Kiss the Sweets Goodbye and Point Me Toward Tomorrow*

Note the side part with prized Goody barrette in my

fourth (third?) grade Saint Mary's School photo, circa 1971. 

Coaxed by my mother, I set my hair on pink sponge rollers the night before. 

The light blue, sparkly barrette matched the shiny silk dress 

(now faded in the photo), 

a hand-me-down from relatives in Connecticut.

Okay, enough. I've spent my life spinning fairy tales about sugar, and believing them. Sweets were special. They were magic. Enchanting. Not just euphoric, they added notes of beauty and style to a plain life, like that sparkly blue Goody barrette. It was from the grocery store, but it was a big deal to me. (As a mother, I took great pleasure on lunch breaks from Hearst browsing hair accessories for me or Figgy on Bergdorf Goodman's Beauty Level--I got her a slender black satin hairband with rhinestone bow. I would have done the same for Punch, but she is not a hair accessory type of girl.)

Spun-sugar stars in my youth included the Entenmann's chocolate chip loaf cake my New York City-born grandmother, Alice, got us at the Grand Union supermarket in Dumont. A gift. A Sunday, church-day treat. And the  soft Torrone nougat candies in little boxes that our Italian immigrant grandmother, Rose, sometimes brought us from the Bronx.

They were part of a better life, a privileged life. They were that one Christmas Eve with a glass plate of homemade cookies at Aunt Gloria's and Uncle Jim's down the block in Dumont, where my three pretty cousins (Annie, Cathy and Maria) lived. The magic of my Sweet Sixteen, a pink box-mix cake and pink icing made by my mother and shared with my friends at our dining room table with Quaker lace tablecloth. They were Stanley's Bake Shop in Bergenfield, a special 50th anniversary sheet cake with rich yellow buttercream roses and swags of frosting.  

I could go on and on and on. My fairy-tale cake walk. But that might fill a book.  

I.am.here.now. It is Sunday, October 26, 2025 at 3:24 p.m. and last night, at another lovely party held by our friends in Montclair, I consumed one sweet treat after another. Like Halloween tricks, they rose up and then vanished from my hands.

The clock ticked and I grew tired, having had a sad Friday night and a packed Saturday that began at 7:30 a.m. with cleaning (book group was coming), table setting, grocery shopping, coffee hour hosting, a meeting, flower getting, beauty salon, book group, phone interview for writing assignment, dishes and ending with the Halloween party. When I'm tired, I do reach for food to stay awake.

I think I have figured it out, at least for the moment. I love the hosts of these generous, spirited parties (themes include Super Bowl, summer garden, table games), the friends who attend, the chance to be out with Dan and sometimes even Punchy there. But so many love to bake (I do, too) and great bakeries abound. So first there is excellent food, often catered (last night, mac and cheese and pulled pork; excellent charcuterie boards; farmer's market focaccia). Even a bar, sometimes with bartender. And live jazz music!!!!

Last night I had:

• A Magnolia Bakery chocolate Halloween cupcake, dense and moist, thick yellow frosting cap.
• A serving from a dream-girl size glass bowl of peanut butter cream/Reese's/cake trifle.
• A big, soft ginger cookie.
• An Italian bakery double-decker cookie with jam sandwiched in between, chocolate dip, rainbow sprinkles (you know the ones).
• A small wedge of hostess J's homemade, tender olive oil citrus cake.
• And at the book group lunch here, since it was our Jeannie's bday, two slices of the flourless chocolate cake Karen made, with freshly whipped cream.

Hello? Yes, it's me. 

Am I out to kill myself? I am a sugar addict, and I can't seem to eat sweets in moderation. Yet the zero-tolerance approach may be too punitive? On New Year's Eve 2025, I planned not to eat the party desserts, told my hostess and looked away but by the time the ball dropped, a piece of the Smitten Kitchen chocolate cake found its way onto a plate in my hands.

I think that going forward, I will have to leave before the desserts come out. Physically remove myself, drive back home across town. Either that or get a big cup of coffee with cream and go in the pretty backyard? For many years, I filled my best crystal bowl with fresh red berries and brought a bowl of unsweetened whipped cream to these parties and to book group. (TBT, everyone loved that dessert.) But then I stopped.

What do you think?

Not surprisingly, I was exhausted and sluggish today, sugar hangover.

Now it's 9:17 p.m. Since 3:24, I took a walk with Dan (nice leaves), cut down the dead cone flowers, made sure Punch's friends headed back to their apartment in the Bronx, did a work email, ate dinner, loaded the dishes, played and failed at Wordle, started Spelling Bee.

My plan as of now is to again sidestep sweets, one day at a time. Look at the roads I have taken when allowing them in.

Scenes from the Goody barrette legacy:

Our daughter Figgy in 9th grade at Montclair High. Bergdorf hair accessory.

Figgy's senior portrait. I also got that pretty "White Christmas" style hairband at BG.

I forgot! I put my pearl bracelet around our Punchy's bun for her First Holy Communion. Her friend Nikki did the bun.

*Adapted from "What I Did for Love," a song from the musical A Chorus Line with music by Marvin Hamlisch and lyrics by Edward Kleban.

Rejected, Ejected

Vintage black-tie image from Gentlemansgazette.com. Here is the link. 

It happened three nights ago, Wednesday, May 15 at a famous 14K gold hotel in New York City.

I will not wield a poison pen (or tap poison keystrokes) to write this, though I did feel hurt and vengeful in the moment.

I had received a media invite (an email, typical these days) to attend a black-tie charity dinner for a women's/family cause. I mulled it over. I don't have a black-tie wardrobe, or a shoe and handbag closet to pluck from.

The cause was important. I wasn't sure how I got on the invite chain, but I thought it might be related to a recent event I attended and wrote about. I RSVP'd yes.

I got my hair blown out. I asked Debbie to spray it hard so it would hold, especially on that damp day. I don't have an evening gown, but thought that would be okay, that the long list of media outlets I had seen on the invite would not all present in black-tie. I wore a pretty maxi dress, my very good vintage Kenneth Jay Lane earrings--the ones I'm wearing in my blog profile photo--and a cocktail ring, aquamarine set in gold prongs, from an antique shop on the coast of Maine. (I often wonder who owned it, and when. Did her husband present it? It makes a statement.) I booked a spot in a parking garage using SpotHero, and drove with my wipers on through congested traffic. I had a new Lilly Pulitzer notepad in my bag.

I was turned away.

Alice, go with her, the person in charge said loudly. "Her" was the young woman checking media names at the door. She had already combed and recombed the list and couldn't find me, then walked me over to see the woman in charge, who was standing among people in evening wear. Photos were being taken.

Did I mention that I had already met that person once, at a chic Soho shop event pre-Covid? As I recall, she held the reins pretty tight that time, too.

Was I an interloper, or a person who had been invited?

Next thing I knew, a man in black tie with eyeglasses appeared, and like a bad scene from "The Devil Wears Prada," he ushered me to the elevator, pushed the glowing button and waited to watch me descend, as though I would put up a fight or make a scene.

I have the media invite, I said, showing him my iPhone.

I'm sorry, we can't accommodate you. 

That's ridiculous. 

We sent out an email last night to let people know who made the list.

Well, I didn't get an email. And did you send one out to people who didn't make the list, too? That would be important. I drove all the way in from Montclair New Jersey.

I'm sorry we can't accommodate you.

That's too bad. It sounds like a good cause.

They all are.

This is outrageous. And as the doors closed, Please take me off your list.

Rejected. Ejected. Back to the coat check.

You're leaving? said the handsome black attendant. He and his co-worker, a white woman, had been the only two friendly people I'd met. Isn't it often that way? They had made me feel welcome.

Yeah.

He handed me my cardigan sweater and umbrella.

------------------------------------------------------

I thought, and maybe still do, they were not letting me in because of my dress, shoes, blowout (even with my hairspray helmet!), weight or age. They could see all that but they could not see my carefully acquired toolbox of words, the way my pen glides and flows, taking notes in my own shorthand, the details I drink in and capture, the colorful story I can tell and make come alive. They could not see my gift for connecting with people from many walks of life.

It wasn't until I checked on my cell phone later that I did indeed find an email, which had been sent out at about midnight the night before, saying I was not now on the list to attend.

So Tuxedo had not been lying about that.

So the email had gone out before they had seen me, before my dress and shoes had not been enough. Before I appeared with some frown lines, no Botox. Before they saw me but did not see my brain and heart.

---------------------------------------

It still felt bad. I had prepaid for parking (until 11 p.m.!), so I wandered around alone in my maxi dress with my Totes umbrella, up and down 57th Street. Past Bergdorf's, closed for the evening but its stylish windows (featuring a Marc Jacobs jeweled dress) always open. By the now shuttered restaurant, Mangia, that we editors used to love, past Carnegie Hall, where Dan took me to see Judy Collins when we were expecting Figgy. Then 224 West 57th Street, the old Hearst building, the gilded birdcage that housed Cosmopolitan. The Great American Health Bar, a holdout for carrot cake and soup, opened decades ago. An Italian restaurant. The Brooklyn Diner. 

As a I walked west, the tall towers ahead were half wrapped in mist. Gauzy skirts. 

It's still my city, I thought. Still the city I love, and no one can take that away from me.

I walked to Nordstrom, pot of gold at the end of my path, conveniently open til 9 p.m. with its convenient Prada Beauty alcove on the first floor that would take me in with open arms, not turn me away. I had read about Prada lipstick in WWD. (The gift guide drew me in with "We’re partial to the B105 shade for its modern take on the ’90s-inspired brown lipstick look.") 

I wanted to try it, but it's hard to choose a lip or cheek color online. Here was my chance to get a hands-on consultation. Ivan came through. He's right, the Prada Balm in the brand's signature mint green is cushiony and soft, addictive on its own or under the lipstick. (It does not go on green.) And he found a top color for me. Tonka. I love it. It brings out my eyes. And it's refillable so I don't have to add to the beauty landfill quite so much.

I then had a ridiculously overpriced yet somehow skimpy corned beef reuben on rye in a diner, for dinner, served with a tiny pleated paper cup of very good coleslaw and a rubbery pickle spear. No fries, but I didn't want the side salad on the plate. I stared down the cheesecakes and chocolate cakes taking star turns in a lit carousel by the entrance. I did succumb later to a crumb cake square from a deli. Then I headed back home, the lights of my glittery city in the rearview mirror.

At least, I thought, I turned a lost opportunity into a beauty win. And I do feel good about that. Now I just have to practice enough self-care to consistently build in time for makeup, because I look and feel better, younger and more confident when I wear it. The Tonka lipstick, yes.

P.S. When Dan heard what happened, he was upset. He told me I should call the people the next morning and complain. I know Dan, and I know he likes to stand up for me. I appreciate his loyalty. It touched me when I was fired from a magazine as a young writer. When the editor's name came up in conversation for a while, he would say Grrrrr, like a dog about to bite. But I can stand up for myself. For that reason, I won't tell him any details, like the name of the people or the charitable cause. 

P.P.S. Monday, 12:45 p.m. I just had my weekly telehealth therapy appointment with my wise therapist. It may have been brought to my attention by the end that: a. They had a strict limit on people; b. I hadn't checked my email to look for one from them before driving into the city; c. They have professional skills, but maybe kindness is not top of mind; and d. I internalized what happened and allowed myself to feel bad about it. Yes.

Mindful Sweaters from Brooklyn, Coffee Beans for a Cause

A  juicy orange 🍊 YETI cup, a soft, stylish sweater sustainably knit from recycled Italian yarn--everything with the bonus of giving bucks back to research into Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, autism, mental health. Happy Mother’s Day (and more) shopping.

https://www.brainandlife.org/articles/mothers-day-gifts-support-research-neurologic-disorders

🛍️ 

Saturday Night Fashion Dash Down Madison Avenue

             Window shopping afforded a glimpse of cuddly blush mittens at Max Mara.

On Saturday night, Dan and I drove into NYC to see a short drone show over the treetops near Bethesda Fountain in Central Park--magical waves of birdlike flickers in pretty color patterns. (I hope the real migrating birds were not too disturbed. Birders were worried.) Free, totally free, but for the cost of a Lincoln Tunnel toll and a couple dollars to park by meter on Madison Avenue.

The park was packed--parents, children (“Hold onto Daddy’s hand, Tyler”), dogs, lovers, college kids, people with foreign accents, girl groups, a man with his motorcycle. It was fun, though I felt claustrophobic.

We then tried to get into Bemelmans Bar, a legendary spot in The Carlyle Hotel on Madison at 75th Street. What were we thinking? Drinks and bites at the bar. But we found a ticketed jazz show, and beautiful young women lined up to get in. A doorman in a hat. Upper East Side socialites. Without looking, I detected wafts of signature, expensive perfume in the air and heard youthful voices. Looking, I saw high heels; born-with, dewy skin; designer clothing. Dan in blue jeans, me wearing sneakers with my skirt? Um, no. Absolutely no. Sometimes we fit in, sometimes we don’t. Oh well. We are hopeful and daring. Anyway, we can dress up and make a dinner reservation one day.

We ended up getting drinks at The Mark nearby. And then we walked back to our car on 65th and Madison. I loved the window shopping under the moonlight. The stores were closed, it was near 10 p.m. 

Vera Wang. Max Mara. Christian Louboutin. (I couldn't get Dan to even stop and appreciate a peek at the shoes.) Valentino. Precious children’s clothing shops, with tiny smocked dresses. Grandmothers with deep purses must buy those to ship to L.A. Colors through the looking glasses, colors for adults: blush, embellished navy for evening wear and at V, classic black with white in an alluring take on the little black dress.

Valentino short Crepe Couture Black Dress with white shoulder bows. Made in Italy from virgin wool and silk, with concealed back zipper. In my dreams, if I were size 0 to 10, at least 30 years younger and had $5,500 in fashion lettuce and the life to match. (Size 0 already out of stock.) Let's see, that lettuce covers our mortgage, heating oil, electric, groceries, phones and cable, IRS payment plan, doctor and RX co-pays, health insurance, gasoline, car repairs, some money we owe Sis and.....

The style and shopping energy of Madison Avenue sets a very high bar, and I like that.

Good night.

The Lilly Pulitzer of Orchids

We saw this fashionable stunner on Saturday at Duke Farms, formerly the estate of tobacco heiress Doris Duke. Parking is free and there is no entrance fee at this New Jersey green space/nature habitat. (Compare to other wallet-tapping destinations like Six Flags.) There are walking/biking trails and bikes for rent.

This orchid, one among many rare ones in a dedicated orchid greenhouse, is so ruffly and pretty. Privileged. Perfectly designed around the edges. And who wouldn't look good in that color?

Image of Doris Duke from here. The New York Times obit said she stood tall--at 6’1".  I love the cigarette pants and slim, tapered flats.  

I could also imagine Doris Duke along the trails, on a horse. Duke Farms encompasses about 2,700 acres of farm and wood lands with 45 buildings, 9 lakes, 18 miles of roads, 810 acres of woodlands, 464 acres of grassland bird habitat and 1.5 miles of stone walls, per Wikipedia. It was not lost on me that all this was possible due to the selling of cigarettes and killing of lungs, but at least the fresh-air habitat exists now.

Figgy Pudding Update

Florida Figgy in the top she crocheted.

Our daughter Figgy texted me this photo today. She has been crocheting a lot lately. For Christmas, she made Sis and Dan beautiful scarves. She crocheted pretty hats for me and Punch and a scarf for one close friend, a hat for another. With Punchy’s birthday gift last week, she enclosed a little box of tiny, fluffy yellow Easter chicks from Michaels for the whole family. She had crocheted mini hats for two of them! Haha so cute. Every time I see them, I smile.

I like to stand back and see Figgy blossom more and more and more. As parents, that is what we hope for but often, we (I) must wait. A tightly wound rosebud does not unfurl to full beauty in a day. And I imagine that throughout the arc of our children’s (young or adult) lives, we will have times of witnessing and times of waiting. Figgy is blooming not only as a biologist/scientist and avid bird watcher/nature lover but also as a friend, crafter, gardener, reader, cook. 

For the last two Christmases, she wanted stickers from Pipsticks, which has an amazing collection (including puffy stickers). For Christmas 2022, Santa came through. Fig loves sending stickered snail mail and whimsical homemade cards from her Florida nest. I think crafting is a healthy outlet for her, a stress coping skill. God bless Figgy Hurley as she makes her way through life.

Good night.

3 Reasons I Love This Movie Star’s Fashion Edit

Gwyneth in the original G Label by goop Leah cashmere sweater. 

Now the core collection item comes in lemon drop yellow. 

(Alright, so maybe Gwyneth is a tiny size and doesn’t even need a bra 

because her breasts stand up without an underwire. As my editor used to say,“She would look good in a potato chip bag.” But she still sells the sweater for me.)

It’s a fact. Celebrities extend their brands, making extra millions with product lines. Remember Elizabeth Taylor’s perfume, the Fabletics fitness-wear line co-founded by Kate Hudson and Gloria Vanderbilt jeans?

Who doesn’t want a bottle of beauty worthy of a star or workout pants that flatten the belly and are endorsed by Goldie’s daughter?

But G Label from Goop....from Blythe’s daughter. I love Gwyneth Paltrow’s line and wish I could afford it full-on, but not in this lifetime, not at this moment. The one G Label black ribbed bodysuit I own, snagged on sale, is perfect, and I never want it to fall apart. It is cut so right, slimming, with a neckline to perfectly frame a face...and show off earrings and a necklace.

Take these 3 new "early-access” reasons-I-love pieces. The email just dropped today. 

1. Perfection in a black sweater. Lightweight cashmere to go around the seasons again and again, flattering sleeves, a stylish, feminine belt. Available in XL. $695. Figure I would wear it at least 100 times. That comes out to $6.95 per day to feel and look fashionable no matter what else is going on in my life.

2. Leather jacket lust. The bow at the neckline catches my eye, as does the soft leather (look how it drapes) and the two-way zipper. $1,395. What more can I say. Investment piece.

3. Lemon yellow ribbed cashmere with bracelet-length sleeves. (I don’t like this photo but can’t isolate the other views. Please click on link to truly see the sweater, not behind big coat and bag.) So maybe I don’t always look so great in turtlenecks, because my face is full, or the funnel might feel confining--or dark colors are more slimming, especially if you have a plump pouch. This Italian cashmere is so pretty, the color so lollipop lovely. I would have to work several hours to earn it, get paid on time by the client and then, also, not be able to cover some planned bills. Oops. $595.

Oh well. I think it’s this ability to fall in love with fashion, or recipes, or bedsheets and lamps, that made me so good at my job as a lifestyle writer at women’s magazines. If I’m in love, then it will be easier for me to convince you to fall in love, too, whether with a chocolate cake you have to bake (so moist, and that secret ingredient for a silky frosting, go buy the French cocoa) or a belted cardigan. 

Happy weekend. For now, I guess I’m shopping my closet.

As Seen in Montclair

Pre-owned, vintage white gold and mother-of-pearl Alhambra necklace from Van Cleef & Arpels, sold on Farfetch.com now for $3,290.

This is Montclair. Hence, I’ve seen some well-heeled style in the 31 years since Dan and I first moved into an old Bellevue Avenue apartment here with plaster walls, golden sconces, a butler’s pantry and black-and-white tile bathroom after our honeymoon.

The township is not homogeneous, no whole-milk Madison Avenue. Montclair prides itself on being inclusive. We have Grey Poupon mansions with groundskeepers and crowded apartments, polished parks with ponds and grassy patches worn down by teens with nowhere else to go. We don’t have just white skin, but all rich colors and all gender identities. 

It’s the style watch I’ve kept as we moved along, saving money to drive our possessions across town from apartment to small house, living as writers, putting our girls through the public schools. It’s this home base where I take in fashion, where I first saw a man wearing a pink oxford shirt with jeans and good brown leather shoes without socks. (I saw him often, and came to believe he had a trust fund.) 

Sure, I’ve peeked into the Van Cleef & Arpels shop, a hushed church of jewelry ensconced in Bergdorf Goodman on Fifth Avenue, musing about how it would be to have an income (mine or someone else’s) to cover a piece of that. But here in Montclair, I have seen the jewelry up close, resting just so against the tanned collarbones of beautiful women. 

On Friday, after my doctor’s appointment, I stopped at Van Hook, where the well-cheesed fill their baskets with select wedges, Norwegian crackers, ceramic Brie bakers, and pints of heavy cream from a farm. Then I walked around the corner to Jones Road, Bobbi Brown’s flagship makeup store. (Did I tell you I once saw Bobbi in the Kings produce aisle?) Due to Covid, the shop limits customers to six at a time. 

I waited 15 minutes in the sun and got to know the women in front of and behind me. Both were warm and friendly. We all had kids in school, and were happy to have a small pocket of time to beauty shop. We chatted as only fans can when bonding to get our hands on Bobbi’s cult line.

Ahead of me, the pretty, slim-hipped blonde wore penny loafers (penny loafers!), with her jeans, perfect for back-to-school week. She said the shiny copper pennies are remembrances of her two high school children--a penny in each shoe, with the appropriate birth year. She wore Van Cleef & Arpels necklace and earrings from the venerable Paris jeweler. I had a chance to study the iconic Alhambra charms and start to grow a love for those flowers, between drinking paper cups of lemon water from the mason jar outside Jones Road.

Behind me was a mother of three kids who, like me, said she often ran around with no makeup on and wanted to change that, maybe with Bobbi’s Miracle Balm, which comes in different glowy shades. 

Both shoppers were from nearby towns, not Montclair. But here is where I’ve plumped up my style file. This is where I first saw:

*Hermès jewelry, favored by fashionable Holly, owner of a clothing shop on Valley Road.

*Tory Burch flats, in the former Tory Janes store, which I still miss.

*Luxury linens and Santa Maria Novella shampoo from Florence. The shopowner brought it back in her suitcase. It was expensive even back in the nineties but I swear I had a great hair day whenever I used it. 

*Even elite boutique chocolate, from Mariebelle bars in Susan's dark-chocolate shop with a narrow winding staircase to Basque Cheesecake (made by Julia at Vesta Chocolate) with whipped ganache and caramel.

Style is beauty, comfort, art. Earrings that catch  the light when they swing. Fun coats that make a dark winter day better.  Cakes that stir up conversations. Mothers who share everyday fashion talk on a line outside a shop.

I do love Montclair, whether or not, at the moment, my heels are worn low and I need a new pair.

Treats That Are Not Candy

Omigosh, so beautiful. I didn’t see this bracelet at Pink Bungalow* in Montclair today, but here is the description from an online shop: 

PowerBeads by Jen Blessed Mother Blue Agate Paired with Silver Hammered Fleur-de-Lis Charm

Blessed Mother blue agate! Wow, love the name and the look.

I am a nature fan, but also a material girl. It’s a paradox. My latest material purchases include:

1. Pretty lace underwear (on sale). I weathered the pandemic without much lace.

2. Organic coffee beans with notes of dark chocolate in the roast, from Red Rooster Coffee in Floyd, Virginia. I think I noticed the brand in New Bern, North Carolina when Skippy and I drove back from Florida in summer 2021 and stopped to see her friend, but I’m not sure. Also: Since I have written about coffee, I received a press sample and liked it. I just placed my first order on the website. Good coffee is my life.

3. Chopped pecans and whole walnuts, to top yogurt or cottage cheese. Nuts are expensive, a treat I don’t take for granted.

4. A string of beautiful beads on a bracelet from PowerBeads by Jen. The pretty spheres I chose are opalite and the tag says CALMING/PEACE/ACCEPTING CHANGE. Oh yes, accepting change. That’s my mantra.  (One regret: The shop only had one size, average--I still love mine, and it’s stretchy, but I see on shop link above that I could have held out and ordered a large online.)

Good night.

*Ah, Montclair. Economically diverse, but also home to shops with enthralling storybook names, such as:

-Blueberry Lane (closed, shoes, accessories, lovely)

-Moss & More  (fairy-tale-like garden/plant shop)

-The Little Daisy Bake Shop (nut-free, dreamy)

-Tory Janes (closed; I loved that shoe/accessory source)

-Speakeasy Vintage (no longer but wonderful treasure trove hidden upstairs)

If you know Montclair, pls. LMK if I missed some!

An American in Paris

Madeline knows so much about Paris. I bought the books to read with Figgy. Skipper didn’t like them as much, I don’t think. LINK here.

I was in Paris once--in 1983, when Moey and I went with a group of her University of Delaware friends after our college graduation. We saw 14 countries in 21 days on a tour!

It was really great and really fun.

Now that I find myself writing about far-flung designs for aspire design and home, I am becoming a bit of a Parisian expert, I daresay.

It really makes me want to go back. All I really remember (I was 22):

• The "Mona Lisa" was much smaller than expected.
• Croissants.
• Trip to Versailles gardens.
• Bidet in hotel room.
• Notre-Dame Cathedral.
• Eiffel Tower.

I think that’s it? But now, now! I have read and written about the flea markets, the remarkable finds there, the patisseries, the intricacies of the Eiffel Tower, the boutiques, the 7th arrondissement. Style. I have written about style. 

Now I have such a different eye. Now I would look for that JE NE SAIS QUOI--the twist of a scarf, the length of the skirt, the shape of the shoe. The flip of the hair. The perfume bottle stoppers. The eyeliner.  The baguettes. The architecture. The colors. The wineglasses. The fountains. The bouquets and the nosegays. Just everything. And Dan was talking about great flight prices to Paris but then--COVID.

Good night.

Pillow Talk in Delicious Living Color

Dan suggested Doris Day in “The Glass Bottom Boat” but we agreed from watching the trailer that it just looked too goofy, even for retro/kitsch lovers like us.

So he put on “Pillow Talk” from 1959 (Amazon Prime Video). I had seen part of the movie once, years ago. This choice was a gift to me from my husband, and I was grateful. 

We had done some evening gardening--untangling pervasive vines from the lilacs and lilies--so this was relaxing. Dan soon pulled out the New York Times crossword and a pen while I studied the set and hairstyle changes....

So much to love in this rom-com:

• Jan’s (Doris Day’s) suits with pencil skirts and fitted jackets, strapless evening dresses, fur stoles, necklaces and hats. WOW. And the sherbet colors, plus blacks, plus occasional feathers in the hats.
• Brad’s (Rock Hudson’s) bachelor pad/girl trap with spiral staircase, built-in fireplace and switches that release a sofa bed; turn off the lights; lower a needle to play a record; and lock the door (that last one is questionable now).
• The very idea that they share a party line on the telephone. Remember those?
• The colors in Jan’s apartment and wardrobe....pink countertop and wall, sunny yellow robe.
• New York City!!!! Checkered yellow cabs, fancy night life, a beautiful Black female jazz singer in “The Hidden Door” club and flash-through of date places: Statue of Liberty, Circle Line boat ride, etc.
• View of Central Park at night, from a hotel window.
• Very clever, twisty plot. Excellent writing.
• Tony Randall as Brad’s best friend from college and Thelma Ritter as the maid (she was great in “Miracle on 34th Street” and “Rear Window”).
• The country house in Connecticut, again with a supercool fireplace.
• Jan’s bio as a high-profile interior decorator who grew up in Milwaukee.
• Just everything.

Good night.

A Haunting Film about a Legendary Lady

Highly recommend. Fireworks, balloon bouquets, stardust, rose petals, confetti and ticker tape for director Lee Daniels and stars Andra Day and Trevante Rhodes.

Starting with odds stacked against her....her mother was 13/her dad 15. As a girl, she ran errands for women in a brothel...scrubbed floors...sexual abuse....in the face of all that, Miss Billie Holiday used her beautiful voice, rhythm and style to captivate the world. The horrors she faced with narc agents going after her....please see NY Times obit link below. Very sad.

Her song, “Strange Fruit,” about a lynching she witnessed. So raw. Again, how remarkably strong Miss Holiday was, how remarkably strong with expressing her art (when it wasn’t squashed). Pain and grace in the face of unspeakable, unthinkable tragedy.

Rated R, one of most disturbing/vivid views I’ve ever seen of drug use/addiction, though I have not seen a lot. Some explicit sex/nudity. Incredible fashion, exceptional flowers in her hair, very handsome Rhodes. 

She loved her dogs, and held onto her connection to Catholicism.

https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/learning/general/onthisday/bday/0407.html

Back to watching the Oscars now.

Good night to you.

Final Season of “Younger” Does Not Disappoint

Above: Liza Miller (Sutton Foster) and Kelsey Peters (Hilary Duff) on “Younger” this season. Image from THE CINEMAHOLIC.COM.

I love this show (based on a novel by a long-time Montclair writer, redheaded Pamela R. S., who recently moved to the West Coast).

The premise: A divorced mother from the suburbs who is about 40 pretends to be 26 so she can re-enter the workforce in NYC...with a job in the publishing world. Everything about it is delicious, from the characters to the clothing. Hilary Duff, as Liza’s fellow editor, is excellent.

Sad that this (seventh) season is the last.... we haven’t seen Liza, Charles, Josh and crew since 2019. I’ve missed them. The pandemic put a lot of joys on hold.

The first four episodes were released to watch free--if you have Hulu or Paramount. Free, okay, but a ton of short commercial breaks, for everything from Chambord Raspberry Liqueur (to mix with Prosecco for a cocktail) to vaccine promotions, Google ads and repeated plugs for Stanley Steemer home cleaning service.

Here’s what I loved:

• Hilary Duff’s look! She is quite short next to tall Liza (Sutton Foster) but the styling! Long white overcoats, heels, a creamy sweater with cutout neckline, long skirts, short dresses, rich blouses, great lipstick, pretty ponytails. It’s a big part of the show, the style watching. I’m not sure when this season was filmed, but maybe Duff, 33 in real life, is in so many great coats to hide her pregnancy?--she just delivered her third child in March.
• Ditto on dressing the star of the show (Foster). Kelly green sweater, long hemlines, black wetsuit for surfing scenes in Montauk. (We do not see her actually surf.)
• The leading men. Very handsome, very good sideways and subtle glances. Charles has impeccably cut suits and shirts--and hair.
• The scriptwriting. Fast-paced, witty, trendy NYC.
• Best city in the world. Rooftop parties, the Rainbow Room, Williamsburg, press/book launches, coffee with oat milk--not to mention the aerial view of Montauk and the lighthouse there.

Since Dan has written several books, I do find some of the inner workings of the book publishing world to be a bit unreal/inaccurate. Dan is not a celebrity author, but he has gotten some nice $$ advances/contracts. He works very hard crafting/researching detailed pitches and his very good/high-profile agent shops them around to multiple publishers. But on the show, the authors come in and pitch their books to the team....it’s very entertaining, just don’t know if it is real.

Moreover, I guess we really don’t know if the world will be back in offices full-time again...so that is another question. No one working remotely.

We had some choppy waters again today (Dan has a tick bite but got to doctor, Sis had to take Buttercup to vet for a reason, Skippy was here briefly with Mimi and we had bumps), but catching this on my laptop was pure fun. Watched all four already. Escapism at its best.

Good night.

The Doris Day Show

The next step on my baby-food, old TV show kick: “The Doris Day Show.” It aired on CBS from 1968 to 1973. Photo link from here. I have to say there’s something about this photo that bugs me, because Doris had such a wholesome image. But I went with it because it shows the hair bow, color-coordinated outfit, etc.

I have a very clear memory of being with my mother as a girl and listening to Doris Day sing “Que Será, Será” on the kitchen radio. Dan remembers the song from his childhood, too.

I don’t recall seeing Doris Day movies until I was on my own/married (“Pillow Talk”)  but I must have seen one, or read a story about her in a magazine--because I immediately spotted a Doris doppelgänger in the college dining hall in freshman year.

I think the young woman was a friend of Jackie, my friend from my hometown--her name was Maura, or Moira, I believe.

She had blonde hair and a pretty headband that matched her outfit--all fresh-squeezed colors--and I think her skin was tan. I think she wore lipstick, and nail polish, to accentuate the outfit.

You remind me of Doris Day, I said. 

And I think/hope I smiled and added And I mean that as a compliment, because I did.

I was fascinated by the young woman’s panache--right down to the shoes--and the confidence to carry it off. Most of us wore jeans, sweaters and if we were up to it, lip gloss. (Though another friend, Megan, also wore headbands and had cute sweaters, preppy turtlenecks and penny loafers.)

I just happened upon this show and started watching a week or two ago......I LOVE seeing the outfits Doris wears, the hairdos, the hats, the hair bows, the colors, oh the colors! Lavender, orange, perfect mauve, blue plaid, lemon yellow, black. Pretty pink or coral pink lipstick, frosted blue eye shadow, a fringe of dark lashes. Tunics, cardigans, ponchos, pantsuits. Statement necklaces, chunky rings. She is so pretty. And a big part of this is that we didn’t have color TV in this time period, so it’s a treat to look back and see it now, a slice of the time when I was a girl. I don’t think I knew women in 1968 to 1973 (when I was 7 to 12) who dressed this fashionably.

See what I mean? A scarf, a ponytail. I’m drawn to that hairstyle but usually can’t pull it off unless I get my curly hair dried smooth at the salon. Image from here.

As a long-time writer on staff in the magazine world, I love that she works at Today’s World, a (made-up) family magazine based in San Francisco. I’ve been thinking of friends Kim and Liz, who also lived in San Francisco, and of my niece, Anna, a talented, Maine-born artist who has an apartment  there.

The TV story line starts with Doris, whose husband died, leaving NY and moving back in with her Dad at a ranch north of San Francisco. She has two young sons to raise. 

Above: Wholesome image from here.

But by season five, the family/mom/sons part is written out of the script and Doris is dating handsome men and living in her own swinging apartment with spiral staircase.

It’s just such a time capsule--women’s roles at work, fascinating. Men’s style, too--the turtlenecks, the hair. 

Image above from here.

I watch these old shows on Amazon Prime on the living room TV.  Dan is skeptical at first, and then he watches a little bit, too, in spite of himself.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Went in person to Palm Sunday Mass. Quiet prayer. And my friend Jean Rose was there--we talked after. 
2. Talked to Figgy. Broached some tough topics.
3. Dan and I had long phone call with Mimi and Poppy to lay out some Skippy groundwork/ground rules.
4. Planted pink tulips in my indoor pot.
5. Fresh berries and fresh figs.
6. Talked to Sis and to my friend Candy.
7. Lit a white taper candle--comfort on the mantel.

Dress Dream

I slept soundly here in the small Cape May hotel, where masks are required in the one common area (front desk, with Plexiglass drop-down, morning coffeepot in small lobby), and I dreamt of a pink dress.

A woman with buttery cocoa-colored skin was wearing it. She was friendly and smiling when I inquired about the dress.

I loved it in pink--it was a style I already owned (in the dream), from wash-and-wear Karina Dresses. I told her that.

Wow I didn’t know it came in pink!

She smiled. She was with other people, and holding a beverage glass. Her dark, curly hair was shoulder-length.

It wasn’t taffy-pink, bubblegum pink, strawberry ice cream pink, baby pink or a burst of Lilly Pulitzer pink. It was a modern pink, so great. Kind of mauve-y, new, hip.

I went on the site now, and there are sales, but I could don’t find the dress from the dream--nor is it in my budget at the moment, in any case. It had flattering 3/4 sleeves, a V-neck and a mauve background with large floral print. The woman looked so pretty and at ease. Confident, stylish.

Here is the closest I could find this morning on the Karina site:

Above: The Megan Dress in color Bliss. Link here.

I think the dream might be a subconscious reminder that I have a Lilly Pulitzer dress with a V-neck, pink background, large flowers and 3/4 sleeves that I can wear on Easter Sunday. I just need a smooth new pair of tan/suntan pantyhose.

Meanwhile, back at the hotel, I’ve enjoyed simple things we’ve all forgotten about hotel life, such as:

• The heating/AC unit in the room--choose your temp.
• The ice machine. Haha. I love ice.
• The Keurig coffee maker. We don’t have one at home; convenient and fun.
• The bedside lamps--navy base, white shade--with outlets built into the base--that smart hotel invention for cell phone plug-ins.
• The streamlined white kitchenette, with fridge, utensils, microwave, sleek storage.
• Sleek white wardrobe/closet--so neat, with cubbies for shoes, etc.
• The fresh green liquid Eau d’Italie soap that Sis gave me for Christmas. I brought it with us and it smells so good. I saved it for travels. I see it is very expensive--Sis is generous. We learned about it in a Sniffapalooza fragrance lovers’  Zoom event before the holidays.
• The balcony, to see the sea.

Positano, Italy soap link.

My friend Kim in a beautiful dress. I’m wearing my pink and blue Lilly dress--we had a lot of fun on that evening Strategic Communications cruise around New York City several years back.

Time to move on. I procrastinate a lot about taking a shower. :) And about eating breakfast sometimes. I sliced half a pear and half an apple and put almond butter on a piece of wheat bread almost two hours ago and haven’t eaten it yet. It’s noon! Heading out to little balcony, wearing sweatshirt (cool out).

My Gift to Myself: May the Future Be Rosy

Tomorrow is my big birthday and I got this for myself from Draper James--Reese Witherspoon’s style site. I’ve eyed a lot of things there, but this is my first order.

I love pink sweatshirts, but the truth is, they don’t always love me back, not with a big belly. 

I’ve been losing weight, and this pattern was so sweet and irresistible and also, there are masks to match, but I didn’t get those. Reese, tho petite, also offers big sizes!

Here is link to the Natalie sweatshirt.

I feel much younger than my age.....and BTW, this is the first time I paid with Afterpay, which many websites offer. It is interest-free; you pay one-fourth of your balance (I used my debit card) upon ordering and the next three payments are spread out.

An ode to sweatshirts I’ve loved:

• Lavender hand-me-down? from Sis in Dumont. I was in high school, and wanted to be a professional writer. I wore it to write sometimes, emulating Oscar Madison, the sweatshirt-wearing sportswriter character on “The Odd Couple” TV show. I wore it until it was holy around the neckline.
• White with pink and gray flowers when I lived in my own apartment by the sea. I don’t remember where I bought it (probably at a mall), and IDK what happened to it. For all I know, it’s up in our attic somewhere.
• Strawberry-ice-cream-pink with white coffee logo from the Hot Chocolate Sparrow on Cape Cod. Punch traded it for Converse sneakers from her friend Kiki, who moved to Montclair from the U.K. a few years ago. I had let Punch wear it (see belly reference, above) but--then it vanished. I didn’t have the heart to ask for it back.
• Strawberry-ice-cream-pink with small North Eastham (Cape Cod) logo. I bought it at the tiny Welcome Center you pass when driving Route 6 East toward Ptown. I again didn’t like how the crew neck looked on me, and mostly, Punchy wears it, rotating it with a navy blue one; a B & W Nike logo one Mimi got her; and one the color of Nantucket Reds. I knew she would like to share the soft pink one to keep warm on breezy Cape Cod evenings.

It’s been a busy day. Good night, sweet dreams.

TCOY

1. Watched the Inauguration, with a capital I. It was everything and more. Amanda Gorman poem and her beauty, poise and delivery! Just everything....everything....new hope. I generally don’t like that P is remote schooling because it is such a struggle for her, but I did today, when we could all watch this together on TV in the living room.
2. Played board game with Figgy, Punch and Miss Desi, who was here for weekly appointment.
3. Made roast chicken ratatouille.

Don’t Wear a Cashmere Sweater to Clean the Toilet

Above, Donna Reed does housework. I found the image on this intriguing blog: http://mid-centurypink.blogspot.com/p/mid-century-housewife-project.html. Mid-century housewife project!

My Medium post below:

https://alicegarbarinihurley.medium.com/dont-wear-a-cashmere-sweater-to-clean-the-toilet-f738da492275

Good night, sleep well.

Sorry Not Sorry, Santa--No Cookies for You

1. A picture of me in a dress by Karina Dresses that I came across maybe seven? years ago in Thread, a boutique that used to be right next to Bluestone Coffee Co. on Watchung Avenue in Montclair. That's Punch/Skippy sitting nearby. Then, over Labor Day Weekend 2019, Dan, Punch and I tried to go away overnight at the last minute with our friends A and M and their daughter, but the Airbnb fell through and we ended up walking around Kingston, NY, where my friend A saw the Karina Dress shop, with its motto: "The original easy dress."  However, the shop was closed. I looked it up online later.
2. A link to my latest Medium story, which includes a reference to Karina Dresses and a new teal velvet one.

https://alicegarbarinihurley.medium.com/sorry-santa-no-cookies-for-you-9330a4a10b31

Can’t Wait to Don Flannel PJs

Link for zebra PJs pictured above: https://www.pjsalvage.com/products/ruflpj-ecru?_pos=1&_sid=ef32c1a45&_ss=r. But I bought them at Barbara Eclectic/Village Vogue in Montclair.

Today was tricky, truncated with technology glitches, which can throw the best of us off-track.

Did I mention my new zebra 🦓 PJs? 

Going forward this winter, any day that I:

1. Brush + floss teeth 🦷 🦷 and swish mouthwash over gums and
2. Get out of my zebra PJs long enough to shower before it’s time to put them on again

Will be considered a triple-crown crown 👑 👑👑 win in my book of life. 

My Latest Magazine Stories: French Chic, a Farmhouse---and Upcycling Timeworn Men's Shirts

A SHIRT STORY 👕👕🧵

NEW LOOK FOR OLD FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 🥚🥚🐐🐐

ANCIENT MARINER'S HOME NOW A BORDEAUX APARTMENT 🚢 🌊

PARISIAN SHOP WITH BLUE DOORS 🦓 🦓