December 16, 2016 § Leave a comment
July 5, 2016 § Leave a comment
It’s hot outside and you’re glowing! Congrats. Here are several suggestions for keeping your morning shimmer game strong. « Read the rest of this entry »
December 11, 2014 § 2 Comments
For Christmas I asked for the fuzzy alarm clock from Gilmore Girls and a therapist. But here’s a list of things I think are amazing that might be worth considering if you’re still searching for gifts to wrap.
Fifteen things I’m almost obsessed with:
1. Coffee Subscription from Stumptown Roasters. Brilliant.
2. Gold Heart Studs.
3. My Aunt makes these cornflake wreath treats every Decemeber and we all go bananas. Here‘s a recipe (not hers).
4. Perfume. Tom Ford for the win- complex scents in really, really pretty bottles.
5. This candle.
6. A copy of Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca. With Hitch’s film. The best and the best.
7. Book wishlist is never ending, but Olena Kalytiak Davis’s The Poem She Didn’t Write and Other Poems is the one I’m looking forward to most this season.
8. This Marni shirt. Ruler of all strange, expensive t-shirts.
9. Diptyque Lip Balm.
10. Whiskey. From Oban. With Love.
11. These Arctic Explorer ornaments.
12. Bach Flower Remedy in Wild Oat…and cherry plum, chicory, elm, honeysuckle, star of Bethlehem, the list goes on.
13. Nail polish that is so light pink it looks like nothing.
14. This fuzzy clutch, also light pink, which is everything.
15. White high-top converse. But not just any white high-top converse. Leather.
Happy gift giving! Give more, take less, and be happy with everything. Like the oven mitt. That’s what makes it fun.
September 7, 2014 § 4 Comments
Saturday morning, I went to northern Spain to pick up chorizo and wine from a market. There is a good feeling to be had in markets on weekend mornings. Something I miss tremendously about home: meeting K with our matching totes and produce. I spent the rest of the day in a little french coastal town, Biarritz. Not at all used to water like that. It was a happy day. Stupid happy. Wore a dress for the first time since I’ve been in the country, ate a salmon sandwich, admired the Bay of Biscay, read Carson McCuller’s The Ballad of the Sad Cafe from cover to cover, and spied on adolescent boys jumping off cliffs. The swimmers seemed to belong nowhere else in the world besides floating in all that salt. It felt briefly like home (packed the same tote, felt sun and sand) but that fleeing left and something else took its place.
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.