The (quite-possibly) magical stuffed animals that were the inspiration for Winnie the Pooh, on display at the New York Public Library, via Mandarin Oriental’s Instagram.
On the glowing recommendation of Maureen Corrigan of Fresh Air, I downloaded Shocked: My Mother, Schiaparelli, and Me by Patricia Volk last night and I am already half-way through. I’m obsessed!
Volk tells the story of growing up in a rather glamorous NYC restaurant family with a mother whom everyone — even the butcher — tells her is beautiful, and who takes beauty and womanhood very seriously, in that old-fashioned pancake-makeup-and-foundation-garments sort of way.
Every year for her birthday, her father makes a big production of giving her mother the same gift — “Shocking,” a perfume by Elsa Schiaparelli that came in packaging so luxurious and extreme it is downright surreal (see a rather hilarious illustration from the book, above, and of course Schiap was great friends with all the surrealists so that adjective’s no accident).
In her description of the annual gift-giving drama, Volk slips this one in just as the chapter is closing:
Always the perfume comes gift-wrapped. My father makes the paper himself. He uses Scotch tape and as many hundred-dollar bills as it takes to get the job done.
That kind of absolutely delightful anecdote — and there are many; the bit about every woman needing “a ring and a mink” is particularly wonderful — would make a terrific book, but it’s made doubly fascinating by interweaving stories from the life of Schiap, this woman who couldn’t be more different than her mother and yet, made the scent she wore with such aplomb (if not a desire to actually shock).
Volk first learned about the woman behind the beguiling bottle when, at the age of eleven — the ultimate age of transformative reading, as she points out — she found her mother’s rented copy of Schiap’s autobiography. It opened her eyes to an alternative universe of womanhood.
This memoir, then, is about navigating these two fascinating and very of-their-moment approaches to womanhood while making her own anthropological study of the art or science or craft whatever it is that we do to be females. In that anthropological spirit, she includes tons of totally charming illustrations.
In a word, I’m smitten. And while it’s one of those books I don’t want to end (yet I surely will in about 12 hours), I’m comforted that I have her previous memoir, Stuffed — focusing on that NYC restaurant family life — still to savor.
What is your favorite word?”
“And. It is so hopeful.
What is your favorite word?”“And. It is so hopeful.
An interview with Margaret Atwood
So much love for this lady, forever and ever.
(Source: beinlovewithyourlife, via ohellofriend)
I always remember you as having a really fancy handbag with books by Proust and Yeats inside it.
I always remember you as having a really fancy handbag with books by Proust and Yeats inside it.Something one of Cian’s old friends said to me last weekend. Spending money, reading books — yup, me in a nutshell. (Pity it hasn’t been less of the former, more of the latter.)
“I always sketch at fashion shows. Drawings jog my memory more than any photograph… My system at the shows is to draw, sketch, put down everything - every single outfit - and worry later whether I liked it or not.”
~ excerpted from Grace: A Memoir, by Grace Coddington
Such an excellent book, such a great capture by annstreetstudio.
Not until maybe four years into the research that I realized that This was the truth of it … of my family’s story that … one side of my family had owned another, and that that was as bleak and as straightforward as it got. … That is the quintessence of the hideousness of slavery, isn’t it? That a family member could own their child … or own a series of children and live with that and … keep them in continued slavery and live comfortably with that. It made me understand slavery or see it in a very, very personal, intense way.
Not until maybe four years into the research that I realized that This was the truth of it … of my family’s story that … one side of my family had owned another, and that that was as bleak and as straightforward as it got. … That is the quintessence of the hideousness of slavery, isn’t it? That a family member could own their child … or own a series of children and live with that and … keep them in continued slavery and live comfortably with that. It made me understand slavery or see it in a very, very personal, intense way.Andrea Stuart tells Terry Gross about her family history in Barbados. (via nprfreshair)
I really enjoyed this interview and look forward to reading her memoir, Sugar in the Blood, a history of her family and slavery in Barbados.
Dream life.
![Thanks to “O” magazine in the dermatologist waiting room yesterday and a mean bout of insomnia last night, I’m halfway through The Twelve Tribes of Hattie by first-time novelist Ayana Mathis. You’re probably going to want to read it immediately, too.
Don’t take it from me. Explaining why she made it her second pick for her book club 2.0, Opraaaaaaaaaaaah says:
“The opening chapter — it just floored me. Absolutely [incomprehensible trademark Oprah nonsenseword] floored me.”
She gave it the incomprehensible trademark Oprah nonsenseword treatment, people. This is serious. (And warranted.)
When you’re done, pick up The Warmth of Other Suns, a tour de force nonfiction work on the Great Migration. It’s been sitting idle on my Kindle for a couple years; this will finally give me the oomph I need to power through the second half.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/c5dafdfa937146335ae2ee15b3e704e1/tumblr_mgbijetPOI1qz7gs7o1_500.png)
Thanks to “O” magazine in the dermatologist waiting room yesterday and a mean bout of insomnia last night, I’m halfway through The Twelve Tribes of Hattie by first-time novelist Ayana Mathis. You’re probably going to want to read it immediately, too.
Don’t take it from me. Explaining why she made it her second pick for her book club 2.0, Opraaaaaaaaaaaah says:
“The opening chapter — it just floored me. Absolutely [incomprehensible trademark Oprah nonsenseword] floored me.”
She gave it the incomprehensible trademark Oprah nonsenseword treatment, people. This is serious. (And warranted.)
When you’re done, pick up The Warmth of Other Suns, a tour de force nonfiction work on the Great Migration. It’s been sitting idle on my Kindle for a couple years; this will finally give me the oomph I need to power through the second half.
BOOKS I LOVED IN 2012
I hate ranking the things I love. So this year, I decided to go high school yearbook-style and give all of my 2012 book crushes some fancy superlatives. All have provided great source material, and all are highly recommended….
Great list.
Hot lemon water out of the mug I got at a Rumpus event last night. Have you read Tiny Beautiful Things? Peter (W. Knox) gave it to me for my birthday and I have absolutely treasured it, dipping in for a moment of wisdom whenever I need it. (Get a hard copy and leave it next to your bed; this not a book for e-readers.)
And in other news, two Jameson & sodas after a week of juice is NOT a good idea. Ouch.
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