5 things I loved in March

Happy whatever day you’re reading this, and thank you for being here. I still can’t believe anyone is reading this besides my mom, dad, and my best friend Taryn, who probably won’t open it unless I tell her I wrote about the Summer House drama, which will be untrue, so sorry in advance.

But here we are, and the world outside seems to be defrosting a little. The blooms along the East River looked ready to start unfolding on my run the other day, and I felt oddly protective of them with the erratic weather New York has been having. I hope they survive and still bloom on schedule. I can see my neighbor across the way preparing for her rose arch, which blossoms at the end of April.

This letter is a bit of a potpourri of things I’ve loved over the past month. Some are familiar favorites making a return, and a few are new finds. I hope you enjoy.

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Some people splurge on designer clothes or bags. For me, my investment has always been in my tableware. I don’t know if it will appreciate the way a stock portfolio does, but with where the world is currently, I feel like I’ve made a sound investment.

When I think about the pieces I’ve reached for most this month, it’s my tiny bowl collection. I use them to store medication, for chopped herbs while cooking, or as the perfect addition to a meat and cheese board to hold nuts, dips, and other accoutrements. Some are storing jewelry, others are holding random nails I can’t seem to find a proper place for.

I really can’t speak more highly of them, and if I find a good one in a vintage store, I always have to buy it. Above are a selection I found across the web if you’re looking to expand or start a collection.

One of my favorite activities is going for a long run on Saturdays. Actually, more accurately, it’s going on a long run to get bagels on Saturdays. I’m currently training for the Brooklyn Half, and to incentivize myself, I need a treat, my own version of a carrot on a stick. If you’re wondering, my bagel loyalties lie with Bagelworks, Frankel’s, and Utopia. Anyway...

A new perk of these long runs is the dedicated walking path on the Queensboro Bridge, instead of the one cramped lane previously shared with bikers, which, for anyone who experienced it before, was extremely dangerous. Having this extra space feels like a breath of fresh air, and I’m finally able to take in the beauty of the bridge. Some details are pronounced, like the ornate geometric reliefs or herringbone patterns. Others are more subtle, like the deep eggplant steel beams. I want to bring a Pantone book one day to swatch-match them.

A March activity I love is going to see the Oscar animated shorts with my husband. It always seems to fall on a beautiful Saturday. Even though most are available on YouTube, it’s a little tradition worth keeping. We go to the IFC Center in the West Village, which is a great location with less-than-comfortable seating.

Every year, I’m convinced the Academy voters don’t actually watch the animated shorts because my least favorite always wins (justice for Ice Merchants and Yuck!). Anyway, this year several really stood out, but the one I keep thinking about is Retirement Plan. It’s a wonderfully thoughtful and simple depiction of the “somedays” in life, like meditating, microdosing, or writing a devastating but optimistic piece of poetry, and how, in all that future-facing thinking, we might be missing the chance to live in the present. It mixes truth with humor in a tight seven-minute piece.

I’m not a fashion connoisseur, but I love simple, well-made pieces, and I’d always rather buy one great thing that lasts a long time.

A few months ago, I was killing time while waiting to meet a friend for dinner at Oxomoco (a toxic trait of always being early), and I stumbled into Quaker Marine Supply Co. I had never heard of it, but it was full of unisex vintage workwear, which is basically my kryptonite.

I found this sweater and immediately fell in love. Not all cotton sweaters are created equal. This one hits that Goldilocks sweet spot in weight and length. For me, it really takes the cake.

I rediscovered it on a top shelf a few weeks ago and have been living in it ever since. I’ve also come across some great vintage versions here and here.

My aunt Carrie was the chicest woman. A consummate host and someone who could take a basic prefab apartment and turn it into a space fit for the pages of an interiors magazine. She introduced me to The World of Interiors, which she owned every copy of.

I asked her once how she created spaces that felt so special. She said you flag pages of your favorite inspiration and start to build a pattern of what you love. Then you start to dissect each piece and think, how do I apply that? Very simple, but somehow very foreign to a younger me.

She died a few months ago after a long health battle. When my mom asked if there was anything I wanted, I could only think of one thing. This painting that sat in her hallway, the one I always connected with, both for the colors and the subject. It illustrated one of my biggest design philosophies, a case for mismatched chairs.

Recently, my parents were kind enough to send me a few things from home, including this painting. As it was arriving, I started to learn more about the artist who created it. Greta Hilb may not be on the tip of every art historian’s tongue, but learning about her life made me feel connected to her in a meaningful way.

Growing up in Germany in the early 1900s, she found her way to Hollywood after marrying an art supervisor at United Artists, the studio founded by Charlie Chaplin, and was part of the early studio era. She described her marriage as bad from the start and, in the late 1920s, decided to move alone across the country to study costume design at Parsons School of Design, a school I also happened to attend almost a hundred years later, at a crossroads while trying to figure out what to do with my life. There, she became close to the novelist Thomas Wolfe. She traveled the world, eventually restarting her life in Denver, Colorado, where she co-wrote a cookbook and built a painting career. I believe my aunt found this piece at a consignment shop while living in Denver, and it traveled with her throughout her life.

I love the idea that when we create art, whether known or not, it lives beyond us and somehow creates connections that feel almost predestined. I feel honored to be able to look at it daily while washing the dishes and looking out the window in a city she once lived in and dreamed in, long before me.

I stumbled upon a line from You Can’t Go Home Again by Greta’s friend Thomas Wolfe that I want to keep front of mind going into this new month.

“Make your mistakes, take your chances, look silly, but keep on going. Don’t freeze up.”

Wishing everyone a wonderful April and thank you as always for joining on this little experiment. If you want to help support please like subscribe and tell a friend or two.