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I saw a trend on social media a few months ago where people would “pick one” item in response to a prompt – sort of a condensed “desert island” challenge. Are we game to try this Friday?
+Pair of jeans: Agolde Riley crops! I had to field test this one. I went into my closet the other night to change into jeans and I realized my favorite “hang out around the house” pair are these. They are so comfortable – a rigid/non-stretch denim but loose fit.
+Drink order: Glass of Italian red wine. Nebbiolo if available! When we were at I Sodi in West Village many years ago (the charming, postage-stamp-sized original location), I ordered a glass of nebbiolo with cacio e pepe and the waiter bowed his head and said: “Excellent order. Nebbiolo and cacio are like peanut butter and jelly.” (Aside: though I’m sure waiters the world over use this trick to endear themselves to their patrons, I fall for it every time. I love being told I ordered well!) I think of this any time I see a Nebbiolo on the menu, and remember how perfect that meal was, and how we might have a handful of truly memorable dining experiences in a given year, and that one is sure to transcend decades.
+Pair of sunglasses:My Celines (seen at top of post!). I atoned for these for years by wearing cheaper sunglasses after losing a pair of Chanels in a Target dressing room. These make any outfit. The tortoise color, the shape – timeless.
+Writing implement. I recently found out that one of my best guy friends only writes in green ink. How amazingly quirky is that? I still swear by these Tru Reds in the 5 mm. Perfect flow and precision point.
+Handbag: My classic Chanel quilted pebble leather flap bag. Goes with anything and will never go out of style.
+Lip product: This is a moving target TBH but right now, I have been wearing this Queen Musia lipstick in the fun Queen Bovary pink color daily. I wore it to lunch with my mom the other day and she said, “Oh my gosh! Beautiful lip color!” Even if I’m wearing minimal makeup, this makes the look.
+Candy: Haribo sour spaghetti
+Home scent: Any of the Trudon scents (conveniently, and rarely, 15% off here), but Josephine is a front runner. These candles are complex, sophisticated, and unexpected. No one will know what you’re burning (less recognizable than Baies, etc), but the scent will be luxurious and inviting.
+Sweatshirt: An old, stained Champion with my high school’s name on it that I’ve had for two decades. The only thing I want to wear on a rainy/bad day.
+Just ordered this to try for an everyday tinted moisturizer situation.
+Tempted by this sleek and oversized RDV tote — on sale for $175, plus extra 20% off with code YOUROCK. I think I’ll order for schlepping kids gear all summer. I saw it and immediately imagined wearing it with this caftan at the pool?
+Have heard really good things about this natural deodorant. Should have included deodorant in my grooming post (the comments are SO good), but I still use anti-perspirant. I’m so scared to switch — I tried once and hated it. I know it takes awhile to adjust.
+Loft has some seriously cute pieces out right now — this gingham top reminds me of Doen, this cherry red linen dress would look fab with strappy sandals, and I adore these eyelet beach shorts! Just like my eyelet pareo from Solid and Striped I wore all last summer.
+People love these solar buddies! A clever way to help kids apply sunscreen. Going to try this summer.
+New-to-me brand Skkein just reached out and offered to send me some items from their latest collection. I jumped at the chance to try this Missoni-esque set of shorts and knit polo! Cute! They offered us 10% off with code MAGPIE-10.
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I keep a garment rack of clothing in my studio – whatever I’ve recently bought or received that I’m excited to wear at a given moment. I glanced over the other day and realized the first half of the rack were all navy and white classics that will be easy to grab and wear when I’m not sure what I’m in the mood for. Most of the items are on the rack below, and some are in my cart…
01. White eyelet maxi skirt. The belt makes this feel so special and polished. I love the idea of pairing with a simple navy, black, or white tee (also love J. Crew’s inexpensive ones) and some leather sandals. (Look for less here and here.)
02. Petite Plume ticking stripe caftan. I mean, iconic! I imagine pairing with one of these Rue De Verneuil totes for a day at the beach club.
06. Navy blazer. I now have this investment jacket in my possession and I know I’ll treasure her forever. Absolutely seasonless and ageless. Get the look for less with this.
07. White linen maxi dress. Swooning over this. Look for less with this $69 steal. BTW, both Quince and Gap have great linen collections at great prices to get the Posse look/vibe for less.
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This week’s roundup of launches, discoveries, and obsessions:
01. I went into Vuori yesterday in search of a little boost to my fitness wardrobe (shared a bunch of my favorite fitness finds earlier this week, too) and was delighted by what was in store. I got another one of these “energy tanks” (ultra-soft, featherweight material perfect for summer fitness) and these shorts. I’ve gone the past decade without wearing a pair of shorts and suddenly I’m their poster child. Part of this sudden proclivity was shaped by something my neighbor told me while we were shooting the breeze in the cul de sac last week: “I’ll never look this young again. I know in a decade I’ll look back and wish I’d worn the bathing suit!” She’s so right. Vive la leg! But also, these bike shorts (and the Lulu ones) are the most flattering pairs I’ve tried because they aren’t all constricting. I tried on a few other items and loved them all – they’re all currently sitting in my cart, a future treat to self. The BlissBlend material is fantastic. Similar to Lululemon Align!
02. This $45 Zara top is giving Doen. Which, speaking of Doen – did you see they are launching a capsule collection with Gap tomorrow at 12 EST?! They sent me a little preview and OMG is it good. I’m wearing a top from the collection below, and they also sent an adorable gingham dress. I will be shopping the entire collection heavily. Two of my favorite brands, together!
03. Lake Pajamas released a summer collection and while you, like me, probably do not need another pair of Lake Pajamas, I have to rave about their new gauze pieces. I am in love with this ultra-light-weight, ultra-soft gauze dress. Perfect “evening dress” for that sliver of time between dinner and bedtime, when you don’t want to be in jammies but aren’t interested in day clothes, but would also be a great cover-up and, of course, nightgown.
04. Cannot stop thinking about this daisy top from Reformation. How amazing with jeans or jean shorts?
05. I ordered this Farm Rio top and matching skirt while on sale at Saks (use code MAYGETSF). Such a fun color and shape. For some reason I am dying to pair this with red sandals like these.
07. Ciao Lucia’s summer collection is incroyable. The styles feel just north, or east, of trend – a little unexpected, a little vintage-y. All of them have a “I don’t care, let me live my life” energy. Why do I imagine myself barefoot on a beach in this and looking v Brigitte Bardot? Also love this embroidered beauty and this seashell pattern dress. (Get the vibe for less with this in “the cream pattern.” I’ve not shopped at Abercrombie in maybe two decades but I’m tempted by that $80 beauty.)
08. Intrigued by new-to-me brand Yaitte. This top, this swimsuit! And this head-to-toe cashmere moment. Ayyy!
09. Megan Stokes posted about Caroline’s Cakes and now I keep daydreaming about them. I think I’ll order for my birthday in a few weeks!
10. These woven ballet flats!!! All woven, netted, and mesh footwear is trending majorly right now and these are so fab and fun. On the trendier side of the spectrum: these Mangos, which bring to mind the instantly-sold-out The Row slingbacks.
11. Been seeing a lot of denim dresses recently, likely inspired by Prada. Love this with a trendy flat and this with a strappy sandal.
Below is a draft chapter from a longer form fictional piece I am writing called Maiden’s Choosing, the title of which is plucked directly from volume II of George Eliot’s 1876 novel Daniel Deronda. You can find previous chapters here and a bit of context behind the title here.
“That’s a big ring for a little girl,” was the only thing she said after news of our engagement broke. She tapped at her coiffed hair, and laughed into the rear-view mirror of her Mercedes Benz, teeth bared unconvincingly, as though the marionette of a smile. Violet had told me that sometimes she would idle too-long at the stoplight, entranced by her own ring finger, the way it danced in the sun and put the daylight in her eyes, which maybe she needed, because I’d never seen a darker coal than hers, watching me from across the club dining room, talking to Powell.
“Girls, girls,” she’d said while ushering us into the ladies room, a mirage of Quelques fleurs and Hermes scarves and silken hair turned-under-at-the-ends. “Miss Caroliiine,” she’d trilled into the mirror, “Are we casting after Mr. Powell? A bit above our weight class, isn’t he?” “Mother,” chided Violet, but she laughed, too.
I could feel her in a room, cold blood climbing. The way she’d fix her eyes on me, Cricut-like, honey-I-shrunk-the-interloper! She’d listen a half-beat too long, and frown, no matter the menu. I could have been praising the tea sandwiches or asking after her beloved Wilhemina (a flinty Papillon), and I’d have netted the same dark appraisal.
I spluttered about all of this to Powell, wide-eyed in dismay, in his vast and bare Deloitte-funded apartment in Rosslyn, Virginia. I’d never felt hatred like this before. The wall of his bedroom was a long pane of glass overlooking the Potomac, and beyond it, the spires of Georgetown where I’d once found my ivory tower and which now tented up the sky. An entire world waited for us, and we laid in his bed with the college comforter his mother had bought him and listened to the strange noises of a barely-furnished, too-large apartment, and he eased me out from under the fear of being disliked.
“We belong to each other now, so who cares?”
And his hands clumsy in my hair and soft on my skin.
It was easy to believe this while I stared across the river, and plucked at the hundreds of stories crossing Key Bridge, and imagined their own cruelties and kindnesses — more extreme than mine, if I had to guess. I traveled this pizzicato path to perspective, leveled off by Powell’s warmth at my waist, and drew myself away from the burning amaranth of my ostracism.
But we are such tender birds, aren’t we? Prone to lancing at the downy-feather heart. I could not tell Powell, nor Violet, nor my own wild soul why those anthracite eyes pinned me. I knew only that I was not welcome in a room that in many ways did belong to me. This was my engagement, and my husband, and so I flailed in my vest pocket rage, and shadow-boxed a midnight version of her. And when the sun came up in June, and we walked down the rose petal aisle, I saw her in the pew and tried to feel nothing. I hid behind the pennacious quill. I beamed at Violet, a vision of porcelain skin and avian arms. I tucked my hand into Powell’s, and permitted his broad tuxedo shoulder to shield me.
“Tell me, what did I do wrong?” I asked Violet one afternoon, well after the honeymoon, our legs stretched out on the pool chaises, and she craned her neck at the sun and then settled back into her delicate bones, and said, “Not everything happens to you, personally.” The wind blew in between us. I heard then the pleading and impatience in her half-chiding voice in the ladies’ room all those years ago, recognized the performative “mother” to soften the blow. I saw the long tails trailing behind each and every kited word, the way we send out in words little, imperfectly-forged scout ships and corvettes that carry far more than the littoral. I recast myself as the unnamed understudy to a woman winning her mother’s determined anger. And I strained to forgive, or at least unstick myself from her mother’s imprecise talons.
And then I took Violet’s hand in mine and kissed it, a pitiful apologia.
15. Just bought my son this telescope for his birthday. It’s pricey but he’s been asking for one for a year now and I want to support this curiosity of his. He also asked for Legos and we got him the space station one — very on-theme!
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What are your grooming routines? Which ones are non-negotiables and which are a little squibblier and more haphazard? This is a nosy post – but I am so curious about this. Back in my start-up days in Chicago, there was a bright and impressive female founder in my incubator who had the most incredible lashes — long, full, but they didn’t appear to be extensions or faux, especially since she seemed otherwise light-handed and natural with makeup. I finally asked her about them one day at the photocopy machine, and she said: “Jen, I don’t do nails, I don’t do hair, I don’t do much makeup — eyelash extensions are my one beauty splurge. I’m never without them.” I asked where she had them done and immediately set up an appointment. It turned out she had “an eyelash girl” who drove to downtown Chicago once every few weeks from her home out of state (I believe Wisconsin) and serviced a handful of clients. I was one such for a year in Chicago, and I loved the way I looked. I’d roll out of bed and feel put-together, finished, glam without a stitch of makeup on. The key (IMO) is asking for the most natural (lowest volume) extensions of the highest quality material they carry (usually mink). Unfortunately, I found they absolutely destroyed my natural lashes over time, and I ended up having to call it quits. I don’t know whether other women have stronger lashes, or use various strengthening treatments about which I know nothing, but nowadays, I treat myself to lash extensions once every year or two (whenever I’m in Manhattan — I love this one spot called Beau that was around the corner from my second UWS apartment), and that’s about as much as my lashes can handle. But I know there are women who are religious about their extensions. I also know a few women who have their hair blown out once a week and try to make that blow out stretch for three or four days, others who insist on regular facials and peels of various kinds, and some who are devotees of particular waxing regimens.
What about you?
The only grooming routine to which I’m fully committed are my nails. I get them done weekly unless I have a gel, with which I try to be sparing (e.g., only on vacations or if I have a particularly packed social agenda), as last year, a technician destroyed my nails with a bad gel to the point that I had to use a nail strengthener for nearly two months before getting a regular manicure again. Lesson learned: stick with my trusted crew. My mom and I both go to the same salon and request the same two women, week in and week out. I try to overlap my appointments with my mother’s whenever possible, and I treasure the reminder that such path-crossings can be so easily coordinated after living far from her for nearly ten years. It seems kismet to share this routine because I fully inherited it from her. Growing up, my mother had a standing Thursday morning appointment with a technician named Gloria who worked out of the now-shuttered Salon Jean-Paul on Yuma St in NW D.C. She never missed this small window to treat herself, and she deserved it. She was raising five children and if she indulged in anything else, I cannot recall it. I followed suit with weekly manicures when I started my first full-time job out of college. I was working in Tyson’s and living in Georgetown, and the weekly appointments at Vicky’s on Wisconsin Avenue made me feel like I’d made it in some way. This habit has persisted across decades and multiple metropolises, and I now feel half-baked without my nails done, even if I am entirely predictable with my polish selection: always bright red (Essie Really Red or Russian Roulette, OPI Big Apple Red) or white-pink (OPI Lisbon Wants Moor or Let’s Be Friends). Just after I’d moved from Chicago to New York, my best friend invited me over for cocktails at her Chelsea apartment and I arrived with bare nails. “Oh my God, Jen, is everything OK?” she asked, eyeing my hands. In short, for some time now, polished nails have read like shorthand for Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds”: every little thing is going to be alright. I also love the small square of thirty or forty minutes to read my Kindle or just sit, captive, with nothing to do but space out. We all need time to do nothing at all.
Besides the nails, I get my eyebrows done whenever I feel like I really need it — which is to say, not enough. Most times, I tweeze myself and make do. The ladies at European Wax Center routinely scold me for my delinquency. (EWC is so-so, but perfectly fine for my needs, which is just to clean up, not to re-shape. I appreciate that you can schedule, cancel, shift appointments online, and that they have lots of convenient locations. I do wish, like most children of the 80s, that I’d not plucked so much in my youth! I was having my makeup done a few weeks ago, and the makeup artist said: “You have beautiful brows — but then again, I’m old school. I like them on the thinner side.” I wasn’t sure what to think of that! Do my brows date me?! Ha! That particular artist also said: “Brows are sisters, not twins,” and I thought that was a clever phrasing, and so true! Mine are definitely asymmetrical, and require some manipulation with an eyebrow pencil every single day. So I suppose the daily penciling is a part of my grooming routine, too.)
The one splurge I’ve made in this category is having laser hair removal on my bikini line. After we moved to D.C. and joined a club with a pool, the summer months became a tedium of shaving. I screwed up my courage and went to Capital Laser and Skin Care in Chevy Chase — if you’re local, strongly recommend. A beautiful, immaculate facility with attentive technicians/staff/doctors. The hair removal process is painful but quick — the sharp sensation immediately subsides. I believe I have a fairly high tolerance for pain (?) and would rate it about a 4/10. You can get laughing gas if you’re nervous, but I went without and felt it was totally worth the 10 minutes of pain to be able to jump into a suit at a moment’s notice. I had three treatments a few weeks apart last spring/summer and haven’t need any touch ups yet. I note this because some clients need to go back once a season, and others go for years without needing any touch-ups. Several of the staff at CLSC insisted that the MVP of laser hair removal is underarms. They added it’s the most painful (!) but then you never need to shave your underarms again. I will admit I’m intrigued, but shaving the underarms has never once struck me as a burden, so I’ll defer that for a future time in my life.
I’ve already shared my fairly involved haircare routine, including the fact that I find myself gradually migrating towards more frequent professional blowouts. In my 20s and early 30s, I was a bit more lax on styling and blow-drying my hair, but I routinely felt unkempt, especially given how often I’d wind up tying my hair back in a pony tail. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve cared a lot more about my hair being “done” — it’s a shortcut to feeling pulled-together, even when I’m being pulled in 20 different directions.
I will admit that I am lazy about getting my hair cut and colored. I should probably go once a quarter, but I stretch my visits to 3x a year, and sometimes even 2x (yikes!). This has become easier as I’ve retreated towards my natural brunette coloring. Brighter blond hair requires so much more maintenance! I can’t put my finger on this hair care indolence, because it can be relaxing to check out for a morning of beautification. Part of it is that I go all the way into Georgetown for hair cut and color with Ismail at George Salon at the Four Seasons, which is a bit of a schlep and kind of parking nightmare. You can have your car valeted at the hotel, but they’ve just jacked the prices to north of $30, plus tip, for even a two hour visit, which feels wanton. (It used to be $20, which felt more forgivable.) Now, I face the routine parking roulette of Georgetown — an inconvenience I do not miss from my years living in that area. (The frustration of driving home with a trunk full of groceries or a full bladder only to circle around your neighborhood for 10 minutes, or wind up parking eight blocks away…!) Anyhow, I get it done when I can, but I’m not prompt about it.
On a skincare level, I’ve never once had a facial (!) which I realize is strangely inconsistent with my willingness to try countless at-home beauty products. For some reason, I’d rather spend my money a million other ways over having a facial. I can’t explain my disinterest? It doesn’t compute. I’m going to a spa with my mother in a few weeks, and I didn’t even look at the facial menu. Any time I’m presented with the opportunity to visit a spa, though, I sprint to request a massage — there is nothing more relaxing or rewarding for me, especially as a frequent runner and persistent worrier.
At home, I apply a suite of different masks and scrubs whenever I feel I need it, but I’m not scheduled about any of them. Lately, I’ve been sleeping in Chantecaille’s Jasmine and Lily repairing mask (so has Mr. Magpie!), but my go-to, holy grail mask for before I go out for an evening is Clarins’ V-Facial Depuffing Mask. It is so good — unlike anything I’ve ever tried before. It chisels your features and also leaves skin soft and fresh. Strongly rec. A beauty brand called Newa just reached out and offered to send me one of their radio frequency wrinkle reducing devices. I’ve read about these, and also the LED masks that so many beauty cognoscenti rave about, with piqued interest for some time now, and I jumped on the opportunity to give it a whirl. I’ll report back with thoughts. If you want to test it alongside me, they offered us 15% off with code JEN15.
OK, how about you? Please share your routines, your non-negotiables, and how you arrived at them! I’m willing to be convinced…!
+HHH re-released its Cosima nap dress in a blue stripe — you might remember this was one of my most-worn dresses last summer. I love the elongated smocking and high neckline. Feel fresh!
+Sweetest Zara finds for littles: this blockprint canvas hat, this sailboat sweatsuit.
+Love these Hermes-esque sandals from Margaux. A perfect summer heel if you might be attending events on grass. Also — Margaux just offered us $35 off orders $200+ with code MAGPIE35 (must be a first-time shopper).
+I swear by DryBar hair spray and this pomade (my son has a recalcitrant cow lick) for taming my children’s hair in the morning. Just ordered some of these fun-colored hair ties for my daughter.
By: Jen Shoop
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I’ve been yapping a lot about Heather Robertson’s 12 Week Program, but I have been loving it, and finding it straight-forward to commit to. Most sessions are 35-45 minutes, require little equipment, can be done at home, are free (!!!) — and really deliver a good burn. I’ve already noticed a change in my muscle tone and overall strength since starting. Specifically, I find the hardest (most severely inclined) segments of my running route much easier to forge. I’ve been sore (in a good way) every single day since starting — my body feels worked out, challenged, toned, but not aching so badly I can’t walk or need a therapeutic soak afterward. It’s just the right level of challenge, and you can adjust as you need. I’ve been playing around with a few different weights, and sometimes use none at all, just relying on the resistance of my own body. Can’t recommend more!
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I’ve shared some of my fitness buys over the past few weeks, but a few of my favorite finds and products at the moment:
01. Beyond Yoga tanks, bras, and leggings. The colors are so good, the material divinely soft, and the fit is perfect. I like to mix and match colors for a cocktail effect. The other legging set I love is from Left on Friday (bottoms, top). It’s more stretchy, sheeny, and performance-like than the Beyond Yoga (which is a soft, brushed, heathered cotton), and it really moves with you.
02. I’ve been loving these bike shorts from Lululemon. The same magical Align material we all know and love. I also just ordered a pair from Beyond Yoga to try.
03. If I’m not wearing the Beyond Yoga tanks, I like these ones from Target (inexpensive, very soft material, good colors), these from Lululemon, these singlets from Tracksmith (so, so lightweight), these from Vuori (boxy/cropped), and some Lululemon tanks from years ago (similar here and here).
05. For running shorts, I like Beyond Yoga’s In Stride shorts and Tracksmith’s Van Cortlandt shorts. Both are a bit on the longer side, which I personally prefer. The In Stride’s have a bike short-like lining on the inside. The Tracksmith are very breathable and have that great retro styling.
08. I had been eyeing these ankle weights (some of her fitness videos suggest them but they aren’t needed) but this cool new fitness brand, Equipt, reached out and offered to send me theirs so I’m giving those a try.
09. These Nike Metcons are my favorite sneakers for doing mat work / gym-type fitness. They really stabilize your ankle. I hadn’t realized that running sneakers are optimized for movement forward (makes sense) but when you’re moving side to side doing lunges and the like, you really do need more support. For road running, I’ve been loving these.
11. I use my Takeya sport bottle most days, but I do understand the appeal of one of the straw type bottles for workouts at home!
12. If you’re a sport dress girlie, I love this one from Lulu and have already worn it this season. (Full review and notes on sizing here.) It’s a great “take a walk with the fam / chase after the kids / possibly run through a sprinkler” active weekend option. I also love the look of this one from Spanx.
16. For after exercise, I switch into silver Birks and make myself the green smoothie from this book, served in these tall glasses with these glass straws, and sit outside, relaxing. Never has our Vitamix been put to greater use. It is SO worth the investment — incredibly powerful. (Mr. Magpie also uses it frequently in cooking for pureeing, sauces, etc.)
This morning, I am re-publishing an essay I wrote two years ago, when sending my son off to school for the first time. Perhaps you will relate to its pitch as you wind up the school year, prepare to send your child to sleep away camp for the first time, or watch your child graduate. I, too, was reflecting on its sentiments this past week as I placed a few orders for my son’s imminent fifth (!) birthday. I know we carry all the ages of our children inside, but the agony of not having those ages here-and-now, freckle-faced and wide-eyed in my lap, burns like a loss. But! Today I find myself reassured. None of these emotional stabs and twinges are nefarious, or harmful. They are love made manifest.
If you’re rounding the corner or closing a chapter in your motherhood journey, sitting with you today.
*****
On Tuesday night, I tossed and turned. I tried every trick in the book, including those breathing exercises: “Focus on your breath. In, out, in, out. Think about your lungs expanding and filling with air. Every time an errant though arrives, slick it away.” Futile maneuvers, all: my focus rolled away from me like yarn. Instead, I continued to fixate on all the details of my son’s imminent first day of school. Had I packed the extra masks as instructed? I’d need to get the first-day-of-school flag down. Would he sit still for a picture? What backdrop? The sinister lurked just beneath: how had I not spent more of our mornings together soaking him up? Why had I not knelt beside him to run trains over the blue rug in his bedroom that morning last week he patted the ground beside him, commanding me to “play, mama”? Oh, it was agony — to lie awake on the penultimate night of his babyhood and recount all my missteps and oversights as his mother. The entire saga was tinged with the bruiselike tenderness of just having made it through this bumpy patch with the children at home too-long — mini had been out of school for nearly a month and a half! –and my patience worn thin. I have tried, I told myself. I have done my best, I insisted. The pit in my stomach turned its cheek at my remonstrances.
Tuesday night, I still felt mother to a baby. Wednesday morning, I watched a small blonde boy march straight across the icy street, hand in his father’s, and straight into the care of his new teacher, without so much as a glance in my direction. I signed a form, indicating his temperature that morning (COVID protocol) and, in the fluster of exchanging clipboards and sliding my daughter’s backpack over her shoulders and balancing on the crunchy snow of the curb, he was whisked away from me wordlessly. I knew this was for the best, having lived through and observed many more protracted separations on the pavement in front of school. But still — a throb. I insisted Mr. Magpie pull the car up so we could spy on him as he filed into the outdoor play area in front of his Montessori. He waited behind another child for his turn to scoop birdseed into a dish. His head cocked to the side as he lowered the dish in, as if estimating. The gesture seemed jarringly mature. Has he always done this? I could see half his face — determined, curious — and I felt again the divisive pique of motherhood: that these children are mine, but that they also belong to themselves. That tiny shift of his head sent me into a nearly physical distress over the thought that he would soon be entering the classroom, and sitting at his small table, and waiting in line for the toilet, and that I would not bear witness to any of those small happenings. When he is near me, I can envision his thoughts and wants. I can sense mounting frustration, can gauge by gait whether he is tired, recalcitrant, excited, can even anticipate what he might be retrieving as he wanders into a particular room in the house. Now, it feels as though those tethers have been clipped. He is his own.
I returned home, crying the entire way, and texted a girlfriend of mine who went through a similar, emotional transition with her second child starting school last fall. She reassured me in all the right ways. She shared that her son has blossomed while in school, and that she treasures listening to the voices of her two children chatting about teachers and classmates and concepts like “hemispheres” and “alphabet sounds” (they are also a Montessori family) at night. She reminded me that our sons are developmentally ready to be away, and that they need time apart from their moms. And then she said: “But you should let yourself feel all the feels. It just shows how much you love your role as a mom.”
The words came like a hug. I realized that instead of using this transition as an occasion to browbeat over moments I have missed or blindly marched through in my son’s baby years, and instead of mourning his babyhood, I could welcome this moment to just sit with the awareness that I love him so much I don’t want anything about him to change. And to see that there is nothing dark or rueful or terminal afoot: it is all borne by the same love that carried him into this world. He is mine, and he is not mine, and my emotions around these truths are just permutations of love.
So sitting here today with droopy hearts dancing in my eyes.
Until 11:30. When I pick him up, and remember that he is not really gone so long (two hours?) and that he is still the same wee man who will not sit still to let me dress him and loves to roar “IRONMAN!” and pilfers milk from me at 5 p.m. on the dot like a little street urchin. “Milk?” he pleads, his eyes raindrops. He will be that boy until he’s not, and then I will love the next version of him, and then the next, and then the next, and so we will continue on, improvising through every shade of love.
Post-Scripts.
+”…Do all parents feel this way as their babies grow? This toggling between togetherness and separation? The merging and submerging of the self? I will occasionally see in her the expression of her nanny, or the learnings from a class. “Elmo,” she insists when she sees the bright red cartoon character on a juice box or advertisement, though I have never shown her Elmo. Where did she learn that? And I cock my head and think, “My little shadow has ventured away from me and learned something new.” Settling into parenthood, I think, is a gradual drawing and redrawing of the lines around the self. This is me, this is not me. You are an extension of me, you are your own self. I carry you in my heart, you are my heart outside my body.” More of these thoughts (not far from the ones above, but written two years ago!), here.
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I spend a lot of time alone. I work for myself, in my own home, and our children are out of the house at school and then extra curriculars between 8 and either 3:30 or 5:30 most days. I do eat lunch with Mr. Magpie around noon, but beyond that, I’m solo for much of the week. I was made for this eremitic life — or perhaps I unknowingly sought it out. I enjoy my own company and feel most myself when alone, or in the sparing company of a few close friends and family members. As I get older, I find myself more in tune with my own physical and emotional limits, and I can tell you that I require a lot of solitary time in order to function at my best. If I run on less, I’m all awkward angles and grinding gears.
Since starting my new fitness regimen a few weeks ago, it’s felt like I’ve been spending even more time than usual by myself. But when I looked closer, I realized I’m still netting the same number of solo hours each week — it’s just that working out, especially running, gives me more “quality time” with myself than usual. When I run, I am unpacking, I am planning, I am revising, I am self-criticizing, I am reminding myself to go easy. I am sometimes circling a drain, fretting over things I did or didn’t do, and sometimes swinging through a near-euphoric stratosphere (thank you, runner’s high) as I tick through all the things I have to be grateful for. All of this unexpected “me time” has led me to reflect intensively on this past year in which I have learned so much about myself. I have been working, yeomen-like, through my instinct to smooth things over, appease, please all parties — an instinct that led to a situation that boiled over last year. I have been staring it straight in the face, and plundering its pockets. What is this continuous urge to reassure others “it’s OK,” and “no problem” and to hush my own perceptions in order to make space for others? I think some of it is shaped by my birth order (oldest daughter), some of it is my innate personality, and some of it was forged by a few experiences in my childhood that led me to believe that following the rules, not causing any trouble, and taking up as little room as possible was the safest and most virtuous way to move through the world. Recent experiences suggest otherwise. But it is difficult to unlearn something so deeply wired. It has felt like slowly taking myself apart, brick by brick. (I’m not at the foundation yet, either.) I have asked myself, “Do I need to do this? Do I need to unlearn this?” I think the answer is yes. Arthur E. Smith wrote: “Metamorphosis is the naturally occurring consequence of paying attention.” So, yes — I am looking closely at myself and rearrangement seems to follow. After all, I want to be able to stand still in my center rather than waving away, dismissing, diverting attention from something that’s not fair, right, kind–or that’s just not something I want to do. Last summer, one of my girlfriends observed me contorting myself to accommodate the wishes of others, and she shook me gently on the shoulder and said: “But, Jen, this isn’t your job.” A seismic shift in the space of six words. I had not even conceived of the fact that there might have been a path in which I was not pretzeling around the needs of others.
I think what I’m after, here and in so many other areas of my life as I turn 40, is an internal, equipoised quiet. A place of buoying equilibrium in which I balance the various inputs around me without over-compensating in any one direction. You know how when you first start a workout routine, it is difficult to maintain balance while lifting one leg, or one arm, or lunging on one foot? Over time, you develop the core muscles necessary to make these movements without windmilling through the air. Slowly it becomes easier to stabilize. That’s where I want to be — strong at the core.
So, a lot of wood-chopping on these morning runs. Maybe God put me on this fitness journey because I needed a quiet place to meet myself, and take a look at what’s been going on beneath the hood.
Onward, as we say —
And, a few little snapshots from the week, too —
When the good ice cream is on sale at Whole Foods (don’t mind if I do), plus the epitome of #fashun: Birks with socks and leggings. (But really, you do need these leggings — the best colors, a perfect fit, and a soft-but-slightly-compressive brushed cotton material.)
Holding hands with Mr. Magpie on the way back from an impromptu Monday night dinner out with the kids. We were listening to Rhye’s “Stay Open” with the windows down and the spring air in our hair, and our children sleepy in the backseat, and it was one of those golden moments I won’t soon forget.
Glass of red wine in a juice glass in my favorite chair — so relaxing. Spoiler alert: I did not look at all like Cindy Crawford.
Running through the Little Falls park trail that leads to the Crescent Trail. It is lush and overgrown — exactly what I think of when I try to describe D.C. — at least the Northwest quadrant of it in which I grew up — to someone who’s never visited. I wrote about this elsewhere: “D.C. has always seemed, to me, small and slack — like a mildly overgrown thicket or a tumbler of water that’s been sitting, sweating, in the heat, a ring of water pooled around its basin. There is a languor to it — especially in the summer — underscored by the heavy shade of trees you’ll find most anywhere in Northwest D.C. in particular, and the torpid buzz of cicadas, and the canopy of humidity. The lush green spaces are unmanicured; street signs are often partially obscured by vines or branches; medians will occasionally boast knee-high grass. There is a thickness, a drawl to things, that has always made me think of the city as part wild — but not wild in the awe-inspiring sense of the Rocky Mountains; wild in the sense of the wood playhouse my father built with birch planks from Hechingers and installed at the top of a small hill in our backyard, beneath a shady pine tree. We played in it for the better part of two weeks and then found spider webs and raccoon droppings in its interior, and purple splotches of bird poop on its roof. From then on, the playhouse was the answer to many rounds of truth or dare that typically ended with one of us screaming as we’d jet down the hill, swiping phantom creepy crawlies off our shoulders. “There was a rabid squirrel in there!” my sister once told me, eyes wide. Like this playhouse, D.C. felt wild in a parochial sense, in a backyard animal sense.”
Celebrating my father-in-law’s birthday (which spurred the writing of this post!). The kids living their best terry cloth lives in Minnow (outfits linked here). I loved catching this snap of my boy with his hand on my in laws’ dog, McDuff. A mini Tilly, and he looks like he’s pilfering for crumbs here.
Our friends has a Derby party with the cutest details. I asked, and my girlfriend got the Derby cups from When It Rains Paper (lots of other designs available). I brought them a few little gifts including this Fishwife x Fly by Jing Smoked Salmon. Amazing what a little ribbon and some crinkle paper do for presentation! The gift beneath is wrapped in one of these handy Gwrap bags from Joy Creative Shop. No tissue paper, no ribbon, no box needed! You seal with one of their provided sticker labels.
Elizabeth’s roses in bloom on the side of our house. I watched them accommodating the breeze for a few minutes one morning and then had to play John Prine’s “I Remember Everything” a few times and have a good cry. (More on that song here.)
We made an excursion to the nursery to buy some more herbs and plants this past week, too. My son wore this tennis racquet sweatshirt every chance he had this week. I’m sure all mothers feel this way about their children, but I could stare at them all day long and never stop thinking how beautiful they are.
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What Inspired Me This Week…
+BRUNA MARQUEZINE AT THE MET BALL: Wearing Tory Burch. Geez, she looked incredible! My jaw dropped when I saw these photos! If I were getting married tomorrow, this would be the inspo. Can you even?! Seriously spectacular.
+SUMMER SKIN: Hanni is offering 20% off sitewide with code BDAY. I’ve raved about these “lazy girl’s approach to hydration” products many times, but can’t rec the splash salve more. You apply it in the shower, out of the direct flow of water, and then walk out of the shower with deeply moisturized skin. I love it, and usually follow up with the spray-on lotion. Both work wonders and are a good pricepoint — especially with the 20% off sale! I also just received a new razor from Athena Club (gifted), along with the handy razor cover for travel. In summer, I like to layer on an oil on my shoulders, legs, decolletage for a glow — I love Osea’s Undaria Oil (a divine, light citrus-y scent and very quick-absorbing — 10% off with MAGPIE10), Hanni’s Aura Oil (virtually invisible and scentless), and the oils from Olio E Osso, a small female-founded business out on the West Coast. The latter are the heaviest, FYI. I’m feeling ready for baring summer legs!
+REAL PREPPY: Did you know “preppy” has a new meaning among the younger generation? My teenage next door neighbor described it as “Lululemon and bright colors” — not the madras, popped collars, and boat shoes of my youth! The outfit below, captured by Kennedy Magazine, is the essence of “true prep” to me. This outfit is iconic. The ever-sharp and observant penned an entire post on this exact outfit, why it works so well, and how to recreate it last week. I totally agree — it’s an incredibly well-worn, well-styled look! The sharp lines of the sunglasses makes the entire vibe work. Also, the chic pea’s boat shoes made me want to buy these fab ones from Sebago’s collab with Sessun.
+WHAT WE NEED TO LEARN: Every week or two, I listen to a bit more of Pema Chodron’s audiobook, When Things Fall Apart. It’s a lot to listen to in one go, but absorbed in small bursts when you need a boost, it’s pure gold. This week, she said: “Nothing goes away until it has taught us what we need to learn.” Wow (!) Words as unsettling as they are reassuring. We can’t hide from what we need to learn — it will find a way. I’m keeping this in mind the next time I’m struggling to “get over” or “move on” from something. There’s probably a reason why it’s clinging to me — I need to lean forward and figure out why.
+FISHERMAN SANDALS: I’ve been wearing these $125 raffia fisherman sandals the last several days straight. They are so comfortable and add interesting texture/dimension to any look — sort of like the “wrong shoe theory,” but applied lightly. They are currently 20% off with code MAGPIE20 (as are any orders at Anthro over $100 for full-priced clothing and shoes). The code is only active through tomorrow. I’m so impressed with Anthro’s shoe assortment right now — loads of on-trend, and even north-of-trend (e.g., early adopter trend status) styles for under $150, plus my code saves us a little extra. Here are a few of my top picks.
+I’M A SHORTS PERSON? I’ve avoided shorts for a long time — I think because I always feel like they make me look like a child? (I’m petite / 5’0.) I’ve been sharing thoughts on styling my Agolde white shorts in posts here and here, and have been surprised by how often I wear them. I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks? Very comfortable and I am finding lots of new ways to style. This has led me to wonder if I shouldn’t consider other shorts. All of these would look perfect with a simple white tee, tank, or button down (all my favs here).
+Thank you for all the love on this vulnerable post — it was tough, raw etchwork, its own kind of absolution, and I appreciated all the notes, DMs, emails about it. Sometimes I take screen shots of the lovely notes you send me to flip back to when I need a little cheerleading or creative encouragement. One that went into my “Go Jen!” bank this week read: “Had me tearing up in the first paragraph, weeping openly in my office by the end. Thank you for sharing. Needed this today.” Whenever I question whether something I’m writing is too vulnerable, I think about a quote that runs something like: “You never know when your writing/art/offering is the exact shape of the hole in someone’s heart.” The language is overblown, but I do feel the general shape of the sentiment to be true. I can’t tell you how often I’ve found refuge or direction in the words of another. Just being seen, heard, felt, reassured! Anyhow. Wishing you all the gentler seas you deserve.
+My favorite comment this week, from a fellow fine-hair-suffering woman: “I also have superfine straight hair. I swear it has never done an interesting thing in its life.” Solidarity in our determined-to-be-Tuesday-in-February hair. But also! Your comments on hair care were interesting. A little groundswell of support for the silk pillowcase as a gamechanger. (Quince has a 100% silk one for about half the price, FYI.) You all enumerated its benefits: gentler on hair (less hair shedding), prolongs blowouts, prevents wrinkles, runs cooler than cotton. Think I’ll give this a try.
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Good morning! Email subscribers received a special edition Summer Kit this morning with printable intention cards, recipe cards, a summer playlist, shopping roundups, summer finds, and more. I had so much fun compiling this digest, and it left me feeling more prepared and excited for what lays ahead. Subscribe here to receive it in your email.
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This year, I’ve organically fallen into a habit of identifying a single-word intention every month or two. I’m not precious or calendared about it, but I’ve found myself intuitively seeking a mantra to repeat in moments of tension or tenebrosity. This year, I’ve focused on words like yutori, flow, space, ease. Between the density of funerals, the loss of our Tilly girl, and recovering from the situation I wrote about earlier this week (not trying to be elliptical, just observing privacy here), I suppose I’ve needed the yardage. I love the visual of “easing my way through things” versus “making my way to the other side” — in the former, I’m gliding through clement waters; in the latter, I’m hurdle-jumping onto pitiless pavement.
The other day, Mr. Magpie and I were walking out of the wine shop together, and the salesclerk called out: “Alright, folks — take it easy.” I thought: amen, sir. That’s just what I’m going to do. Take it easy. You know I can’t resist an easily-forged connection to HRH Mary Oliver, so let me again share her fabulous couplets from the second half of “When I Am Among the Trees”:
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come into the world to do this,
to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”
A bit longer than my standard one-word formula, but I’d like this summer be about “going easy, and being filled with light.” Looser schedules, lots of outdoor dining, less makeup, more movement.
