Lux Lotus

My Life in Pictures: Sunday, at the Violet Hour

I've been reluctant to emerge from my boudoir this weekend, except for presents (a copy of Alain Badiou's In Praise of Love, procured in London, and bestowed during a magical brunch) and bubbly, and maybe not even then. The stars and the lipstick (Chanel's "La Fascinate") swept in with a guest for cocktails Friday night. Out now for a quick little glass of champagne with a friend, rescheduled from earlier in the week when I begged off due to fatigue. The occasion, at least in my mind: it's the first day my hair has been long enough to pin up in two years. Huzzah.

On Joining PEN

Today I had lunch with Paul Morris at India House, and on the heels of a couple of terrifically engaging and intellectually stimulating conversations, I've accepted his invitation to join the Membership Committee of PEN, a wonderful organization that I've long admired for its vital work in protecting the free expression of writers the world over as a human right, bearing witness for those whose lives are now in jeopardy as a result of exercising that freedom, and celebrating worthy literature. I'm grateful to be thought of so well, and happy to rise to the occasion. I hope you'll consider doing so, too.

On Impressions

I was mentioned by name in the Telegraph (UK) this week, which was a special thrill as it's the only paper that I read every day. 

The Daily Br!nk

The Daily Br!nk, a site that focuses on creativity and innovation, interviewed me this summer, and correspondent Lauren Rigney, photographer Zack DeZon and I spent a couple of lovely afternoons at my house. The result premieres today (and includes the above picture, my current favorite).

Windowlicker

May I tell you a secret? I don't dream about things much anymore. Though my job still requires me to sashay out many evenings, I much prefer to lounge at home, cooking for myself or friends or curled up with a good book. Last night, I went to a lovely party arranged by two dear friends for an iconic movie star turned author at a very chic hotel, and wore green, in shades of apple to emerald. When I went to put on a piece of jewelry though, I was at a loss. Silver was too cool. I longed for the warm kiss of gold.

[Man Ray Lips Cuff, $585 at Nora Kogan]

Windowlicker is from the French for browsing: faire du lèche-vitrine.

On Disclosures

It always makes me smile when someone is telling me a story of dramatic romantic entanglement, and I sort of make a face and they say, What? And I say, "Oh, I'm so old-fashioned. Hopelessly out-of-step, even. I could never be involved in that way with more than one person. I'd rather be alone than make a mess of someone's heart." Soon after, they inevitably say, shyly, Me too. 

How to Impress Me

To the fellow who sent a c. 1912 Russian banknote by post today,

(I thought you'd like it -– nothing is quite as glamorous as a Romanov.)

well done.

On Certainty

I was cleaning out the hall closet when I came across a box of old journals and letters. One stuck out, beginning as it does with, "This is how much I love you:" Let's just make that the standard.

On Company

It's always something when a beautiful soul departs this world, even and sometimes especially one that flashed across one's own path like a firefly. On a quiet night of quiet stars, at home in New York, mixing an Old Etonian, the house cocktail, in honor of the finest one I ever knew. Mix one part gin and one part Lillet blanc...

On Making Time

If I stick to my desired rule of no more than two evenings out per week, I'm booked until Thanksgiving. That being said, I try to make an exception for seeing friends who have no connection to my work, and so took a very enjoyable trip to Midtown today for lunch with a very amiable, and dazzlingly brilliant Australian diplomat who calls Cipriani "Chip's," and amuses me to no end. "My boyfriend [our mutual friend] is going to accuse me of stealing his friends," he sighed. It's entirely the other way around. I also had the opportunity to tell him that our mutual friend is the happiest I've seen him in a decade, and that I credit him for the blossoming. He apologized for being sleepy at the impromptu dinner party we had at my place on Saturday night. "Darling, don't fret," I cooed sympathetically. "It was three in the morning."