My mother says I’m not allowed to be around newborns. It’s often hard for me to give them back to their rightful owner, making it awkward for everyone. But with two of my dear friends having babies this fall, it might be hard to control myself. So I am focusing on the nursery-decorating decisions: neutral with a splash of color (my stylish pal from Venice) vs shades of white with lots of texture (my polished pal from Tel Aviv). Since both ladies have impeccable taste, I think this moon and star Yume garland would be a welcome addition to either room. It has plenty of pizzazz for any hipster while remaining sweet enough for the uptown girl. I bought one for my own house in declaration of a nursery re-deux, and plan to drape it around a canopy for our new toddler bed. Unless we decide to keep the crib.
Last week I told my husband that I wanted to get my nose pierced. His response: “Yes. Yes! And what else. You also need tats.” It was as if he were a plastic surgeon, telling me what else I need to achieve the perfect trashy look. My response: “I drive a Jeep. With three carseats. I think this is it.” Cut to: I’m the proud new owner of a teeny diamond stud in my left nostril. Luckily, I discovered these beautiful, non-toxic Flash Tattoos just in the nick of time. They last about 4-6 days and you can remove them with coconut oil. But most importantly, they will contribute to my new look while allowing me to keep the Jeep.
Last week my two and a half year old announced that she “is done with her bed.” Well, perfect timing: we’ve been wanting to throw all three girls in one room and flip the third into a play space (and by “play space” I mean “a room with a giant teepee”). We discovered that Oeuf, our go-to brand for all-things-sleep, now makes this Perch Toddler Bed which matches our Perch Bunk Bed. Let’s just say it’s very transitional. But when she grows out of it, slide off the rail and boom, it’s a modern daybed. Usually I agonize over these types of design decisions but this one was a no-brainer. Toss in a Tamar Mogendorff pillow and some Noe & Zoe bedding and I’m officially in over my head come night fall.
For some reason, I have a number of friends with babies turning one this month. All boys. I’ve already written about the cray-cray teepee that resides in my living room, but had I not temporarily lost my mind, I would have gotten Vilac’s lil’-bit-Western-lil’-bit-French style that actually belongs indoors. Friends with one year old boys, take note: an Indian headdress (for your viewing pleasure) and some pop-up books (for his viewing pleasure) will score you a strong five-minutes to yourself. Or maybe even six.
As a former retailer, I am my own worst nightmare: I browse all main season long and then once sales hit, I pounce like a panther in the night. Stuff for the kids, sure, but mostly, for moi. The little ones scored some floral Stella McCartney rompers and glitter sandals that kill their feet. I snagged a weird Christopher Kane “flower anatomy” sweatshirt and Ancient Greek Sandals x Carven knee-high “banana” gladiators that I’ll probably wear once. I am also eyeing these very wearable Preekka sandals for all of us but sadly, sometimes the good stuff stays full-price. But no mattah. They’re the perfect simple style to team with a severely marked-down Isabel Marant linen dress (and Stella rompers to boot).
In lieu of a cancelled trip to London, we’re planning an epic ten year anniversary trip for next summer, making me reflective about both my marriage and my actual wedding. I believe the big event would have been quite different had it happened in my thirties. It might have been at San Ysidro Ranch. I might have worn Chloe. The bouquet might have been wild. And my in-laws guest list might have been cut down by 90%. But I know that my cake would be from Stone Fox Bride, and would look like this. I know. I might have turned country! But it feels right at this point in my life, as does everything else.
I haven’t written in a while, mostly because I’ve been feeling really introverted – a quality that only seems to intensify over time. But today I wanted to post about both Darcy Hemley, one of my favorite family photographers, and also a life-changing moment I had. Last Saturday we shot at Desconso Gardens, which is more organic and much less manicured than most. It’s the perfect lush backdrop for the vintage yellow train that runs through the property, weaving families through wild roses and swaying lilacs. Well. This is part two. Those who know me also know that I contact psychics and mediums on a regular basis to connect with my dad who died years ago. Today my gal told me (along with other odd things), that my father showed her “a train and flowers,” and assured me that he was with us the day we took pictures. For the first time I feel certain that he is still in my life. And these photos will serve as more than just a memory of a beautiful day in the gardens with my family, but also one that was shared with my dad.
If you have kids in LA, it’s safe to say you’re familiar with the term “glamping.” We were thisclose to doing it with some friends this summer but now I’m so glad we’re not because I discovered THIS PLACE: a 576,000-acre wild horse reserve somewhere in Nevada. It costs a small fortune – this, I know. But for something. I mean! There are over-sized hand-painted teepees, butler service and in-tent spa treatments. And most importantly, I don’t think they have Native American Beading and Mocassin classes at the Santa Barbara place. Booooook.
Most people in my life know that I suffer from severe anxiety and like many, it sky-rocketed after I had children. So last week on my birthday I gifted myself a low-dose prescription of a popular SSRI as well as a four day intensive course in Transcendental Meditation. Attack it from all angles! said my therapist. After an emotionally tumultuous few weeks, being surrounded my some of my dearest girlfriends was actually just what the doctor ordered: a shit load of laughter and a whole lotta warmth in the comfort of one of my favorite LA spots. Below, the Delfina Delettrez pink sapphire knuckle ring that I was lucky enough to have received from my husband. Hopefully my man will be able to suffer my wrath for many more years as we celebrate our anniversary tomorrow. And I might even be able to levitate myself to dinner!
Mother’s Day has officially turned into Christmas with all the gift guides, scroll-through galleries and limited time sales. The pressure! On the dads! But I like it! Clearly the thing to give this year is a gorgeous luxe gift box, potentially stuffed with linens, jams, candles and some kind of bouquet to boot. This one from Summerland is for a true LA mama, serving up all the delish essentials she would ordinarily be buying at the Sunday morning farmer’s market, but will be delivered to her door instead. Yup! So she can stay in bed…which is the actual gift, natch.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the mamas and mamas-to-be!