responses. You can find your own by searching Etsy or Chairish; I found a few really beautiful options here.
+The children have been ambitiously scootering around in 32 degree weather, and the “specific beauty of the winter sun” (a Magpie reader quote; you all have been serving up straight poetry in the comments recently) has been playing with my heartstrings: something about its glinting precision, so unlike the soft golden light of summer, makes everything feel as though a re-enactment, happenings half-cast in memory.
+Can he stay this little forever?! The last move he calls “the flamingo.” Also, the Minnow sweater and tiny NBs! I love them on him.
+A couple of new beauty obsessions: a great $18 eye cream (no, really – I’m impressed, and I’m categorically underwhelmed by most eye creams! Full review forthcoming but it absorbs immediately and feels great on the skin); Quince silk scrunchies (so much cheaper than Slip and just as good — maybe even a bit “tighter” / better able to hold hair than Slip); and Goop’s new makeup melting balm, which I wrote about earlier this week but is wonderful.
+Doen nailed it with this beautiful floral dress. I cannot get over the gorgeous pattern and delicate puff sleeve. They also sent me this striped everyday dress that I will 100% be wearing once a week once the weather turns. I’m daydreaming about pairing with a little pair of canvas Mary Janes like these.
+A quote on my mind this week: “Don’t waste your time chasing butterflies. Mend your garden, and the butterflies will come.” – Mario Quintana. At first, I reflected on what needed mending in my life, but then I spent the ballast of my time unpacking the antecedent: what kinds of butterflies am I trying to attract anyway?
+Finally, a little confetti of pictures from the week: my son’s new Lacoste polos (50% off – promise I won’t mention again but just can’t believe the deal and in great staple colors); tulips in our foyer; a new Pam Munson tote for the spring season (the moss green frayed grosgrain straps are so unexpected); a PR box full of beauty products from Molly Sims’ label, YSE, whose packaging is chiiiiiiic; and my new favorite pajamas from Lake. These are so, so good. You know I love their Relax lounge sets — the kimono pajamas are the same soft, comfortable feel but even more flattering. A girlfriend of mine ordered to wear in the hospital after delivering baby number three! A great nursing option without actually being maternity.
P.P.S. I cannot believe how many of you bought this popover henley. I was so beyond honored when Frank & Eileen approached me to work on this project, and am so delighted to see how many of you loved the pieces as much as I did / do.
Continuing to play with the format of this post — it’s evolving into an intimate space for me to share little drafts and details of things I’m unpacking from the week.
Listening: The Definitive Sidney Bechet Collection. I listened to this while writing and editing the short fictional piece I shared yesterday. Perfect cocktail hour or dinner party music — makes you want to throw open the windows, dot the table with low-burning candles, and fare la scarpetta. (Another dinner party playlist I love here.)
Watching: Thank you, deeply and truly, for your romantic comedy recommendations. We re-watched Chocolat (delight) and “Before Sunrise” (another slam dunk). I don’t know how we hadn’t heard of the Ethan Hawke-Julie Delpy “Before Sunrise” trilogy, but we watched the first (100% Rotten Tomato score, and from well before the ratings started skewing generously high) and fell hard, and I can’t wait to devour the sequels. When I told my movie buff girlfriend we’d tuned in, she responded: “OMG find you a man who will watch “Before Sunrise” with you! I’ve got heart eyes for Landon watching and enjoying that Linklater classic by your side.” Which made me think of how much I take for granted in my life (!) On Valentine’s Day, Mr. Magpie trained home early from New York and whipped up my favorite meal (I have previously designated it as my preferred final meal on earth): bucatini a l’amatriciana with broccoli rabe sauteed with garlic and calabrian chili oil and tossed with parmesan. But first, he presented the broccoli rabe to me as if a bouquet of flowers — he knows the way to my heart. (I am borderline insane about broccoli rabe — I love it. My favorite vegetable.)
Reading: I read sections 1-6 of bell hooks’s “Appalachian Elegy” this week and found it interesting in dialogue with Demon Copperhead. The way she handles the turn in season — its violence, beauty, multivalence — is spectacular. I love the couplets “earth that is all at once a grave // a resting place a bed of new beginnings // avalanche of splendor” and “wild roses // come by fierce wind and hard rain.” But I’m stripping these words of their mordancy, and social awareness; the poem is well worth a read. These six sections will take you ten minutes or less, and will sit with you all week. In my pursuit of yutori this year, I am inviting more poetry into my life. It is such a demanding art form. It asks for patience, and slow reading. I ordered this anthology — a reputable mix of greats from the 20th century, edited by Rita Dove. (You may remember her from this fabulous poem — a great read when you need a little “get up and go.”)
Reflecting on: Self-compassion. I shared some approaches to practicing it here (most of the concepts plucked straight from Magpie reader comments), and have also been thinking about a quote from Dr. Pooja Laksmin in her recent book, Real Self-Care. “It’s less about ‘going easy on myself,’ and more about paying attention to how I talk to myself and slowly learning a new language.”
Shopping: For my daughter’s seventh birthday (!). We bought her a karaoke set (Wirecutter “runner up” rec for children), the American Girl pup spa she desperately wanted, Nike high tops “in a cool color” (also her request), some Barbie clothes, and a bunch of books. We were also invited to a 90s-themed party next weekend, and the invitation was epic. My girlfriend had details printed on what looked like a piece of torn out loose leaf paper, and it was folded into a dream catcher shape in the envelope. “Costumes required,” and I am delivering, friends. I hate the wide openness of Halloween, but give me something focused and I will show up. I’m going for a Clueless-meets-Britney-Spears moment, and ordered furry scrunchies (hair will be in pigtails), this skirt, these knee-high socks, and this phone case. In reality, in the mid-90s, I was wearing those Steve Madden black platform shoes with the stretchy band over the top, striped baby tees, a Tamagotchi around my neck, and frosted lip gloss, and towards the late 90s, I was easing into my preppy years, with lots of madras, A&F “skirts” (basically frayed and tattered, 4″ long scraps of fabric), anything Ralph Lauren. But neither of those looks felt as translatable or iconic as Cher Horowitz / Britney Spears. I think this may be sold out by the time this post goes live, but I also treated myself to this lace Zara jacket. So beautiful and feminine for spring. Other dainty, feminine options in a similar vein: J. Crew, Sezane, Self-Portrait, and of course iconic Oscar de la Renta. I’m also loving this lace-inset jacket from Veronica Beard. Zara has a crochet-inset jacket that presents a fun twist on the look, and under $100!
Looking forward to: Aforementioned 90s party, scheduled dinners with friends at Petite Cerise and Daru, and tickets to see the new Bonnard exhibit at the Phillips in a few weeks.
Inspired by:Kelly Rutherford. One of you Magpies once referred to her as “a low key fashion icon” and I totally agree. She sources fantastic, under-the-radar designers and has nailed “the wrong shoe rule,” which is a styling principle in which you get dressed and think “what would the perfect shoe for this outfit be?” and then run in the opposite direction, substituting a sneaker for a heel, or a loafer for a Mary Jane. The effect is meaningful fashion dissonance. I am too millennial (?) or just too much my mother’s daughter to do this well — but I am learning, and Kelly nails it, always. I also love the elevator selfies she shares of herself, often with her dog in frame. They remind me of my New York days, when I routinely did the same thing. I also love all the ivory she wears! How good is her chunky ivory knit?! For something a little more scaled back, try this dreamy Doen.
What You Loved This Week.
It turns out that we all love parts of winter in spite of, or because of, its austerities. There were so many beautiful responses to my provocation “What is your favorite part of winter?” I compiled them into a set of slides here because they deserved a more prominent place in this world. The replies were pure poetry: “The specific beauty of a low winter sun”; “a sneaky flask of Jameson”; “watching the birds at our bird feeders”; “honoring the call to hibernate and simplify routines”; “flushed rosy cheeks.” Thank you for helping me find the beauty in this moment, and reminding me to live where my feet are.
This week, I received a lot of compliments on my new Altuzzara Watermill bag, which is currently 20% off at Saks! Still a splurge but the colors means it will go with everything, and I personally think the leather makes it seasonless. I’ve been wearing in 30-40 degree February! (Rest of outfit seen below linked here.)
02. Lake Pajamas Relax kimono set. I’m not sure if the sale will still be going on as of today, but these were on sale in several compelling colors earlier this week, and if you missed the boat on the discount, I must convince you to take the plunge nonetheless. I am obsessed with this set. More flattering than the Relax set (which I also love) and just so soft and dreamy to wear.
04. Rosemary hair oil — I’m also using this! Hoping for stronger, healthier hair as I grow out my mane.
05. This jersey popover. I also have been wearing mine constantly. A perfect alternative to a white tee. Works with athleisure (I love it as a mid-layer with leggings), jeans, black pants, etc.
It was a small, clean room, the bedsheets starched and tucked neatly beneath the mattress, and a fresh pebble of fragrant milled soap on the spotless porcelain sink in the corner. The portes-fenêtres opened to a stone courtyard with a fountain in the middle, and Violet pushed them open and imagined her ivory hands belonging to some ancient French woman, wringing out the wash or gesturing to the boulanger. Instead, she was Violet: alone, and waiting to be seen. Finding no audience in the courtyard’s vacancy, she withdrew and made a temporary fuss over her hand luggage.
Milner E. Fortnam was at that time making his way off the train platform, headphones around his neck, wearing his American-ness as ambitiously as a John Gast settler. He stopped, without compunction, in the thronging flow of travelers and stood still to check a small gridded Moleskine in his pocket. Then he looked at his leather wristwatch, and put on his sunglasses, and walked into Toulouse as if he’d been born to it.
He was six-foot-three, with the build of an athlete, which he was. He crowded the squat entryway of L’Hotel D’Amande, blotting out the sky. The hotel manager took him to Violet’s room, and bowed graciously in retreat.
Never had there been a less romantic reunion: Milner assessing the accommodations and its demerits; Violet directing the placement of his belongings. “We should have called JP’s guy,” he was saying, and added something about his American Express card, and Violet was absently agreeing and hugging her knees to her chest on the bed and waiting. Violet had the sense, as she often did in Milner’s company, that she was playing house, just the way she had when she was a girl, and she’d watched her mother leave her father his dinner covered with a damp paper towel on the kitchen counter, a linen napkin to its left, and sneak new pieces of art and furniture into the living room and then speak evasively about when and how they’d arrived there, and sometimes get lost while staring blankly at the four carat diamond on her ring finger as she’d grip the steering wheel in their tony Washington, D.C. neighborhood. Violet had parroted these gestures in the Fisher Price playhouse in her backyard, before it was over-visited by birds and squirrels and dismissed for its squalor. Her mother had later hosed it down while smoking a cigarette in a white caftan, the torpor of an August in D.C. hanging heavy around her, and given up halfway through. She arranged instead to have it thrown away by the Department of Public Works, plying the trash collectors to drag it to the curb for her when they arrived the following morning. “A violation of code” and “we can’t possibly –” But they did, and she and Violet watched as they carried away her play house from the screened-in porch, Totto barking in anguish alongside. Violet’s mother had said, “I never did like all that plastic junking up the yard,” and Violet had nodded and rearranged her fond memories of the white and green house that had been hers, and the way its porous white walls permitted the sun to illuminate its interior on spring mornings. Violet was young then, and had not yet learned to observe rather than absorb the ponderousness of her mother’s moods and her father’s absences.
Violet straightened up, momentarily bolstered by the idea that she was not her mother, after all, and could instead walk barefoot through the town if she wanted, or read the bodice ripper her friend had tucked into her bag, or be gentle with Milner in ways rarely shown to her.
Milner was changing shirts in front of the mirror, and combing back his hair, and Violet put on a black slip dress and her satin heels. He said to her: “Very pretty,” as if he’d just taken in the sunset on the Chesapeake Bay but was keen to get back to his book.
They walked to dinner, and she threw all her best angles at the on-lookers in the bistros, who made no performance of distraction. She lit up every last light in Toulouse.
They stopped at Cochon D’Or, and Milner held up two fingers and gestured to a table in the front, and the maitre d’ accommodated. They drank crisp, saline white wine out of pichets, and ordered steaming pots of mussels with saffron and garlic, and halfway through dinner, Violet started talking about Caroline, who was then studying nearby in Lyon, and how empty she felt without her close by, and how she thought maybe they should leave Toulouse early to visit her. Violet didn’t know if it was the white wine or the Toulouse twilight, but she found herself profligate with her thoughts. “I feel this way any time I travel,” Violet sighed. “Just so small and insignificant, as though I’m wasting time, but what is it I’m supposed to be doing?” Milner dabbed his napkin to his mouth. “Are you asking me what the meaning of life is?” And Violet blushed and laughed, and refilled his glass. He’d clipped her, too close to the sun.
+A few launches and deals too good not to share as a foot-note:
01. Trish McEvoy is offering 20% off and free shipping. I have been using their bestselling Instant Eye Lift, which is a targeted, pigmented concealer for those of us with dark undereye circles. I think it’s excellent, but I will say it disturbs me lightly to need two separate concealers (one for eyes, one for rest of face). I also love their Eye Base Essentials. Frankly, I prefer an eye base / creamy eye product to an eyeshadow just to even things out
02. Goop just launched a cleansing balm. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become increasingly hooked on the routine of removing all makeup with a balm and then washing with a cleanser. I love the formulas from Elemis and Farmacy, and Goop’s (which I’ve been using for the pas tweek) is neck and neck with both. It’s more similar to Farmacy in consistency (less goopy / oily than Elemis) and works beautifully. I am such a Goop beauty fan girl. I truly love so many of their products, especially their exfoliator and hair scrub, and their Vitamin C when you can get your hands on a bottle! It keeps selling out! I’ve been waiting patiently to jump on a restock. I believe it’s the highest concentration of Vitamin C you can find.
03. Earlier this week, Minnow released an adorable spring collection and I want basically everything for my children. This brand has that rare ability to be sweet and also contemporary and cool. Emory will absolutely wear these patterns and styles! I especially love this two-piece for her (she loves bikinis) and the matching boardies for my son, but this floral print is adorable too and don’t get me started on all the clothes (this, this!)
06. Calabrian chili oil. We use this so much in our cooking, especially because Missy Robbins calls for a lot of it in her recipes. I’m obsessed with it on broccoli rabe with a little garlic and parm.
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If you are new here, hi! Feel free to email (jennifer@magpiebyjenshoop.com) or direct message me on Instagram with shopping questions! I add them to a long list and answer them episodically in these “Ask Magpie” posts.
Also – if you like the photo above, you might love this dress.
Q: Am looking for suggestions for a gift for my friend who is turning 50. She is originally from NYC, has excellent style and is petite like you. She knows what she likes – and doesn’t like. I got her a Hanni set after learning about it here but want to amplify/supplement the gift. For reference, she lovingly made fun of my yoga gear, so got me leggings and a top from Lulu which I think was very generous.
A: Hi! Since you already have the shower theme going, what about one of the short-sleeved robes from Weezie? So amazing for post-shower styling/prep, especially if using hot tools. Alternately, people go crazy for this hair towel, which reportedly cuts drying time in half. I have one in my cart. I also absolutely love to gift these splurgey lip plasmas to girlfriends/sisters.
Q: I am looking for a good-looking tray to corral my 6-year olds “objets” (marbles, cut paper, lone legos, handful of coins) where he leaves them on top of the dresser. Maybe something in navy or navy/red?
A: What about one of these handsome leather valet trays? I like to mix in some “grown up” type accents into my son’s room. Leatherology offers similar in the colors you requested, too, but more expensive. Alternately, this in the blue in the small size, or these scalloped ones in a range of primary colors!
Q: Can you recommend a pretty gold bag for Mother of Groom with shoulder strap or chain? Room for phone, lipstick etc. Need hands free at some points.
A: This was such a good question! So many evening clutches look so dated IMO. A few that do not — the oyster clutch or shell clutch from Simkhai; this vintage inspired Judith Lieber; this tiny Prada. If you’re open to something beyond gold, this pearl is fun, and I love this Bottega-esque rattan woven style from Poolside. I also found an Etsy shop that does a pearlized clutch similar to Simkhai’s oyster for a fraction of the price.
Q: Side table for living room, under $200.
A: Marshall’s has such great finds — what about this? Also always love this wicker side table from Urban.
Q: Fun sneakers that everyone won’t have. Not Adidas, Veja, etc.
A: I would look at Autry or these colorblocked ones from Woden! These ones from SeaVees also turned my head. More chic sneakers here!
Q: I like your chunky gold knot earrings – any looks for less?
Q: I love the way you honored Tilly with that signet ring. Any other thoughts for jewelry to commemorate a dog, closer to $100?
A: I’m so sorry for your loss, too. Thinking of you. Catbird has a less expensive, more vintage-looking signet ring option that is under $150 that might be a good fit. I tried it on, too — it’s very dainty and sweet. Sarah Chloe has a more traditional, chunkier signet style that is at a similar price point, and Gorjana also has an option that is somewhere between Catbird’s daintiness and Sarah Chloe’s boldness. GLDN also does slim initial rings that could be sweet to stack with your everyday jewelry. I have one of these rings with my daughter’s initials on one end and her birth date on the other – could be a sweet option, too. Or you could have your pup’s name engraved on a simple heart necklace!
Q: A dress for newborn photos!
A: Congrats, mama! I love something like this — feminine and classic — or one of the Asha caftans. This dress is also really interesting and different (look for less with this), and I’ve yet to meet a woman who doesn’t love her Emerson Fry Frances dress!
Q: Laundry hamper, not woven / seagrass.
A: How about this one? My son has one of these Poppin ones — a great option, too.
Q: Small crossbody bag.
A: I love my one from Paris64. It’s the perfect size for carrying just the essentials. Comes in tons of great colors / materials.
Q: Curious what you got for your daughter’s Taylor Swift themed birthday!
A: I got one of these friendship bracelet making sets for the girls to do after they perform their song (they’re going to a studio to record a music video of them singing Taylor Swift!), this garland, these streamers, these glasses as “props,” these plates for cake, and these stickers to scatter on the table. The party favor: a scrunchie and a few friendship bracelets tucked into this little personalized tag. Also! Harris Teeter will imprint any photograph onto a cake for you, so I had this picture printed (via Amazon) and brought it to them so they can put it on her birthday cake. This was my daughter’s request! (!!)
Q: Crochet beach dress cover up.
A: These are very on-trend. I love this, this, and this. Stylest also has one in a special quick-dry material.
Q: Maternity clothes – help!!!
A: I would look at Quince’s maternity section. They have great basics at reasonable prices. This dress is almost identical to one I wore every other day in my third trimester. I just swapped out the accessories to make it feel different. Also love that Beyond Yoga has some maternity options for more casual! Beyond that, stock up on bold cardigans and fun shoes to pair with maternity leggings / dresses.
