Vintage Catskills Postcards

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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

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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 Lamp? This is I Love Lamp.)

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

I Love Lamp: Society 6 Shower Curtains

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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 Lamp? This is I Love Lamp.)

The Personality-Driven Inn

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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

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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

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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 Lamp? This is I Love Lamp.)

Mixing Patterns With Stella Jean, Glamour in the Country

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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

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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 Lamp? This is I Love Lamp.)

Claire Sherman Paintings

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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

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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 Lamp? This is I Love Lamp.)

I Love Lamp: Shelves on Shelves on Shelves

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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 Lamp? This is I Love Lamp.)

Maybe I WAS Raised In A Barn

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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...

I Love Lamp: Wood Stove

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While Waldo is still a bit perturbed that we brought fire inside, Steven and I are SO HAPPY to have finally gotten our wood stove installed! The previous owners took theirs with them which left a rather obvious hole in the hearth of the living room. One that I tried, unsuccessfully, to fill with tables and books and christmas trees--

(Don't mind our matching vintage sweaters-- xmas gifts from my Mom...!)

And since it's winter it's wood stove season, so the place where we got it couldn't install it for nearly two, very cold months! To make matters more complicated we had to built a second internal chimney because our oil heat was connected to the brick chimney so we weren't legally allowed to just plug the wood stove into that chimney too.

Oh, home ownership.

It took the guys ALL day, measuring, sawing, crawling through the attic, clambering on the roof. And let me add that it as a -10 degrees day. Total champions!

Steven lit the first fire that night:

We really wanted to have a huge, raging one to heat up the place but they had specifically told us that you're supposed to have a few small ones first to temper the paint. They also warned us that a slightly black smoke will come off the stove during the first big burn and that that is normal. I FREAKED OUT anyway when our whole first floor filled with smoke and a terrible, acrid smell. To calm me down, Steven called them to triple check that what we were experiencing was normal. They swore up and down it was.

And now we're cooking. Literally! Last night we roasted sweet potatoes in foil in the grill portion of the stove and they were sooooo yummy. They reminded me of the ones that we used to get in the streets of Beijing after school.

And now I've got to runoff to the barn to build a wood storage contraption of sorts with Steven!

(What is I Love Lamp? This is I Love Lamp.)

National Handwriting Day: Round 2!

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It's National Handwriting Day again! Last year I made a version of my real handwriting with Your Fonts. This year I used their coupon to create what I WISH my handwriting looked like:

It's inspired by all the old fishing and hunting maps I've started collecting from around here. I also like it with a tighter kerning:

Have you ever made a font before? I LOVE it. While I enjoy hand lettering projects from time to time, there's something incredibly satisfying about typing in your original font. Here are a few others I've made over the past few years:

Check out YourFonts.com. It's usually about $15 per font but if you get on their mailing list they send out deals on the regular.

And, Happy National Handwriting Day!

I Love Lamp: Dog Bed Dilemma

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You didn't think I was gonna get a dog and not obsess over what dog bed to get him, did you? I mean, I've got to look at the thing Every. Dang. Day. Not to mention Waldo has to sleep on it.

The first night we got him we set him up with some European size pillows and two picnic blankets. A week later these seems to be doing him just fine.

But "just fine" ain't good enough in this house, so I've been on the hunt for something cozy and nice looking which is surprisingly hard to find. Guys, there is some SERIOUSLY UGLY dog stuff out there.

My current favorite is this Buffalo Plaid one I've seen in a couple spots (including Waggo):

But that might be because I got a Buffalo plaid jacket this year that I love:

And perhaps it's not the best idea to match the dog bed. Maybe something a bit more subdued like this one would do:

Until I buy myself some Engineer striped overalls, then I'm screwed all over again.

(What is I Love Lamp? This is I Love Lamp.)

Where's Waldo? Here's Waldo!

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This will surprise absolutely NOBODY: We moved the country and... adopted a dog! Meet Waldo, our 3 year old hound mix from the local SPCA!

Needless to say WE LOVE HIM. And yes, Steven and I think it's pretty damn hilarious to ask each other "Where's Waldo?" on the regular.

He's cuddly and laid back and doing a good job of learning the drill around here. I've been rather obsessively reading books by Cesar Millan aka the Dog Whisperer and The Monks of New Skete, probably driving Steven a little nuts by starting every other sentence with, "Cesar says" and "The monks say". But I'm very, VERY adamant about Waldo being well trained because he is inevitably going to be a face of Spruceton Inn.

Maybe one day I can even teach him how to check people in. Hounds are good with computers, right?

Anyway. I never, ever identified as a dog person before this. But if this past year has taught me anything it's that people change. Or more precisely, that I change! Though perhaps "change" is  not the right word for it-- it's more like just because you think you're something it doesn't mean you necessarily are.

I mean, I've always thought of myself as a "city person" and here I am. I'm not saying I've turned in my MetroCard forever and ain't looking back, but I will say that I am even happier out here in the country than I ever dared imagine.

It makes you wonder what you'll discover next about yourself.