a shiny new year

picture from matchbook magazine (launching this january)

in 2011, i will hopefully:

- somehow make my way into the walls of the explorers club headquarters once. my interest was first sparked when someone casually mentioned in an elevator that they were en route to the annual explorers club dinner with a pen pal, who just happened to be an arctic explorer. (i was also pretty excited to find an inexpensive, first-edition copy of osa johnson's memoir to read sometime this year. evidently, i have a renewed interest in explorers.)

- try to leave the country at least once, maybe to beynac or to scandinavia for mid-summer. (and just maybe meet a handsome stranger on a train.) leave the city more often this summer. go sailing at least once (and finally convince someone to go row boating on central park lake with me, however painfully touristy it may be.)

- fill my apartment with bell jars of plants and fresh cuts of flowers.

- bike around brooklyn a little more. and eat more locally (which naturally includes mcclure's bloody mary mix, with a hint of pickle brine).

- visit the cloisters in the snow.

- see more old movies in theaters (like the film forum).

- go to the u.s. open finals. make it to a few more mets games (and chomp on shake shack's shroom burgers for good measures).

- sweet talk a few friends into starting a writing group.

- have more fun. have a little fun every single day. never work til midnight - not even once. laugh more. make more jokes. listen to more music. see more music live. play with more sparklers. play more skeeball. be kind. make other people happy. follow joy into more creative pursuits.

tomboy style

from top: audrey tautou, melanie laurent, françoise hardy

once a tomboy, always a tomboy. and spoken from a life-long jo march (scraped knees, a sailor's mouth, and all), this style blog is perfection.

swann's way

(photo via sunday girl)

"my mother was right; when you've got nothing left all you can do is get into silk underwear and start reading proust." - jane birkin

well-spoken advice! reading proust is one of my many new year's resolutions (they're kind of my "thing"). so, i was delighted to find a modest, musty old hardcover collection from the wonderful housing works bookstore to christen a new bookshelf today. musty old hardcovers are the only way to read classics, in my opinion.

(and undoubtedly since winter weather always piques my trans-siberian railway fantasies, i've also been coveting copies of doctor zhivago and beauty in exile.)

see also: el ateneo, peterman's eye

the perfect pixie

a 60s catherine deneuve 'do channeled into a pixie cut? not an easy feat, but just gorgeous.

the milstein hall of ocean life

sometimes there's just no better place in new york to spend a sunday afternoon after brunch.

gratitudes, lately

(from top: pininterest, kate's paperie, the neo-traditionalist)

last night, i went to astoria for a friend's housewarming party, giddy from the idea of weeks of vacation ahead and maybe ladelefuls of cider and champagne. during nearly every conversation, i was struck by how lucky i am to live in this city and to have met the folks i have. and there's something special about waiting on the astoria boulevard subway platform in particular - all the bridges and skylines and cold air after dark.

see also: living in paper moon, a little challenge

inspiration: wimbledon

(see also: la-di-da la-di-da la la, nerd boyfriend)

just kids

a single line in its times review led me to patti smith's gorgeous memoir, just kids: "they went to coney island, able to afford only one hot dog. (ms. smith got the sauerkraut.)"

i plucked it unsuspectingly from the strand's front table, hardly able to detect its beating heart at the time. the book chronicles patti's life-long (and only briefly romantic) relationship with robert mapplethorpe. the two arrived in new york penniless in the early 1960s (a city i hardly recognize) and met by chance. they shared an egg cream in the east village and then were inseparable as best friends, roommates (for a spell, among the other misfits at the chelsea hotel), and soul mates. everything about patti and robert's chelsea and brooklyn, their transcendent love for one another, their youth, their aspirations to create art was so alive. the book, in turn, is unflinchingly soulful.

the mention of just kids this week, after it received the national book award, still stirs something in me several months later. and just listening to patti read her last letter to robert may very well break your heart a little.

(see also: paths that cross will cross again)

california girls

truth be told, i fell in love with california during a childhood trip along the pacific coast by way of route one. i spent my teenage years dreaming of the day i'd head west. in those years, new york never held the same magic for me that it did for friends of mine here. nevertheless, i couldn't be more grateful to have accidentally settled in new york after college. the transformative power of this city - with all of its hustle, possibility, and freedom -is unreal. and i'm gaga for brooklyn. that said, the transition to a grey concrete winter has me suddenly craving a little winter vacation filled with salty air and cypress tress and taco stands.

all photographs by the cherry blossom girl

(see also: don't worry baby)

le conseil sage

"good things happen to those who hustle."

quoth anaïs nin, whose calling card might have read: literati, diarist, dancer, and bohemian minx.

(see also: jezebel, correspondence for the vagabond heart)

young hearts (run free)

if there's anything more romantic than a depression-era travelling circus, then it's a recession-era circus wedding. this three-ring spectacular was raised by the hands of art school sweethearts in the heart of savannah, kissing booth and all. isn't it marvelous?

(simply click to enlarge and don't miss these beauties!)

all photographs by the very talented josh goleman

(see also: sarah sophie flicker and the citizens band, god help the girl, the pains of being pure at heart)

summer music

(see also: the take-away shows, the red balloon, moons and junes)

le fabuleux destin d'amélie poulain

i love this tribute to the patron saint of strange, sweet birds and purveyor of simple miracles, amélie poulain. and although i'm not particularly partial to jewelry, those cherry earrings are pretty fabulous.

(see also: yann tiersen, the impossible project)

les raies

(see also: the latest chanel no.5 flick .. it's another cheesy fragrance ad, but with trains and istanbul and audrey tautou!)


it seems process of creating simple nautucal stripes is fascinating work. here is a glimpse of the saint james factory by the sea.

ship-to-shore

(eleanor hardwick, etsy vintage)

my incorrigible wanderlust has set its sights on norway's breathtaking lofoten islands. i'm daydreaming of living (or all the more unrealistically: summering) in this little kingdom by the sea. all one really needs is a bicycle at hand and some batty neighbors.

(1. i.prinke 2. grey owl 3. i.prinke 4. whale watching 5. i.anton 6. ingrid 7. grey owl 8. sveinam 9. tiny teeth)

500 jours d'été

the soundtrack to 500 days of summer is filled with the sort of songs by the smiths and the pixies first discovered this music with elbows propped on a seafoam bedroom carpet. this music lays such deep roots in suburban basements, germinating in journals hidden beneath mattresses, musty record sleeves in the attic, driveways, and unusually long afternoons.

just listen to these ditties:



(see also: there is a light that never goes out)

la vie dans le technicolor

today my friend posed a clever challenge over afternoon coffee. she asked what an autobiographical movie of my life would look like. i had no answer, except that it would be set over the course of four or five days. so, she suggested that i set out to make the next five days of my life into movie material, just for the sake of vivacity. it sounds like a brilliant antidote for ennui.

(see also: the young girls of rochefort)

les petites huttes

(from top: apartment therapy re-nest, tim walker, debi treloar)

despite everything nuts in this world, i think that people are a part of something naturally quite extraordinary. therefore, i believe in the importance of fresh air, bare feet, and flushed cheeks; and adore these little homes overrun with moss and vines.

(see also: steiner lenzlinger)

les reines de glace

here's one last, fleeting look at winter from john galliano's dreamy paris runway show, inspired by russian folklore. it inspires a touch of nostalgia for glacial, airy nights and it's as though john galliano illustrated my trans-siberian railway fantasies.

(see also: the first "coco avant chanel" trailer)

tous les amoureux

i've been captivated by jules and jim, a hauntingly beautiful movie, since seeing it for the first time recently. where could i even begin? it provoked so many fascinating questions about human relationships - friendships and muses; infatuations, infidelities, and strange bedfellows; the clash of wildly different expectations and the quest to re-invent love - whether possessing or selfless. i had goosebumps from the humming of simple ditties and the narrator's unflappable delivery of lines like "catherine meant different things to each and couldn't please them all, but too bad."

the director, françois truffaut, came across the story of jules and jim serendipitously - while browsing through a used bookshop. the book, in turn, was inspired by a romantic tangle between the author, marcel duchamp, and bohemian beatrice wood. i love that about art - all of the perpetual motion. and i secretly hope to find a worn copy of jules and jim at the strand, underlined passages and all.

(see also: a woman is a woman)

les moustaches magnifiques du monde

in my humble opinion, the word "mustachioed" should be used as often as possible. these mustachioed pencils from atypk make me want to doodle trench coats and intrigue and fog. then go incognito with a little flick of the wrist.


from top:
clark gable, django reinhardt, burt reynolds, zorro, salvador dali

les bon temps

isn't it remarkable when you come across certain movies or records or old soul songs or pages in a library book at just the right moment? i hadn't felt quite like myself for a few days and couldn't seem to shake certain anxieties. this weekend i happened to watch a fantastic movie, hannah and her sisters, for the first time.

woody allen plays television writer mickey sachs, who falls into the throes of an existential crisis after a medical scare. in a particularly moving scene, mickey finds himself at his wit's end. he frantically paces around the upper west side for hours, before slipping into a movie theatre to collect his thoughts. serendipitously, the film on screen is an old favorite, duck soup. he's instantly charmed by the carefree chaos before him, calms down, and notes:

"geez, i should stop ruining my life searching for answers i'm never going to get and just enjoy it while it lasts. and you know, after .. who knows? maybe there is something, nobody really knows. i know that maybe is a very slim reed to hang your whole life on, but that's the best we have. and then i started to sit back and i actually began to enjoy myself."

(see also: somewhere i have never travelled)

¡volare, cantare!

(peggy guggenheim)

i had a comically awful week, albeit one with a marvelous sense of timing. laughing goes a long way. as does dancing. sometimes, though, the only thing a girl can do is run away to spain. so, when a friend pointed out outrageously low airfares to barcelona this afternoon, we bought tickets immediately. it will take a few months to reach mediterranean waters, so for now i'll just dance the night away!

(see also: giulia y los tellarini)