We interrupt this blog

To advise you with excitement near Hostess hysteria...



that in the table dressing aisle, Yves Delorme has bulked out their gorgeous damask tablecloths to Homegoods.

Don't spare the horses.

Lanvin Pre-fall. I die.

Okay. Just a couple of peeks at Pre-fall, 2009. I could not resist...





Lanvin Images via style.com

Christian Lacroix Pre-fall. Please hand me the smelling salts

I look at a lot of collections and I shrug a lot off. Ultimately, their intention is to bring attention to the house to move more conservative and wearable items. But each season there are houses that shoot to the runway with something I really wish I could wear to dinner, to lunch, to watch the golf with Josh, just anywhere. The kind of thing you see and you try to invent reasons to wear the thing...

.




Wishing this gown were a color. I am so over black evening gowns.

Christian Lacroix Pre-fall, Paris, Christian Lacroix images via style.com

DIY Highball Bar at Cocktail Hacker

I read Cocktail Hacker. Do you? I think you might like it. Though, it could lead to admittedly dangerous things. Like fun. And dancing. But you could take your chances this once and step into the breech.

Today is as good a day as any to start. The resident mixology pro has developed a shopping and easy recipe list for a DIY Highball bar. It is going to be laminated and find a permanent home in the Hostess Bible. Well done, Reese.

Dear Mr. Cuomo

Memo

To: Andrew Cuomo, Attorney General, Great State of New York
From: The Blushing Hostess
Date: February 4, 2009
Re: A Semi-Homemade White House

Sir. With all due respect, I am concerned. Scratch that. I am wildly preoccupied and feel I need to point out how very unwise this Sandra Lee, Miss Semi-Homemade thing could be for you if the news reports are correct, and you intend to run for Governor of this fine Empire State and/or President of these United States.

First, let me be clear that I would have no objection to your holding these offices. On the contrary, I would follow you into battle with only my Meissen as a shield...

But really. Sandra Lee? Never mind the "breast augmentation" gone wrong (swing low, sweet chariot)...

But may I say - yuck, yuck. And trying to forget about her involvement with married Food Network exec Gordon Elliot. Not to mention that unfortunate ickiness with her ex-husband, the CEO of KB Homes. And the fact that she seems to discard one for another as quickly as her ambition has gained all it can from each. Even though you don't need a girl like that after your Kerry Kennedy heartache. Even though you're a better man than people like that. Forget all that. Sure. Never happened.


Oh! And forget all the photos totally not becoming of a First Lady of the state and nation of my birth: If this is the kind of girl you would pick out, I don't think I am comfortable with your judgement, which could send my Husband to war again. No, I am not willing to take that chance. I really think you need to rethink this thing: Heart be damned! You've got to think of your image!

Here is the part I really cannot stomach, not for you, not for me: A Semi-Homemade Governor's residence. A SEMI-HOMEMADE WHITE HOUSE? While I laughed for a good five minutes picturing Sandra Lee and Carla Bruni reading the scented glossies in the private residence and creating "tablescapes" from Michael's and the local aquarium gift shop while the state-chili dinner simmered away in the National Crock Pot and the staff bartender shook up a bunch of refreshing and phallic Bananas Foster Cocktails a la United States of America:

I can not help but imagine what the dining room table will look like on really important occasions, like the Fourth of July.
Always best to remember how the flag is correctly and most respectfully displayed we would not want this unfortunate snafu in the White House:

For the sake of the household, the country, the impression we leave with other nations, I beg of you to consider what you're doing man! I cannot, in good conscience, support you in this.

Postcards from the Thorzine mist

Normally, before I write these etiquette posts, I consult several references, look around, take stock, ruminate. This is by way of advising you that I did not consult a Vanderbilt, Post, Tiffany, Rosamond, or the like before saying... people are going to do what they are going to do and no amount of precedent will fence them in; not even an attorney.

How does one say this about a guy they like, who is full of elegance in many ways, and walking around with the staggering mantle of a nations collective hopes and needs on his shoulders, that technically, his formal attire could have used a bit of wrench-turning in the old etiquette department? Really, when things get this unwieldy, who cares about your coat, lapels, and tie anymore? And for that matter, the mans wife could show up in burlap: I am so far past worrying about that nonsense and I made my livelihood hocking that nonsense, so that is saying something.

I have these emails here. I don't know, I feel like they might be from trad republicans? Or angry Alaskans? People who rode - with distinction- at Badminton? Gosh. I don't know. But they are about the mechanics of a gentleman's formal wardrobe; becoming something of an oxymoron these days anyhow in my humble estimation.... But, the question is generally this: If one is to wear "white tie" then, what is the style of the jacket (length and lapel) and the correct tie?

Okay. You've got him there. Technically, white tie is a peaked lapel jacket with tails, a waistcoat, black patent dress pumps, and a white cotton hand-tied bow tie, among other dandy pieces of apparel. Lovely. More common in the UK than here and now, unfortunately. And if you own this suit, you will use it as often as I do my curtsy.

We're not going down the discussion-road of what happened or why because it is blindingly simple and well below us. I will sum up: One day, the world got up, decided to wear velour track suits and old stained golf shirts with jeans. And that, Cher, is the top of this slope.

On that same day, the Hostess was kidnapped by what I can only surmise were slovenly ruffians, and placed in a Thorazine mist for a while. When I awoke, I was in Casual Land and the evil denium wearing sloths had conquered all. Boo. Hiss. Boo.

I have been banging on the walls in this torture chamber for ten years at least but there is no release from this prison of rayon and acrylic and. "you have something on your shirt." I just have to make the best of it in order to preserve my delicate, anxious sanity.

They pipe in MSNBC to my hell hole here in Casual Land. It was from one of those broadcasts I learned President Obama has done away with the gentlemen-will-wear-jackets rule in the Oval Office (I conclude from this information that the declaration about no torture is not true, at least where yours truly is concerned). Initially, I was stunned senseless, like a bird who just face-planted in a slider door. Then I was hopping mad. Now, I have returned, with zen-like calm, to my pulpit from which I continue to rail on about manners, correctness, and suitability. That is my role in this fine Thorazine mist and I do it with both pride, and I like to think, aplomb. Guest speakers on my pulpit will kindly don a coat a tie, however.

Secrets and second chances

Welcome to the Thrifting gathering, for more wonderful posts on this item visit Southern Hospitality...

As my kind visitor Eddie Ross recently pointed out herein, one may not be shopping at Hoagland's of Greenwich. I will admit to you that the Hostess does indeed shop there because:
1. I live here and people I know get married, buy new houses, have kids, and die around town and on those occasions, a gift from Hoagland's is occasionally lovely or necessary (in the the case of registries).
2. I have a child, soon two, and they have some truly adorable kid's things.
3. They have a twice yearly sale. The most recent started two weeks ago and is on going: Most of the marks are just okay, not really great until they are well into the sale period: This is a great time to buy their embroidered pieces, linens, and this year, a good deal of china and some unbelievable sterling items. Now you know my secret, use it wisely.

Inspiration springs to mind after a visit to a store such as Hoagland's whether you shop in spots like it or not. But if one is not prepared to drop tens of thousands to outfit their dinner party(and God reward you for it, I might add): What then?

Firstly, remember that patience is a virtue - a rewarded one. Very fine things will turn up in any price range, but it takes a little work. You've actually got to get out there and look for the stuff when you can. It is not going to fall into your outstretched hand.

From Katonah came the set of unused blue damask napkins, 8 for $5 and the footed dessert stand, also $5. I will find a million uses for that piece. At St. Lukes I found the silver plate bread basket for $1 (I always buy these when I see them, I never have enough as they serve tons of uses and I always know someone who could use one.) and the silver tray for $3 (listen up, Chums because this is important: Never ever put acidic foods directly on silver. This includes these offenders: Tomatoes, anything pickled, anything with dark cola soda in it.).

I will be very frank with you and tell you that our home in Florida is in a fine neck of the woods, a place where swank folks from elsewhere come to hang out or retire. I never dreamed there would be the dearth of great antiques and heirloom pieces at sales and shops, but it is a fact. It is as if everyone sold off every last piece of Grandmother's Thomas Hill's right before high tailing it to the shore for the rest of their days.
Close up of the napkins. I have a damask addiction problem which I am not working to correct.

I know that many of the sort of items on which I serve and consequently am constantly hunting towards my collection, are the sorts of things people no longer wish to maintain: Silver (I detest polishing too, it is a fact of life.). Hand painted porcelain dinner services (which should never enter a dishwasher, the Hostess does not care if the machine claims to have a "China setting"). Napkins which require pressing. And so on. Given the lack of time or patience for handling these items, I know two things are true: 1. Many people just stopped reading, and 2. People who stopped reading consider their Grandmother's items of this genre a wasteful albatross and they are forever donating or consigning them. That's where I come in: Happy to take those precious items off your hands.
A cloche of some sort, it is going to be a butter dish now. I love the dome and the fluted saucer. It was $5 at St. Luke's, probably not anything great as it is unmarked but it has a fabulous shape.

Now then. Westchester and Fairfield, where I hang my hat on all the other days, unlike our corner of Florida, is a virtual hot bed of traditional domestic refinement in some areas. And there are several teensy little charity thrift shops which get the benefit of all the donating and consigning. Notably: The Katonah Women's Civic Shop, The Ridgefield Shop, The St. Luke's Shop, and Twigs of Mt. Kisco. I go occasionally, mostly to visit my Mother who generously gives her time to one of these shops, and never fail to find something great. That is to say, something I love: I know good marks but I am not an expert of any sort. I buy what appeals to me and will pass by a really fine maker if it does not appeal. What matters is the beauty I find in the piece, not the mark though they often coincide.

That is the inventory slip on the Japanese Meiko china service I bought at Twigs. Three cases worth for $35. My husband happened to be on the phone at the time from deployment and I could barely contain myself. I heard him groan and mumble that our non-existent butler's pantry really is becoming an issue because my other problem is china. Often these addictions go hand in hand...

This is the pattern. I researched it for this post and found nothing though replacements.com has assigned it a temporary pattern number. They have one piece and it literally has one-third missing from an evil looking break. The shop thinks it is pre-war but then, don't they always? I bought it because it is gorgeous and I love yellow, I will try to find out more but I adore it regardless.

Earlier this week, in order to illustrate the point that beautiful things can be found at any price point, I did this bit of nosing around above in these local shops. The pictures you are viewing was the result of this weeks' (admittedly hasty) visits, the haul was not as great as usual. Additionally, I found a beautiful coffee set of English ironstone which will look madly fitting in my kitchen's walnut sideboard. However, earlier when I needed to photo it, why, I could not find the ironstone's crate. I will provide a picture forthwith but advise you now that the whole kit and kaboodle was $10. Now I have found the ironstone and misplaced the camera; admittedly, an 18 month old can be a distracting assistant.

You see my point: Beautiful refinements are not only for the lucky few with an endless well of money. No, indeed. They are for those willing to do a bit of leg work.

Slugging away at the dream

Bell Tower, J. Peterman Company

There is a soft place in my merchandisers heart for that little company called J. Peterman. This morning I was reminded why they are such a a remarkable little engine that could. Beautiful merchandise, great stories, and a come-back story to rival any before... and now a social networking site called J. Petermans Eye. Good for the good guys, I say.

Convertible stool great for a study or library.


Bronze finished mirror, something interesting about it.


Basket tapestry.

Eight light chandelier.

And the usual suspects remain...


The iconic J. Peterman Duster.


The mailbag.

Hoagland's of Greenwich

One of my favorite stores the world over is Hoagland's of Greenwich on Greenwich Avenue ("the avenue" in local parlance): Perfectly exquisite pieces selected by even-handed, tasteful stylists with a grace rarely found any longer. They are old-school, catering to local brides and the big houses in Greenwich, and they have (even after gentle prodding from the Hostess) resisted building a website. I love that about them a little: They hang on to what they are and the world out there is not relevant to their concentration on their passions.

The blue and white wall. To their credit, they are neither selling nor displaying a copy of Carolyne Roehm's newish book A Passion for Blue and White which is mentioned and featured ad nausea these days. I get the feeling they like like this blue and white idea all on their own: Since the Herend pattern at center front is a stunner.

I don't recommend this setting method at home for actual meals: When you have a fine table with beautiful finish use a table pad, then a softening barrier like tight felt as good restaurants would, and a table cloth. Even the most even of serving hands could spill on the finish and that could be fierce and devastating depending on the nature of the spillage.

While I am not the biggest fan of gold chargers, this is perfect together: Light touches of gold on the plate rims keeps it from pretentious overkill. And I adore the sterling and crystal centerpiece not adulterated with a ton of crap. Easy-go'ers, they are.


Right. One day it will be spring again. I love this wall but was not expecting pastel, it was refreshing and stopped me cold in my Jackson-booted steps.


Sharp and unexpected: The two single best things any table setting can be. I love the sterling's handles playing off the color of the wood and how well balanced the green and cream are along side. The touch of silver in the knot pulls back in the flatware tips. Comes full circle beautifully.

When in Greenwich, do drop in on them. You may find the Hostess there, nuzzling the myriad European patterns for which Hoagland's is known. This close-by 'burg is Eddie Ross's hometown and one could certainly easily imagine how much inspiration he must have found there early in his life.

Gilding the Lily

Lily Pulitzer Stationery is reported by Lily's site to be "coming soon." As a vintage Lily dress collector, I wait with short breath but I am admittedly not sold on this idea simply because it is a Lily (read as: they are hopelessly corporate for me these days) idea. Might be great for showers and garden parties or it might be a bit of pink-flowery postal overkill.

I sit. I wait. I swell. All the while, I am skeptical.

And then I grew up

One of those things that drives me straight up the semi-etiquette wall is the choice of personal stationary a woman of my age occasionally makes. This is a transitional time where wardrobe choices of both the apparel and stationery genres need to be considered carefully. One is not a child anymore and therefore the ruthless and occasionally juvenile motifs of the if-I-wear-pink-and-green-that-makes-me preppy-old-money-right? delusion, ugh, I mean, revolution, should begin to wain if not disappear altogether in one's early thirties. Or a good deal sooner for real tastefulness: For example, when you hung out your shingle as a lawyer at age 26.

Even though 32 seems quite young and certainly acts it at times, there is a good chance you are a professional now, or some other grown-up thing. Your choice in papers should reflect that you understand, to some degree, that there is less whimsy and more serious life issues causing you to whip out pen and paper.

Not, that whimsy is unacceptable, it has times and places. If you are of a mind to order a "real life" suite or papers and a "whimsy" set, then by all means. But at least be sure you've got a proper piece of paper on which to decline, accept, congratulate, sympathize...

Here is what began this thought process. This Whitney English who designs lovely stationery patterns has a line from which I would have bought many patterns five years ago. I was looking this over in terms of her nifty pad and clipboard arrangement, which I am about to show you (hold your Hanoverians, People, I am trying to make a point here) and it occurred to me how very much I still love to look at these very pink and girly patterns but how, in practice, I had moved on, as had our needs on the whole. Here are visual aides to demonstrate:

Could have been mine at age 7, maybe (really little, before I could actually write, possibly). Frog Princess, Whitney English at Lemon Tree Paperie.


Age 12, Ribbon Stripe, Whitney English at Lemon Tree Paperie


Age 22, Pink Hounstooth, Whitney English at Lemon Tree Paperie


Age 25, Pink Madras, Whitney English at Lemon Tree Paperie


Age 30, but I feel like I am pushing it. Ecru Fruit, Whitney English at Lemon Tree Paperie


Today. Natalie Marigold, Whitney English at Lemon Tree Paperie


The Household clipboard today which bears the name of our home for the cold seasons. I have not found one for the house I like for sunny days or Florida yet. Stewart Plaid, Whitney English at Lemon Tree Paperie


A possible end-of-the-game candidate, always great, and it reminds me of the inside of the luncheon room on the top floor of Saks in White Plains, I loved going there with my Mom, so grown up and ladylike.

Alright. I think you see my point. In recounting to myself my own stationery history, it looked something like what follows. Which is to say, it was always both pretty and practical (I have my Mom's oversight to thank for this well into college):


Mine did not have a ribbon but was this same white and pink scallop-edged suite from
Crane until I was a teenager. Card: Stacy Clair Boyd


Crane's Letter Writing Stationery, Regent Blue Bordered Ecru. I had a green border on both the set while I lived at home as a teenager and when I went away to school on the same engraved set with my address at school. Even then, (which was not so long ago) email had not eclipsed pen and paper for letters home and to friends. I saved the letters friends sent: My friend Lois's letters from St. George's were tipped in blue but it was all pretty much the same idea. You had long letter sheets, short, note cards, sometimes a correspondence card, and envelopes to fit all with your return address. At the time, I thought they cost a fortune, sometimes I still do.

And then I grew up. I became sensitive to how far we had come in life, the fact that we were now married, and that I occasionally correspond on our joint or collective behalf, and to the desire to age, even now, like a sage and dignified traditionalist. I shake my head a little each time one of those oh-so-little-girly pink and green jobs appears in the mail. I have to wonder about the sender and their ability to be both realistic and proud that we are maturing. We're a long way from Brown Spring Weekend now, Ladies. Like it or not. And no amount of Botox is going to make that stationery passable. Time to take on that mantle with chins up and excitement in our hearts.
Francie Navy, Whitney English at Lemon Tree Paperie.

Who occasionally also writes and signs only her own name on a matured whimsy card such as this:

Aqua Rose, Whitney English at Lemon Tree Paperie.

While also always maintaining this letter stationery for a somber occasion...

Navy and Gold Monogrammed, Crane's at finestationery.com

Rather than a thirty-something still wishing I was a very-early-twenty-something taking the ferry out to Nantucket on weekends in high summer...

Pink Alligator, Boatman Geller at Lemon Tree Paperie

Now, that wouldn't be dignified.