tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13914363061407636852024-02-20T07:23:36.737-08:00The Petite Sophisticate"It's so easy to laugh. It's so easy to hate. It takes strength to be gentle and kind." Trying, anyway.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.comBlogger520125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-86035849500424923592012-02-26T08:12:00.000-08:002012-02-26T08:13:10.461-08:00moving..FYI! I'm posting much more often these days <a href="http://www.tumblr.com/blog/thepetitesophisticate">here</a>.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-80569264762666373772011-08-09T17:46:00.001-07:002011-08-09T17:46:20.264-07:00<blockquote>“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’" - Fred Rogers</blockquote>Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-10869256389731406012011-08-07T18:23:00.000-07:002011-08-07T18:29:45.940-07:00Fanfare<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2PlV0NoYfnbnFdyFc43sTxUkFp2YKGR0rDM4cBpiumd-51ZnMlKPJ1UnY_aYOpcQNusV35ASh5DZ6OLU2fEm5ASF6Hq2b3Ss0HxiWEC3LWqMs341gq2wVkE1zFg0xwcM5Pc5gw93nFk/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-08-07+at+9.27.28+PM.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 236px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2PlV0NoYfnbnFdyFc43sTxUkFp2YKGR0rDM4cBpiumd-51ZnMlKPJ1UnY_aYOpcQNusV35ASh5DZ6OLU2fEm5ASF6Hq2b3Ss0HxiWEC3LWqMs341gq2wVkE1zFg0xwcM5Pc5gw93nFk/s320/Screen+shot+2011-08-07+at+9.27.28+PM.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638291245955537602" /></a><br /><br />As some of you may know, I'm generally engaged to somebody or other. And as you may also know, this means I have a wedding dress in reserve. (I'm being flippant because it's all very fraught and serious and full of heartbreak and happiness, really.) Anyway, the dress is a stunner and was made by <a href="http://www.maryadamsthedress.com/">Mary Adams</a>. I'm ashamed to admit that I totally missed the book she did with Amy Sedaris (whose whimsical frocks she makes) last fall,<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Party-Dress-Book-Best-Room/dp/0823033309/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpi_1"> <span style="font-style:italic;">The Party Dress</span></a>. I have ordered it. I doubt I can sew anything as gorgeous as all that, but even if it's just to learn more about this fascinating, indomitable lady and her story it'll be money well spent.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-84732177900318250772011-08-06T18:54:00.000-07:002011-08-06T18:57:23.362-07:00Dolls and Men at YaleGrowing up, Rumer Godden's sad, sinister, wonderfully detailed doll stories were some of my favorite children's books. What luck to find this (peculiar) 1980s TV adaptation on YouTube!<br /><br /><iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/U8f2Le2B3ok" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-35601182419694632262011-07-31T10:19:00.001-07:002011-07-31T11:01:02.749-07:00The Petite Sophisticate Gets Dressed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbFDTAVKTZjwI0te76BGeI9_mWe8VkKZ42MDB4g68WBfo0Yc7Jh7dZwSYkdKoxvaHx1xO_HBCU_1bANVpwKpXRq1VP2WcvTQtWl1A5r-nQq3ThZKI6lODvYsnKvwg15Bjg7QtuBMMFWg/s1600/vintage-secretary.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbFDTAVKTZjwI0te76BGeI9_mWe8VkKZ42MDB4g68WBfo0Yc7Jh7dZwSYkdKoxvaHx1xO_HBCU_1bANVpwKpXRq1VP2WcvTQtWl1A5r-nQq3ThZKI6lODvYsnKvwg15Bjg7QtuBMMFWg/s320/vintage-secretary.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635577766194485314" /></a><br /><br />So a friend of mine just suggested I share a few of my work-clothes resources. While I am by no means an expert, I have worked out a system that -- so far! -- has served me well. <br /><br />First things first: I identified a basic silhouette/aesthetic to which I'd adhere, and ruthlessly threw away everything in my closet that didn't. Well, I didn't throw it away -- I gave it to friends. Working with my age/figure/hair, it seemed pretty clear I'd want to go retro -- but more minimalist and less Mad Men, if that makes sense. I decided to stick to a limited palette and keep lines simple and unadorned. Here's where I've gotten most things:<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16HL0IM6OTBZwPm250DrHAocJH7hN_shT_DRbSz-eo2jhYVT_DN41ab_8Y4Y5Fco0YicoQDbHgZe2yUBcBzJnR_HOTjTVRu0cBZ-33Zwz_dbNSOtH82x2P3PbFwnBd3mFHgR3GTpMNjo/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.32.42+PM.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 264px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16HL0IM6OTBZwPm250DrHAocJH7hN_shT_DRbSz-eo2jhYVT_DN41ab_8Y4Y5Fco0YicoQDbHgZe2yUBcBzJnR_HOTjTVRu0cBZ-33Zwz_dbNSOtH82x2P3PbFwnBd3mFHgR3GTpMNjo/s320/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.32.42+PM.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635570889652228866" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Shoes:</span><br />I splurged on a few pair of good, basic pumps, but I still got them on sale -- I made Google alerts for the styles I wanted and the word "Sale" and struck when they became available (I'd already tried them on for size in person.) I have one rosy nude pair from Rupert Sanderson and a taupe pair from Barneys Co-Op. I have my eye on a gray set from Common Projects, but it needs to come <span style="font-style:italic;">way</span> down. I don't care for black shoes in summer.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4PQnl21a4iBZ8_dhI1B5lho4WnNT1nmNammQA8sz4tNA0SaIg34Stqsl2c2zZJKxQQXU02gaIm52U4boZyEBOTTG1yz1WgiPM-TswIfAyVhECsYXGZxjhxZYjwrznfsuTnfMnt4JX9U/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.36.09+PM.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4PQnl21a4iBZ8_dhI1B5lho4WnNT1nmNammQA8sz4tNA0SaIg34Stqsl2c2zZJKxQQXU02gaIm52U4boZyEBOTTG1yz1WgiPM-TswIfAyVhECsYXGZxjhxZYjwrznfsuTnfMnt4JX9U/s320/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.36.09+PM.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635571871127728914" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Bag:</span><br />I am not a bag person -- I usually just carry my TPR tote nowadays -- but I invested in a neutral clutch I can slip into my briefcase or tote and take out when I run to lunch or am doing something after work. (Again: Google alerts are your friend!)<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Dresses Etc.:</span><br /><br />My uniform is a linen pencil dress -- or pencil skirt and blouse. I got lucky on Etsy with a few vintage scores (which I then had altered at either Nelson Tailors or Seoul Tailor) but as we all know that's a crap-shoot, and I'm much more inclined to go for vintage-style, without the retro seaming or fabrication. <br /><br /><a href="http://us.asos.com/ASOS-Shop-womens-fashion-mens-clothing-Free-Shipping-Returns/wh5yb/?r=1&mk=VOID">ASOS.com</a> has been a lifesaver: specifically their l<a href="http://us.asos.com/ASOS-ASOS-Linen-Pencil-Dress-with-Self-Belt/vt72n/?iid=1456776&SearchRedirect=true&SearchQuery=linen%20pencil%20self%20belt&mporgp=L0Fzb3MvQXNvcy1MaW5lbi1QZW5jaWwtRHJlc3MtV2l0aC1TZWxmLUJlbHQvUHJvZC8.">inen pencil dress</a>. I got these in a few colors, reinforced the hems, and am good to go.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.etsy.com/people/heartmycloset?ref=ls_profile">Heartmycloset.com</a> is an amazing Etsy site on which the seller works from vintage patterns to make custom dresses. Reasonable, beautiful quality, and unique! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDvkGRf9d0SszRJ3IvUPCJSZojX3HBoSfX3MMmqcp_0WSn28Twj7BVPvw-iT00x41700BpQLzNaS5hWTTCQ2OdDp_3tNN8iQG6Uqn6N6Bbe4x-uIvWwaG1R3xwcHrmV1R28Pf3ZRrvUY/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.43.11+PM.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDvkGRf9d0SszRJ3IvUPCJSZojX3HBoSfX3MMmqcp_0WSn28Twj7BVPvw-iT00x41700BpQLzNaS5hWTTCQ2OdDp_3tNN8iQG6Uqn6N6Bbe4x-uIvWwaG1R3xwcHrmV1R28Pf3ZRrvUY/s320/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.43.11+PM.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635573815624182050" /></a><br /><br /><br />J.Crew -- hey, if it's not broke. Their No.2 pencil skirt is flattering, basic, and comes in petite sizes. I also swear by their white blouses. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Dressy:</span><br />When I need to go a bit dressier, I tend to go for Stop Staring, <a href="http://www.trashydiva.com/">Trashy Diva</a>, or my beloved Betsey Johnson rose-printed seersucker, a birthday splurge I have not regretted once! For cocktail affairs, I get a lot of wear out of this BB Dakota number, which I got for a song at the late, lamented Inven.Tory. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eBKL7eRH3CA-2rVIwfn2M7dH4PDg2ahHK5oh_kBCt_jmOcXGQCkMZ07r9K0ZHtrJyxrUKzr-RTcvI8yS8bafnbNimyptNCx41JUzSw09IiM5wl49oE9x3PG5bwVfqGWgjcXy5gcPC9M/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.50.28+PM.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eBKL7eRH3CA-2rVIwfn2M7dH4PDg2ahHK5oh_kBCt_jmOcXGQCkMZ07r9K0ZHtrJyxrUKzr-RTcvI8yS8bafnbNimyptNCx41JUzSw09IiM5wl49oE9x3PG5bwVfqGWgjcXy5gcPC9M/s320/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.50.28+PM.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635575559895088930" /></a><br /><br /><br><br />(I am still on the lookout for the perfect belted jacket in my price range...)<br /><br /><br /><br />Fall will of course be a whole 'nother ballgame, but I do have my eye on <a href="http://www.trashydiva.com/shop/Mansfield-Dress-p97.html">this</a>:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRBzNJZDSAGr0iv2kWrkzzKgQSNnZYd4bppgsK48E68_Dh-X7hdAYGzpGMUlp6I8D_ngFMHTd2wQeP1NXuS1OrU4R1DFLniy4lUEC8_lKyDi8QpRKamRKlHzMfnjuTJlSFKLROwyyCL2A/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.48.17+PM.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 142px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRBzNJZDSAGr0iv2kWrkzzKgQSNnZYd4bppgsK48E68_Dh-X7hdAYGzpGMUlp6I8D_ngFMHTd2wQeP1NXuS1OrU4R1DFLniy4lUEC8_lKyDi8QpRKamRKlHzMfnjuTJlSFKLROwyyCL2A/s320/Screen+shot+2011-07-31+at+1.48.17+PM.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635575837950267346" /></a>Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-47288369646762693362011-05-07T07:23:00.000-07:002011-05-07T07:25:58.118-07:00Just sayin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9rvGlzXCrQ_jlcItceAYO-A3Lzqfhs5b9uUWtIuQrxdgCsZ_mDQdtvx7j8aSPiU1U2rRyp677rH6wc6dms6Qvo48d7nxdsps90t-c1s-TRUOOdK49XRCbnZuqi5rodk1ewch23LPjPI/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9rvGlzXCrQ_jlcItceAYO-A3Lzqfhs5b9uUWtIuQrxdgCsZ_mDQdtvx7j8aSPiU1U2rRyp677rH6wc6dms6Qvo48d7nxdsps90t-c1s-TRUOOdK49XRCbnZuqi5rodk1ewch23LPjPI/s320/photo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603980358778244866" /></a><br />My sofa is really ready to be put out to pasture. I'd say we got out $75 worth, but still melancholy. Especially since I'm apparently at the point in my life where I'm drawn to <a href="http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=063271">furniture from Anthropologie</a>.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-19585192321787196062011-05-05T07:02:00.000-07:002011-05-05T07:11:45.775-07:00Happy Returns<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnVTmMzoAr5bK0FIwbmv5OTkV2XZYpj5BcyPzRdMNTzIs9OZbltTqY_iTPC6fjY3GH4VZYL16wBUJCGxz20ADywT6toqMhQzRW5Q20kAW-sNpGVCvBD6eUbKZErHmgiIN58D2tOPG5nw/s1600/Picture+8.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnVTmMzoAr5bK0FIwbmv5OTkV2XZYpj5BcyPzRdMNTzIs9OZbltTqY_iTPC6fjY3GH4VZYL16wBUJCGxz20ADywT6toqMhQzRW5Q20kAW-sNpGVCvBD6eUbKZErHmgiIN58D2tOPG5nw/s320/Picture+8.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603234346924593410" /></a><br /><br />Wonderful, lovely birthday. Slim, being the consummate good sport, allowed himself to be dragged to not only the McQueen show at the Costume Institute, but to <span style="font-style:italic;">Beautiful Darling</span> at IFC. (Look, it was raining.) Add to this cake with friends and steak with the family and you have the recipe for a great 30th. <br /><br />But unquestionably, this was the highlight.<br /><br />We had emerged at West 4th Street (for breakfast at Joseph Leonard) and unfurled our umbrellas when a middle-aged Indian man approached us and asked us wheedlingly, in turn, if we'd give him our umbrellas -- never mind that he looked perfectly capable of obtaining his own. We said no. <br /><br />"But I'm the baby!" he said, oddly. "You have to take care of the baby!"<br /><br /><br />Happy birthday to me. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvBYYCdwBw7iLbRLPtm2_jo-qk7avB5DgUcprMHGeA1fKdxBBbNJC_sJoeL5ArqM1t4k5f0G9m4wyRj0JHagS8OuLj0gQNK0nFU-LI59svqNs3IyRbMSFX2kHDI8y8laBQt5JaIgB0NB8/s1600/Picture+7.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvBYYCdwBw7iLbRLPtm2_jo-qk7avB5DgUcprMHGeA1fKdxBBbNJC_sJoeL5ArqM1t4k5f0G9m4wyRj0JHagS8OuLj0gQNK0nFU-LI59svqNs3IyRbMSFX2kHDI8y8laBQt5JaIgB0NB8/s320/Picture+7.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603234158286864690" /></a>Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-20138583974916442602011-04-30T06:29:00.000-07:002011-04-30T06:41:16.927-07:00Showtime: Or, On The Town With The Petite Sophisticate<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlRtiij8jbLiES3KSjpwYHn4pCSjax0oS_yWhmbYjNU9Jfgp7FeQYGVnEvFtCQxlnMZkOZvWlKK-jTPAyGZjdkuEyACJH3gyU5MeoV-zmpw79eUzqNkWvEoqVWe3o4M2vVBtptqKTZ04/s1600/Picture+1.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlRtiij8jbLiES3KSjpwYHn4pCSjax0oS_yWhmbYjNU9Jfgp7FeQYGVnEvFtCQxlnMZkOZvWlKK-jTPAyGZjdkuEyACJH3gyU5MeoV-zmpw79eUzqNkWvEoqVWe3o4M2vVBtptqKTZ04/s320/Picture+1.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601370663761541282" /></a><br />There are so many good shows up in NYC right now: "VIENNA 1900: STYLE AND IDENTITY" at the Neue is unmissable -- a mix of art, design, multimedia that gives a general sense of the city's vitality at that time -- just for starters. Last weekend, we caught a really interesting exhibition at the Cooper Hewitt Design Museum (worth a visit for the building alone, as it's housed in Carnegie's mansion): "Color Moves: Art and Fashion by Sonia Delaunay." I didn't know much about this artist prior to the show (save that she was married to Robert) but she was a prolific painter in her own right and an even more prolific designer of textiles and avant-garde clothing created along the principles of "Simultanaiety." (Her Paris showroom was even called "Atelier Simultané.") <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXfkWFE-9crSriKCRWvl8ZdR2Zb3sk3CdyfHniOv_KI6kXRSxGQ1NP-eB3C531Bfqc-CEoXFHllpvZFLLqBsChlpOlsXp1FQ4TuFKOOIw6FxlNTyKhLGcDyYZr5c75CEJ1AngQCHJwZI/s1600/Picture+2.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 244px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXfkWFE-9crSriKCRWvl8ZdR2Zb3sk3CdyfHniOv_KI6kXRSxGQ1NP-eB3C531Bfqc-CEoXFHllpvZFLLqBsChlpOlsXp1FQ4TuFKOOIw6FxlNTyKhLGcDyYZr5c75CEJ1AngQCHJwZI/s320/Picture+2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601370805609947970" /></a><br />The designs are energetic, exciting, intellectually engaging. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXQzV1LoRz0DZ4ZzEwNp234MM67Bvu6kDYuw7ptq1qb0p4nRMgExi_JBntTccoi7yEwFlDacj82eaPnIUpuxiOy_bI8JvDKzQO4HpHmRn4Zg5aoFSWCfqBHiU3b8ub0vOaUJEu5aYV6Ws/s1600/Picture+4.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXQzV1LoRz0DZ4ZzEwNp234MM67Bvu6kDYuw7ptq1qb0p4nRMgExi_JBntTccoi7yEwFlDacj82eaPnIUpuxiOy_bI8JvDKzQO4HpHmRn4Zg5aoFSWCfqBHiU3b8ub0vOaUJEu5aYV6Ws/s320/Picture+4.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601370940091143874" /></a> Would I have worn them? Probably not -- it's not as though I go around swathed in Rei Kawakubo now. But in both cases, I can appreciate the artistry! If you can't make it to New York, <a href="http://beta.cooperhewitt.org/microsites/colormoves#num=content-204&id=album-15">this slideshow</a> is pretty amazing! <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6wv-5qZmJfhFm44N-OLXIhoTa3VG5rNTRsl0pDmkGQRi7iBP20WZqbSwtPuNu0nB7X2uTQhefMpe7c2eoFDDdmyWg3Q9yZNj3_OATGjk7BE2Ltn1dHCUjnvcqE6aGSoYKvULb0BgQGE/s1600/Picture+6.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6wv-5qZmJfhFm44N-OLXIhoTa3VG5rNTRsl0pDmkGQRi7iBP20WZqbSwtPuNu0nB7X2uTQhefMpe7c2eoFDDdmyWg3Q9yZNj3_OATGjk7BE2Ltn1dHCUjnvcqE6aGSoYKvULb0BgQGE/s320/Picture+6.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601371093951384034" /></a>Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-33542853005255723942011-04-21T11:17:00.001-07:002011-04-21T11:25:39.358-07:00UnmentionablesWhen Slim and I were in San Francisco a few weeks ago, I stumbled upon the lingerie shop of my dreams: "<a href="http://www.dollhousebettie.com/">Dollhouse Bettie</a>," which specializes in vintage and retro-style underthings and swimsuits. Normally I like having destination spots outside of NYC, but in this case I'm merely wildly envious! Luckily, they have a <span style="font-style:italic;">very </span>good website.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-10025458513659208292011-04-21T08:55:00.000-07:002011-04-21T09:01:56.619-07:00Inspiration<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCFTfu-dhH6Yv6JFXsax9ycyV6pHwzY6vUjFl-PVNI3MLzp8xkFwrx3cUYnGE1vDAyAgkT80pdblevkgrlhbQ2PGqfiCAwTiAP4fIWDv-tNr40T8JaI98LIQDqAcF7PlnNQPXxqqKN_Y/s1600/IMG.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCFTfu-dhH6Yv6JFXsax9ycyV6pHwzY6vUjFl-PVNI3MLzp8xkFwrx3cUYnGE1vDAyAgkT80pdblevkgrlhbQ2PGqfiCAwTiAP4fIWDv-tNr40T8JaI98LIQDqAcF7PlnNQPXxqqKN_Y/s320/IMG.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598067310090866674" /></a><br />Over the weekend, I visited the B's outside of Boston. They have the most delectable, delightful baby imaginable and while -- between Amtrak and the Boston Marathon -- the visit was all too brief, it was full of good conversation, delicious meals and one particularly lovely walk through the Harvard Arboretum. While flipping through a copy of Miss Dahl's Voluptuous delights (which we both agreed was a bit much), I was struck by one dress, in which Miss Dahl concocts a smoothie of some description. Ciara was kind enough to scan the image for me and I'm seriously considering having it copied, if I can find the same subtle shade of blue cotton.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-34825526945279240562011-04-19T05:50:00.001-07:002011-04-19T06:02:37.559-07:00It is a truth universally acknowledged -- and if it isn't it should be -- that if you go out looking your worst, you'll run into the last person you'd wish to see. Yesterday I was feeling feverish and lethargic and had spent the day in my Metropolitan Opera sweatshirt and a pair of moccasins (and, yes, pants) and when I decided to venture out, made no move to ameliorate the situation. I'd not walked a block when I relaized the arrogant folly of what I was doing: I turned around, went home, put on a little mascara and a respectable jacket, and as a result ran into no one but my friend Lily, which was a happy outcome all around. Lily is in the happy position of going to one of the city's most elegant and fashionable balls next month -- granted in a professional capacity, but still close enough to the action to determine exactly how short all the male stars are in real life. Last week I went over to her perfect bachelorette pad and we had a powwow: she's much taller than I but we wear the same dress size, so I offered up all my swankest duds and she's currently deciding between two -- a 70's-inflected black bias-cut with an asymmetrical ruffle shoulder, and a full-skirted 1950s chiffon number in pine green. Both look super. <br /><br />I'd gone out in the hopes of tempting myself into appetite, and did indeed get the fixings for a dainty single-lady meal. But though I duly prepared a nice salmon filet and a little gem-lettuce salad, I wasn't very hungry and very much fear this is a real bout of something. Just as well Slim's on the coast, en famille.<br /><br />Speaking of! Charlie and Maeve are coming out for my birthday. About the latter: I was feeling just fine about it until yesterday, when the Monday crossword offered up the following clue: "Person approaching middle-age." The answer? "Thirtysomething."Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-2203586054252464572011-04-17T07:22:00.000-07:002011-04-17T07:25:27.606-07:00Paris Was YesterdayThere was a time when, for a taste of France, one had only to go to West 4th Street. Up until a few years ago, the infamous Claude ruled the roost at his eponymous patisserie, and buying one of his ungainly croissants was a minor gallic ordeal. Claude was unfailingly unpleasant, the coffee unfailingly terrible, the place lacking air-conditioning in the summer. But the croissants were good, and it was always entertaining to see people attempt to ingratiate themselves with the proprietor, invariably rebuffed. When Claude retired, he sold his business to a hard-working and kindly employee and things go on much as before, save that now the customer service is more or less normal and it's not the adventure it used to be. I happened to stop in for a <span style="font-style:italic;">pain aux raisin</span>s and one of those awful coffees the first day they reopened, just by chance, and the experience was fascinating. One fellow bellied up to the counter and said in a confidential fashion,<br /><br />"Man, am I glad to see you. Claude was a piece of work. Came here every day for 10 years and couldn't get a friendly word out of him." <br /><br />He was clearly looking for commiseration, but got only a noncommittal smile from the new owner, and went away with his desired status as "beloved regular" still very much in question. No sooner had he left when another man, who'd overheard, approached the counter with an equally confidential air.<br /><br />"I heard what that guy said," he said, "and frankly, I never understood people like that. Claude liked anyone <span style="font-style:italic;">reasonable</span>. You just had to act like <span style="font-style:italic;">a human being</span>. I mean, he and <span style="font-style:italic;">I</span> got along great." <br /><br />He also was rewarded only with a vague smile, and it seemed clear that, despite the change in demeanor, the place's general no-favorites policy was in no danger. <br /><br />(Personally, I like anonymity; I've been known to give places a wide berth if I feel my privacy might be compromised, and I hate anyone to feel compelled to give me special treatment. There was a gourmet takeout shop near the store where I used to stop for a jelly donut maybe once a week. The same young guy waited on me each time and one day, said, all jocular, "If this keeps up, we're going to have to roll you out of here one of these days!" Give me Claude's indiscriminate hostility any day.)<br /><br />But for the true French 4th experience, you need to continue up the block to Ludivine, where everything is neutral and terribly Parisian and exorbitantly expensive. I buy my Nuxe products there, and lately have been stalking a pair of rosy-hued heels that the salesman and I agree are perfection, but whose price strains credulity. <br /><br />All and none of which is to say, speaking of Paris, I'll be an editor of some description at the <span style="font-style:italic;">Paris Review</span> come late May. After three years at a job I love, it was time for a change. I hope my friends from Jezebel will drop by. Although I'll, of course, still be here.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-20740539856302553982011-01-25T14:47:00.000-08:002011-01-25T14:53:12.813-08:00Precious MomentsI made notes of some of my goings-on today.<br /><br />10:02 am. Mom calls to ask where she should buy chocolates.<br /><br />10:35 BD sends amusing flow chart; fwd to a few people and make Gchat status.<br /><br />11:13 Rachel writes that she has found someone to match up with Wynn.<br /><br />11:15 Write Wynn, tell him we have found him someone.<br /><br />1:07 Make plans to see Fritz Lang film with Ramona.<br /><br />2:30 Email discussion of future excursion to Brighton Beach nightclub.<br /><br />3:03 Facebook with Jaime about <span style="font-style:italic;">Faithfull</span>.<br /><br />4:30 Email discussion of whether we should go to Russian baths while in Brighton Beach, decide we should.<br /><br />5:02 Send image of dress I think she'd like to LD.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-15996326524782662522011-01-21T06:50:00.001-08:002011-01-21T07:10:26.243-08:00A Few Favorites<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Tk-2IqKcBBCB7yXhiqRV-noQs49R8GjYEskex1FlFRlvG1ZpblXPBom_mQBNJj1ejpEALOKaoKoXNgR1yRMDV1YeZQPVP37ASO0o9aopQDPfuNfy3gFBdVI3hAxTXfXNvy59IMowcRE/s1600/facewash.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Tk-2IqKcBBCB7yXhiqRV-noQs49R8GjYEskex1FlFRlvG1ZpblXPBom_mQBNJj1ejpEALOKaoKoXNgR1yRMDV1YeZQPVP37ASO0o9aopQDPfuNfy3gFBdVI3hAxTXfXNvy59IMowcRE/s320/facewash.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564651880972657186" /></a><br />I'll admit it: I love any feature or blog post where people list their favorite products. I'm an absolute sucker for them. So, just for fun and not because anyone asked and mostly because I wanted to use that graphic, here are a few of mine!<br /><br clear="all"><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFiYVZ9v_rt6zviclv5VDQakyucwKOhweuSSwWhGVnjYQz1V-gkKUNI4ZWkYeKIIOwioDdsSJQwwLVTaKd-ukXbLeDa1rPBihI38FtIKAswyFU5k9pXGX8th9wDX5fxJfqpdJu2zan3Q/s1600/Picture+1.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFiYVZ9v_rt6zviclv5VDQakyucwKOhweuSSwWhGVnjYQz1V-gkKUNI4ZWkYeKIIOwioDdsSJQwwLVTaKd-ukXbLeDa1rPBihI38FtIKAswyFU5k9pXGX8th9wDX5fxJfqpdJu2zan3Q/s320/Picture+1.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564656157962565762" /></a>Face: I use Nuxe products, which I recommend highly and not least because (as I learned at a recent beauty party) most of what we used is absolutely crammed with mineral oil -- aging AND unhealthy! -- and this line is not. Plus, the prices are fine, it smells good, it's pleasantly French, and the packaging doesn't bother me. <br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWdmzrnOWfLvY-dWq9AYhEv7dPouf1IuAwMwELv_PTU71WmguV8pclAB9gL_6cr4Utm-8nTvF2SUBJhOzBNVKs2pTTYsUWk9_9JGVJtTy00tJnyRjwbOUe1YaTriSojK7WKGmFxSJ6JSw/s1600/Picture+2.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 236px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWdmzrnOWfLvY-dWq9AYhEv7dPouf1IuAwMwELv_PTU71WmguV8pclAB9gL_6cr4Utm-8nTvF2SUBJhOzBNVKs2pTTYsUWk9_9JGVJtTy00tJnyRjwbOUe1YaTriSojK7WKGmFxSJ6JSw/s320/Picture+2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564656329611181490" /></a>Perfume: I have worn Frederic Malle's "En Passant" for about 8 years now, with "Lys Mediterannee" for dressy occasions. What Malle did is get top parfumeurs to design scents to please themselves. In their boutiques, you smell the perfumes in these little chambers. They're exquisite, and there's something for every taste. The clerks are also remarkably knowledgeable.<br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivm7liLHvjc5Ya2vYykRbhPMHR5_f2HGoY-QW0rnkardwF2hUluUMmBjwg4XkB8SRj3Pk4nfyHrqyzhxFgamdJhZpIZdiYhajHwzHu2QfgMMZnLVLRC6XHXve6odWkqtlqEq98pVlZHcA/s1600/Picture+3.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 147px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivm7liLHvjc5Ya2vYykRbhPMHR5_f2HGoY-QW0rnkardwF2hUluUMmBjwg4XkB8SRj3Pk4nfyHrqyzhxFgamdJhZpIZdiYhajHwzHu2QfgMMZnLVLRC6XHXve6odWkqtlqEq98pVlZHcA/s320/Picture+3.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564656473449123618" /></a><br /><br />Lingerie: I am very serious about my underpinnings and my favorite brand is Princesse Tam-Tam, although it's increasingly hard to find stateside. The best boutique, bar none, is Winkworth in Red Hook. They're nice and fun and low-pressure and passionate about lingerie. I also like Brooklyn Fox in Williamsburg.<br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcbOFzCd0UM7-9yEp-GSjWmfjCZrE8ua5jYoZaFY_05W2N2aEn9_lsvgYKx6kXfE2pxmwSxcfNd_ApTK49x_qUe2OKw3FSm8WFoj3KEH99KNUUojPTygKRQibp4m1qrNxCNmPOTFNPP8/s1600/Picture+4.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcbOFzCd0UM7-9yEp-GSjWmfjCZrE8ua5jYoZaFY_05W2N2aEn9_lsvgYKx6kXfE2pxmwSxcfNd_ApTK49x_qUe2OKw3FSm8WFoj3KEH99KNUUojPTygKRQibp4m1qrNxCNmPOTFNPP8/s320/Picture+4.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564656598392350130" /></a>Stockings: Wolford, of course! Their stay-ups really stay up!<br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkEYk094Dzg9n6Dh0qL_t0DuFUAnw0wvyxAI4gB4WmAhs_8QDrTLrx7iafrWJ9ivXTQxvhtqEAoVi_CDqEiTCaNkA_LJSS1NPI_BDrKnAxmZx8i1b0DUzoIZwgvLqJM6Hri7a-OzIknW8/s1600/Picture+5.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkEYk094Dzg9n6Dh0qL_t0DuFUAnw0wvyxAI4gB4WmAhs_8QDrTLrx7iafrWJ9ivXTQxvhtqEAoVi_CDqEiTCaNkA_LJSS1NPI_BDrKnAxmZx8i1b0DUzoIZwgvLqJM6Hri7a-OzIknW8/s320/Picture+5.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564656745285731330" /></a>Hair: I like the cuts at High Horse and I use Devachan, having curly hair. <br /><br clear="all">Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-5670019542086898712011-01-10T13:05:00.000-08:002011-01-10T13:07:31.424-08:00UpdateA little better! "Faithfull" just arrived in the mail, which hurts not at all...<br /><br />2 funny things -- well, maybe not, we're all kindred spirits here -- but one of you mentioned Elizabeth Taylor, a STACK of whose novels, by chance, I'd just liberated from my parents' house. Meanwhile, as my friends can attest, I have been on a North and South binge for the past month, absolutely slavering over Mr. Thornton in the most undignified way! <br /><br />I will report as the recs roll in!Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-59128228547959905562011-01-03T15:10:00.001-08:002011-01-03T15:21:11.527-08:00SolicitationIt's that time of month when things get a little rough for me and, socially speaking, I have to pretty much go hermit, since it takes all my energy to get through the day and do my work and I become easily overwhelmed and despairing. Although I am inactive -- besides periodic walks and making myself dance every couple of hours (seriously!) by the end of the day I am drained...although like many people I have difficulty sleeping during depressive episodes. <br /><br />Here is what I was wondering: I can't seem to find a book or movie to hold my interest, which might be my restless state, but I'd love to hear some good recommendations for things I can sink my teeth into. My friends here have never steered me wrong! Music, too, while we're at it...I have been finding Artie Shaw good for perking me up, and have been re-reading <span style="font-style:italic;">Separate Lives</span>, which is of course good, but I'd love something a bit more immersive. No incest, please, I am not of the frame of mind for grit. Well, I guess if it were in a lurid, <span style="font-style:italic;">13th Tale</span>-like context perhaps I could handle it. <br /><br />Don't think this is the fault of New Year's, which was quiet, or the weekend, which was filled with friends and good talk and a couple of nice meals. I was just due for a blue period. I find it comforting to write here; it does not require the effort of real contact nor does it worry anyone as does talking to my parents, who are good about not reading here since I explained to them I needed a private space for thoughts etc. <br /><br />I have chicken marbella in the oven as I hoped the smell would be appetizing. Might try and go out tonight and hear some music but probably overly ambitious and would hate to be a drain on M. We'll see.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-74867652592986742712010-12-21T12:09:00.000-08:002010-12-21T12:16:18.614-08:00Uniform Alert!Matt was just home and in the airport saw a bunch of flight attendants for South Korea's Asiana Airlines! They looked so nifty that he was moved to alert me, and, well, you'll see why. Here are their current uniforms, Summer and Winter. "They knew how awesome they looked," he reported. <br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbO4PMtB-cNs1sq_eX2Q3MiF6QpAe-nUJbwCeTpGfddCo2FMaCr5FB6ch8Hff3ST1ufIMVGR3MgqBg1AL6s83_NcBhRxkaWKzyAw6Mr5OktmdNIxG_G5aSeeohQCYWvbo9pQDY0YcYOXk/s1600/asiana4.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbO4PMtB-cNs1sq_eX2Q3MiF6QpAe-nUJbwCeTpGfddCo2FMaCr5FB6ch8Hff3ST1ufIMVGR3MgqBg1AL6s83_NcBhRxkaWKzyAw6Mr5OktmdNIxG_G5aSeeohQCYWvbo9pQDY0YcYOXk/s320/asiana4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553231753967092290" /></a><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifL3zukJA8CvfneyjRqeJo08OaeMkFQnw93QkvbYCEExGFOHDxny7tMih4yzB4iM0DfBzWaV1lMmTJ2INETsvq2FnyfMsDeBoiXND672wcGRtRjVZgOZ47n6sCqnixLfds2oR2ZbY_SeM/s1600/asiana6.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifL3zukJA8CvfneyjRqeJo08OaeMkFQnw93QkvbYCEExGFOHDxny7tMih4yzB4iM0DfBzWaV1lMmTJ2INETsvq2FnyfMsDeBoiXND672wcGRtRjVZgOZ47n6sCqnixLfds2oR2ZbY_SeM/s320/asiana6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553231869303438578" /></a><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitdtWJzL7TEiwNmdrDBahEYicRQbpKtZ_QUOYKrqDfEjiFby_7Pb7_LhdkOKGAFTJw6DrS19uAxuuhGDxAJJEcHBomYv4Jdv6Z_NgYW1lT7XqwXVt7WOKLPZf80TfkzbuZWj6OBEb3dmA/s1600/asiana15.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitdtWJzL7TEiwNmdrDBahEYicRQbpKtZ_QUOYKrqDfEjiFby_7Pb7_LhdkOKGAFTJw6DrS19uAxuuhGDxAJJEcHBomYv4Jdv6Z_NgYW1lT7XqwXVt7WOKLPZf80TfkzbuZWj6OBEb3dmA/s320/asiana15.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553231942764721810" /></a>Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-33393886467032852122010-12-16T05:25:00.000-08:002010-12-18T08:22:40.999-08:00My Blue Heaven<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dzWKwLW3Knw?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dzWKwLW3Knw?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHcK0PJwYSirqX8IESOSAVLdAfB2V4XpPao1RAO2t46hIVuixZNoLi149G0jgOkDMSbFEloRM4pMTaGXAGUHRaTkSBzeeHH55yxd2ZafdtIDoZl8Drch2vOmb-qNlTsHgGv7S7wHJwQ8/s1600/63206_470710558917_507093917_5673931_8314037_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHcK0PJwYSirqX8IESOSAVLdAfB2V4XpPao1RAO2t46hIVuixZNoLi149G0jgOkDMSbFEloRM4pMTaGXAGUHRaTkSBzeeHH55yxd2ZafdtIDoZl8Drch2vOmb-qNlTsHgGv7S7wHJwQ8/s320/63206_470710558917_507093917_5673931_8314037_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551273593080773362" /></a> Here are some shots from Key West! Mostly El, as she is a much better photographer with a proper camera. Here am I, with a rental bike. <br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEYPBhs9IpwiOxQ5e5xPYdls29JwaoPXuKTmSd58qAqwWNNJXuR8nBcFIRmUUKyZBd1TJgvmVm2YlQ9Z9R_G9DsH0LEvgN5kUMdjLaPN0CAOthLyc8_2URKk14gt6n-P-GSWXluegJKw/s1600/Picture+3.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEYPBhs9IpwiOxQ5e5xPYdls29JwaoPXuKTmSd58qAqwWNNJXuR8nBcFIRmUUKyZBd1TJgvmVm2YlQ9Z9R_G9DsH0LEvgN5kUMdjLaPN0CAOthLyc8_2URKk14gt6n-P-GSWXluegJKw/s320/Picture+3.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552055406441158178" /></a> A characteristic Old Town cottage. <br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_T_oam3Aqm_JMeFN67k1i3Cz5goI4azCbtMsDam2Z1HkPkTg6TzadQ7qwbNgOUFmXpJ4InKkvCHILLzCNJCggy4szv9uNDkaiRrjVxepA69pNAdndR6owPedNrWd6eS-3nKHRdtDxu2I/s1600/155011_470710453917_507093917_5673927_3389973_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_T_oam3Aqm_JMeFN67k1i3Cz5goI4azCbtMsDam2Z1HkPkTg6TzadQ7qwbNgOUFmXpJ4InKkvCHILLzCNJCggy4szv9uNDkaiRrjVxepA69pNAdndR6owPedNrWd6eS-3nKHRdtDxu2I/s320/155011_470710453917_507093917_5673927_3389973_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551274136316541826" /></a> A typical residence in Old Town. Can you imagine a better place to finish a book?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwGAs5AzVwYOHDxCpl2FbhcEbfG8QTTjBeyWf4H52lraD8xQHJj_7gx5QO6okEwn8JQvbW4q30DwPdJCy9XLM5GjhiEorKxjSlMfffvXnGl_MAJqnBOpMKNFBRv4gYGLZVobh0j8Nrqo/s1600/162946_470710543917_507093917_5673929_3498188_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwGAs5AzVwYOHDxCpl2FbhcEbfG8QTTjBeyWf4H52lraD8xQHJj_7gx5QO6okEwn8JQvbW4q30DwPdJCy9XLM5GjhiEorKxjSlMfffvXnGl_MAJqnBOpMKNFBRv4gYGLZVobh0j8Nrqo/s320/162946_470710543917_507093917_5673929_3498188_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551273859930746530" /></a> All the gingerbread on the old Cigar-makers' cottages in Old Town corresponded to the people within. Wonder what this meant!<br /><br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTevWIoCjRBhINOdJKxdFKhRXVcIS1HXR7Y7E14VDLSI0e6tME2hTwUyQ0hYcCen3f5eKlodTAkM5hphrlUDAFZtfJIuzQlp4ZWd5fRYeYWDDUotxeNJSY-OignOmfeyJ-DZpBkm5ing/s1600/69590_470710513917_507093917_5673928_2148259_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTevWIoCjRBhINOdJKxdFKhRXVcIS1HXR7Y7E14VDLSI0e6tME2hTwUyQ0hYcCen3f5eKlodTAkM5hphrlUDAFZtfJIuzQlp4ZWd5fRYeYWDDUotxeNJSY-OignOmfeyJ-DZpBkm5ing/s320/69590_470710513917_507093917_5673928_2148259_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551274337836092866" /></a> How often do you get to shout "Tin ROOF! Rusted" in unison? Not enough. Am thinking of buying this place, obviously.<br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52NSdyZcCPouGFSRJhRTDMHzuZ4R1Mix-o-lhBKPvB4kP8mxeexK0W3_2Bl59z9EnKIMM2FAsemqY7W2KT7Qe139w-ZAX4hzSJjRO1ydMS0tUs3-viEZzw2j2k0MD6wrxH96BDKEcbRw/s1600/Picture+5.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52NSdyZcCPouGFSRJhRTDMHzuZ4R1Mix-o-lhBKPvB4kP8mxeexK0W3_2Bl59z9EnKIMM2FAsemqY7W2KT7Qe139w-ZAX4hzSJjRO1ydMS0tUs3-viEZzw2j2k0MD6wrxH96BDKEcbRw/s320/Picture+5.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552058016600068834" /></a>"Breakfast with the roosters" at Blue Heaven restaurant. Seriously, the wild chickens are everywhere!<br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNZl0W5xTlzxHQqQLgciNATqgDYpSkLJIuHIeRPZ86PkMijK03OKNnu4Urz7WCK8Hbey9rqmdo2wNWqO_jXXufNZsXPBqbaPiNjSkDwrNxsvqEp2FQvfUNHe2bxX4AJy1o2V-uAFP3Nw/s1600/Picture+6.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNZl0W5xTlzxHQqQLgciNATqgDYpSkLJIuHIeRPZ86PkMijK03OKNnu4Urz7WCK8Hbey9rqmdo2wNWqO_jXXufNZsXPBqbaPiNjSkDwrNxsvqEp2FQvfUNHe2bxX4AJy1o2V-uAFP3Nw/s320/Picture+6.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552058415866963170" /></a>Banana bread (with the roosters) at Blue Heaven!<br /><br clear="all"><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYwvAmf8uBzwvDMllonytMBWxsw45xKpXLcRIYg9gswtCYPApDgjkJzvzFQwdpFwePPGNtGWJx31FBOMcsAWUg69Va45WMxbKJBOGrc6RutHPSLp5SwTCtwY_uAeOWlA2PRyc6QeAXUk/s1600/HemingwayHouse_pic.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 245px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYwvAmf8uBzwvDMllonytMBWxsw45xKpXLcRIYg9gswtCYPApDgjkJzvzFQwdpFwePPGNtGWJx31FBOMcsAWUg69Va45WMxbKJBOGrc6RutHPSLp5SwTCtwY_uAeOWlA2PRyc6QeAXUk/s320/HemingwayHouse_pic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552054478862927602" /></a> Hemingway House!<br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2-exrOUjwbF6E3y9qv0LgCWWV_eqKMOvj8d8JhXjlBwx0CK9eYMv7_km6Ihw4nh_WedhbD-k87GNJqIKVehnMrWxS8WFNZyecaF6A0xARqhYerM1QFs3XSFgmSDW6NoRWv_tiE5LE74/s1600/63610_470710588917_507093917_5673933_877921_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2-exrOUjwbF6E3y9qv0LgCWWV_eqKMOvj8d8JhXjlBwx0CK9eYMv7_km6Ihw4nh_WedhbD-k87GNJqIKVehnMrWxS8WFNZyecaF6A0xARqhYerM1QFs3XSFgmSDW6NoRWv_tiE5LE74/s320/63610_470710588917_507093917_5673933_877921_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551273381105023090" /></a> A six-toed cat at the Hemingway House. They're everywhere: even on Hemingway's bed. <br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2-iNzq1Yn3Y9vTtoE21jioLYxysL356sNca1zDVWumSwYRW8Bgbs-fCKsKeglvgD3C1qPHtxVf11w5uYQSRy-DMBWJZ-kPNPpUeiVVZpZh1hZ5SLQ5hpJrz5JQCZfyfAZezFFGDQiXk/s1600/Picture+1.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2-iNzq1Yn3Y9vTtoE21jioLYxysL356sNca1zDVWumSwYRW8Bgbs-fCKsKeglvgD3C1qPHtxVf11w5uYQSRy-DMBWJZ-kPNPpUeiVVZpZh1hZ5SLQ5hpJrz5JQCZfyfAZezFFGDQiXk/s320/Picture+1.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552054755857315650" /></a> Hemingway's Study (I refuse to call him "Papa.") <br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38yUxl-eShAwpnnoEM_pSnFJhZSD-FJfTgEYTFr2Wikgm8FIAjpZ9hyphenhyphenYeD2SQ_Dey3bcyi9Ix4-4y5gn0meU277EVZ4Di0dp68ZOhLcMtB2QUym2S7Es0QdsFUUGJaz8xeZ8vYbMKPi8/s1600/63919_470711023917_507093917_5673949_4493902_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38yUxl-eShAwpnnoEM_pSnFJhZSD-FJfTgEYTFr2Wikgm8FIAjpZ9hyphenhyphenYeD2SQ_Dey3bcyi9Ix4-4y5gn0meU277EVZ4Di0dp68ZOhLcMtB2QUym2S7Es0QdsFUUGJaz8xeZ8vYbMKPi8/s320/63919_470711023917_507093917_5673949_4493902_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551271968951030402" /></a> The sunset is a Big Deal in KW. Every night, everyone congregates at some bar (with obligatory guitar-strumming dude) to drink cocktails and celebrate the end of another day. Despite this, there was a shocking lack of good sunset-overlooking bars. And the "tiki bar" we found had not the faintest hint of a paper umbrella! Still, very pretty.<br /><br clear="all"><br /><br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-1CEej2Jh5gPw9fHnx3zdPyZztn5Ng8HYO8UrkwiXZncQ9vA2tUjCYbe9VtJyOvdWGOgHkRBGqtRzQlcHrktwF8Y8X735JuaMcB2GNtgL6dT-q-I-SSNkgvXFmzf6QUbNTcwYrQYrqw/s1600/154283_470710843917_507093917_5673940_6489750_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-1CEej2Jh5gPw9fHnx3zdPyZztn5Ng8HYO8UrkwiXZncQ9vA2tUjCYbe9VtJyOvdWGOgHkRBGqtRzQlcHrktwF8Y8X735JuaMcB2GNtgL6dT-q-I-SSNkgvXFmzf6QUbNTcwYrQYrqw/s320/154283_470710843917_507093917_5673940_6489750_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551273183657954450" /></a> Original Sponge Man! <br /><br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxFiXgl1GFNmmEayh9hzUoTpIxOdhYuM2GCz0GWS8TCvPCWL0FgL_Fe4faWBznZWASR-PANcw8lxCLUIug5HE7VXVuW4a2kv9yNTAgNz1V6SnPV6UeGtWP9tFkJgrGBkqE3xAt-D2gSE/s1600/155566_470711118917_507093917_5673952_2125659_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxFiXgl1GFNmmEayh9hzUoTpIxOdhYuM2GCz0GWS8TCvPCWL0FgL_Fe4faWBznZWASR-PANcw8lxCLUIug5HE7VXVuW4a2kv9yNTAgNz1V6SnPV6UeGtWP9tFkJgrGBkqE3xAt-D2gSE/s320/155566_470711118917_507093917_5673952_2125659_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551271462785542594" /></a> This guy was in the garden of the Audubon House. The guide was very apologetic about the fact that Audubon had to shoot the birds in order to paint them, despite our reassurances that A) It was the 19th Century B) They were hardly endangered and C) It was for science. Made me worry about the caliber of the average tourist.<br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaxmKHe-pNsyEe3bFXcnpIh6wgmyFGMRESvvAqx03jLC9KP3S1Uh2dZNPGfLmusv6qAQIEzKThCh0B4mDT7I7niJ0yZCEGZCMOewF7bavAAIZ-tT5_ERfVl-HAZVMDGatEuHUFD8f1XuQ/s1600/Picture+4.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaxmKHe-pNsyEe3bFXcnpIh6wgmyFGMRESvvAqx03jLC9KP3S1Uh2dZNPGfLmusv6qAQIEzKThCh0B4mDT7I7niJ0yZCEGZCMOewF7bavAAIZ-tT5_ERfVl-HAZVMDGatEuHUFD8f1XuQ/s320/Picture+4.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552056394009714258" /></a> Pepe's, the oldest restaurant in Key West.<br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GnEjl02iXlBZOdmmOBVTqciGcmj1mSiHQ_DrUSumLCIW3SxFWFlf6HwTZ_-XkvcT2juA459s4DlXb-F6j-qep7_IJuV4IiteIept9I3GF_UCtS9gE9zEEcJNuHw9DQYO8dgWZZxDu2o/s1600/155386_470711228917_507093917_5673954_3672215_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GnEjl02iXlBZOdmmOBVTqciGcmj1mSiHQ_DrUSumLCIW3SxFWFlf6HwTZ_-XkvcT2juA459s4DlXb-F6j-qep7_IJuV4IiteIept9I3GF_UCtS9gE9zEEcJNuHw9DQYO8dgWZZxDu2o/s320/155386_470711228917_507093917_5673954_3672215_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551271046152945986" /></a> This is an Ibis we saw on our tropical fruit bike tour (in which, yes, we did sample several novel fruits growing wild. We were the only members of the tour. The guide played "My Way" on a conch shell.) <br /><br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotVkAHPiCK-bM7AQJfrCAZhNFps5lXfAKHRfZkhdkaqRIQJ0FJZ-GeeigNSZSVO_5mwOUgqNHHMvb30xM09vrJ8wXLzSo5lU9jOSuhLJzp6QOWp-KIC9IEpek33D6vX53x5OuCvuglEQ/s1600/157007_470710953917_507093917_5673946_4118750_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotVkAHPiCK-bM7AQJfrCAZhNFps5lXfAKHRfZkhdkaqRIQJ0FJZ-GeeigNSZSVO_5mwOUgqNHHMvb30xM09vrJ8wXLzSo5lU9jOSuhLJzp6QOWp-KIC9IEpek33D6vX53x5OuCvuglEQ/s320/157007_470710953917_507093917_5673946_4118750_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551272533905700066" /></a> The Southernmost point in the USA!<br /><br /><br /><br clear="all"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOtO83I9FkIiLNMQVfAhodXqWCfcKxQsqD57mco16ifE3qznbjq1_-mJCn3eqHfJ807EBmAwWusz0HsTyABHP9zsAx35MCTwR-VdBQa1nicF6X1h0T1eOq7gtoskb92qXRDw2srjT4ESY/s1600/156895_470710903917_507093917_5673943_7773057_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOtO83I9FkIiLNMQVfAhodXqWCfcKxQsqD57mco16ifE3qznbjq1_-mJCn3eqHfJ807EBmAwWusz0HsTyABHP9zsAx35MCTwR-VdBQa1nicF6X1h0T1eOq7gtoskb92qXRDw2srjT4ESY/s320/156895_470710903917_507093917_5673943_7773057_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551272829347156690" /></a> I know E will forgive my running a pic of her, since it is so neat! This tree, needless to say, is ancient! If we ever release a quirky album that gets play on Trouble's FMU show, this will be the cover art.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-32494462471449391862010-12-16T04:59:00.000-08:002010-12-16T05:20:04.845-08:00Two Creepy Things From Key WestSo, in the month plus since I've been in touch, El. and I went to Key West! This was a sort of impromptu trip, but somewhere I've wanted to go ever since I read about Elizabeth Bishop's living there...even though of course we knew all about the Parrot Head-Margaritaville-honky-tonk aspect of it. For the most part, we managed to steer clear of this (and the mini Bourbon St. that is Duval) although not all the sun-bleached Buffet manques of a certain age eager to be guides to two unescorted gals! Everyone was very friendly, the town certainly neighborly, but it can't be denied that it's one of those places where ambition goes to die!<br /><br />That said, we were enchanted by the Old Town architecture, the tropical beauty, and the ghost stories! Two were especially fascinating. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2AR-HxXNjM9MpkGRGyq47KcNo0Xt6PG264Gkp_APSGhFuBJhVI7KpnUVE8_wHSJSWQdLDp-gqylBftvtXHP4py4mhB-3MfiZXjPSpNoLy_ICA3wexik-jWhkXZ29Cv95Nhr4SsHSIVc/s1600/Picture+3.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 289px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2AR-HxXNjM9MpkGRGyq47KcNo0Xt6PG264Gkp_APSGhFuBJhVI7KpnUVE8_wHSJSWQdLDp-gqylBftvtXHP4py4mhB-3MfiZXjPSpNoLy_ICA3wexik-jWhkXZ29Cv95Nhr4SsHSIVc/s320/Picture+3.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551268911405707650" /></a><blockquote>In the 1920's, Carl Tanzler (later known as Carl von Cosel) emigrated from Germany to the the Florida Keys, in the United States, leaving behind a wife and two young daughters. Von cosel had worked as an x-ray technician and inventor, barely making enough to get by, but claimed to be a former submarine skipper and owner of nine college degrees. In 1934, he found employment at a Key West hospital in the tuberculosis ward. Shortly after bring his family to join him in Florida, he and his wife, Doris, separated.<br /><br /><br />A recent author of the story, Ben Harrison, describes Tanzler at this stage of his life as; "fifty years old - an imaginative, impractical inventor, scientist, electrical wizard and sometimes ingenious liar" who had "already begun to mix fact and fantasy in the search for his dream lover." Von Cosel became a lonely man and his lonliness was transformed when he fixated when a new patient arrived at the hospital, suffering with the affliction.<br /><br /><br />A poor Hispanic 22-year-old young woman, Elena Hoyos, was universally acknowledged to be a great beauty and Von Cosel, then working as a ward technician, was soon captivated, despite her rebuffs of his advances. He quickly became determined to help Elena, even cure her, using unconventional methods. There is was never any evidence of a romance between the young hispanic beauty and Von Cosel, but in his mind and will, he intended to rid her of the disease, with the ultimate aim of forming a lasting love attachment.<br /><br />Her desperate family, knowing the severity of her illness, gave Von Cosel permission to try his unusual methods in an attempt to cure her. The hospital staff was dubious but with his nine 'degrees' and ocassional eccentric brilliance, they let him try his approach on Elena, knowing they could do nothing themselves to sabe her. Using an odd mix of chemicals, herbs and even reportedly X-ray treatments, he attempted to stem the tide of her tuberculosis. It was sort of a an early attempt at chemotherapy, but with untried methods.<br /><br />Despite his efforts, Elena Hoyos died leaving Von Cosel despondent and once again, alone. Von Cosel got permission from her family to build her a mausoleum. There, Von Cosel used formaldehyde and other chemicals and spices to preserve the body, secretly visiting it nightly. He had a key made that no one but her sister knew about. The Hoyos's trusted Von Cosel and since he seemed to love her in life (even though it was an unrequited love), they were understanding of his fondness for visiting her grave. They did not know he was inside attempting to preserve Elena. Von Cosel paid for and built an above-ground burial vault which included a telephone so that he could communicate with her and a strange airship whose function he refused to state. During these nightly visits, he would talk to Elena's corpse and said later that one night he saw her ghost in the mausoleum. He claimed she appeared to him from that time after every night and they would have long conversations and she expressed her love for him. These nocturmal visitations continuted for two years until he lost his job at the hospital and moved to a remote shack. But he wasn't alone in his shack, for he had stolen Elena's body from the mausoleum!<br /><br />There he placed her body on a large bed, enough to sleep two, curtained with a cloth veil. He continued his work on her decaying body as the chemicals could only delay her body from mouldering for so long. He rubbed her entire body with strange oils and chemicals and then later had to reconstruct parts of her face with morticians wax to reform her features. He later admitted to spending long pleasant nights talking to her and professing his love.<br /><br />Not seeing Von Cosel outside Elena's tomb for over seven years, her sister began to suspect something was amiss. She notified the authorities and they searched her mausoleum only to find it empty. Elena's sister instantly knew who had taken her sister's body and found Von Cosel's shack and confronted him. He kindly invited her inside, and to her horror, she saw what appeared be a wax dummy in the likeness of Elena laying on the bed. He told her that he and Elena were happy and in love and invited her to come back again and visit. The sister was livid and horrified and went to the police.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oZfaV52LWjGbIhpoSQDtvAumFsMd57XDK7dYzQLOVb-Op2NzVoFifcNtkBwy68xCe96uOYjG9eLQ1yZp9rl6NCP6zJOz1buE0mD08pMHKE483ns8AFeGF8uZjb_jHWaFZnbFxatG3bQ/s1600/Picture+2.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oZfaV52LWjGbIhpoSQDtvAumFsMd57XDK7dYzQLOVb-Op2NzVoFifcNtkBwy68xCe96uOYjG9eLQ1yZp9rl6NCP6zJOz1buE0mD08pMHKE483ns8AFeGF8uZjb_jHWaFZnbFxatG3bQ/s320/Picture+2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551269010257807794" /></a><br />They came and took what they assumed to be a dummy to the local morgue to be autopsied. The "dummy" was actually the long decayed corpse of Elena Hoyos; her bones held together with piano wire, her skin had been treated with wax, her eye sockets filled with glass replacements, and she'd been perfumed to mask the odor of decomposition. This was terrible enough, but what the investigators found next was truly repulsive.<br /><br />Von cosel had reconstructed many parts of her body, her eyes, nose, and most disturbingly, her vagina to which he added a tube that permitted sexual intercourse. He had been having sexual intercourse with the corpse of Elena Hoyos for as many as eight years!<br /><br />The case eventually went to trial where amazingly the majority of the public, especially women, were firmly behind Carl, seeing him as a man who loved a woman so much that he was unable to let her go. In his confession he stated that he had planned to use the airship to take the both of them "high into the stratosphere, so that radiation from outer space could penetrate elena's tissues and restore life to her somnolent form." many people sympathized with von cosel after hearing his story and a latin love song was even composed based on the subject. Von cosel was only imprisoned for a short time and elena's body was buried in a metal cube which was buried in a secret location.<br /><br /><br />Before the burial there was another bizarre incident. So much attention had been given in newpapers, press accounts and court records that the authorities thought it would be best to show the people Elena's body before her secret burial. They placed her body, still grossly decayed and with a silken, waxy face, in a trailer cart and allowed the curious throngs to view her before her second burial. One ten-year-old boy, now in his 60's, said,<br /><br />"I've never been able to forget that sight. It didn't even look like a human anymore. So much reconstrution and decay....it was the scariest thing I've ever seen. Her face was an odd white-ish color that looked more like a wax dummy than a womans face. And she had horrible, black, staring, glass eyes. I still dream about that sight." <br /> <br />It seems that the press did not divulge the details of the necrophilia before showing her corpse and had the general public known about that aspect there probably would have been less sympathy for Von Cosel. Declared sane, Von Cosel was not charged with a crime because the statute of limitations on grave robbing had expired. Elena Hoyos was eventually buried at a secret location. Von Cosel, separated from his love, used a death mask to create a life-sized dummy of her, and lived with it until his death in 1952. </blockquote><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Robert the Doll</span><br /><br /><blockquote>Robert, sometimes known as Robert the Doll, is a doll that was once owned by Key West painter and author Robert Eugene Otto. The doll, which is allegedly cursed, has become a fixture of ghost tours in the Key West area since it was inducted into the Fort East Martello Museum. Aesthetically, Robert resembles an early 20th century American Naval officer. Contrary to popular belief, however, the doll's hair is not made of human hair, but rather, it consists of a synthetic material resembling wool yarn.<br /><br />Eugene was given the doll in 1904 by a servant who, according to legend, was skilled in black magic and voodoo and was displeased with the family. Soon afterward it became clear that there was something eerie about the doll. Eugene's parents said they often heard him talking to the doll and that the doll appeared to be talking back. Although at first they assumed that Eugene was simply answering himself in a changed voice, they later believed that the doll was actually speaking.<br /><br />Neighbors claimed to see the doll moving from window to window when the family was out. The Otto family swore that sometimes the doll would emit a terrifying giggle and that they caught glimpses of it running from room to room. In the night Eugene would scream, and when his parents ran to the room they would find furniture knocked over and Eugene in bed, looking incredibly scared, telling them that "Robert did it!".<br /><br />When Eugene died in 1974, the doll was left in the attic until the house was bought again. The new family included a ten year old girl, who became Robert's new owner. It was not long before the girl began screaming out in the night, claiming that Robert moved about the room and even attempted to attack her on multiple occasions. More than thirty years later, she still tells interviewers that the doll was alive and wanted to kill her.<br /><br />The doll is annually rotated to the Old Post Office and Customhouse in October, with museum staff claiming that strange activity in the museum increases during such times.<br />Individuals who desire to visit Robert in the Fort East Martello Museum and wish to take a picture of him, according to legend, the person must ask the doll politely, and if he does not agree (by tipping his head to one side) and the individual takes a picture anyway, then the doll will curse the person and their family.</blockquote><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSq1jQ9RcmeI_n5bojyFQy8dj5fbE43QIYIwMRgrQ6IoD904b5IvTqIQ5ccmfBi-0HrFiyAL3BcOXZuSKMsmFodgbnhDAhPoQ4T_4eSdd1wnl00m8txYIOSJqw-Y_N2dSG40YzE0H9gWY/s1600/Picture+1.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSq1jQ9RcmeI_n5bojyFQy8dj5fbE43QIYIwMRgrQ6IoD904b5IvTqIQ5ccmfBi-0HrFiyAL3BcOXZuSKMsmFodgbnhDAhPoQ4T_4eSdd1wnl00m8txYIOSJqw-Y_N2dSG40YzE0H9gWY/s320/Picture+1.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551269152969588418" /></a>Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-71686099707760780372010-12-16T04:41:00.001-08:002010-12-16T05:06:26.857-08:00Holidaze<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAJOoY4M5Po56FN3QG0QJny4q6Sg3tP0NtEsoSVtcuQNxJ0qdWUj3i0-2EzjAMoZtta7vgPjnvdN6TCONkSpmKMsSRZKkfyzImUnk08iDOiMoOrSQSO7y2TxLImQk10N-ccAZ7YBYimA/s1600/148628_10150342752660500_696710499_15885962_5160373_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 313px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAJOoY4M5Po56FN3QG0QJny4q6Sg3tP0NtEsoSVtcuQNxJ0qdWUj3i0-2EzjAMoZtta7vgPjnvdN6TCONkSpmKMsSRZKkfyzImUnk08iDOiMoOrSQSO7y2TxLImQk10N-ccAZ7YBYimA/s320/148628_10150342752660500_696710499_15885962_5160373_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551265456913245554" /></a><br /><br /><br />I am embarrassed to have been away so long! Suffice it to say, I've been having ups and downs better not lived out in public view, since both are tiresome in their own way! Have also been overwhelmed by Christmas! To date, have tree and wreath up; most cards out; about half my fudge made; and am maybe 1/3 done on presents! <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHif_-0ugzvcT4oMYKcpq-Gp9oz1Y7_k5UlK0E-HXnvBKCvbBT8XHAEGjrReJ2tKq1wmCF47uZYSvb2hIiyqVL5nDujnGG0jUc4VqTWx4YncUesBf5TJo1aQV58nh7Nwh5gQts1MhmgY/s1600/76335_10150341560970500_696710499_15866706_2229331_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHif_-0ugzvcT4oMYKcpq-Gp9oz1Y7_k5UlK0E-HXnvBKCvbBT8XHAEGjrReJ2tKq1wmCF47uZYSvb2hIiyqVL5nDujnGG0jUc4VqTWx4YncUesBf5TJo1aQV58nh7Nwh5gQts1MhmgY/s320/76335_10150341560970500_696710499_15866706_2229331_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551265350867796210" /></a>Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-23813372752603282942010-11-07T13:28:00.000-08:002010-11-07T13:44:05.370-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2500/3831432918_33a023848a.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 339px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2500/3831432918_33a023848a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />It is a funny thing -- or maybe it's not -- but every time someone close to me has died, I have had an overpowering desire to watch ghost movies. As you know, I like Gothic themes any time -- and it being Halloween season doesn't hurt -- but at such times nothing else will do. I am especially drawn to those set in the 1970s, in which everyone is seemingly punished for the naivete of belonging to a happy family (just as a decade later one would be punished for being a teen girl.) In the past week I watched two I liked a lot: <span style="font-style:italic;">Burnt Offerings</span> and, especially, <span style="font-style:italic;">Audrey Rose</span>. Both feature amazing architecture as well as more than usual chills and genuinely surprising denouments. <br /><br />A publicist sent me a book I ended up loving: <span style="font-style:italic;">Haunted Houses</span>, by the photographer Corinne May Botz. The book's made up of carefully-culled images and first-person accounts by residents of haunted spaces. There are a number of spine-tinglers, and the combination of subtly evocative visuals and frank narration is highly effective. But there was one part that stood out especially for me, and not just because it concerns St. Barnabas Episcopal Church, not far from where I grew up (and site of an excellent annual rummage sale.) The former minister testifies to the many instances of hauntings in the church and then says, <blockquote>"I don't know how you scientifically deal with that. I'm sure there are ways of saying that it was a bad dream or a projection, but it happens and it's not surprising believing in the communion of saints as I do. I think, "Yeah so? What's so surprising about it?" There's a fine line between the next world and this. It's all one reality and we can't divide it up, reality is reality. We know a little bit from Einstein about time, relativity and space, and that one interacts with the other. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Time is a human construct anyway</span>... who says there's a great division about past, present and future? Who says we can't visit those places in the so-called past? Now is all we have."</blockquote><br /><br />I love that. And when I read it, I sat up, struck by the simplicity of the idea. Because things are not uncanny unless they are breaking rules -- and rules are arbitrary. It seems to me great arrogance to always let logic supercede intuition, anyway.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-45762551602673641472010-10-31T15:00:00.000-07:002010-10-31T16:56:35.940-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgif8TmD_EQiKPZmhl1McvQCP7eJ3BPO82K7A31Y-U24nihWwooE7Fl1HKtiJgkbMMxZKxxWOxk9bWHHEgsGM-NT0Of28NHV3MkDOfR4TeQU-sWuzbzVX4UWztzzobMV81A9_oeg25KH8o/s1600/4887.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgif8TmD_EQiKPZmhl1McvQCP7eJ3BPO82K7A31Y-U24nihWwooE7Fl1HKtiJgkbMMxZKxxWOxk9bWHHEgsGM-NT0Of28NHV3MkDOfR4TeQU-sWuzbzVX4UWztzzobMV81A9_oeg25KH8o/s320/4887.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534362316819904914" /></a><br />I want to talk about something I don't often write about and that something is Matthew. But first I need to tell you that I was in a bad way yesterday. You see, I'd gone off my medication because -- wait for it -- I am neurotically afraid of the pharmacist yelling at me (don't ask -- my brother, when told, described this as "irrational but logical.") And I had run out of both my medications, the one that keeps me happy and the one that keeps me stable. Anyway, I was fine, and then yesterday I crashed spectacularly and locked Matthew out, then realized I didn't have any sleeping pills either so I'd have to go get those anyway, then was intercepted by Matthew who was lurking outside and who forcibly filled the prescription and made me take my pills and held me and rocked me and sat with me until the calmer-downer one had worked and put me to sleep. He also called my brother. (There was also a period of my sitting on the sidewalk sobbing piteously and making a spectacle of myself in front of various neighbors plus the mailman, Derek and, now that I'm not dead, I sort of regret that part.) <br /><br />Matthew takes wonderful care of me. (I should mention that my old boyfriend was also very adept at managing my black moods.) Matthew, meanwhile, would surely deny that he does anything save love me and he'd say something kind about how it's a small price to pay, which isn't true. When I get low he'll take me to look at puppies in the window of the pet store on 6th Avenue if things are really acute, or present me with a sweet taste. Or wordlessly bring me a cookbook, or a Betsy-Tacy, or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.<br /><br />Matthew is the kindest person I know -- the first to approach someone who's shy or retiring, and the last to begrudge anyone success. He's without schadenfruede. His intelligence is penetrating and specific, and he admits that he doesn't know the other things, even when that isn't done. You shouldn't underestimate him, but he won't hold it against you when you do, because he's like that. He makes me feel attractive for the first time. He also makes me feel I can succeed at anything -- but that he'll love me just the same if I don't. <br /><br />He also bears a striking resemblance to Laurence Harvey.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZ0U-bAW2gu2Fk0m2mXFu-2GPcbd5MohmYrJz9So7eH6ELPZKyHp5McM8UEDkYlUBZ7zbINA2rZ5Hx7XJYuNmpjFnhyphenhyphenxLY5TiqbIBurJ2_ln0PhhbyHtR3dMIWTienVus6C8s_ooYx9Q/s1600/49052_1041363884_6391_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZ0U-bAW2gu2Fk0m2mXFu-2GPcbd5MohmYrJz9So7eH6ELPZKyHp5McM8UEDkYlUBZ7zbINA2rZ5Hx7XJYuNmpjFnhyphenhyphenxLY5TiqbIBurJ2_ln0PhhbyHtR3dMIWTienVus6C8s_ooYx9Q/s320/49052_1041363884_6391_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534363266280286562" /></a>Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-66028440115578302842010-10-29T07:12:00.000-07:002010-10-29T07:21:35.848-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpXJF4fv9pG09Ht2_JBLp7vN6sXyF5xr2TGAo6iyVryUxDsJx-oSJJwG4qtxUv5IGxqsw0LLQFtYL4g9qAUzC0FJnWDpkDzsY9-QEZPbxf0K8lDcPNtph6kZN_WYd5HeLRGGvOjawctY/s1600/steinfiddler200.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpXJF4fv9pG09Ht2_JBLp7vN6sXyF5xr2TGAo6iyVryUxDsJx-oSJJwG4qtxUv5IGxqsw0LLQFtYL4g9qAUzC0FJnWDpkDzsY9-QEZPbxf0K8lDcPNtph6kZN_WYd5HeLRGGvOjawctY/s320/steinfiddler200.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533470865043147074" /></a><br />He would have loved that funeral. It was funny, and it was touching, and it was a full house, which he would definitely have appreciated. Various collaborators of his performed numbers from their shows, and a bunch of us spoke, and there was a lot of laughter. <br /><br />I held it together until yesterday. They dimmed all lights on Broadway in his honor, and Grandpa Joe would have loved that so much: he lived for his work and truly loved the theatre. Anyway, something about that, in combination with leaving the apartment and saying goodbye to the doorman, just made me lose it, and I cried and cried.<br /><br />I can't say enough how very kind my friends are. The night we came home from the funeral, after a long and exhausting day, I found a pot of daisies on my doorstep, from LD. In the mailbox was a package from my friend Virginia, containing <span style="font-style:italic;">Winnie the Pooh</span> and <span style="font-style:italic;">The House at Pooh Corner</span>. In the words of that bear of very little brains, "A little Consideration, a little Thought for Others, makes all the difference." <br /><br />And although we have another three days of formal mourning allowed, he always said everything runs too long, so.Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-5011897166866323012010-10-26T12:00:00.001-07:002010-10-27T07:46:41.569-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDmNCsI-TyhZqqEN95GpSZOsa1JbhdvJuAsvNlqrKBvsTjH4HGmr6ot_yKxya3ymTQqU6aNC-llCWSvXw7ZsJvO29dlZ6osdHbaq7bkxeaeqeXzSkMOvqe8JtSuHdzb4-Kle7lLjjkSY/s1600/Joseph-Stein-006.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDmNCsI-TyhZqqEN95GpSZOsa1JbhdvJuAsvNlqrKBvsTjH4HGmr6ot_yKxya3ymTQqU6aNC-llCWSvXw7ZsJvO29dlZ6osdHbaq7bkxeaeqeXzSkMOvqe8JtSuHdzb4-Kle7lLjjkSY/s320/Joseph-Stein-006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532737323159999586" /></a><br />Some of you know that my grandpa has been very ill for much of the past year, and this past Sunday, after suffering what the obit called "complications from a fall," he died swiftly and peacefully. As if it needs saying, we were lucky to have him around for 98 remarkably healthy years (I wasn't there for all 98 of them but, y'know, the world) and as my friend David put it, "laughing all the way."<br /><br />People are so kind. Friends have been calling and emailing and it's so appreciated. This morning the doorbell rang -- and Dan had sent a care package from Russ and Daughters!!! I didn't know whether to cry or immediately eat a bagel and lox. (I did both.) <br /><br /> My dad has done all the stuff like dealing with Riverside and identifying the body, closing out accounts and all the real business of dying. I have very little to do myself, and even those few things are proving challenging. 1: I am preparing my "remarks" which is tricky for all the obvious reasons. But on a more mundane level, I can't find anything to wear! I don't know what I expected -- that I could just waltz down Broadway and find some classic LBD. It seems the high street doesn't truck in these. I tried J.Crew, Banana Republic, Gap, Zara, H&M, Bloomingdales, Club Monaco, even Top Shop -- and after wandering in and out of stores like a zombie for 2 hours, listlessly trying on a series of embellished tops and things that didn't fit and that couldn't be ordered or altered in time, I called it a day. I hate having to think about such nonsense, but there you have it. As one person wrote me yesterday, "It's like Tolstoy said - somehow daily life goes on, even in impossible circumstances." The death of someone who's lived a long, happy life, at 98, is never a tragedy -- more a time for reflection and celebration. Not least because Grandpa Joe was, quite literally, the happiest person any of us has ever known. <br /><br />Now, if only I could somehow communicate that in a few paragraphs...Sadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1391436306140763685.post-39255018323674956332010-10-19T17:56:00.001-07:002010-10-19T17:57:30.536-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzKEXj3HOxQ7hwNfSmAmg158tEeUue5l2t-imZNh1loZPbb3RdSsrK-WS-hWnfFL-tp-n_mRwn3XxYdbhL87T62B-W6rMIePJjs6qXijXwpinkXDLzKFX45X1Mp4MOJmph7wu_Hhk3Ko/s1600/091509-chock.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzKEXj3HOxQ7hwNfSmAmg158tEeUue5l2t-imZNh1loZPbb3RdSsrK-WS-hWnfFL-tp-n_mRwn3XxYdbhL87T62B-W6rMIePJjs6qXijXwpinkXDLzKFX45X1Mp4MOJmph7wu_Hhk3Ko/s320/091509-chock.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529926021466483234" /></a><br />Something I am excited about: Chock Full 'o Nuts has opened a full-service cafe on 23rd Street! This may not seem like much of a big deal, but I have been into Chock ever since I read about its history. You see, having experienced antisemitism, founder William Black was sensitive to discrimination, and he made a point of hiring integrated staff, whom he paid a living wage and benefits. Later, Jackie Robinson was brand spokesman and after his retirement, Vice President of the company. In addition, the chain was known for high quality and uncompromising hygiene.<br /><br />But I wouldn't be so excited if the menu wasn't totally retro and awesome: chicken croquettes, cream cheese on date-nut, and the "Chock Special" of "nutted cheese" on raisin bread! How I wish I still worked in the Flatiron! What a fab alternative to Eisenberg's Sandwich!<br /><br />Sweet dreams!<br /><br />SSadie Stein Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06233338941752173968noreply@blogger.com1