Life's A Peach, Isn't It?*

*I know squinting is not an attractive trait, but I truly believe that looking at the world with an uncritical and slightly blurry gaze can infinitely expand your sense of contentment. Rose or peach-colored glasses will provide the same effect.

I love this 1908 advertising poster for the London Underground which I found in the wonderful book, "Everything You Can Do In The Garden Without Actually Gardening" by Philippa Lewis.

(click to enlarge)

The charming little house with its casement windows, the mother and child ensconced on the tidy back lawn, the husband in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat watering the sunflowers, and the sleek city train in the distance -- it's a perfect evocation of English suburban life at the turn of the last century.

And, how much, really, has changed? One hundred years later in Los Angeles, I have a not-dissimilar little plot of land that I also consider my refuge from city life, my haven for careless days of peace. I am looking for lawn chairs just like the one pictured. I love the idea of gardening in a proper outfit. As ridiculous as it may sound, I wholly believe that just a stone's throw from the tumult of Hollywood and Vine, I am living a miniature version of country life.

Whether anyone else agrees with me has no bearing on my rose-colored vision.

You may look at my garden and see tiny; I see endearing.

You may see too much shade; I see a refuge from the Klieg lights of the city.

You may see emptiness; I see potential.

You may see leaves in need of a rake; I see a layer of texture and color.

You may see a lack of design; I see grass waiting for bare feet, cartwheels and spilled lemonade.

(Snacktime in the Secret Grove of Holly Wood)

And Now, The Conclusion to "Give Me Liberty":

I went, I saw, I bought.

At the Target I visited, the homeware, garden and outdoor items had not yet arrived, but clothing was plentiful and I found a few lovely things. The mens flowered Tana Lawn shirts surpassed my expectations -- they are well-constructed, finely woven, perfect for summer and at $24.99, a fraction of the regular £125 cost. I purchased two for Piero (he took one with him to London yesterday, so here's the other)...

...and bought one for myself as well, along with a few pairs of $5.99 boxer shorts (perfect for underneath a dressing gown). I just couldn't resist all those colorful prints.

(Post-laundry, pre-ironing)

I didn't buy any of the womens clothing, but my friends did and were in ecstasies over their retro sleepwear. I am resigned to the fact that Target will apparently be rolling out items over the next week or so, which means a return trip (or two).

Monday Miscellany

We have a great deal to cover this morning. I've got a steaming mug of Yorkshire Gold tea on the desk next to me, so within moments, my brain cells will be fully operational. Let's begin, shall we?

Books...

First of all, I want to thank everyone who commented on the last post. I so, so enjoyed all the subdiscussions that went on and, like many of you, have added a slew of books to my Amazon wish list. I felt it was important this time to reply individually to each commenter; as of now, I think I'm almost caught up.

Blogs...

They really are the 21st century salon, aren't they? They are a virtual gathering place of like-minded souls who convene to be inspired, amused and enriched. All of you have your own personal list of the ones you frequent and, if you're like me, checking in on them is a de rigueur part of your day. I love that the internet has democratized such an elite tradition; centuries ago, they would have been strictly invitation only.

(Jean Francois de Troy, Reading from Moliere, 1728)

Ottoline Morrell, a woman I so admire, was well-known for her fabulous salon parties at Garsington.

(Portrait of Garsington House, 1920's, by Ottoline Morell)

Artists and aristocrats flocked there on weekends to partake of her generous hospitality while Ottoline floated around in a diaphanous dress snapping photos of everyone with her Brownie camera.

(Picnic at Garsington, 1920's, photographed by Ottoline Morrell)

And of course you know about Gertrude Stein's weekly get-togethers at her home at 27 rue de Fleurus.

(Photographed by Man Ray, 1923)

When you click on "A Bloomsbury Life", it's like you're stepping into my salon at The Kenmore Arms.

(Photo by Scott Ogden)

So I'll tell you what I tell all my friends: There's a pot of tea in the kitchen and cocktails and treats in the dining room...

...so help yourself to what you like and then come join us in the living room. Whoops, just move Luca's guitar out of the way.

People pop in and then pop out again, so don't worry if you have only have a moment, it's very informal here. Scooch over next to that dapper young man from Oxford, Stuck-In-A-Book. His list of 50 Books You Must Read will have you scrambling for a pencil. Or ask The Style Saloniste about her recent trip to India. Or eavesdrop on what Tartan Scot or Domicidal Maniac and Architect Design are working on now. Oh, and have you seen Ivan Terestchenko's photography? I feel as if I have grown to know so many of you over the past year-and-a-half and I want to make sure everyone's respective fabulousness keeps rippling outward.

Rectification...

Last week I posted about Liberty's upcoming collection for Target and I admitted to being less than thrilled about the wares I had seen in their television commercial. Well, I'm here to tell you I was wrong. Let me say it again: I was wrong. Why? Well, because thanks to a little website called Refinery 29, I spotted some other items that will be in stores on March 14th. And people, they are everything I was hoping for.

Just look at these lovely shirts. They're for men, but I don't care. I'm getting one.

And what about these sweet little clutches?

My husband will be receiving a few of these and if he doesn't wear them, I will.

I will buy these (for Piero, ostensibly) and figure out my own uses for them later: to wear as an improvised belt with a pair of faded cotton khakis, tied around a handbag, as a bookstrap, etc.

No words necessary.

FYI, I am fully expecting each of you to report back on what you purchased.

Give me Liberty?

Hmmm. When Target announced they were joining forces with my favorite London store to create a special limited collection, I almost fainted with excitement and made immediate plans to arrive at the West Hollywood store at 7:59am on March 14th.

Then last night during the Olympics I saw the television commercial and felt a bit underwhelmed. It's rife with colorful floral watering cans and comforters and plates and bowls and cups and mugs, but...I don't know.

(via Apartment Therapy)

Am I terrible to think such heretical thoughts?

If you go on Target's website, they give you a little preview of some of the new Liberty of London prints coming out. This bubblegum-pink one must be targeted to a younger consumer because it does nothing for me.

I'll grant you that it's whimsical, but it just doesn't have the same elegance of their Regent Store fabric line. (I know, you're thinking, "Hello, it's Target!" But I'm on the other side thinking, "Hello, it's Liberty!")

I was feeling rather glum when my eyes landed on this next fabric which, while leaving me 97% unmoved, struck a nagging chord of familiarity in me. Where had I seen it before?

I started racking my brains in an effort to recall eccentric women who would have worn Liberty prints, and the goddesses were with me because before too long I found this image of photographer and gardening expert Valerie Finnis. What a shot. I don't know where to look first: at her massive plumed hat, her lordly pug or the potting shed that's clearly escaped from the set of "Grey Gardens."

(Valerie Finnis, 1908-2006; photo by Jan Baldwin,

World of Interiors, April 2009)

But note her shirt. Aside from the colorway, surely it's a variation on the Target design?

Brief aside:

According to lore, Valerie met her husband when one day she heard a voice outside her gardening shed remark, "Goodness, she's got Gillenia trifoliata!" She rushed out and exclaimed, "You're the first person who's ever known that plant!" And presto, two lives became one. Adorable, no?

Anyway, regarding Liberty, maybe things were looking up slightly. On a hunch, I pulled out a book I purchased last year called "Garden People: The Photographs of Valerie Finnis." Perhaps I might find someone else wearing an unmistakable floral?

Jackpot.

It was like leafing through a Liberty catalog from the 1940's and '50's. The caption for this photo must be: "Whoever is not wearing an iconic print, please see me after the lecture."

(Photo by Valerie Finnis from Garden People)

This next photo of Dame Miriam Rothschild at her estate in Northamptonshire is interesting not only for the tips we can glean from her on serving tea to the privileged classes (glass domes, heirloom silver, field of daisies), but because her shirtdress...

(Miriam Rothschild, 1908-2005;

Photo by Valerie Finnis from Garden People)

...isn't too far removed from this Target print.

And now let me introduce you to Margery Fish, a name made infinitely more wonderful by the fact that she also answered to "Lady Montagu Douglas Scott" -- have there ever been two more disparate names belonging to the same person? Margery has clearly opted to wear a sensible offering from Liberty while gathering cuttings in her rattan trug basket.

(Margery Fish, 1892-1969;

Photo by Valerie Finnis from Garden People)

Once again, this print from Target mimics the spirit of hers, don't you think?

I guess I'll reserve final judgment until I see the wares in person. As much as I applaud the fresh, innovative thinking and design-for-the-masses ideology that Target embraces, I'm not convinced that this is a perfect fit.

Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong.

Update 2/20/10: This photo, which I just found on the LA Times website, has me much more excited than I was yesterday. The shirts are lovely, lovely, as is the bicycle.

The London/Marrakech Express, Part Two

December 21st

The plan was to meet up with Belinda and make a pilgrimage to the famed Highgate Cemetery. The weather in town was cold but not overly worrying so our dress code was "Warm Stylish." Belinda wore a Dries Van Noten cape and Ann Demeulemeester boots. (The boots would prove challenging.)

When we arrived in Highgate, the weather was completely different. There was snow everywhere; apparently, what melts in town sticks in the village. Pavement walking was tricky at best, but once inside the cemetery, it was a virtual slipfest.

Thank goodness my boots had a faint tread on them; Belinda's had none. We clutched each other like two little old ladies. All I could think was, "Great, she's going to break an ankle and be forced to drop out of the show."

When we weren't falling on our bums, we noticed that the combination of snow with overgrown greenery looked like something out of a Peter Jackson movie.

A rare shot of Belinda standing.

Thanks to our trusty map, we were able to locate two special gravestones that I wanted to see. Finding George Eliot's was quite exciting.

I read Middlemarch about ten years ago and, like a character out of "Fahrenheit 451", I still carry around the last sentence of the book in my head:

"(T)he growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."

That George, she gets it so right. In this age of all-consuming celebrity and me-ism, we owe so much to the vast invisible majority who quietly do the right thing, live the invisible life, and never seek recognition, acclaim, or a YouTube video.

Finally, there was the gravestone that, for me, represented the birth of Bloomsbury: the marker for Leslie and Julia Stephens, parents of Vanessa Bell and Virginia Woolf.

Next, we hopped a cab to much-less-snowy Hampstead and paid a visit to my favorite second-hand bookstore, Keith Fawkes (on Flask Walk, just around the corner from the tube station). Nearly all of my vintage orange Penguins were purchased here.

I'm happy to report there's still quite a selection (and still quite inexpensive).

I've been coming here since the mid-nineties so I was thrilled to still see Jerry, the kindly manager, behind the counter. He shyly told me the press had recently described him as being "alarmingly knowledgeable." I told him that's because he is.

From there, it was a quick jaunt to Well Walk, one of the most charming streets in Hampstead.

A few more twists and turns and there was Belinda's old house, the one she was living in when I met her in 1996.

The gate was slightly ajar, so we poked our heads in. Gorgeous as ever. I used to sleep in that tippy-top tower when I spent the night.

After dropping her off at the theater, I whizzed over to Liberty. It never disappoints.

I always like to see what's new and exciting in the chair department. They seem to have cornered the market on tradition with a twist.

I love the raw selvedge on this otherwise tailored chair. It gives it a slight punk edge which I find especially pleasing.

And look at these Gallic armchairs upholstered in Liberty's famous peacock print. So gamine, so dainty, so "French Women Don't Get Fat."

After picking up a few presents, it was off to Wandsworth to have dinner with Tony and Helen, two of Piero's old colleagues from his days at EMI Records. The house was uber-chic, not surprising considering Helen is an interior designer. I especially liked the Victorian floor tiles (which were a lovely foreshadowing of what I would soon see in Morocco).

Helen is a divine cook and we feasted on a soul-nourishing winter stew that would have Nigel Slater begging for the recipe, followed by a scrumptious Eton Mess.

It's impossible not to be witty in this room. It seeps into you by proxy.

A bit of whimsy is always to be appreciated.

December 23rd

Today was Luca's turn to be expedition leader, so after a quick breakfast in the hotel...

...which really didn't have to be so quick, because I could have stayed there all day, sipping creamy capuccinos...

...we followed Luca's directive and examined Big Ben from below...

...and then above, via the London Eye.

It was our maiden voyage and it was really quite breathtaking.

To make the ride even more fun, some adorable Japanese boys asked if they could pose with Luca because, in their words, "he have good style." For a mother who often despairs at the outfits her son chooses in the morning ("Must your t-shirt reach your knees?"), I found myself silently hoping this might be a sartorial watershed for him.

After retracing our steps through Trafalgar Square, Luca headed toward Waterstone's. A little voice inside me said, "Yes." I make my fair share of parenting mistakes, but one thing I do take pride in is his love for bookstores.

Yes.

I picked out this book for him, written by comedian David Walliams and illustrated by Quentin Blake. It was a no-brainer. "Yes!"

Luca, however, was having none of it. The voices in my head went something like this:

Bad Mother:

What do you mean you don't want "Mr. Stink"? David Walliams is soo cool. He's on this show "Little Britain" that Daddy and I love. And Quentin Blake did the illustrations. This is a very hip book.

Good Mother:

If you want him to love reading as much as you do, you need to let him choose his own books.

Luca:

Mom, can I get it?

Me:

Yes.

From there, it was a short walk to another favorite haunt, The Covent Garden Hotel, to fulfill Luca's request for hot chocolate (and pay a visit to my future dining room chairs).

I love this hotel so much. It's an irreverent mix of traditional and sexy, with dark glossy woodwork and a brilliant mix of fabrics and one-off pieces.

I have always assumed these porte-cochere curtains were printed, but I touched them this time and realized they are completely needlepointed. Fabulous.

The sun was just setting (at 4:15 pm) and the dining room was making that delicious transition from day to night, transforming itself from a shady lookout onto the world into a glowing, cozy refuge.

There were my chairs, looking as covetable as ever. They're the perfect size for a not overly-large dining room (like mine) and offer enough cozy support for all shapes and sizes.

After that, it was a brief stop at the Seven Dials (infamous haunt of Jack the Ripper)...

...a peek into The Lamb and Flag, the ancient tavern that's wet the lips of everyone from Charles Dickens to "the wits and gallants of the Restoration"....

...and a quick Guy Ritchie-inspired photo session.

And so to bed.