Just because...

Last week, inspired by Rita Konig's T magazine blog post, I bought some flowers for my bedside table.

Di Palo's

The boyfriend has just returned from a trip to Di Palo's. He brought back many goodies: roasted peppers, chestnut honey, olive oils for cooking and finishing, burrata... When he was unpacking, he put two warm, unlabeled packages in my hand. They turned out to be slow-cooked, Umbrian-style porchetta they make in-house. With no self-control, I reached for knife and fork and attacked one of the packages on the kitchen counter. I felt liked I had died and gone to heaven. I often feel this way when I go to Di Palo's.

Di Palo's Fine Foods
200 Grand Street
New York, NY 10013
(212) 226 1033

Hermès Fever

I have been following reports of the goings on at the Hermès Sample Sale, which opened to the public today, on Racked New York. Their reporter arrived at 7:55am and did not enter the sale until 9:18am. A post at 3:24pm reported that the wait was around two-and-a-half hours. Needless to say, this sample sale is not for the faint-of-heart. And thank goodness for all the people in the queues that it's a beautiful day - lovely light; a bit nippy, but tolerable.

I no longer have the wherewithal for sample sales. When I first started going to these sales, they were usually crowded, but there was often no line. It was as if the people who went to these sales were part of a secret club. I bought lovely things at sample sale prices: a grey silk/cotton Philosphy shift or a thick cashmere Michael Kors tee shirt for $50. Then one Sunday night, I heard Carrie Bradshaw mention "sample saling" on SEX AND THE CITY. I knew it was over. Lines appeared outside the sales, the wait got much longer and the prices much higher.

The very first sample sale I ever attended did not even take place in New York. I was in Paris and spotted a little notice for an Hermès sale in Libération. Being the fashion-obssessed student that I was, I went, probably skipping one lecture or another. It was a half-hour wait outside on a very cold March morning. Once inside, I was stunned to see people grabbing things as they appeared on the sales floor. The M.O. was grab first, evaluate later. I felt a weird disconnect between the ultra refined image of Hermès and the savage behaviour I saw around me, but I got into the spirit of things. At the time, scarves were the equivalent of $50! I bought presents for my mother and sisters, not to mention myself. I emerged breathless and triumphant.

My most remarkable Hermès find, however, was not at that first sample sale. The most unexpected find would be in a non-descript space on Broadway between Broome and Grand streets. This was, again, many years ago when Soho was in the midst of its change from arty neighbour to the mall that it is today. The art galleries were all but gone, but the established mall stores had not quite made their ubiquitous presence felt. Sales would take up residence in store spaces for a few weeks at a time and then disappear, never to be seen again. The shopping area I loved was Nolita. It was in its heyday. Ordinarily, I would never have walked into any of these random sales, but my friend had found a Miu Miu dress in one of them. She wanted to go have a look. I thought, why not. The most temporary, ugly store fittings housed some real designer odds and ends. I wandered over to the scarf display. There was a large contingent of Ferragamo scarves and the salespeople knew what they were. I browsed casually, not expecting to find a bargain when I spotted a blue scarf covered in calligraphy. I tried not to gasp visibly. I asked to have a look. It was the real thing. It had no price tag. I took it over to the cashier. The manager looked at the scarf; I looked nonchalant. He said he would give it to me for $30. I bought it immediately. No one could quite believe my story. I imagine I have the same reaction when I read of people finding Kelly bags in faraway thrift shops for $100.

Think Pink

Lately I have been very taken with Jeska Hearne's Lobster and Swan blog. It is unabashedly girly and lovely. I am very drawn to her unapologetic expression of her feminine eye and taste. It cheers me up no end to visit her blog.

I have a very complicated relationship with being girly. I have always loved girly things. My mother would have really preferred to have boys. Going through old family photographs one day, I was shocked to see an early family portrait in which both my older sisters looked like they were in drag! There was the trip, at six years old, to the hairdresser's to get a fringe for my bob. My hairstyle became a crewcut; half an inch of hair all round. My mother just insisted on taking more off and I was unable to stop the proverbial car crash, stunned as I was in the hairdresser's chair. I was traumatised. The hair looked so wrong with my royal-blue-pinafore-on-white-shirt Catholic school uniform. (I liked nothing better than to look at the girls' party dresses with ruffled skirts at the French children's clothing store at the local shopping centre. Crew cut + ruffly party dress was not something I had envisioned at the time, though the look proved quite effective in an 80s Valentino ad later on.) Out of school uniform, all the children at home wore tee shirts and shorts. And they were handed down from sibling to sibling. On the one hand, it was a lesson in investing in good quality clothing. On the other hand, my immediate sibling was a brother. Needless to say, looking girly was a bit of a struggle in those days. The clothing alone can be a subject of many, many posts...

So in the spirit of girliness, and as an antidote to another dreary, grey day, I am posting images of pink things around the house. Playing the song from FUNNY FACE is optional:



What I see first thing in the morning



What I feel like doing when it's grey and dreary outside



What is in the front hallway at present

Still Winter...

Just when I thought spring was coming, I woke up to this:



Now it looks like this:



The current winter storm warning is expected to last until tomorrow evening, but the snowy forecast lasts through Saturday.

Sigh.

What a Difference a Week Makes

I woke up this morning and noticed that the light has changed. Maybe Spring is coming. Now I will rub my eyes, stretch and start making excursions from where I have been hibernating.

Sunday Night Cluster

This past Sunday, the boyfriend, his son and I went to Peter Luger's late afternoon/early evening for dinner. The reservation was for 4:45pm. The boyfriend couldn't get a later time! He had been given a gift certificate for the restaurant and we were all looking forward to the meal. We got stuck in traffic and arrived 5 minutes late. The front of the restaurant was heaving. There was a huge crowd of rather large people. We proceeded to wait for another 20 minutes, with more people arriving practically every minute. Meanwhile, waiters were rushing back and forth with large platters of steak, weaving round oblivious people waiting for tables. I started thinking about cleaning my bathroom.

We were seated in the back room with a view of the kitchen. I saw the maitre d' decide to seat us there when the way to another dining area was too crowded to navigate. It was interesting to see the waiters work. Restaurants tend to have a rhythm to them and it's always fun to see how well choreographed the wait staff is. Our appetizers arrived very quickly - beefsteak tomatoes and onions and bacon. The tomato was good, but I think the dish is mainly an excuse to eat the Peter Luger steak sauce. The bacon was a thick slab of greasy delicious meat, closer to a Canadian bacon, but shaped like an American bacon strip. Another excuse to have steak sauce. It made me feel like having a fried egg.

Then there was a really, really, really long pause before the main course. I looked around and noticed that there were a lot of overweight people in the restaurant. I also saw a lot of gigantic desserts go by. At one table, a little boy was completely defeated by his steak, which had been cut into small pieces by his father. He sat there chewing diligently, but the pile of steak pieces didn't seem to be getting any smaller. At the table behind us, they were debating how many hot fudge sundaes to order. Three out of four of the members of that family were large. Our table had gone silent. I started thinking about cleaning my bathroom again.

Finally, the steak arrived - the Porterhouse for three. It was very large. The plate was very hot. The son had wanted his steak closer to medium. The waiter cooked his slices further with the side of the plate! We ordered creamed spinach, onion rings and German sauteed potatoes. They were very good, especially the creamed spinach. The steak was very good as well, but it felt like I was eating it in the middle of Grand Central Station at rush hour with "Happy Birthday" sung a few times. I was also a little defeated by the steak. Two pieces turned out to be a lot. I kept eating the creamed spinach. We brought home leftovers, enough for another meal.

We decided against dessert. I think we just wanted to get out of there. Seeing a large number of overweight people parade by made me pause, even though the boyfriend and I did go to the dessert bar at Whole Foods afterwards. We fought our way through the crowd in front of the restaurant and left.

Peter Luger is an institution. I just didn't enjoy my meal so much. The food was very good, but I just didn't like the atmosphere and the attitude of the restaurant. Our waiter was very nice - that saved the meal - but I couldn't help feeling as if the restaurant felt like it was the best at what it did, so it could do whatever it wanted and make people wait. And wait, even when they had a reservation; between courses. My experience of really good meals, is that there is a certain rhythm to the meal itself in which the pauses between courses are carefully timed. Not so this night. For the amount of money a meal at Peter Luger's cost, I could think of quite a few other restaurants where food, timing and service would have been perfect. Besides, there are a lot of other steak houses in New York now. And some of them have very good service.