Life Goes to a Party

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I gave up resolutions a few years ago. They never really provided any satisfaction, rather just a feeling of defeat following Christmas that I had a weighty to-do list from last year that was left unattended.
Still, I have a few things that give me a mental nudge now and again. Usually about now.
Don’t yell so much. Don’t spend so much time on the computer. Quit biting cuticles. But there is one, a set really, that revolves around being a little braver, trying a few new things, putting my toe over the line every now and again. I’m bad at it and though a very wise man said to me once, “I think the dye is cast,” I start the new year again wishing for a little courage.
These images are from a feature in Life magazine (March 1938) called, “Life Goes to a Party.” Captured here is the revelry of devoted supporters of the Kansas City Art Institute. The guests began this affair at a cocktail party at Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Hart Benton’s (he was a judge for the costume contest) which spilled into a dinner at the Hotel Muehlebach before culminating in the fundraiser itself. (It seems a good bet that everyone at this point was pretty well juiced.) Of Mr. and Mrs. Jon Malang (above), who won the costume contest in both divisions (he took home a case of whiskey and she an airplane trip) Art Institute president, Fred Vincent, said, “This is a disgrace to the Art Institute.”
I’m sure Mr. Vincent’s heart and honor were in the right place. But now that it is all said and done the director’s outrage seems irrelevant, while Mr. and Mrs. Malang still appear to be having a swell time.
Courage. But, maybe wear a shirt.
Images courtesy of Life. Here.
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Happy

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Hopefully, amid the hustling and bustling, whether you did it yourself or witnessed it in others, you are able to celebrate a season of generosity and caring.

We are wishing you a very healthy and joyous new year.

Mrs. Blandings and the boys
All images December 2009, British House and Garden, photography by Jake Curtis.
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Christmas Vacation

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Vacation for whom exactly? OK, it is getting easier as the boys get older. Sunday the youngest Blandings and I baked Peppermint Meringues. Meringues, if you like them (and I am not sure that I do though I am giving them a rather good go) are a piece of cake. Um, a breeze. My youngest is a “picky eater” though we lovingly refer to it as Sensory Integration Disorder around here. Cooking helps with tasting and he is certainly developing an interest.

Getting to smash candy canes didn’t hurt. Besides, we have now added the separation of eggs and identification of soft and stiff peaks to his repertoire. Not bad for a six-year-old. It’s not a recipe for those with short attention spans, though it allows for plenty of activities in between steps. It is as follows:
Peppermint Meringues
2 egg whites
1/8 t salt
1/8 t cream of tartar
1/2 c white sugar
2 peppermint candy canes, crushed
Preheat oven to 225 degrees. Line two cookie sheets with foil.
In a large glass or metal mixing bowl, beat egg whites, salt and cream of tartar until soft peaks form. Gradually add sugar, continuing to beat until whites form stiff peaks. Drop by spoonfuls 1 inch apart on the prepared cookie sheets. Sprinkle crushed candy canes over cookies.
Bake for 1.5 hours in preheated oven. Meringues should be completely dry on the inside. Do not allow to brown. Turn off oven. Keep oven door ajar and let meringues sit in oven until completely cool. Loosen from foil with metal spatula. Store loosely covered in cool dry place for up to 2 months.
I neither allowed them to cool completely, nor lifted them from the foil with a spatula and all seems well. It is likely that if I continue to eat two meringues every day to determine if I like them or not, I will eat all four dozen before the two months are up. They are particularly pretty.
Recipe courtesy of the Kansas City Star.
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Peppermint Twist

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Custom cabinetry aside, this handy little paint trick has me falling right in line.


“Why not?” said Henry B. Swap. “Why not?” said Mrs. McGillicuddy.

“Why not?” said all the people.

Why not, indeed, snappy designers have been doing it for ages.

Marian McEvoy lined them up with Sharpie.

Suzanne Rheinstein colored outside the lines with this eye-catching display.


And don’t feel confined to handwriting on the wall, you can easily outline your objectives on the furniture, too.
Image, top, designed by Steven Gambrel in Elle Decor, January/February 2010, photography by Eric Piasecki; the lines on this doorway are blue, as is the railing atop those very jazzy lucite balustrades (ala current style setters Alexis and Trevor Traina), design by Baldwin & Martin. Hmm…Baldwin & Martin again with the diamond mine, and a twist of orange by Mallory-Tillis all from HG’s Complete Guide to Interior Decoration, 1960. Marion McEvoy from Rooms to Inspire, photography by Tim Street-Porter as is Rheinstein’s black and white and red all-over by painter Paulin Paris. And, once you are finished admiring the lovely Modigliani, do click the image, bottom, to admire the refreshing red sorbet popping against the pink carnations and fizzy cocktail from Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Mann’s Philadelphia apartment featured in House & Garden in 1953 from The Well Lived Life by Dominique Browning. Pieces of the text refer to Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel.
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Nature v Nurture

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As I was strolling arm-in-arm down the street with Miles Redd the other day he was reminiscing about his childhood. Oh, wait. Perhaps it didn’t go quite like that.

Redd and I did have an exchange about his childhood, but it was more like this – I had the enormous pleasure of interviewing Thomas Britt a few weeks ago. In my living room. Britt is from Kansas City and was in town to see friends. My editor and I thought it would be interesting – great fun, really – to interview him for the magazine. Beyond interesting, it was fascinating and immensely entertaining.
He told me stories of Studio 54 and maharajahs, but some of his most interesting tales were of his growing up. He told me of redecorating his parents’ dining room while they were out of town. Really redecorating. Painting the floor and walls and installing salvaged columns and moving things around. “How’d they take it?” “What?” “The redecorating, when your mother came home from her trip, how did she react?” “React?! She loved it, of course!”
Of course. That is the kind of mother I want to be, but sometimes fall short. The kind of mother who would come home to find that her incredibly talented son had redecorated the dining room, better than she, and celebrate it. It got me thinking.
So I shot Redd an email. Did he, I wondered, begin showing an interest in lacquer and lamps while knee-high? And if so, did his folks just hand him a paint brush and go back to the Journal Constitution? Pretty much.
“As a child I had a fascination with with front doors and chandeliers,” said Redd,”the grander the better. My bedroom was an ever-evolving canvas. I remember arranging stuffed animals and was always into the arts, painting and drawing.
My parents were very supportive. My mom, ever clever, would get me to decorate the house for Christmas. I would slave on pomanders and polish all the silver, but she had a strong sense of her own style and we did not always see eye-to-eye. I wanted ball fringe on everything, and my mother had a very colonial approach to things. She loved that scrubbed, Spartan look – polished mahogany, hemstitched linen, very plain silver, air twist glasses. She taught me restraint and understatement, and I suppose I teach her about a certain grandeur.
My mom has [my] Christmas list from age five requesting a fire place in my room. I thought falling asleep to the dying embers would be nice.”
If only one of my boys would refer to me as “ever clever,” I’d be quite content.
Image courtesy of Miles Redd.
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