it’s been a minute. this isn’t an official return (more to come), but it is something of a reunion offered under the guise of welcoming the autumnal equinox into our lives. kisses to the ones I love in the southern hemisphere too — I could never forget you.
visiting somewhere off the beaten path and only sharing where it is with friends. some would call this gatekeeping and if I look far enough down the line of my proclivities, surely I can find myself doing the same, but I’ve wound my way back to holding what I love a little closer to the chest
a medley of olives, dried fruit, tamarind balls, some assortment of little snacks for guests to pop into their mouths whenever the conversation lulls. I know there is a cult of personality trying to convince you life happens in perfect simpatico, but sometimes a cluster of friends from disparate parts of your world gather over dinner and they don’t always know what to say to each other. here is where one friend will ask what tamarind balls are, the other will say they nurtured a distaste for olives when they were a kid, and from there an acquaintanceship blooms within the room
polishing antique silverware at the dinner table
what was once a childhood pastime with your parents now becomes a sacred viewing experience when you sit down to watch a new episode of survivor at the coffee table
doesn't the modern wrist look bare and forgotten without the classic accessory of a watch? you should wear one. for something on the more affordable and introductory side, I recommend breda and evora. I move between watches from both brands and am oft-complimented on them. if you want to dip your toe into a deeper, more luxurious side of the pond, look to dimepiece as your guiding light
praying to your angels. this may not necessarily be whoever god is for you; it could be mother nature, your late grandfather, a primary school teacher, a flight of birds outside your window, your childhood pet, a self you feel brewing somewhere off the horizon
there’s a comfort and nostalgia and guilelessness to eating grilled cheese sandwiches. sizzling white bread into a pad of irish butter, the nutty aroma that fills the room and transports you back to the warmth of childhood. sometimes an addition of hot peppers, brie, arugula, etc gussies up the indulgence of sentimentality, but true pleasure lies in simplicity
so many windswept magical offbeat eccentric days of your life still lie ahead — isn’t that electrifying?
the moments we laugh and cry and bellow and sing and look into our own eyes with hesitance, with love, with reproach, with assurance are when we step outside the conditionalities we’ve grown accustomed to and let ourselves truly live
sometimes life doesn’t work in the way we wish it would and rather than gnashing your teeth splintering your nails clawing at something incongruous with your attempt to bend it to your will, it is more gratifying to let go and be decisive about the faith you have in knowing yourself well enough to walk away
this has been the year of rediscovering my love for sweet tea. I don’t always brew my own at home, which is how I ran into a friend at the silver lake whole foods while squirreling away handfuls of minna sparkling tea into the crook of my arm, convincing them to buy a can for themselves. we—there is another person here during this interaction and it is my husband, the bridge that brought me to this person—laugh and catch up and agree to pick the picnics we wanted to scatter across our summer back up. I was recovering from pneumonia and it felt nourishing to be in the presence of a friend again. now whenever I knock back a cherry cacao sparkling tea I think about sweet jane
runner’s high is real and I felt it for the first time under a full moon one night in june
drafting a will — both simple and living (how poetic). to do this is daunting and muddy and poignant in nature, but it is essential that you care for yourself even through the mundane. it’s not that you’re gambling on something bad happening to you, it’s that grief cracks us open and blurs the world. why not make that turmoil a little less complicated for your loved ones lest anything happen
don’t miss out on feelings of joy and fulfillment and pleasure and exhilaration just because you’ve convinced yourself the future is more enticing than the present
in august I read julian sancton’s “madhouse at the end of the earth” and learned the men on the belgica—a belgian steamship voyaging to antarctica in the late 1890s—discovered penguins enjoyed music; they would waddle up to the boat and sway along as the men played instruments to pass the time. there is a sadder side to this story that I will not share with you, but this is a moment in history that has crystallized in my mind. even if you think maritime history isn’t up your alley, I recommend spending time with the book. it’s brutal and touching and made me feel like time stretched itself across generations and sent me lumbering along a twentieth century ice floe
it is important to play music and make yourself a fun little drink (my eternal recommendation for this would be a shirley temple on the rocks) when you are cleaning
quite a while ago, when visiting los angeles from istanbul, my mother in law wrapped me up in a hug and I found myself enveloped by a stultifying bloom of berries, a garden, something long forgotten in the distance. the smell reminded me of flowers dying on a lawn. I asked what perfume she was wearing. I was reminded of eating cherries in the hayloft of a barn. she said it was loewe’s “pink magnolia” and, upon leaving to fly home, handed me mini roller balls of the scent she had been wearing. after she left I rubbed my wrists and smelt the damp floor of a forest. waiting for me on the bed when my husband and I arrived in turkey to spend last summer was a full size bottle. a few fragrantica reviews for the perfume suggest it’s tawdry, dries down to something antiseptic. maybe it’s that “pink magnolia” reminds me of someone I love, or because I like the smell of gasoline and wood shavings and a fresh coat of paint, but it’s a downy musk that I think complements my pheromones well, one I find rich and transportive and wanted to share with you
much of life happens in hindsight; let it rush through the door and bowl you over
returning the wave, very belatedly. coincidentally, I’ve been thinking a lot about the poetry of wills (and trusts and guardianships) too - I started working as an estate planning paralegal this month and have been learning how to draft all of these documents.
looking forward to hearing more from you and everyone else!
<3 edit: back to say how wonderful it was to receive this in my inbox and on a very personally important day. so happy to look forward to more beautiful messages :)