Lux Lotus

A Reader's Retreat in New Hampshire

Steal away with me, late summer. We can sneak around the woods and talk about wild poets. And come whatever may. Details.

Postcards TK

I treasure these quiet nights of quiet stars, in my Manhattan aerie, when evening stretches out and stillness unfurls layers of daily attention to reveal pockets of deeper consideration, such as, "When I was in that grocery store by the Pantheon buying a candy bar and I got that email from that guy who wanted to interview me for the Sunday Times, whatever happened with that?" This Friday, I'm off to spend a week on a Scandinavian archipelago, and then back in New York for a spell before a week in the Pacific Northwest. So, Lux Lotus will be light for the next fortnight or two unless I have something heavy to say. My spring PR projects make for beach-y keen summer fun, they do: read Maria Semple's This One is Mine, Meg Cabot's Insatiable and Runaway & listen to Japanther's Rock 'n' Roll Ice Cream and the Growlers' Are You In or Are You Out? Catch up on culture Upstairs at the Square. Ta, doves, my little birds of paradise, don't let 'em ruffle your feathers none xxoo––

Photo: Two people at the Cannes Film Festival, May 1962, Paul Schutzer for Life Magazine.

The Quotable Anais Nin

"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous." - From her diary, Winter 1931-32.

Windowlicker (Weekend Edition)

Of course I could live without them, but what would be the point?

["Nikita" sunglasses by Tom Ford, $360]

Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - often appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.

Rose Moon

When I had long hair, I loathed brushing it. Now I have short hair and I can't keep my hands off it. Earlier today I was recalling an afternoon spent driving out in the desert listening to the Kills a few months ago, and wishing it were so again. But there was only that day that it was perfect, and today's another day, and it can be perfect, too. I just spent a record fifteen minutes getting dolled up and laughed to think of my college boyfriend who I drove to distraction by doing things like announcing that I'd like my skirt to be just a little shorter before going to the grocery store, and I'd do some hack job on the hem and he would be mortified. I didn't care though. I already had everything I wanted from that town. He wouldn't recognize me now. 

Windowlicker

While I was growing up, I found my parents achingly out of step with the new. No gadgets or trends of any sort, antiques/vintage preferred, classic above all. My father would take us on long drives during which we were only allowed to listen to the Platters. If we watched a movie together, it would be something like From Here to Eternity. My mother would find things like Marimekko screens on the street, make art out of shells she collected, and never complained when I laid on the deck off the sunroom, staring at the stars for hours while playing one of her Bob Dylan records a hundred times in a row –– is there any better salve for a seventh grade crush than "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright"? Now of course I'm deeply appreciative of the eye that they gave me. Like when people dither over the car that they should get. How hard can it be? There's only one good one.

[1965 230SL convertible, $19,900 at Silver Star Restorations]

Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - often appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.

Setting for a Fairy Tale

Twilight, the violet hour, whatever you want to call the shimmering midsummer time around dusk was exactly the moment to visit Van Cleef & Arpels by invitation to preview the new high jewelry collection. I arrived during a conversation about the house's different design periods of the last century, Retro followed Deco and was a response to war shortages; faced with the rationing of fabric, women looked to jewelry to make the big statement that a more voluminous wardrobe might have made under different circumstances. I was quite surprised to learn the the landmark riots by students in Paris, May 1968 led to another transformation, as ostentatious wealth became instantly passe and was replaced by a looser, more cosmopolitan take, best evidenced in the "Alhambra" collection, enjoying an immense revival today, and very much in step with the earthy sensuality that characterized the youthquake of that period.

This One is Martini

Maria Semple, ex-tv writer (90210, Arrested Development) whose sparkling and sage debut, This One is Mine, I'm currently publicizing –– (Venus says, "As a novel perfectly staged in the glitzy Hollywood Hills...This One is Mine, which the author reveals came from a deeply passionate poem by Hafiz, tackles the extreme feelings many face when confusing love with possession.") –– interviews her pal China Forbes of Pink Martini, for top music and culture blog, Largehearted Boy. Did you know China's cousin is in Grizzly Bear? Says Maria,

"Have you ever seen Pink Martini perform Bolero? You should. It's truly awesome. And there was Maya's little sister, China, gorgeous and the total diva I imagined her to be, doing nothing but standing in the middle of it all, playing the tambourine. As Bolero built, built, built, then reached its chaotic, smashing conclusion, our breaths were taken away....

...So imagine my shock and delight the next time I saw Pink Martini, this time at the Wiltern. China Forbes wasn't just a tambourine player, but a singer, too. Not just a singer, but a chanteuse of epic proportions! She has a fabulous voice, sweet and careful at first. But don't let that fool you. It's a voice capable of anything..."

Read the rest.

And if you'd like to check out This One is Mine, just tell me your favorite Pink Martini song in the comments below.

Windowlicker

A few years ago I was driving around upstate or maybe it was to Maryland with a friend and he and I were discussing whether we would ever get married, and if so, how so. He wanted casual, on the beach, outdoors, romantic type of thing, very California. The last time I had fantasized even briefly about a wedding, it was in New Orleans in 1998, with another guy, and, of course, if we were still single/alive by 30 or something vague and far-off we would get married and I would wear Gaultier and walk down the aisle to Tori Amos' "Professional Widow" as remixed by Armand van Helden. It was 1998, and of course, I couldn't imagine being so truly time-worn as 30 so why not celebrate it? Ha. Anyway, during the drive I said that I'd prefer something quiet and refined the night before an ocean liner left for Europe, setting off with a  steamer trunk to tour for a month or so. This particular steamer trunk also makes me think of that great scene in Baby Face where Barbara Stanwyck's Lily has to choose whether to stay and help her husband out, or split with her very hard-earned cash intact. Hie down to the dock, she does. It also reminds me of a trunk at my father's house, 110 years old, refinished down to the bare wood except for the stamp on the side, marking my great-grandfather's sole possession ferried with him to the New World as "Immigrant Baggage." I've been thinking a lot about passages lately, and how we choose what we need for what we believe might lay ahead. Most of all, I'm looking forward to taking off for Sweden the week after next for a glimpse of what he left behind.

[Vintage Goyard Steamer Trunk, $26,500 at Ruby Lane]

Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - often appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.

What to Do

There comes a time in the life of every old-fashioned movie star when the third marriage has gone south, the script with the matador is iffy at best, and the bloom is off the rose for America's Sweetheart. My advice: put on your best sunglasses and stroll down to a little hole in-the-wall where they've never seen you before, and never will again, and tell the nice man to cut it all off. It's always a thrill to discover that you're braver than you knew.