Posts Tagged ‘The Lady Magazine’
Corsets
Hours spent perusing colonial costumes: 6
Hours spent getting into corset: .5
Hours spent getting out of corset: .5
Hours spent not quite breathing: .25
Hours spent singing Hamilton: 24
Hours spent writing: 0
Because I clearly am not filling every available second of every day, I decided I would have time to organize a Hamilton singalong at my local theater.
In case you missed my previous post about Hamilton, everywhere within a forty mile vicinity of New York seems to have been struck with Hamilton fever, all of us obsessed with the music from the award-winning musical currently on Broadway.
Key Parties
Hours spent gossiping with friends: 4
Hours spent making soup: 1
Hours spent worrying about no one wanting to swing with me: .01
Hours spent writing: 0
I was very sad to hear about Victoria Wood’s death. She was a fixture of my youth, and to this day, when I bring soup to the table, I totter madly with a crooked grin and set it down in front of my children saying, “Soup, Madam?”
My American children have no idea what I am talking about, but it amuses me every time.
Perfume
Hours spent spritzing with perfume: 2
Hours spent spritzing with more perfume: .5
Hours spent telling stories: .2
Hours spent writing: 0
A little while ago I was asked to tell a story for The Moth Radio Hour, which was recorded in front of a live audience at the Cooper Union in New York.
Last week, I did it again, joining four other storytellers on a stage at an old and lovely theatre, this time in Boston. We all met up the night before for a rehearsal at a local radio station, then went out for a group dinner. The team at The Moth were fantastic, as were the other storytellers: a Jamaican writer, a doctor, a Puerto Rican actress, and a fireman.
What Your Dreams Reveal
Hours spent having lie-ins: 6
Hours spent having dodgy dreams: 2
Hours spent worrying about dodgy dreams: 1
Hours spent looking for slippers under furniture: 1
Hours spent writing: 0
This morning my husband left early for a court case, and I drifted back to sleep. The second sleep is a thing of beauty, but it is also a thing of bizarre and strangely realistic dreams. I never remember my actual dreams, but my second sleep dreams can stay with me for days.
Sleeping at the theater
Hours Spent Sleeping in Theaters: 1.5
Hours spent embarrassed about Sleeping in Theaters: 9
Hours spent considering confession: 3
Hours spent getting over it: 5
Hours spent writing: 0
The Travelers invited us to the theater recently, as their guests. We were off to see a very famous Movie Star who is now embarking on a stage career, in previews of a classic Broadway show.
We all went out for dinner first, and by the time we walked to the theater and settled into our seats, a lovely warm calm came over me. I snuggled down into the plush red velvet, the lights went down, the Movie Star walked on stage, everyone cheered, and I promptly fell asleep.
Killer Heels
Hours spent perusing shoes online: 6
Hours spent going to ballet galas: 0
Hours spent trying on different outfits to match new clogs: 3
Hours spent writing: 0
I have a wardrobe full of high heels, most of which I rarely wear these days, largely because I seem to have lost the ability to walk in them.
The last time I wore some seriously high heels was at a ballet gala in New York. I had a navy chiffon dress that was spectacularly beautiful, and had found very high navy suede pumps to match. I found them online, admired how beautiful they were, and bought them, without a thought of how they might feel, or whether I would be able to actually walk in such a high heel. (more…)
The Perfect Evening
Emma Freud is my new best friend. It is official. She may not actually know she is my new best friend, but we had such a fantastic time at her bonkers supper club where the guests (me included) responded to her tweet inviting interesting strangers, that I have decided, and once I have decided, it’s a certainty.
The supper club truly was entirely bonkers. We arrived at an amazing brownstone in downtown Manhattan. Emma Freud’s other half, Richard Curtis, opened the door and we had a very nice small-talky chat about being English in New York, when Emma, extraordinarily tiny and clad in an apron, swooped over and enveloped us both in giant hugs.
My Hometown on Television
Our relatively little town of Westport, Connecticut is abuzz with talk of a new television series, now tentatively titled “American Housewife,” but originally titled: “The Second Fattest Housewife in Westport.”
The trailer is now on You Tube. Amongst other things, they refer to the children in the town of Westport, Connecticut as “money-obsessed brats,” the town is called “hoity-toity,” and apparently in Westport, Connecticut “you can’t be too rich, too thin…”
Time to Leave the Party
We went to a party recently. I do not particularly like parties, unless they are my own and I have hand-selected everyone in the room for their unique fabulousness.
I have to confess that our friends are, on the whole, a pretty fabulous bunch. When we do have parties, everyone leaves saying how lovely everyone was, and I think, yes, that’s because I am almost pathologically selective about who is in my inner circle and, subsequently, at our parties. (more…)
Decluttering my closet
I walked into my closet yesterday and very quickly walked back out. I have been doing this a lot recently. I am extremely talented at acquiring new things, and terrible at getting rid of the old. Every square inch is crammed, mostly with things I haven’t even looked at for two years, let alone worn.
It does not help that I have clothes in my closet ranging from size 2 to size 12. Every now and then I pull out a size 2 pair of jeans and start laughing, for they seem so terribly tiny, but then I put them back, because one day… one day… I just might get into them again. (more…)
