December 6, 2016 § Leave a comment
Venice has an astonishing palette: pastels mixed with blues mixed with grays. I visited in the cold spring, and I’m now turning to those colors to get me through the cold winter (it is coming, I can feel it).
November 30, 2016 § 1 Comment
Earlier this year, Corey and Savannah relocated to Asheville, NC. Which makes me depressed every time I get off the 77 St. Subway stop/ walk anywhere remotely close to their old Upper East Side apartment. It’s fair to say their home in Asheville is 500x the size of aforementioned apartment.
I took some snapshots of their new spot when I visited this summer, and it feels cruel to keep it from the world. I MEAN LOOK AT THIS PLACE.
January 31, 2015 § 1 Comment
Makayla turned eleven. I’m very emo just looking at the photos from her party last night. There is nothing sweeter in this world than this girl and the way she loves. That’s all I have to say.
January 18, 2015 § 2 Comments
Good morning from Praha! I’ve spent a week walking and walking and walking. + Admiring these streets, these cafes, some aggressive river side swans, and excellent unexpected company. Sundays are for coffee and lazing and sometimes czech poetry. Prague is the Golden City fo sho.
Oh! Here’s a piece I wrote part fashion, part travel, mostly sentimental for a site I’m pretty excited about, Millennials Or Die. Read if you’d like and check out their mission and other stellar posts thus far!
September 7, 2014 § 1 Comment
I’m working on a small farm in France. The days have been simple and symmetrical. Rewarding, challenging, and terribly sweet. I am thankful for rose and baguettes that appear in the kitchen each morning like magic. The fog over the hills in the dewy cool hours between seven and eight. Repetition of wearing the same clothes (two alternating pairs of men’s levi’s, leather workboots, t-shirt), gathering tomatoes, raspberries, figs. Feeding a wild brood of chickens every morning. Swooning over every little thing: the herbs, our smallest black sheep, the language. Reading a ton, not writing enough, but still categorizing my days through the objects and setting. Living is storybook here, silly as it sounds. I can’t effectively describe leaving a southern state and waking up each day in a village in the southwest France. But there are photographs.
January 23, 2014 § 2 Comments
Here’s something a lot of people do know about me: I adore doughnuts. Despite my attempts to dismiss gluten and sugar, doughnuts are a staple in my diet that I have no real desire to rid myself from.
I have a serious sweet tooth set of teeth. I blame this on genetics. Specifically, from my maternal grandfather. Who, at a very young age, instilled an unwavering belief that sweets are the bread and butter (emphasis on the butter) of what make life worth living. He told me once that his very first memory was his own father handing him a cookie in their chicago home. It wasn’t hard for me to realize, seventy-five years after the fact, that my grandfather probably remembered a lot more from the depression but those memories seemed less important.
In the same manner Peter Warren teaches Ellie Andrews how to properly dunk a doughnut in It Happened One Night (the obvious namesake of this blog), my grandfather taught me the tricks of the dessert trade. And I took his word. I took his word very, very seriously. Especially when it came to doughnuts. They were the Boston-Crème de le crème. He could still read the paper, drink coffee, and dunk his doughnuts into said coffee with me hanging on him like a baby orangutang- never once being upset if I stretched the collar of his white undershirt or left traces of pink frosting on it. And, like all routines you share with someone, the joy and the charm of those activities never, ever dull.
At twenty, I’m no less mesmerized by doughnuts as I was in girlhood. I could just be crazy, but the process of walking into a shop, seeing the selection- its uniformity- and choosing which flavors feel right for that morning is something close to magical. On good mornings, on bad mornings…there are always doughnuts somewhere. And that is comforting.
Extended backstory aside, I currently live a few blocks away from a gourmet doughnut shop. It is, without a doubt, my favorite place on the Charleston peninsula. I’m not the only one who feels this way. Glazed receives awards annually and is always locking it’s doors early due to selling out. All natural ingredients (local goat cheese and bacon included), great coffee, nice location- it is hard to be disappointed. Yesterday morning, I paid a little visit and came home with two perfect doughnuts. Which is, I guess, the purpose of this post. Five paragraphs later- there you have it, folks!
I ordered their famous Purple Goat (berry goat cheese filling with lavender glaze, kill me) and the Salted Caramel. Whoever decided salted caramel should be a popular dessert option deserves a MacArthur Genius Grant (so does the staff of Glazed… and my grandfather). I’ll stop nominating people for awards, but really, if you’re anywhere near Charleston, SC do yourself a favor and stroll upper King until you reach Glazed. If you’re not near Charleston, get in your car and drive somewhere that sells the little beauties. If that is too much to ask, just do something for yourself that reminds you of what you love and where you come from. And don’t ever stop doing that.