In 1890, Vincent Van Gogh painted his celebrated “Almond Blossom” canvas as a love gift for his namesake newborn nephew. The baby’s parents hung it above his crib and reported that little Vincent was “enthralled” by it. When I absorb this story, I see the painting anew: I can guess why Vincent bends the branches down close the viewer, why he presses our noses against the blossoms. We are looking at the bark and buds as might a child: cheeks pressed to limbs, heads bowed to branches. The canvas feels like an invitation to participate, as children, in the phantasmagoria of early spring. Tiny, enthralled Vincent seems to have received it that way. Me, too.
I attended a writing workshop earlier this week put on by the Smithsonian in which we did a “close reading” of this painting, idling over details and tracing the visible echoes of the Japanese printmaking tradition Van Gogh so dearly loved. It is shocking, the depths one might plumb, in spending just an hour with this one work, but I have been primarily thinking about the extraordinariness of this painting as a gift. What a legacy, what a provocation, to impart on a fresh-faced nephew:
Come join me at the trees.
At first greeting, I was struck by the painting’s pulsing tension — the blue sky against the gray tree, the forking angles of the branches, and, especially, the tender, delicate petals against the rugged, aged bark. But as I took a closer look at the brushstrokes, I began to see the ashiness of the branch echoed in the sepals of the buds, and the knobbiness of the branches in the roundness of the flower heads, and it was as though the canvas dissolved into primal, circular shapes and colors that told a different, less discordant story, one of continuity and repetition and the shocking way in which life and death intersect in the natural world.
Come join me at the trees, he seems to say. They bear the signature of all things, he seems to add. The cruel and buoying cyclicality of the seasons; the hope and impermanence of spring; the hearty, weather-beaten scaliness that welcomes unmarked petals.
+Most-asked question I receive via Instagram: “where is your phone case from?” It is a Goyard-inspired pink case I found on Etsy from a boutique that no longer exists. However, just found some really similar ones here! Ordered myself the green.
+This striped skirt is absolutely perfect — and $50 off with code SHOPITSF.
+Tory Burch brought back a slightly updated platform fisherman sandal! I love the cream color. I own last season’s version in the brown and wore them constantly. (You can get last season’s style in a cool pistachio green hue on super sale here.)
+The aforementioned sandals are dreamy with a maxi/midi-length dress — love this tile-print caftan from H&M. Affordable take on Agua Bendita vibes.
+This pink and white rash guard is beyond precious. I love all of the prints Minnow uses, but this one is just forever sweet.
+These Target flip-flops have a terry cloth upper that is SO fun. I love them in the pink?! I’ve been seeing cute little terry pieces all over the place lately, and actually have this and this as potential purchases for summer…
A few weeks ago, my husband spent the better part of two days working on an elaborate Latin American meal. He drove all over the DMV procuring the best ingredients from the best purveyors, jostled work calls while preparing fish stock, had things marinating and brining and bubbling away for nearly 48 hours. My son sat down to dinner that night, took one look at his plate, and started crying.
“I don’t WANTTHAT!” he wept. The look on my husband’s face suggested he wanted to weep as well.
I was recounting this demoralizing tale over dinner with a few girlfriends who also have young children, and, after appropriate laughter and sympathy, one of them shared: “Well, only one of my children eats per night.” She went on to explain that she is committed to the philosophy that she will make one meal for the family each night, no ifs, and, or buts about it, but that her two children independently maintain long and unyielding lists of things they won’t eat — and that their respective catalogs have almost zero overlap. She sighed. “I just say, ‘This is what’s on the menu,’ and then watch as one child goes hungry each night.”
Is feeding young children always this challenging?
My husband and I find ourselves tumbling in and out of patterns of wild frustration and shrugging “oh, wells.” Mr. Magpie was a picky eater until college and now look at him — one of the most adventurous eaters and ambitious home cooks you will meet. Still, our resolution this year was to eat dinner with the children as often as possible. Dining is a highly-valued part of our adult lives, and we wanted to model that appreciation for our children, and include them in it. For us, dinner time is particularly sacrosanct. We unplug and focus on the food, on one another. We usually pour a glass of wine, turn on music, and open ourselves up. Up until the dawn of this year, we nearly always fed our children separately (earlier) because we valued this time so much for ourselves. Especially during the pandemic, dinner felt like the one sliver of the day that belonged to us alone and that consistently brought us joy in dark times. But with those days behind us and the children staying up later and being generally more aware and capable, we felt it was not only timely but in some sense ethical (as it pertains to our own values) to accommodate them in the ritual.
It has been a bumpy ride.
Some dinnertimes, we make wild eyes at one another as if to say: “Why are we doing this to ourselves?” These non-verbal exchanges usually come on the heels of sitting for an hour and a half while our children find two thousand excuses to avoid or defer ingesting the three bites of lamb, small mound of peas, and one fingerling potato on their respective plates. Or after we watch them spit out butter-poached lobster, or something much simpler — like the buttery, crispy, breaded fish sticks my husband prepared from scratch, attempting to appease their palates. (He served them with homemade tartar sauce for us, which would have been a bridge too far had we plated it for our children.) My son, who will happily eat Gorton’s freezer variety, spat these fancy fish sticks out on the table in defiance.
And yet. We’ve seen slow and incremental improvements in other ways. My daughter will at least try almost anything on her plate, and my son has gradually gotten better at sitting at the table without needing to be reminded: “BOTTOM IN THE SEAT” fourteen times. Even if I cannot say much about the impact of our shared dinnertimes on their nutrition, I have witnessed beautiful gains in other realms: we often learn about their days, share stories, and talk about food together. My children also take turns saying grace at the head of the meal, and this Catholic routine is deeply reassuring to me. I occasionally feel as though I am failing at “instilling the Catholic faith” at home, but at least we say grace daily together. In short, sometimes I feel that dinnertime together is less about what they actually eat and more about the rhetorical emphasis on community, on manners, on conversation, on prayer. So, net-net, not a full failure.
Still. There are days where I wonder if my son has eaten more than one bite of dinner for the past couple weeks. (Am I putting him to bed hungry too often? Am I being overly spartan?, she wonders at 1:43 a.m.)
We’ve done enough consulting on the subject to follow the general recommendations you’ve probably also heard about: 1) portion size can overwhelm children — we give them small portions (especially of new foods); 2) put something familiar on their plate — we serve them at least one thing we know they will like on their plate (actually, usually two, because — in addition to an “easy hit” side like rice, buttered noodles, edamame, etc, we always give them a serving of fruit at dinner, which they invariably eat, and usually before anything else); 3) do not dictate how much they eat. We do not force our children to clear or even eat anything at all on their plates, BUT! We do permit them something sweet after dinner if they’ve tried everything on their plates and “feel full.” (If you have young children, you probably intuit that the laxity and flabbiness of that last condition is problematic.)
The conversation usually runs like this:
My son: “I don’t WANT THAT.”
Me: “OK, that’s up to you.”
My son: “But can I have dessert?”
Me: “If you’re not hungry enough for dinner, you’re not hungry enough for dessert.”
My son: “But I’m not hungry for that.” [Enter infinity loop.]
My daughter, with the negotiation skills of seasoned litigator, will routinely press us on “how many bites” she needs to have in order to qualify for dessert. We tear out our hair telling her “until you’re full.” This usually becomes a competition as to how few bites she can get away with, at least with proteins and new vegetables (she is pretty good elsewhere), and sometimes I find myself telling her “eat your age in bites,” which is what my mother always told me. I don’t know any way around this! We are a dessert family; I am a baker and we love a post-dinner sweet treat. I really do not want to be a “do as I say, not as I do” type person either, hiding my own desserts, or eating desserts myself but not permitting her to enjoy them. Life is all about balance! Having struggled with an unhealthy relationship with food as a teen, I don’t want my children to think any food is “bad” or “indulgent” or what have you, so this is meaningful point for me.
All this to say —
I do not know how to get my children to eat full dinners.
Period.
I polled my Magpie readers and, if you’re hoping for a silver bullet like I was — there is none. The two heartening things I heard across the lot of replies had little to do with the actual mechanics of getting your kids to eat and more to do with muscling through their picky years:
“It gets better.”
and
“Don’t focus on what they eat in a given day. It’s more about what they eat over the course of several days. Some days it seems like they barely eat; other days, they eat a lot. It all balances out.”
That last one came like a hug. I do feel that my son will have a few good meals and then some sparse ones; he will eat when he is hungry.
Most of the others were either things we’ve tried with moderate to minimal success (usually owing to their implicit temporariness) or things we won’t try because they don’t fit our lifestyle/values system, but I will share them here in case they spark something for you:
“Don’t do an afternoon snack! And then just eat earlier.”
“Have them help. My kids will try almost anything if they’ve “made” it.”
“Feed them early. I would rather give dinner at 4:30 and a snack before bed.”
“Chick-Fil-A BBQ sauce. My son will dip anything into it!”
“Serve the meal in make-your-own format like tacos. Or throw in fun surprises like pancakes.”
“Provide the food but don’t dictate how much they eat. It gets better.”
“We use a spaceship plate and tell him he can fly it in the air when the food is gone.”
[Paraphrasing]: “Offer alternative seating arrangements to sitting at the formal dining table. Sometimes my children eat best sitting on the floor.”
I received so many notes from Magpies saying: “I’m right there with you,” so if you’re also on the struggle bus with this matter, know that it’s a packed one, and I’m sitting in the front seat.
Today, just repeating this to myself: It gets better. It gets better. It gets better.
+Some of our favorite mealtime gear for little kids. Not that any of this “helps” over the long haul. I find cute things like fruit picks temporarily pique their interest but then it’s back to the same. Still, might as well like the aesthetics of the dinnerware you have in your drawers!
+Extremely tempted by this cardigan…only three left in my size…
+This bikini for a little lady LOOKS like Hunza G, but is under $20. She can “twin” with me in my actual Hunza G…!
A: These Le Monde Beryls are IT. I also feel like Vibi Venezias are highly underrepresented. I live in the canvas ones in the summer and the velvet ones in the winter. So comfortable and chic!
Unlikely “no one else” will have these, but these feel fashion-forward to the point that you’ll find yourself leader of the fashion pack by wearing them. Love the high vamp and woven material. Have heard these are insanely comfortable.
Q: I’m looking for a dress. I’m hosting a surprise party for my husband to celebrate an important career milestone. Evening in springtime NYC; cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, then a seated dinner; mix of friends, family, and business associates. I want something that makes my husband proud to have me on his arm.
A: This is so sweet. I know he will be! This evening sounds fabulous. My first thought was this dress from Agua Bendita, or this one. There is something about that brand that is sweet but not too sweet — sophisticated enough for discerning, colleague-present evening affairs. I also think this could be really sweet with loose, romantic hair. Can’t be the price! A few other fab options:
A: Yes – this J. Crew Factory is perfect! While you’re there, you must check out these happy block-heel raffia mules. They are spectacular and around $60!
Q: Best blush brush.
A: Merit! This is one of the best recent beauty purchases I’ve made. I use it daily to blend in cream blush and bronzer and sometimes if I’m in a hurry I use it to blend concealer/tinted moisturizer/foundation, too.
Q: 30th birthday gift ideas.
A: Splurge: a really good watch. You will wear it daily and it’s a perfect milestone gift. I bought myself an Hermes H Heure when I was in my late 20s after hitting a major career milestone, and I wear it nearly every day. I treasure it so much. I would love to treat myself to a Cartier tank in solid silver (no leather band) when I turn 50. You can also find many options pre-owned on The Real Real. More reasonably-priced: a fun statement necklace from Lizzie Fortunato (I bought myself this one), a splurge-y home appliance that is completely unnecessary but will bring you joy (like GE’s pebble ice machine), a dress that makes you feel joyful, designer shades, a cheeky summer tote, or a flashy new card case.
Q: Gift ideas for an almost two-year-old girl.
A: I shared a bunch of our go-to gifts for children here, but I really love gifting the little collectible Maileg toys (they are so, so sweet and have the most imaginative details) and any of the Story Orchestra books, which my children adore and work just as well for little ones. I recently gifted my just-two-year-old niece some Calico Critters and these interactive cooking books. There is something about that age that makes little figurines like the Mailegs and Calico Critters irresistible. Just the right size? My niece immediately got to work dressing and undressing them, putting them in their cribs, etc.
Q: Black classic dress with no smocking. Chanel-like, or Jackie O.
A: Feeling like a broken record here, but you need this Staud! I also love this Reformation for summer – the neckline is so flattering.
Q: I love the look of Minnow suits for kids but can’t imagine spending that much for one season of wear. Any looks for less?
A: Love the look of these and this $25 pair! I like the look of shorts with blouses tucked into them at this phase of my life (I’m 38) — I’m imagining either of those shorts with this, this, or this.
I also know people LOVE Agolde’s Parker long jean shorts. I did order to try last summer and they just did not fit my body well so I returned.
Q: I’ve been seeing flip flops in some of the street style pictures? Are they back in?
A: I’ve been seeing them too! This (seen at top of blog) or this being the vibe — old school Havaianas! Personally, I prefer something a tad more elevated, like these K. Jacques, though.
Q: A really sophisticated outfit for a cocktail party at my country club that doesn’t feel like I’m trying too hard.
A: You’re looking for La Ligne or Veronica Beard. Like can you EVEN imagine showing up in this eyelet jacket with these trousers?! A TEN. La Ligne always somehow looks effortless and low-key but very fashion-conscious. Like, this La Ligne belongs to a woman who does not take herself or her fashion too seriously but somehow always looks perfect?
Q: DC based bloggers or influencers you like?
A: Lauren Neff! She is a doll. I have had the pleasure of getting to know her in real life and she is absolutely lovely – so warm, empathetic, grounded. Not bloggers per se, but there are some great creatives in these parts, too, including Tara Andris, Riley Sheehey, Maggie of the Green Beauty Guide, Heather Bien (she does many things), and travel writer Jacqueline Mendelsohn. I know all of these wonderful women in real life and respect each and every one of them for their intelligence, curiosity, and poise.
I am absolutely obsessed with everything Lizzie Fortunato at the moment (all their jewelry seen above, including this necklace, these earrings, and this necklace). I finally purchased one of their bloom necklaces, noticing that they have been selling out rapidly. I feel like it will be the perfect spring layering necklace. (You can get the look for less with the ones from Nicola Bathie!) The only problem is now I want more Lizzie Fortunato necklaces to layer it with, especially one of the ones with an off-center pearl.
Because I am often asked when I post pictures of myself: nearly daily, I wear this Jane Win “Joy” pendant with this Lizzie Scheck zodiac pendant. I absolutely treasure both. The first reminds me to seek out “slivers of joy” in my daily life, and the second was an unexpected gift from Lizzie Scheck, who is a longtime Magpie reader. I had no idea she had this fabulous business and I was touched by her generosity.
Last week, I revisited an old post from the depths of lockdown and I found tears drawing close to the surface. Those were hard times. I did not write about it then, the wound too-tender, but when I caught COVID in March 2020, it was severe, to the point that I wondered if I would need to go to the hospital. I now joke that I “took to my bed for a month,” like some kind of fin de siecle dandy, but the truth is that my illness then was one of the scariest times of my life. I specifically remember searching deep corners of the Internet in a thick, febrile haze, trying to find out “how long into a case of COVID before you know you will need to go to the hospital” and “average length of COVID illness.” At the time, there were no answers, no reputable sources with which to consult. There were only headlines, and horrific stories of young, healthy people who looked like me dying from it. This was early enough into COVID that we were told not to get tested because tests were not yet plentifully available, and we needed them for front-line workers and people with compromised immune systems, for whom an early diagnosis might be more meaningful. I was tormented by the story of Amanda Kloots, a celebrity fitness instructor whose seemingly hearty husband had caught COVID and was dying in the ICU. (He eventually did pass away.) This is hard to put on paper, even now, but I remember not wanting to go to the hospital because I would have had to go by myself — my husband would have needed to stay with the kids, and hospitals weren’t permitting companions entry anyhow — and I did not want to die alone.
I carried these morbid thoughts on top of the unusual pressure of caring for two very young children while also running a business, having no childcare, and being confined to a small Manhattan apartment. It was a hard time for me.
Woof. These are dark, tough admissions; I am sorry to drop them on your doorstep this Tuesday. But they are also truths, and I feel now, three years out, capable of looking directly at them. They are also useful context for explaining why the essay below, which I am republishing today with modest edits, pulls at my heart.
At the same time, revisiting my musings now, I am keenly aware that I was navigating the impossible questions of the quarterlife roam that exist with or without COVID. The pandemic did heighten some of the intensity around them, but I know many of you are sitting at the other end of this essay pondering the same kinds of things today: should we move closer to family? what does it mean — emotionally, socially, professionally — to leave New York [or wherever you currently are]? are we prioritizing our careers sufficiently in this decision? at what moment will it become clear that NOW is the time for a change?
If you are blinking at this screen wondering the same things:
Continue to follow the circle of thought. Know that it is often a long coil, but one day, you will feel a tiny internal shift that moves you from 50% sure you want to make the decision to 51% sure. I can almost give you the coordinates as to when this happened for me. Mr. Magpie and I used to talk long walks along the Jackie O. reservoir, and one chilly, early spring morning, he asked, as we walked along the East side of the pond: “Should we do it?” And I knew what he meant, and I knew that after answering “no” or “I’m not sure” to that question for nearly a year, I needed to say “yes.”
In the meantime, have the late-night back-and-forths with your partner. Draw up lists of pros and cons. Solicit advice and then sift through it. Go in one direction and then lean back against it. Talk through all the logistics and complexities. Travel to strangely detailed contingencies, like the possible high schools your children might one day attend if you settle in X neighborhood, and how you might find a local caregiver, and how long it would take to get to the closest grocery. Know that nothing is permanent. Trust yourself.
All this to say: I am sending love to my fellow friends in the quarterlife fracas. It can feel like you are solving math equations to which no one can possibly know the answer. In Enchantment, Katherine May mentions that “the earth offers replies, not answers” (paraphrase) and the distinction has been on my mind since. So much of adulthood is about accepting that subtle difference as a condition of life: there are very few absolutes, very few things that are obvious and uncontestable. My quarterlife meanderings have taught me to accept inputs rather than answers, and to wade through their jaspe and ambiguous shades with patience. However, as I write below: the sun will still rise in the morning. Your toddler will still sing “The Wheels on the Bus” and the smell of lilac will still remind you of your grandmother and you will still love the way your husband looks with his baseball cap on backwards. That is to say: the patterns that matter will persist, no matter when or where you choose to move, or which job you elect to take or quit, or what decision you make with regard to childcare.
The sun will still rise.
Onward we go…!
************
A few weeks into quarantine, our super informed us that ours was one of four or five units (out of dozens) left occupied in our building. An informal survey of my Manhattanite friends revealed that more than half had fled the city to spend time with family or rent houses upstate or out East. Three sets of friends with young children moved away permanently. So to the readers who have asked whether recent events have prompted us to re-evaluate our decision to live in New York City: yes.
Yet here we are, with no immediate intentions to leave. I’m not sure whether our outlook would be the same were it not for the proximity of Central Park, which has become an extension of our daily living space. We sojourn there for an hour or two after lunch, grateful for its sparsity, at least in some of the corners we have claimed for ourselves in recent weeks. I took the picture above earlier this week, struck by its lucid conjuring of the essence of childhood: my little scavenger with bare feet and bird-like eyes, seeking treasure in the grass, or maybe dodging a worm, or — doing something else perfectly suited to a three-year-old’s self-directed curiosity. You would never know she was standing just a few yards from Central Park West, with the blare of sirens and honk of horns her routine and unremarkable soundtrack.
If there is anything positive I can say about coronavirus, it is that it has reminded me that life finds a way. Babies are born, lovers are married, and still my three-year-old will come home in the afternoon with twigs in her hair and stories of the bee that crawled into her pink shoe.
“But mama said ‘Shoo, bee,'” she explained matter-of-factly to her father, recounting the incident upon return home, her attentiveness to this nothing of a story catching me off-guard and leaving me unexpectedly swallowing, hard, in the hallway of our apartment, the purity and narrowness of her thoughts stirring — or maybe relaxing — something in me. So too when I find myself tripped up by her incessant interrogation: “But what does a drain do?” and “Why is that car white?”, as I fumble with my mask. Her precociousness–her unflustered toddlerness–momentarily blots out the intensity of these times.
Life finds a way.
And so Mr. Magpie and I talk at length about what we want, what might be best for our children and our careers, and how to reconcile all of that with not only the presence of coronavirus but the lumbering reality of logistics. It is an incalculable math problem. How to weigh, for example, the impossible privilege of dining out at Prune (currently and possibly forever closed) and dropping by the Met and enjoying a largely pedestrian life where the pediatrician is one block (one block!!! one block!!!) away and nearly anything in this incredibly cultured and diverse city is at our fingertips, with the uncertainty around when this damned virus will die down and our current lust for a square of hedge-lined backyard, preferably visible from a squat window over a farmhouse sink, from which I can watch my two babies play in the grass while the sun sets? Is it the times speaking or am I just at that stage of life where space matters more? How often do we truly take advantage of the city anyhow? How much more would we value it if we committed to a couple of visits each year while living elsewhere? Would we visit after all? Would we find ourselves those insufferable urbanites mourning the lack of delivery options, never quite “over” our brief stint in NYC? It feels impossible to imagine moving of our own volition versus following our careers, but are we at one of those times in life, and possibly in history, where “the impossible” is prudent?
Recent life experiences have left me circumspect when contemplating the unknown. I find myself grittier — better able to fare life’s inevitable dips and twists — but cautious, especially when I find myself inclined to do something based on near-term pain.
And so we sit in this city, in our tight quarters, soaking in the small pleasures where we can find them, clinging to one another.
“In my 20s, I didn’t quite know who I was, but I believed I could do or be anything; I was amorphous, evolving — but the world around me felt crisp, knowable, navigable. In my 30s, I know who I am with a kind of true blue certainty (I am somebody!!!), but feel less convinced of my agency, less confident in my grasp on the world. It’s as if I went from being far-sighted to near-sighted; I didn’t know what I didn’t know in my 20s, and now I know what I don’t know — and so my conviction in the shape of things has shifted, shrunk, concentrated in on only the small world around me, the narrow sphere in which I know that 1+1=2. The mathematics beyond skew.”
At nearly 36, I write to let you know that I still don’t know — and in fact know less? — but that it’s still OK. After all, the mathematics in my own home still computes. Tomorrow morning, my daughter will spring straight out of bed at 6:02 a.m., pad into my bedroom, and let me know “the sun is coming up, mama”–and we’ll do it all over again.
+Lord and Taylor has a great cache of those woven bags from The Jacksons (I wore one all last summer!) — especially love this CIAO and this rainbow stripe.
+Sezane has such beautiful blouses at the moment — love this and this in particular.
+Excuse me, but this Veronica Beard eyelet jacket is BANANAS. SO GOOD. More great spring outerwear here. P.S.: I did end up keeping the jacket. I loved it too much!
Optimistic this will be the week we finally turn a corner on all of the illnesses roaming into and out of our home and I can get started again with running/spinning. Some fabulous new spring workout finds to spur me along below. I did order this lightweight windbreaker in crisp alpine white and I have one of these fitness dresses from Alala in my cart, as they are currently offering 30% off sitewide with code BUDDIES.
Last week, my husband put himself to bed at six o’clock with a bad cold. After the children were fed, cleaned, and tucked into their beds, I walked the dog, tidied the kitchen and family room, and then stood at the end of the island unsure what to do with myself. Should I pour a glass of wine? Tuck into dinner? Put on a TV show? Read a book? Putz around on my phone? It was disorienting not to have my counterpart present, weighing into every decision point — “Nah, I’m not hungry yet,” or “Let’s watch another episode of x” — and I found myself surprised by my own indecision. Those hesitations gave way to a sensation of indulgence. What did I want to do?
He was unwell again the next two nights and I found myself in the same situation, answering only to myself. It dawned on me, as I navigated this alien terrain of answering only to my own pleasure, that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this way save for during trips to New York, when my husband i working during the day and I set my own agenda. But that feels exceptional, as it belongs to the other-world of travel. When it really came down to it, I realized that I’ve had one brief window of my life in which I “answered only to myself”: my first semester of college at the University of Virginia.
During that semester, my social network was patchy (I knew only a handful of girls from my high school class who had matriculated with me) and I was living two hours away from my parents. I was not particularly chummy with my assigned roommate; we were pleasant but private, neither of us beholden to the other’s patterns. I was cultivating bud-like friendships, but none so close that disappearing for a few hours, or a full day, in the library would lead to “…have you seen Jen?” or “where were you?” I would go on to join a sorority and cement some of my early friendships during my second semester, and everything would change, but — for a spell — it was a time when I could have gone backpacking in the Appalachians for a weekend by myself and I’m not sure anyone would have known. I’d never have done this, of course, because — ever the dutiful rule follower — I was prisoner to imagined enforcements. For example, I attended Mass at the ugly Church on Alderman Road nearly every Sunday. At the time, my churchgoing sprung from habit and deference to my mother. I don’t know that I sought or internalized much spiritual substance in it at the time, though I look back and feel the ritual shaped me in important ways, and perhaps I was called there in some sense. But, on a logistical level, I went because I was worried that when I spoke with my mother (and we did speak frequently, usually every few days), she might ask what I’d done the previous weekend, and I couldn’t bear the thought of either lying to her about attending Mass or disappointing her with the truth. I also barely missed a single class or discussion section that first year. By my second year, I had cultivated an upperclassman’s discernment in the matter and could suss out which sections and lectures I could skip every now and then, no harm, no foul. But as a first year, familiar only with the rigor of attending a strict all-girl’s school prior, I assumed that enrolling in a class was a blood oath. Similarly, I read absolutely everything I was assigned, taking machinist notes alongside. I had learned in high school that I was very good at taking tests because I had a fantastic short-term memory, and I could cram dozens of pages into my mind by copying everything onto paper. This is why my husband can still remember theorems, but I cannot. I was binging and purging the information, and he was internalizing it. I will say that I was getting terrific marks along the way, an outcome that halfway indicts memorization-based approaches to education but also afforded me a nice stretch of runway in which to learn something important about myself: though that kind of study taught me very little in the way of concrete facts, it did reveal to me the depths of my own work ethic, and I have needed to lean on that confidence in countless other situations since. Whenever I have stared down an enormous project since, I have been able to tell myself: “Trust yourself, Jen. You know you will get all the way from Point A to Point Z.” And I do. My undergrad experience taught me that I have follow-through, and that I do not like unfinished business, and that I can always trust myself that I’ll get everything done. But it was not until my second or third semester that I learned that I could pair that discipline with measured judgment as to what needed to be read vs. what could be skimmed (or skipped).
To return to the headlands: what I am saying is that I obsoleted the one semester of my life in which I was entirely alone and answerable to no one but myself, and I did so by conjuring people and forces to whom I could answer. This is not to say that being alone and unencumbered, or not belonging to other people, is an empirically good thing (nor is it empirically bad!). I recall feeling lonely, adrift. I wanted someone to want to know where I was. One week, I ran into a high school classmate of mine at the dining hall and must have erupted into weepy hiraeths, because she kindly invited me over to her aunt and uncle’s home that weekend, insisting that spending time off-grounds, with loving adults reminiscent of home, would help. I will never forget her generosity, or the warmth of her family ushering me into their beautiful Charlottesville farmhouse, but at the same time, I remember thinking — “I’m really floating in the outer rings of the galaxy, aren’t I?” Like, how am I seeking comfort here? Where are my people?
Still, I occasionally find myself envying my absolute independence during those days. I distinctly remember working long shifts in Clemmons Library and then breaking for a very late lunch at Bodo’s at around 3 or 4 p.m. No one knew or cared that I’d blown through lunch and I’d had only my grumbling stomach to guide me. I did what felt natural to me, and sometimes that meant working through an entire draft of a paper before giving in to the hunger pangs. (I also routinely ate Belgian waffles for dinner because they were just about the only palatable thing at the dining hall, and I knew my mother would have been disgusted and worried if I’d told her.) I stayed up too late watching old, comforting movies on the wood paneled box TV my parents had permitted me to take with me. It was about 12×12 in size with a screen that couldn’t have been bigger than six inches wide and a resolution that would make your modern eyes bleed. It weighed ~4000 lbs. Watching old movies on it soothed me. I’d gotten into the habit of watching black and white movies during my childhood summers in Colorado. I would never have dreamt of sneaking downstairs to watch TV in our home in D.C., but at the condo, all bets were off, and my parents’ bedroom was cloistered far enough from the family room TV that they’d never hear. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and watching I Love Lucy and old Betty Davis movies on the family room ottomans. Something about these midnight viewings by myself reassured me, made me feel that I could take care of myself? I returned to the sentiment in college, watching a small stack of old movies I’d taken from home, often at 1 or 2 a.m.
But after that first semester, I had roommates and friends and sorority sisters with whom I grew shockingly close in that distinctly collegiate way. We swapped clothing and did one another’s makeup and stood in line for the bathroom together and snubbed mean frat boys in solidarity. We had no sense for personal boundaries, and I knew everything about them. I remember dozens of car rides to and from Charlottesville with one of my girlfriends in her little gray VW Jetta that smelled like crayons. I knew the car trip snacks she would buy at WaWa (Diet Coke, Twizzlers) and that she preferred the scenic route to the 29 one and these things were never discussed, just accepted and accommodated. We’d fill those rides with drama and crushes and laughter and I loved belonging to her, and to the other gals in our group, who remain to this day my closest friends. One of them actually lived for several months in an eaved storage space you could only access via my second story bedroom in the ramshackle house on Gordon Street I shared with nine other girls my second year. These are the kinds of absurd arrangements that seem perfectly acceptable, even delightful, as a 19 year old. She would duck through the small plywood door in my wall to climb into her mattress bed and knock when she needed to come out. I would not trade those daily interactions for my life: she remains my ride-or-die, and I think sometimes that our friendship was uniquely forged by the intimacy of that living situation. “Let me show you the barest version of my soul — unwashed face and morning breath and all,” was the subtext.
With friends like those, and then the boyfriends that came after, my whereabouts were surveilled, and my plans frequently co-opted, and I was often heading one direction only to be intercepted by more intriguing possibilities: “Don’t go to the dining hall, let’s get salads at Biltmore!” and “Skip the discussion section, we’re laying out in Mad Bowl.”
And then I belonged to Mr. Magpie and I subsequently felt as if I was only half-living when I was apart from him. He was my permanent filter. And, I know, vice versa.
So — answering to no one versus belonging to people I love has never been a hard compromise for me. But — that said! I am sitting here brimming with thought.
First, if you have the opportunity, you should try to live by yourself. I did not and I wish I had. I think I would have loved it and learned a lot about myself because of it. Specifically, I think I would have been better at listening to my own preferences, tastes, rhythms. Nowadays, I often have to really think — “what do I want?”
Second, even if living alone is not a possibility, there are still channels in which “to answer to yourself.” A girlfriend of mine (married, three children, full-time job for a major consultancy) recently shared that, every few weeks, she will drive to the Chik-Fil-A, order takeout, and then sit in her car listening to crime podcasts while eating fast food. No one knows where she is or what she is doing. She is tapping into her own joy. I was deeply inspired by her example, and I am determined to find my own analog, especially after this Leslie Stephens interview I mentioned over the weekend, in which the interviewee, a licensed counselor and expert on “perfectionism” and “balance,” said this: “I adore any woman who dares ask herself, “What do I want?” then takes her answer seriously.”
Wow. Just, wow! Take your joy seriously. Honor it!
Of course, it is not possible or ethical to prioritize my own wants/wishes consistently throughout my day, as there are so many other agendas, schedules, needs, responsibilities, personalities to balance. This is what it means to be an adult. But sometimes I let my own preferences slip permanently into last place. I’m sitting here reminding myself to bump my own wishes up a little bit. One example I am thinking of: we are still struggling with getting our children to consistently eat good dinners, and one recommendation has been to skip afternoon snack and move dinner up until 4 or 5. I respect the moms that make this change. Mr. Magpie and I discussed it thoroughly and continued to return to this: our biggest mealtime priority with our children at their current ages (our philosophy was vastly different even a year ago, with younger ones) is eating the same thing, as a family, at the same time, as often as possible. But we are not going to move dinner up to an earlier time, partly owing to logistics (e.g., Mr. Magpie’s work day does not end until 5-6) but mainly out of preference. We want to enjoy our dinners, too, and we prefer to eat later. And that’s OK. Surely there are spheres of parenthood in which we can still place our own preferences highest. This is one of them for us.
So, today – what do you want? Can you take your answer seriously?
Post-Scripts.
+One thing that attracts me to Mr. Magpie is his openness to joy — the way he really listens to and leans into the things that bring him happiness.
+I’ve heard good things about these $25 utility shorts, which come in several great colors. I like the idea of tucking a statement blouse (you can see me wearing it here) into them.
+Perfect party shoes. LOVE the colors (and low heel).
+I can’t believe summer isn’t far off! I was just looking to replenish our water bottle supply and remembering that I surprised my kids on the first day of “summer” (e.g., no more school) last year with a little basket of treats — sticker books, sidewalk chalk, a new water bottle, sunscreen, swimsuits, etc. I already added this water bottle to my cart for mini.
01. I’ve been shopping for a couple of spring/summer events I have and this Zimmermann, while expensive, is a great investment. You can dress it up with heels or dress it down with sandals/flats (I was trying on with my Leonie raffia flats as a possible Easter Sunday contender), it has sleeves so can be worn in chillier months, and yet it doesn’t feel too buttoned-up thanks to the boho/patchwork fabric. This is, in my opinion, an ideal family portrait photo. So many colors to pair with, a small-scale pattern (so could be pattern-mixed with kids in bigger florals/ginghams), and I personally think more full-coverage styles tend to yield the happiest results for me. Then I’m not, like, “Oh, my arm looks weird in that photo…” when everyone else is smiling. You know? I feel I move much more naturally in front of a camera when I’m not self aware about the angle of my body. A couple of other really pretty dresses at the top of my radar…
02. This facial oil has been a go-to in my skincare routine for two or maybe three years now, and I know many of you have become converts, too. I use it in the mornings — I wet one of these squares of facial cotton (IYKY — and if you don’t…trust me, you need this tiny upgrade in your life! THE softest, thickest, most cloud-like cotton), spray one or two pumps on one side and wipe all over my face, then wet again, squeeze the cotton, and use the inverse side to wipe all over my face. You have the glowiest, happiest morning skin, and I love that it adds moisture, especially since I’ve had such strangely dry skin the last few weeks. A small organizational joy: I keep my facial cotton in one of these lidded bins in my vanity drawer. Keeps it all spiffy clean and separate from everything else.
03. You can see me wearing an older style of Pam Munson’s gorgeous straw clutch in the top right photo with my Zimmermann dress. This one with the pearl clasp goes with everything and will be a happy exclamation in your warmer weather wardrobe forever.
04. These raffia ballet flats are definitely a top three spring purchase for me. They are the most comfortable flat I’ve ever worn right out of the box. They are super soft and forgiving, and there is no part of the shoe that cuts/chafes/rubs the wrong way. A friend of mine who ordered the same pair reported the same thing, so it’s not just idiosyncratic to my foot! They also go with everything and add a little oomph to any old outfit: a simple white dress, jeans and a tee, what have you!
05. Sadly, my Lee Mathews top is sold out, but I am super into this brand. I just ordered this midi skirt of theirs to try — it feels like it could be a wardrobe workhorse, paired with flats or heels, button-downs or tanks. This colorblocked dress and this maxi dress also turned my head. If you love the look of my top, though, I did a triple take at this Talbots stop which has a super similar vibe. The scalloped detailing is adorable! Also love this bold striped top from Banana (under $100). Pair either with my exact white jeans, which I’ve been wearing a LOT already.
06. Barbour field jackets have made an interesting high-fashion/street style comeback. They’ve never been out, per se — they are timeless! Classic! — but I’ve been seeing them worn in more exaggerated/less fitted shapes, reimagined by high-fashion houses Loewe (which Nellie Diamond wore here) and Chloe. Tuckernuck has a great collection of Barbours and I’m going to be wearing their classic, boxy men’s style — the Bedale. This runs big. The Beadnell is a tad less boxy but very chic. Those are my top two recs for the current trend. I would pair with ecru wide leg jeans, white tee, and ballet flats with hair in a low bun. Two other field jackets not by Barbour that turned my head recently: this embellished J. Crew (again, love the boxy/long shape) and this Nili Lotan. Inspo below:
07. Currently listening to this audiobook and it is always deeply interesting to me when the author is reading in her own voice — the self-narration adds dimension to the text for me. I sense different striations, interpret sections differently. In this case, Lamott has a very dry sense of humor, so when she speaks passionately, with poetic cadence, about things, I find myself leaning forward. The book is ostensibly offering writing advice, but she offers so many humble, earnest learnings about life. The title itself hails from the following moving passage:
“Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write. It was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, ‘Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.’”
That’s how to live, right? Focus on the mile you’re running right now.
08. I took this little photo of our quiet top floor play room earlier this week. My children almost never play up there, which is such a tragedy, as we have so many beautiful toys and activities stowed there. My children always prefer to be on the main level or in their bedrooms — they just want to be close to us. I used to think this was an outgrowth of their early years in Manhattan, but perhaps it’s just a condition of young childhood. Anyhow, I love the blue bunk bed. We bought it in a panic from Target last summer because we had thought we were inheriting a set of bunk beds (long story) but that fell through at the last minute and my niece and nephew were due to arrive in two days. Target was one of the only furniture retailers that could deliver a semi-attractive bunk bed in two days! I actually love it. The color is fun and the design chic. They have a super similar one here this season. I outfitted with star bedding from Company Store, which is a really great brand for high-quality sheets at reasonable prices in fun prints. I love their kids options in particular — I also have their star print bedding in the pink/gray for my daughter’s bedroom! I paired with this simple striped sheeting for a pattern mix. I love the look against the blue bunk bed. I’d not laid eyes on the ensemble in a week or two and when I popped up there to get something, I paused and took it in. You can see my son’s ride-on Baghera in front. One of my favorite toys we ever bought him — he loved it when he was a little younger (I can remember him driving it around our cul de sac after we first moved in) and it doubles as great decor. More styles/colors here. A great dramatic gift for a grandson, or a lovely “decor” investment if you’re waiting for a new baby boy.
What’s on your mind?
By: Jen Shoop
My Latest Snag: Gucci Dad Sandals.
I treated myself to these fabulous, trendy sandals and am surprised by how much I enjoy them. Just a fun exclamation point! Sometimes it feels good to step outside my fashion comfort zone to try something new. You can see how I styled them a few different ways below…
Before I ordered these babies, I played around with styling a $50 pair of dad sandals I found on Amazon (seen below) and realized I had the chops/confidence to make this trendy style work in my wardrobe. I really liked the vibe of pairing them with a long white breezy dress — the tension between ethereal dress and heavy footwear felt fun. The dress seen here is Hunter Bell from last season, but voluminous, dramatic shapes/silhouettes are sort of her calling card. Her Jenkins dress is sort of her signature; she’s released it in lots of patterns/colors over the years, and I always think Megan Stokes looks gorgeous in them. Anyhow, these are the kinds of dresses that appeal to me when styling dad sandals: dramatic, boho, floaty, and feminine to balance out the heft of the sole. A few similar options: this Ulla, this Anthro, this Staud. And! I just noticed Rent the Runway has a bunch of Hunter Bell styles, including the Jenkins, if you are iffy on the investment/staying power. Rent and wear for a few weeks!
Do you ever feel especially receptive? Your antennae up, your attention easily-grabbed? That was me this week: hungry, curious. I read widely and indiscriminately, and I’ve been a tumbleweed of thoughts since. A few of the pieces I’ve been carrying around with me:
“Months later, our sweet boy who cried so many tears about pain and pinches during that hospital stay tells us he wants to go back. “They had the best food there,” he says. “And I got to spend a lot of time with you.”
“We have reached the saltings. The sticky, swampy parts that nearly all of us footslog into and out of over the course of our motherhoods, unsure of footing, prey to unknown tides. There are no patterns here. No formulas; no bright lines. The inputs for each family are complex, individualized, and mutative. Particularly maddening: sometimes I feel I’ve struck a good, or workable balance, and then my son tells me, in twenty-two different ways, that all he wants is for me to pick him up from school once in awhile, and I feel like I’ve been yammering into a phone with a cut cord.”
There were so many lovely comments on that post, and many side chats, too, but Ana, I have re-visited your response at least five or six times: “Will my son remember that I was gone on a Saturday (insert any day of the week) for a hour or so doing the thing I love, probably not. He will remember that I came home and read books with him in the silly voices he likes. I think your son will remember you as the whole, not that you could not always do school pick up.”
The words came like a hug. Both Molly and Ana leave me weepy with hope as a mother often haunted by her own perceived shortcomings. Perhaps, after all, my children will think of me as a loving whole versus a smattering of uneven parts.
But, on the balance bit. As you know, I’ve been thinking a lot about balance, and I spent the first half of this week writing a little piece that will soon be published elsewhere (on a different blog! — stay tuned) on the subject. In it, I write that “It dawned on me embarrassingly late in these musings that balance is the wrong mascot for working motherhood. It is — for me, at least — the incorrect paradigm; it feels nearly catachrestic. I hear “balance” and I see the goddess Dice with her scales: if I just add a few more hours of playtime here, or snip a couple of work hours there, then everything will net out. In reality, there is nothing arithmetic about motherhood, and there is no equation in which my hours at my desk are in perfect harmony with my hours actively nurturing my children.” I’ll share a link to the full essay once it’s published, but a few days after I had sent it off, I discovered a fascinating interview between Leslie Stephens and Katherine Morgan Schafler, Licensed Professional Counselor and author The Perfectionist’s Guide to Losing Control titled: “Why Balance is Impossible (And What to Seek Instead).” The interview is behind a paywall (for good reason — Leslie Stephens’ blog is a delight and worth paying for; I am now a proud subscriber), so it doesn’t feel appropriate sharing too much of it, but Schafler makes the point:
“Balance in its original, curative definition describes finding the sweet spot of your energetic equilibrium. The way we currently use balance, however, describes being good at being busy. When you say a woman balances her life well, you mean that she can do a million things without dropping the ball. This is dangerous because being good at being busy has nothing to do with health.”
Wow. She so quickly gets to the heart of things here: the social norms and expectations, the subtle and ultimately nefarious equation of “balance” with “healthfulness,” the obsession with business. I am cycling this perspective through my earlier writings on intentionally trying to be not busy. One element that jumped out at me is the aetiological bent of the conversation. What does it mean that we equate “balance” with “wellness”? Because so few of us feel we have balance, are we all subconsciously telling ourselves we’re “unwell”? What does that metaphor mean to us? I think it has profound implications.
I’m on board with shuttling the word “balance” right off the table. It’s a myth, and the language around it troubles me. Let’s find alternatives?
Shopping Break.
+The shoe brand Patricia Green is offering us 20% off with code MAGPIE (!) I recently shared these ultra-elegant sandals and then afterward discovered that they also offer Hermes-inspired flat sandals. I love this pair in lavender!
+This facial cleansing oil is one of my longtime favorite beauty products. I just switched back to using it after a brief hiatus because my skin as been so, so dry lately. I am basically washing my face as sparingly as possible. More beauty products I can’t quit here.
+Love the style of these Mansur Gavriel flats. I’ve heard they are CRAZY comfortable. Love the high vamp! I have been getting a ton of wear out of my neutral/textured ballet flats this spring — they go with everything, just like the MGs.
+My daughter has finally hit the age where she is pushing back on a lot of my fashion choices for her. She wants shorts and t-shirts, “comfy clothes,” and (dreaded!) athletic wear. I am trying to honor her personality but sometimes I just have to put my foot down. One piece one which we can both agree are these soft cotton play dresses from TBBC. She loves their ease and comfort and I love the sweet prints. I just found a few styles in their clearance section for $15/apiece and ordered!
+Found a little trove of Juliet Dunn dresses on super sale here.
+Sweetest cherry swimsuit. Speaking of swimwear, Sun House just launched a collab with Dillard’s, and you can get the classic Sun House look for around $30 apiece. I have absolutely treasured the suits of mini’s from there — unusual prints with such darling details. I am buying these trunks for my son and this one-piece for my daughter.
+I was obsessed with madras in high school / college, and one of my favorite outfits of Mr. Magpie’s when I first met him was a pair of pastel madras shorts he used to wear with a white polo shirt. I feel like this 50s-era prepster pattern is returning? I just saw these adorable shorts for little ones (these are REALLY good if you prefer a short inseam — my son has had at least 1-2 pairs per summer since he was 1!) and then Maxwell and Geraldine just released an easy sundress in a pink madras print, too!
+I wore this dramatic floral top in fabulous fall colors SO much this past fall. It looked so fabulous with burgundy, marigold, dark denim, forest green, etc. It’s currently on sale for under $100. Highly recommend buying now and putting away as a surprise to your future self next September.
Gap and J. Crew are mainstays in my wardrobe for basics — and beyond. I’ve been so impressed with Gap’s denim this past year (won’t bore you again with my rave reviews, but I own and adore these kick-fits in two washes), and they’ve also had some sneaky-chic dresses and tops. They just brought back their popular lace-trim midi from last year; I know many of you own this and love it and it is totally mistakable for LoveShackFancy’s Edie dress (on sale in select patterns here), and this is a dead ringer for SEA but well under $100. And I just ordered this fabulous blue and white striped top! I’m always drawn to J. Crew for their spectacular color sense and knack for getting the underpinnings of a wardrobe right, but in blessedly un-boring ways.
Below, some of my current favorite pieces at both of these outlets —
I do a few big orders from Gap for my children each year. I really like their inexpensive pocket tees for my son — they have a nice, thick, durable weight, come in great colors, and are 100% cotton. I usually go for white and navy but I love these pastels. I’m also an enormous fan of their denim for my son, specifically in this classic fit. Pair with a white polo for an iconic American look — so timeless!
I did just place a large order specifically for camp/tennis/country club for my children — some of these have strict all-white dress codes, and I found some great staples in white for 40% off, including these active dock shorts for my son and this white tennis dress for my daughter. My son owns every single one of the pieces below. The chambray and seersucker pants are great everyday pieces for toddler boys since they’re pull-on (no zipper!) and easy for them to get into and out of. And everyone’s favorite dock shorts are only $22 — I bought several pairs for the summer ahead. I like these paired with Lacoste polos.
In New York last week, we enjoyed several tropical/tiki-oriented cocktails at Semma, Grand Army, and Sunken Harbor Club. Inspired, I came home and mixed up a batch of mai tais over the weekend, which are a delightful pairing of tart citrus, dark rum, and nuttiness from almond-based orgeat. Some consider the mai tai “the original tiki drink,” and they certainly have a kind of kitsch appeal to them. Warning: these are easy to drink but potent. These would be really fun to serve up to guests.
1 oz Flor de Cana white rum
1 oz Appleton Estate reserve rum
3/4 oz fresh lime juice
1/2 oz cointreau*
3/4 oz orgeat**
mint spring for garnish
crushed or pebble ice for serving***
Fill a rocks glass with pebble/crushed ice and place in the freezer. Pour all ingredients into the smaller half of a cocktail shaker (we like the weighted shaking tins from Koriko — you’ll need the small and large, which fit together as a shaker set). Then fill that small shaker to the top with ice. Shake for 14 seconds. Strain into a chilled rocks glass using a cocktail strainer and garnish with a spring of mint.
*Most classic recipes call for dry curacao instead of cointreau but we didn’t have any on hand. I must also make a side case for Flor de Cana white rum, which is relatively inexpensive but absolutely delicious. I prefer to most other white rums, especially in daiquiris. It is really light and crisp, with an almost almond/citrus profile.
**We buy our orgeat from Liber & Co (carried on Amazon). We usually make all our own syrups/sweeteners at home and keep them in these squeeze bottles in our fridge (labeled by my trusty label maker), but orgeat is not for the faint of heart. Mr. Magpie did make a batch once and it was wildly labor intensive and then went bad quickly — and it’s not like you’re using a ton of orgeat each week to justify. Mr. Magpie discovered Liber & Co as a super reputable brand that makes great syrups with real ingredients.
***We do not have a crushed ice function on our freezer, and, despite wanting one, do not (yet) have a pebble ice maker. We’ve had a hard time justifying a countertop appliance for such a narrow use case, but when we daydream about re-doing the wet bar we have, we often talk about having one installed in the cabinetry/beneath the sink/etc. That “re-do” will probably not happen for a long, long time (if ever) because the wet bar is perfectly functional as is. (It’s in a little corridor behind our kitchen, next to our pantry). So maybe countertop ice machine it is? I don’t know. Grace Atwood recommends this GE brand one. You can see her review here. Pretty convincing! Anyhow, we currently crush ice the old fashioned way, using a Viski Lewis bag and mallet. The bag is crucial. We used to try to crush ice in a gallon sized plastic baggie, or between two kitchen towels, using a meat mallet, and it was always a disaster — ice shooting out everywhere, the baggie exploding, puddles of water and ice chips everywhere. The Viski bag is made of a thick canvas that naturally absorbs excess water but keeps everything in place and can really take a beating from the hammer without showing any wear. Small but meaningful upgrade. The bag is also great for use if you’re serving up oysters/chilled seafood — we like to crush up a big mound and serve them on a bed of crushed ice.
Final note: These angled jiggers make measuring small amounts of liquid a breeze as you can assess how much you’ve poured from a bird’s eye view vs crouching down to counter level.
Also sharing as a little saveable image here in case you want to download/screenshot/etc:
+While on this general subject, Hammett has really gorgeous glassware for cocktails, juices, water, etc. I own and adore these gorgeous martini glasses (also great for “up” cocktails), and am drooling over these coupes. I’ve also been thinking of gifting someone these funky little tumblers — she releases them in lots of different shapes, but they sell out fast. Like how good are these (now sold out) ducks?
+This tweedy blue shift dress with pearl buttons is SO good. Looks like the styles from Lisa Marie Fernandez.
+Love these raffia and pearl earrings (under $50).
+A random thing to get jazzed about, but this printer is truly the best. It’s inexpensive, prints wirelessly from your phone/laptop, is compact enough to even hide in a closet if you need to (that’s where we kept it in NYC so it was out of the way), and takes a long time to run out of ink.
+Keep hearing great things about L’Space’s bikinis — specifically, have heard they are designed for active moms because they hold everything in place. I love the pink color and neckline of this style.
+Having a major moment with Loretta Caponi. I bought one of her smock-neck floral “nightdresses” (but actually can be worn during the day) a few years ago and just realized I have no idea where it went. Like, just went through all my bins and boxes and can’t find it. I’m bereft! From her current season pieces, I love this, this, and this.
+We have a colorful set of chopsticks like these that just spark JOY every time we use them — which is fairly often, because I crave a bowl of pho or ramen at least once a week.
+This patchwork dress is so fabulous. This brand runs on the large side, FYI – I own and adore one of their dresses but runs large.
By: Jen Shoop
I just received two beautiful packages full of adorable spring clothing for my children. The first was from H&M — I went crazy a week or two ago with all of their new releases. I can’t believe these gingham sneakers are under $20! They remind me so much of Cienta! And I love these on-trend “just like mom” paper-bag-waist denim shorts. They look like they’re from SEA.
Not seen in the photo above, but purchased in the same order for my son: these striped swim trunks (yellow) and these canvas sneakers (sage green). The patterned dress and the swim trunks have the iffiest quality of the lot. I mean, what can you expect for $5 and $10 respectively? The swim trunks have a kind of plastic-y texture I don’t love BUT — my son will be in and out of the pool, attending camps, running through sprinklers all summer long and it will be convenient to have inexpensive back-ups to our fleet of Minnow boardies. But I would say the other items in my order are of decent quality, especially the sneakers and denim pieces.
The second package that arrived was a generous gift from new-ish children’s boutique Danrie. I actually placed a large order with them myself when I discovered them a few months ago and then connected with the lovely founder, Julia, and we’ve been shooting notes back and forth on the triumphs and travails of parenting since. She generously sent me a box of goodies for my children and I was audibly oohing and ahhing upon open. The first thing I want to say about Danrie is that — though I spend non-trivial amounts of time seeking out fabulous new brands on the web, I’d not heard of most of the brands I ended up selecting from her site. She includes so many chic European small labels, some of which have an heirloom-esque quality to them. So if you’re looking for unusual, one-of-a-kind type pieces for your littles, Danrie is a great starting point. These are not outfits you’re going to see on the playground. I also wanted to mention that you can tell Julia and her team care deeply about the pieces they sell — not only are they unique, but the parcels are beautifully wrapped, with little goodies for the children tucked inside. This time, I received two little coloring books and some Danrie stickers that occupied my children through a very long Palm Sunday Mass. It’s the details — you can simply tell when a company cares.
In the parcel for mini: This quilted jacket from Kidiwi is reversible! One side is gingham and the other floral. Absolutely precious. She will be wearing this to Easter Mass on Sunday. I also selected this beautifully smocked floral dress from the same brand for her — the botanical pattern is sensational and so mature relative to a lot of the more “kid-looking” florals out there — and this fun little romper from new-to-me label Miki Miette that I know she’s going to love. She tends to prefer more athletic/sporty/non-smocked pieces nowadays and this is one style where we can meet in the middle.
For micro: this adorable striped “Ciao” t-shirt from Barcelona-based brand Buho, these chambray bermuda shorts from French label Arsene et Les Pipelettes (note the contrasting bungee-style drawstring waist), and these swim trunks from Mon Coeur (made from recycled plastic bottles!). I had never heard of any of these three brands and am obsessed with all.
Shop my spring favorites from both retailers below…
