If It's Sunday, This Must Be France

We went to Cap d'Antibes yesterday.

Our good friends Olga and Eric live around the corner in a gorgeous old 1929 Mediterranean villa. In about thirty seconds, we can walk from our little English cottage to the South of France, no passport required.

Olga's back garden is a magical paradise that always reminds me of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Villa America in "Tender Is The Night." Lush vegetation surrounds a stone pool, clambering vines adorn a separate guest house, and romantic walkways lead to a myriad of outdoor seating areas. She designed it herself but modestly deflects all praise. (She's a coy thing.)

She was wearing a fitted bateau shirt with red and blue stripes. Tall and willowy, she possesses that particular brand of Gallic style that's chic and effortless.

Unwinding with them over a bottle of wine was just the restorative we needed after a unusually hectic weekend. Luca disappeared upstairs with the children and peace spread over the land.

We drank a Bordeaux that tasted of earth and figs and black currants in thin-stemmed crystal glasses. (Well, les femmes did. Eric and Piero drank Lebanese beer, just visible in the background).

To say that Olga is a Francophile is an understatement. Everywhere you turn, there is a reminder of the mother land. In a shady corner, a traditional bistro set in Provençal blue creates an artful haven for her children.

Flowers -- roses, camellias, bougainvillea -- were in masses everywhere. The scent was heady and intoxicating. I want a garden like this.

Here, Olga has used a wire frame to train little trumpet vines around an arched window. Imagine what this is going to look like framed with flowers.

Inside, she has created a sanctuary for her family that resounds with colors, textures, layers and personal history. See that white sofa? It used to belong to Valentino (the silent film star, not the designer).

Editor's Note: There are so many wonderful historic homes here in Los Angeles. Magical pleasure domes built in the 1920's and 1930's, they are a heady reminder of Hollywood's Golden Age. Within a stone's throw of my house are a Spanish villa, a Georgian manor, a French chateau and a half-timbered Tudor, all richly weathered and bearing a nobility that only the patina of age can bestow. Despite their different architectural styles, they all work beautifully together. It's my "cocktail party" theory - the most memorable ones are filled with people from all walks of life and all points of view. Houses and neighborhoods are no different.

Peter Dunham Does It Again

(Peter Dunham)

I missed his One Kings Lane sale in August because I was on an island called Unst in the Shetlands surrounded by sheep and spotty Wifi. I actually contemplated jumping on the ferry to Scotland (a 14 hour crossing) just to be able to go online and bid, but common sense eventually prevailed.

However, he's having another sale tomorrow and from the advance peek I was given, I think his items are going to sell out in record time. I'll be there at 8 am sharp. Will you?

Primping Painting

Original price: $620, Sale price: $249

Louis XVI style bergere chair

Original price: $1900 Sale price: $599

Black floral vintage suzani fabric pillow

Original price: $370, Sale price: $179

Pair of Italian armchairs

Original price: $4200, Sale price: $949

(interior, Hollywood at Home)

Update: I purchased this lovely 1949 photograph of the Coliseum in an antique maple frame. My husband's mother is from Rome, so it has a special resonance for us. There were other things I had my eye on, but they were already in other members' carts by 8:02 am. You have to be quick on the trigger for Peter's sales.

Think Pink

Today marks the first day of National Breast Awareness Month and with it comes a sobering thought: Every 69 seconds, somewhere in the world a woman dies of breast cancer.

("Jane" by Sir Gerald Festus Kelly, 1924)

Here are a few things to consider today...

Early detection matters.

Getting regular mammograms if you're over 40 and remembering to do your monthly BSE (breast self-exam) can go a long way in taking helping us to take control of this disease one woman at a time.

("Speedy", Rudolf Schlichter, 1923)

Living right matters.

1. Decrease your daily fat intake.

2. Increase fiber in your diet.

3. Eat fresh fruit and vegetables.

4. Limit alcohol.

5. Stay active.

6. Don't smoke.

(The Duchess of Devonshire, 1990's, by Christopher Simon Sykes)

Getting involved matters.

There are so many ways to participate. You can sign up for an event to benefit the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure (and get in shape in the process), you can help raise awareness among loved ones and those in your community, you can even become an activist and help others achieve important legislative goals.

("Damenknelpe Ladies Dive", Rudolf Schlichter,1923)

For more information on all of the above, click here, here or here.

Editor's Note: A big thank you to Mrs. Blandings for her entreaty to "post pink" today. Duly noted.

The Five O'Clock Shadow

Despite the recent heat wave here in Los Angeles, autumn is still creeping in on dark furry haunches and settling over The Kenmore Arms.

No more endless summer. These days, when Luca does his homework after school, I call upon a solicitous halo of light to protect him from the encroaching shadows.

So engrossed is he in his math problems that he doesn't notice me watching him from the living room. He sits on his heel, scratches out answers with his pencil and interrupts the fitful silence with a high-pitched rendition of Lady Gaga's "Telephone." He knows every word.

Hello hello baby you called? I can't hear a thing

I have got no service in the club you see see.

Wha-wha-what did you say? You're breakin' up on me

Sorry I cannot hear you, I'm kinda busy.

K-kinda busy

K-kinda busy

* * * * *

I love this time of year. Houses love it too, I think. In contrast to summer which is all about communing with nature, autumn brings with it a reawakened sense of domesticity. Homes become hives of activity, don't you find? These days, I find myself in the kitchen more often, poring over recipes, tidying shelves, polishing silver and filling the pantry with tasty ingredients so that when the baking mood strikes, I'll have everything at hand.

This past Friday was my turn to host a bi-monthly dinner with four trusted friends that we call "Girls' Night In." It's a much-revered outlet for us; we check in with each other, discuss what's new and usually end up talking late into the night about issues near and dear to us all. All conversation is sub rosa; nothing leaves the table. It's group therapy with people I love; I couldn't live without it.

I had already decided on making butternut squash soup as an appetizer and wasn't going to let the heat deter me from making it. (Besides, it always cools down at night here.)

Originally taken from one of my favorite cookbooks "Great Food Fast", I've modified the recipe slightly (it stipulates 4 cups of water, but I use chicken stock; also, I omit the 1/4 cup of fresh orange juice) to give it a more satisfying depth of flavor. I serve it with a dollop of créme fraiche and a sprinkling of roasted pumpkin seeds.

Timesaver Tip: You do NOT have to peel the squash (quite a tricky task and one which makes some people avoid butternut squash entirely). Just wash the skin well and chop into pieces (see below). It completely dissolves into nothing when you purée it. Thanks to my husband for discovering this.

Pureed Butternut Squash Soup (adapted from Great Food Fast)

Serves 4; Prep Time: 25 minutes; Total time: 45 minutes

2 tablespoons butter

1 small onion, chopped

1 piece (2 inches) peeled fresh ginger, chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

2 3/4 pounds butternut squash, seeds removed, and flesh cut into 3/4-inch cubes

Coarse salt and pepper

Creme fraiche (optional)

Spicy Pumpkin Seeds (optional; recipe below)

1. Melt the butter in a large sauce pan over medium heat. Cook the onion until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add the ginger, garlic, and squash; cook, stirring occasionally, until fragrant, 6 to 8 minutes. Stir in 4 cups chicken stock. Bring to a boil; reduce the heat. Simmer until the squash is tender, about 20 minutes.

2. Puree the soup in batches. Stir in 1 1/2 teaspoons salt. Serve hot, with creme fraiche, pepper and pumpkin seeds, if desired.

Spicy Pumpkin Seeds

1 cup raw green pumpkin seeds

1 teaspoon chili powder

1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1/2 teaspoon coarse salt

2 teaspoons fresh lime juice

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, combine all the ingredients and toss to coat. Spread on a rimmed baking sheet; bake until puffed and browned, about 10 minutes.

I'm telling you, it is beyond delicious.

We sat around the table until almost 1am and then I cleaned up everything in a herculean burst of energy so I wouldn't have to face a pile of dirty dishes in the morning. Needless to say, Saturday was spent in a more slothful fashion. I draped myself upon every chair or sofa within striking distance and spent the day with a thick book and a cup of tea within reach at all times. Dusk couldn't arrive too soon for me. I was asleep by 8pm.

* * * * *

On Sunday, I finished "Wolf Hall", Hilary Mantel's spellbinding (and Booker Prize-winning) masterpiece about Thomas Cromwell and it was a bittersweet moment when I finally relinquished my grip on it. It's a compulsive read -- which may account for the lack of a post last week; blame Ms. Mantel, not me -- and my brain is now craving another hit of Tudor England and its brutal splendor. (Fortunately, there's a sequel in the works.)

"Wolf Hall" is the perfect novel to read as the days contract and the nights grow colder, packed as it is with images of frigid castles, late night feasts, sweating sickness, fog, terror and of course the ever-lurking evil of life under Henry VIII.

Each copy should come with a stipulation:

For an optimum experience, read this book at dusk when darkness begins to tarnish the horizon and a five o'clock shadow slowly seeps across your floors. Should you choose to read under different conditions (i.e. while suntanning and sipping a fruity cocktail), results may vary.

Henry James Takes On House Beautiful

It's a time-worn cliché: "The more things change, the more things stay the same."

But could you ever envision that novelist Henry James' description of a 19th century English house would be so perfectly realized in a 2010 Manhattan apartment featured in House Beautiful?

Read the following extracts from "A London Life", written in 1887, and see for yourself how uncannily designer Daniel Sach's project for a New York townhouse matches the details of James' novella:

"Lady Davenant was in the drawing-room, in a low chair by one of the windows, reading the second volume of a novel." [I mean, come on. The book is even there!]

(House Beautiful, October 2010.

Interiors by Daniel Sachs. Photos by Ngog Minh Ngo.)

"The room had its bright, durable, sociable air, the air that Laura Wing liked in so many English things - its chintzes...its well-worn carpets, its domestic art - that of being meant for daily life, for long periods, for uses of high decency." [Do we need any more proof that the aesthetic sensibility of a comfortable room transcends time? Umm, no. Case closed.]

(Living room)

"The afternoon had faded but the lamps had been brought in, the smell of flowers was in the air and the old house of Plash seemed to recognize the hour that suited it best." [These dark-painted walls perfectly illustrate the seductive allure of a room at dusk.]

(Foyer)

"There were quaint old maps on the wall...

(Children's bedroom)

...and 'collections' -- birds and shells....The place was a setting for rosy childhood." [Even today, exotic, far-off places and stockpiles of "stuff" remain the classic recipe for a kid's bedroom.]

(Children's bedroom)

"That was the story told by ever so many other things in the house which betrayed the full perception of a comfortable, liberal, deeply domestic effect." [The personal touches, below, so indicative of the soul of the owner, add the necessary layers of meaning and warmth which make a house a home.]

* * * * *

So here's the question:

If you had to pick a book whose interiors best fit your own home, what would it be? Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead" with its stripped-down midcentury sensuality? Or perhaps the eccentric, cheerful chaos of Dodie Smith's "I Capture The Castle"? Or the simple, spiritual comforts of Thoreau's "On Walden Pond"?

Talk to me.

The Escape Hatch

It wouldn't have to be grand, my little sanctuary.

It could be a wee shed tucked behind the house at the bottom of the garden, like Roald Dahl's was.

(Roald Dahl's writing shed, via the Guardian)

Yes, I know it's barely wider than a sofa, but its diminutive nature appeals to me because there would be no room for distractions. Give me a worn armchair with plumped cushions, a stack of books, a wooden lap board for my computer and an old wireless tuned to Radio 4 and leave me be. I could travel to the other side of the world during the day and still make the 3pm school run.

What I Would Read:

Trains and Buttered Toast, John Betjeman

"The Sound Machine" , Roald Dahl

My Family and Other Animals, Gerald Durrell

What I Would Drink:

PG Tips Classic Blend

What I Would Listen To:

BBC Radio Theme, "Housewives' Choice", Jack Strachey

* * *

And look at this little round house. It's straight out of J.R.R. Tolkien, don't you think?

(via the Guardian)

In my fantasy, I have taken it on a six month sublet from Bilbo Baggins while he's off on his journey to return the Ring. In the novel, the house has "paneled walls, tiled and carpeted floors, polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats" -- and I'm sure this one does, too. I can see myself here dividing my time between reading, writing and lots of productive puttering (tea-making, scone-baking and gardening, for instance).

What I Would Read:

I Capture the Castle, Dodie Smith

One Pair of Hands, Monica Dickens

The Bucolic Plague, Josh Kilmer-Purcell

What I Would Drink:

Homemade elderflower cordial

What I Would Listen To:

"The Old Walking Song", Charles McCreery

* * *

Last year, I wrote about my deep love for gypsy caravans...and the passing of time has not cooled my ardor.

(via tumblr)

The caravan above isn't on wheels but mine would be because the idea that I could pack up at any moment and head off on some romantic, restless, come-what-may adventure totally appeals to me in theory. I would toss big kilim pillows on the floor and hang billowing curtains in the doorway. Letting my hair grow and donning peasant blouses and long ethnic skirts goes without saying. I would be Talitha Getty on the outside and Bruce Chatwin on the inside.

What I Would Read:

Justine (The Alexandria Quartet), Lawrence Durrell

Beware of Pity, Stefan Zweig

City of Djinns, William Dalrymple

What I Would Drink:

Créme Yvette liqueur

What I Would Listen To:

"Once Upon A Time In America" by Ennio Morricone

Editor's Update: A prior commitment prevented me from making the Nathan Turner lecture on Sunday. Did you go?

Nathan Turner's Secrets

(All photos via Nathan Turner's website)

It's no secret that Nathan Turner is one of my favorite Los Angeles designers. His elegant, relaxed interiors are always the perfect mix of bohemian elegance and laidback glamour, rich with color and texture and antiques that beg for the story behind them.

It's an art, this seemingly effortless ability to put a room together (as all of us know who have attempted the task). Like many of you, I always find myself poring over the various ingredients of rooms I like in magazines, trying to figure out how I can recreate the same feeling for my own home.

A great room is more than stylish, it's generous: it welcomes you, urges you to get comfortable and sprinkles a little of its stardust on you. It makes everyone wittier and prettier. It doesn't intimidate or overwhelm. It sets the stage so that its inhabitants can shine.

Imagine my delight then when his office emailed me the other day to tell me that Nathan will be giving a special decorating class this Sunday, September 12th at 10am at the Pottery Barn in South Coast Plaza. (Call 714-966-2482 for full details.) It's called "Living Room Makeover: Designer Tips and Tricks" and people, it's free. He's also going to answer questions so bring your design quandaries.

I've been lucky enough to meet Nathan a few times and he is just as lovely and charming as you think he would be. I say we all meet there and learn how to create the room of our dreams, don't you?

Remains of the Day

Have you ever noticed that if you enter your dining room after a party has just ended, the mood is still there? For a few enchanted moments, the room quivers with displaced energy. The seats are still warm, the wine stains on the tablecloth are still fresh and the chairs still lean into one another in a visual echo of recent conversations.

(After the meal, Scotland, August 2010)

As you clear the plates, brush away the crumbs and smooth out the creases on the linen, ghostly traces of laughter and conversation linger in the air. Let them seep into your soul as the last delicious aftertaste of a day well lived and gone too soon.

Don't you think sharing a meal with friends is one of life's great pleasures? And don't you think "now" becomes "then" way too quickly these days?

Flaxen Charms

A wooden table, a stack of plates and some rustic table linens are all it takes these days to send my brain whirling into a reverie of delight. They conjure up visions of al fresco dinner parties in the French countryside, and this autumn I am determined to recreate a little of that unostentatious glamour stateside.

I have long been a fan of Libeco Home and these "Amherst" table linens are a favorite. The sight of those classic red stripes against the undyed flax makes me want to whip up a loaf of crusty artisanal bread immediatement.

Iron them lovingly, or even better, line-dry them for a sexy no-fuss glamour that's more in line with the simple charms of a meal like roasted chicken and strawberry Pavlova.

(Amherst linen napkins by Libeco Home, $14.76 each)

Rocking the same theme at a slightly lower price point, I found these lovely little cotton napkins the other day, each embroidered with a French pastoral theme. At only $18.95 for a set of six, I may need a stack of them.

(Berger napkins, via American Country Wicker. Now sold out.)

Finally, there's this lovely Axel Vervoordt-inspired table runner from Mothology. Its classic lines and warm hues make any dwelling resonate with the spirit of a country house in Belgium.

(Red striped table runner, Mothology, $42)

My Highland Fling

We arrive at Gargunnock House on August 6th. The car crunches along the gravel driveway and when the elegant façade finally comes into view between a clump of trees, even the kids go silent. There's an intense drama about the place that pulls you in -- think "Gosford Park" meets "Wuthering Heights." I've been coming here since 1996 and it still gets me every time.

(Gargunnock House, Scotland. Available for rent here.)

The housekeeper has hidden the front door key for us and we go into the massive entry hall, our steps echoing across the worn flagstone floors.

The children dash up the staircase and promptly vanish into the labyrinthine recesses of the house. We aren't alarmed. Periodic peals of laughter float down from another floor letting us know they're more than okay.

I go straight to the dining room and fling open the windows overlooking the kitchen garden. The air smells like woodsmoke, wet stone, freshly turned earth and flowering buds, and I'm in heaven.

The dining room is empty and still. The superstitious side of me swears that the long-dead faces on the wall are glancing around expectantly for stirrings of life.

Could they have peeked into their immediate future, they would have seen this:

In the living room, the rose-colored George Smith sofas and gold velvet curtains lend a theatrical air to the room. The stage is set and awaits its players.

Within hours, we are cozily ensconced in front of a crackling fire surrounded by books, puzzles, games and other 19th century pursuits.

The chef de cuisine (i.e. my husband) is in the midst of a culinary orchestra of chopping, cutting, slicing and dicing.

Piero's dinner is simple, honest and kid-friendly, with fresh, rustic ingredients that hit the spot. In the words of my idol, Nigel Slater, "Right food, right place, right time."

That evening, I wander into a sitting room to pay a private visit to the late Miss Viola Stirling, the last owner of Gargunnock House. Over the fireplace, there is a painting of her as a young girl being taught the finer points of gamekeeping by her father. I am so grateful to be back in her home.

Our days soon settle into a comfortable routine. We make no attempt to head off our jet lag; instead, unhurried breakfasts at 11am eventually evolve into leisurely mid-afternoon hikes. There is only one rule: Wellies are mandatory.

Gargunnock House is nestled amid acres of Arcadian pasture and, thanks to the UK's public rights of way rules for ramblers, nearly all paths less traveled are open to exploration.

In this enchanted land, streams are meant to be forged...

...and fences are meant to be scaled.

Have you ever seen such contented sheep in your life?

Here we are, minus the men (who are training their lenses on us). The goal for this hike is the top of that hill in the distance.

Our backpacks are stocked with sandwiches, cheese, apples and Hob Nobs. We are a ragtag team of deliriously happy adventurers.

My friend Hillary picks the perfect spot for a picnic.

The children ask if they can climb to a nearby waterfall. "Go! Run! Explore!" I tell them. The words have a novel taste to them and I realize that the phrase doesn't come trippingly off my lips back in Los Angeles.

When at long last we reach the peak, a blue-and-white surprise awaits.

And then another: a picture postcard view of our very own manor, its mellow stone walls magically spotlit by the sun.

Back at the house, we devour freshly-baked scones with butter, clotted cream and three varieties of Fortnum and Mason jam that I've brought up from London.

It's a different world here. In Hollywood, we're plain ol' Piero and Lisa and Luca. But here we're the McGiramontis: the Laird, his bonnie wife and their wee bairn.

On our next-to-last day, we succumb to the allure of the nearby William Wallace Monument.

Standing beneath it in the shadows, the forbidding toothy peaks look eerily similar to Tolkien's tower in Mordor.

We climb 246 very narrow stone steps. Encountering someone coming down when you're going up requires a firm grasp of navigational geometry. "Hmmm...if I put this part here, can you possibly fit that part there?"

At the top, we are greeted by a view so stunning it nearly knocks us flat.

I mean that literally. The wind is gusting so fiercely that it's nigh impossible to stand up straight. Luca and his friends seek shelter with Piero.

Our week-long stay at the house comes and goes in a flash, the way it always does when your greatest wish is that time would stop and you could exist in this space, in this time, with these people, forevermore.

Before we know it, it's time to take our boots off. Unfortunately, bursting suitcases mean that most of us end up having to leave them for future guests.

(I said most of us. Do you honestly think I could leave mine after they'd been embedded with the romance of the moss and the moors and the heather? I wrapped those babies in a plastic sack and wrestled my suitcase until it finally gave in.)

Back in Los Angeles, someone asks me what it is exactly about Scotland that I love so much. "It's the hairier version of England," I reply. My friend laughs. But it's true, and I say that with a love for England that defies boundaries.

Compared to the glorious clipped gardens of England, Scotland is unkempt and shaggy and bristly. It has more unpredictable weather, more untamed moors, more rugged hills, more unbridled romance, more sheep, more peat, more moss...well, you get the picture.

I found two very moving odes to Scotland by poet Jeannette Simpson. I extract liberally from them below.

I have seen your highlands and your glens

and felt a recognition I did not expect.

I long to be back on your soil to stay

even though I have people and things here who need me.

No, you are not the land of my birth,

But you are the land of who I am.