Confession

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You know that I am a supporter of shopping local.  I am devoted to my favorite shops and shop owners.

But I have a confession to make.  I have a burgeoning crush on West Elm.

They opened on the Plaza last Fall and I didn’t go in right away. They had been out south a few years ago and when I saw the product there, I was so disappointed in the quality.

But I wandered in on a cold day in December and was delighted by the design.  Are they borrowing heavily from mid-century? Yes, but they are doing it well.

The lamps are heavy.  The furniture is steady and the drawers slide in and out with ease. The finishes are even and lovely.  Lids snap tightly and square.

The Clint Mini Task Lamp (top) was my gateway drug; he sits jaunty and lively on my living room bookshelves. Both the Kate Spade Saturday Globe Table Lamp and the Pillar Table Lamp have mental place marks while I hunt and gather; if I don’t find something soon, they may come to live with their cousin.  Looking for a home for a preserved puffer fish from Oracle yesterday, I found the perfect shadow box there.  The clever and charming Pencil Desk may be just the thing for the youngest boy’s very narrow space in his bedroom.  The Faux Shagreen Box now rests on my bedside table with my hand lotion, cuticle cream and lip balm tucked discreetly inside.  (They were such a bother before.)

I confess, I cannot help myself.

All images via West Elm, from which I received no compensation.  I don’t know why one picture is not centered.  I hate blogger so much.

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First Love

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There are times when I feel the universe is looking out for me.  While I had planned to go the lingerie show in Paris with my friend, to lend my eye and my ear for her buying trip, my design friends began to message, “Hey! I’m going for Maison & Objet and Deco Off.  Let’s meet up!”

Both trade shows, for furniture and fabric, run concurrently in Paris in January.  So while we were there, men’s fashion week was ending, the lingerie show was beginning, Maison & Objet and Deco Off were in full swing, and women’s fashion was getting ready to begin.  “How was the weather?” a lot of people have asked me.  I barely noticed the weather.

We stayed in a tiny, charming hotel in Saint-Germain staffed by a lovely gentleman named Bruno, who was indulgent of our late night arrivals (which required the ringing of a bell to rouse him) and our charger issues and our constant need for directions.

My friend and I chose the hotel together after about a minute and a half of consultation at her desk.  Cosmic forces, which I think are quite powerful, plopped us right down in the midst of the fabric showrooms.  Truly, I couldn’t have been happier.

During the day there were clipboards and meetings, people taking pictures and taking notes.

But many of the showrooms were open in the evenings, and while people rubbed their thumbs back and forth across the cloth gauging the hand of a fabric tossed or hung, they drank and laughed and felt the energy of being in a small room with a lot of people who understood the business of beauty.

Looking at fabric was not what I had gone to Paris to do. Even after I became aware of the show, I had not planned to go to the showrooms.  But there they were, right there in my path.  They called to me, a siren’s song of color and pattern and texture.

While in a significantly more charming location, the showrooms there were really no different than the ones I’ve visited here or in New York or Los Angeles or High Point. But they reawaken in me a love for the art of design.

The images, top, are of the lights strung across the streets made of fabrics from the new collections of the showrooms in Saint-Germain. The top three images I’m sure are are from Hermes; the remaining are Dedar. Do correct me if I’m wrong.

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Hello, Stranger

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“Can you just hit the ground running?” a friend asked about my trip to Paris. 
“Yes.  Of course.” Running being the operative word as I do want to get there, as fast as I can, to see. 

I went with a friend and we shared the philosophy of gobbling it up and sleeping when we returned home, though we did not know this until the first late night. We both worked while we were there. We tagged along with one another to offer perspective and support and loads of laughter. We are familiar with each other’s worlds. While I work in design and she in lingerie, we both understand quality and detail, novelty and trend. An outside and un-jaded view, when it comes from someone smart, is often a good perspective.
She wordlessly tolerated my needing to snap pictures of the details of the city.  Lions have long been a favorite, but I have found myself drawn to snakes lately.  Once you become aware of something, you tend to find them all about you.

It was different to be in Paris this time.  It was the first time I was there without either one of my parents or one of my children.  Also, as I was there three years ago and again last July, it has become a bit familiar.  While I like this, I noticed that with the loss of some of the anxiety of the unknown, a bit of the excitement dissipated, too.  It did not make me love the city less, but our relationship has changed.

In addition, I had friends from the states who were also there.  It was a bit surreal for me to make plans in Paris with people whom I know from New York.  My world is bigger and smaller at the same time. And, frankly, better, not only because I had Blanquette de Veau for the first time, though it was a meal I will never forget.

 We stayed in Saint Germain, so I was able to visit several of the showrooms participating in Deco Off and will post about some of the new fabric offerings this week.

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American Girl

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I’ve been back from Paris for a couple of days and I hate to admit that the jet lag keeps washing over me in waves.  It was a great trip and there are stories to tell, but I wanted to give a shout out to Baldwin Denim first thing.

I love jeans.  I grew up in jeans.  I live in jeans.  It makes more sense for me to buy better denim as I spend more time in it than anything else.  I have a pair of Baldwin Denim that makes people ask, “What jeans are those?” every time I have them on. I bought the black Rivingtons before I left and have worn them non-stop since.  They fit great, are super-flattering (as Baldwin is) and are as comfortable as leggings. Seriously.  It’s not a new model, but a new manufacturer and they are divine.  I was true-to-size, if that helps you at all with on-line ordering. (I don’t see black on the site, but they are in the stores, so give them a ring if that is what your wardrobe is missing.)

I’m wearing them now as I drink coffee and eat chocolate and try and get my life back in order.  Posts to follow.

As always, I was not compensated in any way for this endorsement.

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