[Daughters of the Liberation jacket + Moyna sequined vest + AG legging jeans + Sam Edelman boots + Sam & Lavi blouse + Anthro feather necklace + Dannijo bag. Most important is the beer: the beer is Saison DuPont. Write that down.] Took my number one dude down to the river for a pre-birthday dinner [...]
After powering through a 6-course sparkling wine dinner hosted by The Barrel Thief for our favorite customers, then some party time/ball drop time with a little 1990 Jean Bourdy Côtes du Jura (It took Kylie, a loyal BT team member, about 10 minutes upon return to work yesterday to notice that we drank her birth [...]
[Cargo in Portland, OR. I could spend all day---and all my monies---here.] I never arrive in Oregon without a bang.
In case you haven’t noticed, Carey secretly, or not so secretly, wishes she was at least partly Native American. Embracing feathers, tassels, moccasins, turquoise, and furry cuffs has no longer been enough lately—she explained this to me on a bike ride. We are even preparing to construct a tipi in our living room. So I [...]
One more day to go then it’s tickets to tarmac in the a.m.
Of all the stunning vistas of Vermont I could post… Seriously, though. You can’t get this stuff anywhere else, and it’s the best vodka I’ve ever had. Thanks, Manchester Discount Bev! So good to see familiar faces. Home truly is where the organic small-batch vodka is. C+R
[Roadside lunch at The Ice Cream Man in Greenwich, NY. Anthro hoodie sweater + Current/Elliott jeans + Dannijo bag; Rob in JCrew stripe shirt.] Cutting through the green of the Vermont countryside, stopping to answer the call of cream. With brownie chunks in it. For lunch. He can get you high, he can make you [...]
Washington, DC, on a Sunday morning. In 2003, I spent a terrific Sunday morning in a gas station here—in a hot pink negligee, sunglasses, and fox fur trimmed coat—hungover and digging through a fridge for chocolate milk while a mother stood nearby shielding her son’s eyes. Memory rizzle. Good stuff! See you from Vermont— C.
Nothing short of absurd for my favorite holiday. Quick recap: I made us two hours late, Steve McKenna‘s kid called me mom, there were wardrobe changes, and we celebrated America with Britain’s best, Exile on Main Street. My shirt suited quite well given the soundtrack. Pretty par for the course.
Later on, after wringing out my socks and icing my hammies, I was texted the above photo and looked at Rob, shaking my ‘fro from side to side: “Man. Who the hell wears a dashiki t-shirt on a lethal, boulder-scrambling hike?” I’d have to say the biggest draw of hiking Old Rag is the views. [...]