What is it?
The Daily Cure for me is trying to smell taste touch—really experience— something, each day, that reminds me that I'm alive and, mostly, happy to be here. A small moment that should go a long way, at least in theory.-
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Monthly Archives: January 2015
Mise-en-place: a way of life
It’s no secret. I’m not very good at blogging while I’m working. I’m a freelancer, and the work I do requires full-on attention when I get it. Usually I’ll have three days or a week or three weeks (if I’m … Continue reading
Welcome to my city
Thank you, New York Times, for showing it off so beautifully.
“Je suis Charlie”
Everywhere you look today, “I am Charlie”/”Je suis Charlie” in honor of those who lost their lives in Paris yesterday and to stand strong against those who would have us live in fear. There are no other words. My daughter asked … Continue reading
Red Shoes R Us
Just before Christmas, the Milan shop windows were full shoes. Red shoes. These oxfords caught my eye. They wanted to dance, or at least attend a very chic New Year’s Eve party. I love red shoes, but even as I type … Continue reading
Posted in ITALY, WHAT WE WEAR
Tagged cowboy boots, heels, red shoes, shoes, slippers, stilettos
5 Comments
Making (It) Up as You Go Along
AN ALERT & AN APOLOGY: This is, primarily, for the ladies. The text, I hope, applies to everyone, but I’m afraid the videos don’t. Most of them are based on white skin; I wish had sources for everyone. I’m really sorry. If … Continue reading
Tagged aging, lisa eldridge, make-up
9 Comments
Look back. Go back.
The Fisherman always says—so I assume it’s an Italian saying although it might just be his—“Look back. Go back.” He means, if you practice the ritual of looking back as you’re leaving a place you love, you will be there … Continue reading
Well Hung
Remember that scene in Mommy Dearest, when the Joan Crawford character is screaming at her daughter about wire coat hangers and how much she can’t stand them? Edited, it basically goes like this: “No… wire… hangers! … What’re wire hangers … Continue reading
Fisherman’s Wife (or, Why I can say “Pike” in Three Languages).
I am married to a fisherman. In some households that constitutes widowhood: a spouse abandoned, while the other stands next to a stream or river or sea. I’m most usually only a Sunday widow. But it’s OK in the extreme. … Continue reading
Posted in AROUND US, FRANCE
8 Comments
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