Loving...( The Packing for Paris Edition)

Harpers Bazaar

The Sartorialist

The Sartorialist

Harpers Bazaar

The Sartorialist

The Sartorialist

It will likely come as no surprise to hear that I've been thinking about what to pack for Paris pretty much non-stop for the past three months... It might, however, be a smidge surprising that we depart in the morning and I haven't started packing yet(!!). Clearly, I'm in trouble.

In the week or so leading up to this trip, I've been talking big game about my packing nonchalance, "Oh I'm just going to throw some blazers and sweaters and black jeans into a bag and call it a day." (See, I'm practicing my "Parisian" already.) But my internal monologue is really more like, "Holy shit, I have no freaking clue what I'm going take on this trip."

It's not that I don't have a smattering of perfectly acceptable options for mid-winter European travel (i.e. those aforementioned blazers and sweaters and black jeans), it's just that none of my options seem, well, cool enough for Paris. (I hold the Parisian fashion ideal in seriously high regard friends. It is, for me, an insurmountably high bar.)

Parisian women are at once totally undone and supremely elegant. They have the "cool factor" in spades, and it's not easily emulated (you know, like how applying makeup that looks like you're wearing no makeup is the hardest thing to pull off). And it's this seemingly unattainable cool factor that makes an otherwise stunningly average on 99.9% of the population combination of, say, jeans and a t-shirt look, on a Parisian woman, like the chicest outfit of. all. time. (Need proof? Witness the parade of French chic in the photos above.)

So here's the plan. I'm getting in the mood, summonsing my French muses -- I've turned on some Carla Bruni tunes, poured a big glass of vino, imagined myself smoking, randomly yelled "Merde" a few times... I'm in the zone people.

Here's hoping it rubs off on my sweaters. Wish me luck.

Some Scenes From The Weekend (A.K.A. The Hotel Saint Cecilia is My Happy Place Edition)

Sam blew it out with a surprise trip to Austin for our Swoon holiday party. She kidnapped us and our significant others Friday afternoon, showered us with little treats on the trek down, and then proceeded to thoroughly dazzle us for the next 24 hours (an overnight stay at the Saint Cecilia, perhaps the best meal I have ever eaten at Lenoir...).

Bryan and I have stayed at the Saint Cecilia once before, and it is, without a doubt, the coolest hotel I've ever encountered. But even better than the cool, it's also supremely comfortable, thoughtful, filled with character, and just, well, perfect.

Desperate to bring some of that cool, thoughtful, comfortable, character action back to my own humble abode, during my stay I tried to suss out Liz Lambert's tricks. Here's what stuck:

1. Go Big or Go Home -- Color and accessories seem to go from meh to mind-blowing when you really commit. Your (my) wimpy accent wall is put to shame by the rich, glossy peacock blue saturating the walls, moldings, bookshelves, doors... (the whole enchilada) in the Saint Cecilia's office. Throw in some shots of tomato red, a killer light fixture, a couple of perfectly-worn Persian rugs, and maybe a taxidermy bird or two, and you'll pretty much have the chicest. room. ever.
2. Splurge on Quality -- "Buy the best you can afford" is a ubiquitous adage, but, friends, 'tis true...big time. The fluffy pristine towels, crisp laundered sheets, heavy brass fixtures, bowl of big lumps of raw sugar with my coffee service, and carafe of cold water on my nightstand made me feel happy beyond words. Just a few simple, well-made, quality goods beat a house full of cheap crap every single time.
3. Focus on the Details -- People notice details. I promise. (Or at least they notice the lack of details). The beautiful handwritten personal welcome note in every room at the Saint Cecilia is a pretty rad touch, but the beautiful handwritten personal note I got in the mail two days after my return thanking me for staying at the hotel??! The tops. 

Ms. Lambert, you are my hero.

Oui Paris (Or Why We're Dialing Back on The Christmas This Year)

I am a fan of the Christmas. Big time.

I like the decorating and the baking and the present exchanging. I like making big elaborate meals, picking out a hulking tree (and decorating the monster), and wrapping gifts till my finger ache. Hot cocoa, peppermint taffy, advent calendars, class parties, shopping, cookie decorating, garland, lights, endless Bing Crosby tunes? Yes to all. And, yet, (you knew there was going to be a yet) I've always wanted to, well, not do all of it one year.

The dream wasn't to ditch Christmas per se, rather, ever since I was a teenager (I was a weird teenager), I've had this idea in the back of my head that one year, in lieu of all the holiday brouhaha, I'd pack up my (then fictitious) family and get out of dodge. We'd steal away for the holiday, forgoing the tree and gifts and whatnot in favor of adventure and togetherness.

We'll friends, it's happening. Next week, my little family of four is skipping town, embarking on a 10-day trip to, yep, (as you probably guessed from the post title) Paris.

Paris!!

For 10 whole days!!!

We'll be Louvreing and d 'Orsaying and Centre Pompidouing our hearts away, stuffing our bellies with croque monsieurs and macaroons and all manner of stinky cheese. Sure, to make this whole extravaganza possible we nixed all other holiday bells and whistles (save the scant bits of festive featured in those photos above). But I figure it's a small price to pay for adventure and togetherness.

And I'm thinking on Christmas maybe we'll cruise over to the Eiffel tower... After all, it sort of looks like a really big tree, yes?

Get Thee to Steven Alan Dallas this Sunday to Meet Clare Vivier

My regular readers will likely know of my (immense) love for all things Clare Vivier. (In fact, my husband has, on more than one occasion, recommend therapy due to my obsession with the L.A. designer's perfect clutches, totes, messengers, et al.)

I've also had the pleasure of getting to know Clare a bit via the interwebs, and she is even cooler than the chic bags she makes. Sadly, I won't get a chance to finally catch up with her in person, as we're trekking to Austin for my best friend's 40th birthday celebration this weekend (it's a birthday month!), but I'm planning to live vicariously through all you lovely Dallas peeps.

Here's the scoop. Clare will be at the Steven Alan store on Knox this Sunday from 1-5 p.m. visiting with shoppers and showing off her latest collection. In addition to chatting it up with Clare and knocking out your holiday shopping in one fell swoop, you can also get your purchases monogrammed... for free(!).

Buy a bag (or three) for me... well not literally for me, you know what I mean ;-)
xx

Loving...On A Thursday

A cluster of glass votive goodness (amber and ocher and sable and sage...oh my!) at the Glassybaby store in San Francisco via Remodelista. I'm also loving Glassybaby's overarching mission and commitment to giving -- makes a lovely product even lovelier.

Then there's make-up artist (and wife of Rag and Bone's David Neville) Gucci Westman via I Love Your Style... Understated, cool, just the epitome of style. And can we pause for a second to pay homage to  those shoes and that mammoth Cire Trudon candle on her mantle? Umm wow.

And speaking of amazing ladies, hello Charlotte Perriand and your brilliant outdoor chaise for Cassina. I think it's safe to say Mme Perriand has conjured the chicest outdoor chaise of all time, yes?

Ok, the amazing ladies are on a roll today. Heather, your new collection is rocking my world. Full stop.

And then we have sweet sisters styling their very own photo shoot over at Beklina... Reminds me so much of my girlies. Sigh.

We aren't really doing Christmas gifts this year at the Taylor household (more on that later), but if we were, this Winifred Grace screw cuff from Mille would be at the tippy top of my list.

We also aren't doing full-blown holiday decor (I promise we're not turning into Scrooges...there's a good reason for our restrained approach to the season), but after spotting this pretty scene on Varpunen, my scant sprigs of evergreen and smattering of gilded glass balls somehow seem exactly right.

Some Scenes From a Celebration

My 40th birthday wasn't all stomach virus recovering, nutcracker attending, and ice storm traversing. In addition to gaining perspective, I was also the lucky recipient of a rather stellar dinner party Sunday evening orchestrated by my amazing hubby and my dearest buddies and partners in crime Sam and Achlee.

Friends, it would be an understatement to say that the evening was seriously magical. A whole crew of my unbelievably kind friends spent hours transforming the studio into a sort of sparkly, glittery, haven-o-happy (that just so happened to smell exactly like my beloved Northern California due to the masses of eucalyptus and olive branch garlands gracing every conceivable surface). Long, candle-laden tables were set with gold flatware and individual handmade marble and wood cheeseboards, each topped with my of my favorite quotes. There was champagne and roasted beets and almonds and burrata and pork loin and curried lentils and butternut squash and dark chocolate and Italian cream cake. Wine flowed; immensely lovely toasts were made; Sixteen Candles was projected on the wall during dinner...

And just when I thought they'd pulled out every amazing trick in the book, after dinner my dad and Bryan performed a saxophone/guitar duet of "The Girl from Ipanema" (the first time they've ever performed together in the nearly 17 years we've been together).

It was, without a doubt, one of the best nights of my life. I am a lucky girl. Done and done.

Some Lovely To Brighten Your Monday

Image via the WSJ Magazine. Photo by Dan Jackson. Styling by Tina Laakkonen.

I'm thinking Christie Turlington Burns might be the most beautiful women of our generation... What say you?

(P.S. She's 44. Just saying.)

This Is (Actually) 40...

And the lead up to the big day (yesterday) was filled with all manner of hilarity. Relatively speaking...

First there was the wicked stomach flu that hit me late Wednesday night, rendering me totally out of commission for the better part of two days. (Really there are no words friends, I haven't been that sick since I got food poisoning at age nine due to some shady shrimp). When I finally rejoined the land of the living, we were greeted with a massive ice storm (a.k.a. ice-ageddon) which effectively shut down the city, leaving all us Texas folk wondering how the hell to, you know, get through any basic daily task -- well, at least the adults... The kids, of course, were alright, romping about in the icy goodness, sleuthing out any semblance of an incline, in an attempt to execute their best Shaun White impression. During one particular act of daring do, Millie, being, well, Millie, landed flat on her face and busted open her lip, causing it to swell to Jocelyn Wildenstein-like proportions. Good times.

Cut to Friday night (are you tired yet?), and we're slowly car-sledding our way toward Nutcracker performance number one of four the girls were scheduled to perform in over the weekend (the last one is in a couple of hours), my sad stomach and Millie's lip explosion be damned. Let's just say the whole enterprise was a cluster. I mean really, all we could do was laugh.

But with the clarity of a single day, I can honestly say all that mayhem was a good thing. I mean let's face it...I'd set a pretty high bar for this birthday, what with the whole trying to become a perfect person experiment and all. (What was I thinking?) I was due for a dose of reality. And the reality is sometimes (ok, oftentimes) life is messy, kludgy, frustrating, downright disappointing. You just have to keep rolling through -- chin up, wits about you, spirits as high as they can possibly be.

Here's the thing: turning 40 turned out to be a little hard than I thought it would be. I talked a good game in the months leading up, but lying in bed early yesterday morning I'm not gonna lie, I felt old. A little sad even. But then I sucked it up and reminded myself that with the old (ok, ok, older) there's the wiser, the cooler, the more confident, the less neurotic, the just generally chilled out. But most important, there's the perspective. As shameful as it is for me to admit, I'm not sure I would have been so laissez-faire about the events of the past four days in my 30s, and I know I wouldn't have been in my 20s (let's just say I was not my best self in my 20s).

So here's to 40 (and laissez-faire and que sera sera) and, with it, the ability to ride the wave, no matter how gnarly it gets.

Next Time I Think My Kids Don't Listen To Me...

I'll re-read the following line from Millie's school book report about The Night Before Christmas:

"You should read this book because it's got all sorts of lovely Christmas action, and it will make you feel cozy and splendid and happy."

Clearly, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree with this one... I'm in trouble.