I Love Lamp: Afternoon Light

Dramatic natural light can make just about anything look 'design-worthy'. As we inch our way towards spring, I've noticed that the light is changing around here. All winter it's been hushed and cloudy or a sharp bright blue. But now, each afternoon, there are these fabulous, intensely dramatic rays that cuts across the valley:

And I can't get enough of it!

On top of it all, the other night we had the most Miami-like sunset I've seen since moving up here:

Keep it up sun. I like what you're doing.

(What is I Love LampThis is I Love Lamp.)

Fly Fishing in the Catskills

This photo on Man Repeller caught my eye today because--

It's the first day of FISHING SEASON!

(File that one under "Things I Did Not Know/Care About Back in Brooklyn".)

Last summer, when we were looking for inn locations around here, my dad took Steven fly fishing out in Roscoe.

They caught all KINDS of things, and ever since then he's been, well, hooked.

This year, Steven is stoked to have his own gear and, more importantly, his very own 'crik' to fish in: the West Kill.

This morning it was loud and frothing from the melting snow. It's supposed to be in the 50s this week so it should swell quite a bit in the next few days.

For all your fisher(wo)men out there, fly fishing legend Art Flick used to live here on the West Kill. In fact, he ran a hotel at the other end of the valley where Route 42 meets Spruceton Road.

The building, unfortunately, no longer exists. I've heard a mix of stories as to why but most of them involve a fire. Either way, Art Flick's fly fishing legend lives on in his famous book:

P.S. We watched "A River Runs Through It" last night to get stoked for the opening of the season and OH MY GOD Brad Pitt is good looking it was so boring.

I Love Lamp: Barnwood Benches

Yesterday afternoon Steven and I were feeling a little trapped and listless. It's been cold, cold, cold for months, months, months and while there's still lots to be done for the Inn and one can always work on a new book idea, we both found ourselves in a bit of a "hurry up and wait" place. We've learned that when our to-do lists have become too amorphous and intangible, it's good to get our hands dirty. Literally. So as the contractors packed up their gear for the day, we decided to take ours out and into the barn to MAKE something.

A few weeks ago Steven made a bench out of some old barnwood and 2x4s for our entranceway:

I've been trying to settle upon a design for benches in the Inn's rooms, and while I love this one, the top is one of a kind so we had to come up with something else.

When it comes to making stuff for the rooms-- for the house even-- the name of the game is "What can we cannibalize from our house/barn/yard?" aka "What's FREE?" We've made shelves out of barnwood and L brackets from the old laundry room for our bar--

We built our dining room table from barnwood and 2x4's--

Hell, we even dragged the barn door into the kitchen!

After sketching out different models involving all sorts of cuts and supports we decided upon something laughably simple: barn wood + two stumps + 4 screws. And presto!

The actual construction took maybe ten minutes, but sitting by our fire with our feet propped up on it and some beers in our hands, we felt like it was the real pride of the day's work.

Sap and Saws and Such

It's supposed to be a good weekend for maple sap which means we'll probably go back up to our neighbors' sap house this weekend to help them out drink beer while watching the sap boil into delicious syrup.

Before then though, we've got some work to do. Like sawing the deadfall we gathered last weekend to use in our wood stove.

And if that all sounds a little too romantic to you-- like I'm wrapping this all in a perfectly crumpled dish towel-- then let me just add that IT'S STILL TWENTY DEGREES HERE and I haven't felt my toes in days.

No, I take that back. MONTHS.

Let 'Em Roam

When we were about 7 and 9, my brother and I used to hang around the neighborhood after school with a roving gang of kid skaters. On our rollerblades (all altered to be break-less), we'd play Man Hunt, Kick the Can, and Tag through the streets of Park Slope, Brooklyn. We'd stop for pizza and candy and soda. We'd laugh at dirty jokes the older ones told that we didn't understand, we'd bicker over game rules and ignore sore losers til they shaped up. I was the only girl but that didn't seem to matter in our prepubescent world. What mattered was that we were FREE. Til the streelights came on at least. Then, without discussion, and sometimes without even a goodbye, we'd roll back to our houses and our parents who had dinner just about done. When I tell people stories like this, they think I'm lying. Or that I'm actually much older than 30 since I apparently grew up in Brooklyn in the 1950s.  But I'm telling you, it's true and it's all I can think about this morning after reading Hanna Rosin's incredible article in The Atlantic called "The Overprotected Kid".

Sure I had piano lessons  and supervised playdates and was walked to and from school by an adult until I was 9-- it was the 90s after all-- but ultimately, my childhood had elements of a bygone era of kid freedom that hardly seems to exist anymore. And for that I'm crazy grateful.

I don't have children yet so I am in no way reading this as a parent, which is sure to color one's perspective. But I will say that I've been thinking a lot about the overprotective nature of modern child rearing since moving out to the country because there's something about being in this much openness, away from all those Park Slope strollers and baby groups and fancy toy stores, that's made me rethink how I might raise a kid.

And the gist of that change is more wandering, more freedom, more unstructured time that can be lost to hours of exploration and imagined worlds. Especially outdoors.

The heart of this article is about risk and seemingly aimless and unsupervised exploration as it relates to independence and growth. Rosin gathers information for her analysis from lots of different studies, articles, and documentaries and is adept at inserting hard facts into her discussion which is exactly what makes this piece a THOUSAND times better than any other pop-science 'play is important' article I've come across in the past ten years. And in it she gives a great stab at answering the enormous, nagging question we all have about this which is:

Yeah, kids used to run around on their own a lot more through the woods and all that, but aren't kids SAFER nowadays? Aren't there fewer accidents and abductions?

The short answer is, no. Not really.

And in fact, kids might even be WORSE off from all this adult intervention. Less creative, less independent, less willing to take risks, less able to deal with the consequences of risks, uncooperative, self-centered... the list goes on and is awfully familiar if you've ever read anything about what we all accuse "millennials" of being nowadays.

Of course the world has changed since the 1970s--which is when most folks pinpoint the dramatic shift in child rearing styles--but NOT into a more dangerous place. Freak accidents are still freak accidents. Like Rosin says, "Head injuries, runaway motorcycles, a fatal fall onto a rock... turn out to be freakishly rare, unexpected tragedies that no amount of safety-proofing can prevent."

All of this is easier said than done. Someone remind me of this post when I refuse to let go of my 12 year old daughter's hand in the crosswalk one day. But it's good food for thought. And I'm so glad that there are people like Roisin and all the folks she spoke to who are doing such fantastic job of making us reconsider exactly what we do in the name of child safety and betterment.

A parting thought: an essential element of all this kind of unsupervised play is having other kids to play this way with.  You might decide your kid is allowed to go skating through the neighborhood with their friends til sunset, but if every one of their friends is required to have an adult around, well, then your kid isn't getting that kind of freedom after all.

That, or they're skating alone. Which sure, can be kind of fun. But they should really have an appreciative audience when they nail that grind down the full flight of stairs of the old building with the "No Trespassing" sign on it, cuz that was CRAZY and they DID IT flawlessly.

Vintage Catskills Postcards

I'm a sucker for old photos and postcards and such. So you can imagine my delight this morning as I spent hours flipping through the collection of one of my neighbors, Betty. She was kind enough to let me scan a whole slew of them as she treated me to stories.

Betty was born and raised here and has memories of this area when it was all horse and buggy and chock full of boarding houses. Btw, how adorable is her dad?

She even had a postcard of our place from back in the day!

It makes me so happy to see pictures of folks enjoying the place. I can't WAIT to fill it up with people again!

Til then, hello from--

 

I Love Lamp: Perfectly Imperfect

There's something that's been driving me a little nuts recently: The perfectly crumpled dish towel.

I see them EVERYWHERE on social media. Granted I follow a lot of design-y folks but now that I've noticed I can't stop.

Of course it's not that dish towels in general drive me nuts. No. It's that they've come to symbolize to me what is both beguiling and completely irritating about lifestyle media: presenting oneself as perfectly imperfect.

I'm gonna go ahead and toss in perfectly unmade beds as well.

I am in no way the first person to voice concerns about what (misre)presenting oneself via blogs and such does to the self esteem of readers and our constantly stoked Fires of Jealousy etc. But I've been thinking a lot about how most popular blogs have moved verrrrrrry far away from being a platform to show folks a peek into someone's real life to instead, a place where there's a lot of filtered, glossy photos of a much more appealing version of that "real life".

Blogs and Instagram and all that were once touted as an editor-free platform for people to speak their truths. And now so many of us are self-censoring and recreating the kind of fairy tale worlds that used to be the stuff of magazines, runway shows, and movies and other things we all enjoyed but derided for not being "real".

I do it too. I'm on Instagram polluting the world with beautiful photos of a portion of my life. My most egregious example was probably this post three weeks ago:

The caption is "Saturday afternoon chores. #catskills". YES, we were sorting and chopping wood for our wood stove. And YES, that can be a real chore in that we have to do it even when we don't want to. But I just as easily could have posted a not-so-dappled-sunlight photo of the other chores I did that day, like say, cleaning the dog hair out of the drain after Waldo's bath. Except that would be disgusting and nobody wants to see that.

Or do they?

I've joked with friends about starting another Instagram account that's all the most mundane, entirely un-scenic, and annoying parts of my days. It might look a little something like this:

Yet somehow even that makes me chuckle. And if I created an account like that I'm sure I'd wind up trying to find the most appealingly mundane/terrible things and find myself back in the same kind of situation.

To wrap this up-- so I can get back to my 100% idyllic life-- I'd like to say that for the record I really do enjoy the beautifully curated photos and such of all of the design folks I follow. They're delicious and inspirational and are a lovely balance to all the heartbreak I read about every morning in the Times. But I am equally, if not MORE excited by those people who are in the spotlight and are using their platforms to occasionally discuss what they're worrying about while laying awake in those perfectly unmade beds. Design*Sponge and DesignLoveFest in particular have been inspirational in that way and I'm really looking forward to hearing what else they have to say--

And what they had for brunch at that cute new spot with amazing tiles and perfectly crumpled dish towels for napkins.

(What is I Love LampThis is I Love Lamp.)

(Photos from here, here, here, here, and here.)

I Love Lamp: Society 6 Shower Curtains

I was going to say, "If only I had ten bathrooms so I could have ten different ones of these" and then I remembered that I DO have ten bathrooms. And then I remembered that $68 is an awful lot for a shower curtain. Still. How great are these?

I will warn you though: clicking through the whole selection will make you want to scream: Please, please, PLEASE people. LEAVE THE NEON AND THE TRIANGLES AND THE ARROWS AND THE ANTLERS AND THE CHEVRON AND THE EAMES CHAIRS AND THE INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ALONE!

(What is I Love LampThis is I Love Lamp.)

The Personality-Driven Inn

One of the very first hospitality/style websites I started following religiously was DesignTripper, which in the words of founder Megan McEwan "explores the intersection of travel and design with genuine curiosity and good taste". (In fact, it was the subject of one of my very first blog posts on this site. )

Her most recent post caught my eye. In it she talks about her article for Condé Nast Traveller in which she explores the growing trend of "personality driven inns".

The personality-driven inn? Call it a trend that has yet to be named, where the clichéd innkeeper is replaced by a savvy curator with a devotion to detail. The inns they run haven’t been designed, decorated, or branded by someone else. Instead, every last thing—from the lavender- scented linens to the signature blend of coffee beans—is designed to let guests experience the innkeeper’s own charmed life. Whether a cluster of medieval cottages in Normandy, a bucolic Irish manor house, or a villa in the hills outside Seville, these three inns have one thing in common: At the helm are owners whose sensibility and passion are at the very heart of the stay.

(Bold emphasis my own.)

Yes! Exactly! That's precisely what the Spruceton Inn is all about.  Welcome to my little corner of the Catskills where yours truly has had a hand in everything from the doorknobs to the dishware to the drink of the day.

Sure, there are days when it can get a little overwhelming to be in charge of LITERALLY EVERYTHING. We need to choose between sprinkler systems? We need to get more mattress quotes? We need another permit from the county?  We need to design the kitchenette shelving? We need a sample menu for the liquor license application? We need to send out another newsletter? We need to hire a photographer?

No, WE don't need to. I need to!

My notebooks and calendars and to-do lists can look like the work of a madwoman.

But I wouldn't trade it for anything. It feels SO DAMN GOOD to use every corner of my brain, and to have had an idea that that is now coming to life in such tangible ways all because I've made it so.

Right about now would be an excellent time to mention that I could never have even pretended to think about doing this without the support of my family and friends. Steven and my parents in particular get a shout out for being the real deal.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. You three can stay for free at my "personality-driven inn" any time.

Pick a Dress, Any Dress

Have you seen this floating around the Internet yet today? It's a delicious little graphic of every dress worn by the woman accepting the Best Actress Oscar since 1929.

Look how somber all the dresses were through WWII. And how simply heinous the early '90s were. Go Sissy for wearing a jumpsuit!

The poster reminds me of one of my favorite books growing up, Clementine's Winter Wardrobe by Kate Spohn. One I've hung onto all these years.

The story is simple in lovely way: Clementine, a cat, needs to get layered up because winter is coming. She starts with longjohns:

Moves on to sweaters--

And continues to bundle and accessorize with socks and mittens and necklaces and all other kinds of things delicately illustrated and laid out in such a pleasing manner.

I was showing this book to my friend Solana last weekend as her young daughter padded around us, and I told her that when my mom and I would read it, part of the fun was trying to remember what Clementine would pick.

Solana laughed pointed out that in all likelihood my mom was very much capable of remembering exactly what Clementine chose but was playing along at being stumped with me. And of course she's right. How funny childhood memories can be.

Even BETTER than trying remember what Clementine chose though, was choosing for ourselves what we would wear from the options which is exactly the game I played as soon as I saw that Oscar gown poster. I was immediately drawn to Audrey Hepburn. Classic.

All of this is making me feel a bit sad about my winter wardrobe situation I discussed the other day. But while's it's way too cold to wear a dress today, and the pipes are frozen so I can't take a shower, I AM taking my own advice about inserting a little glamour into country life and am wearing lipstick.

Don't I look serene?

Actually I'm pulling dog hair off my sweater and can't hear the PhotoBooth counting down since my computer's sound is off. Oh, the glamour of REALITY.

(Audrey photos from here.)

I Love Lamp: Renovation Progress

What's that you say? It's one of the worst winters on record up here? Oh, that's no problem for our crew because they are BAD ASS.

When they finished their (no heat, no running water) day yesterday, it was like this:

And today they are heartily welcomed with this:

Like I said: BAD ASS.

(What is I Love LampThis is I Love Lamp.)

Mixing Patterns With Stella Jean, Glamour in the Country

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod I absolutely NEED every single one of these pieces from the Stella Jean Spring/Summer collection!

#1 I love West African fabric. #2 I love mixing patterns. #3 I love those tiles, and I know they don't come with the clothes, but still.

Out here in "the country" (I don't know why I'm putting it in quotes... maybe because I feel like a bit of a city slicker/asshole calling it that?), good luck getting me to wear anything that's not some variation of this:

Occasionally I'll get throw a Nordic sweater in, like today--

But it really doesn't get much crazier than that. You've got to put function just a hair ahead of fashion out here when it's 10 degrees on the regular and you're out doing stuff like chopping wood and shoveling and hiking and such.

My closet is still full of city stuff that mocks me every day, like these faux silk pants--

And all of my heels--

But I've figured out a short cut to feeling glamorous: LIPSTICK.

Yup, even in the woods. I'm telling you, the number one occasion for which I put on lipstick now is a hike. I'm not even kidding. People might chuckle at me, but to them I say-- it's not like it gets in the way. Geez. Let a girl have a little glamour.

I Love Lamp: How To Hang A Barn Door

Hire Steven that's how. This ENTIRE thing was his brainchild. Basically, our kitchen used to be the restaurant for the Schwarzenegger Sunshine Valley House, which in some ways is super cool (giant industrial stove, lots and lots of space, crazy big shop sink) and in other ways is super sucky (giant industrial stove that doesn't work very well, lots and lots of space that's uninsulated, crazy big shop sink with pipes that freeze). But we're working on it! And working on it includes getting a door that is more than a piece of fabric for its entrance.

Working on it has also included a shit ton of painting on my behalf, but I'll save those photos etc for next week.

The barn door was, well, in our barn. (Imagine that!) It divided the work space from the goat pens.

Removing it was relatively simple-- Steven unscrewed the rail with our power drill and some hand tools. The rail was going to be a bit too long to fit in our kitchen, so we snapped it off, which is actually not so hard to do when it's been well below freezing for a long time and the rail has become brittle.

Getting it to the house was a bit trickier. As incredibly strong as I am (!) we decided we should probably enlist the help of some more muscle. Our contractor, perhaps fearful for our safety once getting wind of our intentions, was kind of enough to take a moment from the motel and help us get the door out of the barn, onto our car, then into our living room.

Through the snow, of course. BECAUSE IT NEVER STOPS SNOWING HERE.

Anyway.

Unsurprisingly, the barn door smelled a bit like BARN. Having recently purchased some Nature's Miracle just in case Waldo decided to make himself feel very at home, we decided to give it a go.

And it worked! The next steps are not documented because I was manically painting the whole time, but essentially, Steven made our wall more secure with a combination of more barn wood, lots of drilling, and some 2 x 4s. Because otherwise we were gonna have to hang the door on some loosely stapled, ancient laminate which even we know is a TERRIBLE idea.

The two of us muscling it up onto the drilled in rails is not documented either, though I've got to say a video would have been quite amusing in retrospect. Lots of contorting and grunting and finally.... VOILA!

Since salvaging is the name of the game up here (or as we've been saying, "Rustic is our bitch"), we also made our bar shelves from barn wood and L's found in the old laundry room.

Yes, it's a rather odd collection of booze at the moment, but you're supposed to be looking at the fine craftsmanship of the shelves not wondering if we really drink Jager!

Here's the door from the other side which shows you a) our view from the living room b) a sneak peek of the rest of the kitchen and c) that empty saddle which we have yet to address.

Always something to be done out here...!

(What is I Love LampThis is I Love Lamp.)

Claire Sherman Paintings

Steven gchatted me this link from Hyperallergic the other day (yes, we gchat each other things even though we're only 20 ft apart) of an interview with painter Claire Sherman.

He's a particular fan of this piece of hers, as am I:

Isn't it lovely? The colors, the textures, the strength of the strokes. She says that a lot of her work is informed by her travels.

Since moving to New York, my desire to get on the road in the summer has increased. I need to see parts of the country that are more open and expansive, and to help feed my work with new places, experiences, views. I have to periodically get out of the chaos of New York, hit the road, and SEE.

I would love to see how she would paint the Catskills.

Read the whole interview here. And keep up with the series-- each artist who is profiled chooses the next one. Kind of cool.

P.S. I love how small the world is sometimes-- in the interview she references being at painting school in Umbria. It turns out she was my dear friend Juliana Sabinson's T.A. there once upon a time.

 

I Love Lamp: Poncho to Pillow

These posts might be named I Love Lamp, but I gotta tell you-- what I really love are PILLOWS. When we got back from Mali with several duffle bags worth of fabric I made PILLOWS.

When we got back from Bali with rolls of Ikat I made PILLOWS.

(Unsurprisingly, given all those bottles on the table, the only things not blurry in this photo are the pillows.)

And when I got back from Colombia two years ago with a bunch of ponchos I very much intended to make PILLOWS.

Because let's face it, ponchos aren't my best look.

Last week, on a snowy afternoon, I finally got around to making them! Or, well, three quarters of them. First I drew out a plan and did lots of careful measuring and cutting.

Which was harder than I'd anticipated since the ponchos have this necessary but very awkward hole in the middle of them that I had to work around. Then I pinned the pieces together. Unfortunately it was right side out instead of inside out. This is exactly 10 seconds before I realized my mistake.

Lucky for me the ponchos look nice both ways so the result is just a little more subdued than I'd planned on.

I say the job is only three quarters done because my bobbin ran out at the exact moment my patience did so only one pillow was sewn together. At least the rest of the pieces for the second one have been prepped. As you can see, the one on the left is merely posing as a completed pillow.

If anyone wants to come by and rethread my bobbin and or shame me into sucking it up and doing it, I'd be most grateful. I'll probably even make you a pillow of your own from any of the other yards upon yards of fabric we've got here.

(What is I Love LampThis is I Love Lamp.)

I Love Lamp: Shelves on Shelves on Shelves

I'm a BIG fan of white wash. I think it looks fresh and clean in everything from Moroccan to Swedish interiors. (Remember our studio in Brooklyn?) Steven's studio gets great light but is darkened by this thick green behind the shelves. I figured I'd start there:

While it's not a lot of square footage OH MY GOD THE TIME SPENT TAPING!

And the precision needed to get in the grooves of that bead board without winding up with glops and drips running down... Let's just say it took some time and patience and contorting.

Let's also say that I'm THRILLED with the result!

I'll show you the real "After" picture as soon as we actually get some stuff up there.

(What is I Love LampThis is I Love Lamp.)

Maybe I WAS Raised In A Barn

When I was little, whenever I did something uncouth, my mom would ask me if I was raised in a barn. Which naturally confused me because I was like, No Mom, you raised me here in Brooklyn, have you lost your mind? Anyway. I keep thinking of that because I spend so much time in our barn now and talking about barns with other people.

I was down at the Town Building in Lexington last week and met our town historian who, among many other fascinating things, told me about how square dancing used to be THE THING out here in the valley. I heard from another neighbor that supposedly our Town Hall's floor is a full foot lower than it was originally built from all the hard dancing that went on there. It's all got me dreaming about the parties this barn is gonna see one day...