Edition XVII

August has a funny way of making me want to do two completely opposite things at once: squeeze every last drop out of summer and immediately start plotting the next one.

I am very much that person who enjoys planning the next trip, meal, even outfit, as much as, and sometimes more than, the main event itself. Which is why I am already deep into next summer’s travel plans and buying things I can envision wearing in Mexico this winter.

Is this slightly neurotic? Probably. But I actually think it stretches out the enjoyment of whatever I’m looking forward to. Plus, I am an organizer and planner at heart. So I guess ending up a designer tracks.

Here’s what I’ve been pulling threads from this week.

I was a huge Anthony Bourdain fan. I watched every single episode of Parts Unknown and would meticulously reference his recommendations whenever I found myself traveling somewhere he had been. His episode with Obama in Vietnam is still, possibly, my favorite hour of television ever made.

When Bourdain died, I was devastated, and weirdly, I just stopped watching the show altogether. It made me too sad.

But I think I’m finally ready to go back. Ahead of the new A24 film Tony, I bookmarked this Air Mail piece by Karen Rinaldi, Bourdain’s longtime editor and the publisher of Kitchen Confidential, about the difference between Tony, the person she knew, and Anthony Bourdain, the guy the rest of us thought we knew.

The summer of the SLB (silly little bag) is not over yet, and for the price, this one went right into my cart. Olive green, crafted out of braided silk using traditional passementerie techniques (yes) in Morocco for Jardin Majorelle, and inspired by the iconic designs of the late Yves Saint Laurent (also yes). A no-brainer.

It has officially been confirmed that I will have TWO children at sleepaway camp next summer.

Hot Euro Summer is on.

The current debate is Greece + Italy versus just going all in on Italy, which sounds like a fake problem because it is.

One place that has very aggressively entered the chat is Mezzatorre in Ischia, now part of the Il Pellicano world.

I’ve always wanted to go to Il Pellicano, but Mezzatorre might actually be more my speed. It’s set around an old watchtower on the rocky coast of Ischia, with little cottages tucked into the landscape, a private bay, thermal springs from the island’s volcanic waters, striped umbrellas. Basically, the Italian summer fantasy.

Swimming off the rocks. Backgammon in the tower. Negronis at sunset. Dinner overlooking the Gulf of Naples.

P.S. The Talented Mr. Ripley was filmed there, in case you somehow still require convincing.

Plus, Ischia itself feels like part of the appeal. Greener, quieter, slightly scruffier around the edges than some of the obvious Italian summer destinations. I don’t need or even want everything polished to within an inch of its life.

I loved this story about artists Gwen O’Neil and Tommy May painting outside at O’Neil’s family home in East Hampton. Their canvases are literally left open to the elements: sprinklers come on, rain falls, leaves land on them, the sun bleaches parts of the surface. Quintessential pictures of summer.

I love that lack of preciousness, and ease. Nature as collaborator, happy accidents encouraged. Probably a good reminder for someone who likes to control absolutely everything (who me?).

I somehow managed to wear three of the hardest-working things in my wardrobe at once this week for a meeting-heavy day.

I’m sure you’ve heard every influencer rave about Leset’s Kyoto pants, and I’m here to confirm that they are, in fact, as good as everyone says. I’ve worn them hiking in Bhutan, out to dinner recently with a lace top, and this week during the workday. Magic pants, I’ll tell ya. Also, wildly comfortable.

I’m equally devoted to TWP’s Next Ex tops. Something about the cropped length and buttoned-up sleeve changes the whole thing. Suddenly you’re not wearing a stuffy button-down, but its much cooler cousin.

And then there are Jamie Haller’s ballet slippers, of which I own multiple pairs. The more beat-up and worn-in they get, the better they become, both comfort-wise and aesthetically.

More threads next week.