I get quite a lot of emails asking what kind of camera I use, and since this week I got to spend a fairly enormous chunk of time and money on a (much-needed) cleaning, minor repair, and a new lens, I thought I'd go ahead and answer the question right here.
Loeffler Randall, $175.
Q. Hi Jordan,
I'm a longtime reader and have always admired your perspective on life and relationships. I'm dealing with some tricky stuff right now, and would love to hear any advice you might have.
I have a water pitcher. It's ten thousand years old and made of raffia, which isn't a great combo.
I've been meaning to pick up a new one in preparation for summer (I like to use pitchers to serve my BBQ guests homemade sangria), but how much prettier - and more fun - is this idea?
The key is to look for a jar - whether vintage or brand-new - with interesting details that make it anything but ordinary; I love the contrast between the rustic wood-and-twine stopper on this jar and my delicate gold-rimmed water glasses.
I love Mother's Day.
Not because it's a day when my mom and I get to spend time together - we do that plenty anyways - but rather because we always end up getting dressed up and doing something sort of adorably Mother's Day-ish, like afternoon tea or brunch somewhere fancy (like we did last year, pictured above) or what have you.
Something different. Memory-making. You get the idea.
The fact that this is my gardening outfit probably bodes poorly. At least it has wrinkles? #novicegardener #eek
(Necklace c/o Melinda Maria, Free People jeans, nude flats from T.J. Maxx.)
P.S. Step 1 (lilacs in pots, boxwood border) actually went pretty well! Photos to come.
You know what one of the weirdest things about moving from a one-bedroom city apartment to a suburban house (a small one, but still) was? How instantly we expanded to fit our new space.
When we were packing up our stuff from our closet-free apartment (seriously, the place had one closet; it was the worst) I had this vision of how we'd move our things into our new home and wander from room to gloriously empty room, excitedly imagining the millions of possibilities for how we'd be able to fill all that spectacular space. I thought it would take months - years, maybe - for the house to stop echoing from emptiness.
And then we moved our stuff in, and every single room was somehow immediately filled to capacity. I continue to think that a magical furniture elf arrived in the night; I have no idea how this happened.
It's mostly because of the closet situation, I think. Our new house, house-like though it may be, you see, is also a 1900 colonial, which means it has closets the size of my pinkie. But clutter makes me crazy, so I've continued to employ the space-saving tactics that I used in our old place in our new one.
Let's be honest: about fifty percent of my affinity for lucite sandals can be attributed to these chairs:
They're my new dining room chairs. They remind me of Philippe Starck Ghost Chairs and yet are from Ikea, and I adore them (full review and purchasing rationale here).
The other fifty percent of this affinity is probably about the fact that lucite is very frequently found on shoes that are intended more for stage-strutting than for Sunday brunch. I mean, I am a person who has shopped at burlesque stores for everything from shoes to dresses to rugs with nary a trace of irony, and in another lifetime I would very much enjoy coming back as Dita Von Teese, so six-inch heels made of plastic are something I have exactly zero problem wearing.
You know my friend Morgan?
If you've been reading here for more than a couple of months I'm sure you do; Morgan and I were pregnant at the same time, and she and her husband and son lived just a few blocks away from us on the UES. We were with them pretty much constantly for years, until all of us ended up moving out of the city (again, at pretty much exactly the same time as each other, albeit to different coasts).
It was an incredible experience, being able to share all of those enormous life changes with one of my very best friends in the world. And I miss her so much.
Even more now that she's got another baby on the way - a girl this time (which means that there are shopping trips involving tutus in my future). I wish I could be right there next to her sharing this experience as well...but for now I'll have to settle for phone calls.
You know how some people have a shoe thing? I don't really. I mean, I'd hardly kick a pair of silver Jimmy Choos out of bed, but honestly: fancy footwear stresses me out because you have to...you know...walk in it. On the ground.
Purses? Now that's my thing. I adore them, I collect them, it's rare that I leave a flea market or vintage store without some new find or another.
So it's sort of weird that the one purse I've never owned is a black evening purse. For years now, whenever I'm headed out to someplace fancy I've ended up defaulting either to a daytime bag (because whatever), or this crazy over the top bedazzled gold thing that a friend gave me years ago when I lived in LA and that is extremely wild and fun, but not exactly sophisticated.
I had an elegant black purse for a minute, but it was beaded and from approximately 1827, and when I took it out with me it ended up disintegrating almost immediately. I've kept an eye out for the right evening bag for awhile now, but haven't found anything perfect - I wanted smallish (but big enough for my phone), black leather, classic shape, interesting details, slim gold chain strap, and not-two-thousand-dollars.
