WHAT READERS ARE SAYING:
“I love your newsletter. You post beautiful things and have exquisite taste and yet your writing voice comes across as humble and relatable, unlike so many others. Keep up the great work.” —Gander subscriber
Happy Sunday. Here is this week’s grab bag of things to gander/ponder/pause on:
Have you ever seen a malachite piano? Never had I ever, until last week, when I went on a deep dive into the portfolio of decorative painter E. Lee Jahncke Mead in New Orleans. For as long as I’ve been at G&G, I’ve wanted to cover the rich legacy of the decorative arts trades in the South. You know what I mean if you read the magazine: big, glossy features paired with great writers. In eighteen years of pitch meetings, I haven’t really been able to get it to stick in that way (there’s always hope). But boy oh boy, is it a thing.
And E. Lee, well, she’s at the tip-top of the list, right next to Bob Christian in Savannah. She also collaborated often with my late, great mentor Ann Dupuy, so that only adds to her pedigree.
When I chatted with E. Lee last week, we talked a lot about how much we miss Ann’s talent and hilarity—and, most of all, commiserated over projects. E. Lee can do anything. Gilding. Marbling and wood graining. Decorative plaster. Grisaille. Murals. Restoration. Trompe l’oeil (my favorite).
And I absolutely love that she’s jumped from walls and ceilings and conventional furniture to…PIANOS. Isn’t it the most imaginative thought ever? I just can’t get it out of my head. If I were an interior designer in Charleston or New York or LA or London—or anywhere, really—I’d fly her up and over in one second flat to dream up something equally quirky and fantastic.
See also: E. Lee’s faux tortoise piano. I meannnnn.
Healthy Coping Mechanisms
Over the last eight years of being a parent, I’ve learned several doctorates’ worth of knowledge about coping mechanisms. My own. My son’s. Other people’s. The way human beings cope with life and conflict and stress determines the level of peace that settles into every facet of it. I’m still learning. I still have vices (don’t we all?). But I’ve also managed to bring ideas into the fold that help me, and I’ve worked really hard to encourage the same in my child.
No two healthy coping-mechanism lists are entirely the same. And that’s the point. Mine follows below. What’s on yours?
—Walking and talking. When an idea is stuck. When I am flooded with one emotion or another. When I need connection. When I need to remember that my circulation is in full working order and I’m fully alive.
—Closing my eyes. When I am fried from whatever trigger, and my nervous system is glitching—or heading that way—I totally leave the room and find a place to sit or lie down with my eyes closed. If I can turn off all the lights, even better. The purpose is zero stimulation for a few minutes. It works for me.
—Crying. I’ve always been a crier. It’s a natural response I have to every emotion. I cry when I’m fearful or stressed or angry. I cry in sad moments and happy moments and meaningful moments. I cry if other people start to cry. And I used to feel embarrassed about it, like it was some sort of weird malady. Now, though, after reading so much on the subject, I understand that crying is such a natural release. So now I just let ’er rip.
—Gardening. I’m not feeling entirely like myself right now because I haven’t been able to garden as much in our unending heat and humidity. I can tell a marked difference in my outlook—and in my ability to weather hard things—when I weed, clip, dig, make plans, and wander nurseries for new discoveries on the regular.
—Disappearing into an artistic project. This probably sounds bizarre, but when I spent many weekends faux painting the walls in my current house, I felt something akin to extreme calm that still shows up today when I live my life in the rooms I embellished. I turned up the music and did not think about ANYTHING ELSE for hours and hours and hours. It’s like this with all my more physical artistic projects. They ground me.
My Favorite Baby Gifts
I’ve been shopping for a friend who just had a baby, and it always brings me back to those harried early days. I don’t really go for the traditional Southern baby gifts—silver cups and rattles and such. I lean into comfort.
—I loved receiving soft, washable baby blankets, for example. New moms need them. For the crib, for the car, for the stroller, for breastfeeding camouflage, and on and on. I love this one and this one and this one.
—My good friend Betsy also gave my son a baby pillow that he still uses to this day. They’re just the right size for supporting your neck, no matter how old you are, so they really do grow with a baby into childhood. This pillow and this pillow and this pillow are the sweetest.
—Lastly, I love anything shearling for babies and children (and grown-ups) because the material is so, so soft and easy to care for. This rug and this laugh-out-loud-cute stuffie make perfect gifts.
Plus a Few Extra Bits…
—It should come as no great revelation that I love Ben Pentreath’s work. And he has a new book!
—This insanely perfect bathroom stopped my scroll and landed on my mood boards.
—I thought this top and skirt set was so kicky and fun and it’s in my cart. I don’t want it to sell out!
*Looking for something I've mentioned in Gander? My shop is always open and filled with my favorite books, style finds, beauty products, and fun things for littles.
*Gander is a reader supported publication. Consider becoming a paid subscriber so I can keep churning out interesting thoughts every Sunday.
*Writing my first book, The House Romantic, inspired me to start writing Gander. Order your copy here.
*Gander has affiliate partnerships and may receive a teensy portion of sales when you click a link to buy certain products. I only select things I’ve vetted and I greatly appreciate every purchase.
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