
beauty on board
Somewhere over the Atlantic last Sunday, I realized I’ve been flying all wrong.
Behind the scenes of Marlien Rentmeester's wardrobe, plus first dibs on all things catchy.
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Somewhere over the Atlantic last Sunday, I realized I’ve been flying all wrong.

I arrived in Provence on Wednesday with a highly-researched suitcase and a fairly under-researched itinerary.

We’ve scattered, regrouped, raised children, changed jobs, changed houses, accumulated all the inevitable ups and downs—and somehow keep returning.

I've packed and unpacked my suitcase several times this summer, but I don't think I've entirely unpacked the dressing habits I picked up while living out of one.

After a few days in Corsica, I noticed something different.

I boarded my flight home yesterday stuffed to the gills.

Le Catch was born from my inability to keep a good find to myself.

Yesterday I caught the branch of my fiddleleaf fig throwing me what appeared to be a shaka sign (below): the IYKYK Hawaiian hand gesture made by extending the thumb and pinky while curling the three middle fingers inward that roughly translates to “all good.” Which honestly felt both reassuring—and like a possible sign that I’ve been home too long.

In case you missed it, I had a hip replacement, which still feels like an statement belonging to someone else.

Last night, somewhere between the second bottle of something I wasn’t drinking and a cream-topped dessert that I was eagerly awaiting, our dinner party hostess decided we were ready.

At a dinner table in Palm Beach last weekend, I found myself surrounded by women—many of them a solid twenty years younger—who were, in every other way, entirely within my range.