I had a personal triumph on Friday and just had to share. Yes, that’s right… I successfully navigated, in fact NEEDED, to transition from day to night! Now, I know what you are thinking: is that really a thing? I hear you! I didn’t think so either. Margaret Lyons and I have clearly been on the same page thus far. But Friday night I had a concert performance, and of course I had work during the day. Behold! A day-to-night opportunity was born.
For my orchestra concerts I need to wear all black, but at the office I prefer not to look like I am going to a funeral. Also I prefer not to wear evening wear to the office (for obvious reasons). My outfit for the evening consisted of a silky black top with a dramatic tie-waist, slim cigarette pants, a trim black blazer, and black heels. To day-ify it, I swapped the blazer for a medium wash denim jacket, and wore leopard loafers instead of the heels. My same pair of filigree earrings went from slightly bohemian to elegant with just a jacket change.
Yes, Virginia Margaret, there is a Santa Claus need for day-to-night outfits. I am living proof — AND I lived to tell the tale.
If you’d like a little chuckle on this sunny Wednesday, allow me to take you on a hilarious harrowing journey involving suspense, confusion, ceramics, and ultimately, defeat.
A couple months ago, Anthropologie released their spring catalog of home goods. It was a visual delight after all the red/evergreen/gold of the holidays — pinks and whites and fresh greenery abounding in sun-drenched abodes. My eye landed on a particular pink ceramic footed bowl, and I instantly coveted it. Once it arrived in stores, I’d make it mine. Of course, thanks to the magic of advertising, I had thoroughly bought into the whole scene: sweet clementines in the bowl promising citrus-y sunny afternoons, books galore to savor — I wanted the whole package.
My feelings as I walked through the British Museum encapsulated in the most hilarious way. No, we didn’t steal this! “Chain of continuous possession being impossible to establish, the ownership of the object has reverted firmly and decisively to the museum.”
On the list of things I never thought I would be excited about, coasters were near the top of the list. Actually, they were never really even on the list, they were so incredibly far off of my radar. Coasters. Those unattractive things that people sort of politely and awkwardly feel the need to use if they are a guest in someone else’s home, and only if they catch a glimpse of them before setting down a glass, but otherwise never think about. And yet, here I am. Excited. About coasters.
–cue the collective gasps–
It all began with our new refrigerator. For the first time ever we had a fridge with a water and ice dispenser in the door, and a water line that was actually hooked up. (I know I am incredibly late to the game on this.) We had an easy and unlimited supply of ice for every beverage need. It was magical! Convenient! And soon, an annoyance I never could have seen coming. Dun dun dunnn…
In general I don’t add ice to my drinks at home — the chill from the fridge is more than enough for me. My dear sweet husband, however, was over the moon with our newly available ice supply, and filled his water glass with ice repeatedly and with great satisfaction. Enter… the puddles. All of a sudden, there were puddles of water on almost every horizontal surface in our house. I could not put down anything without a very high likelihood of it getting wet. Mail. An Amazon return label. My purse when I got home. A receipt. You name it. I had purchased some pretty marble coasters years ago out of an obligation to have something for when a guest looked around guiltily holding a glass aloft, but on the rare occasion they were used, puddles formed on them, too! And then eventually they dripped to create new puddles on the surface below.
Enter… the sale email from Bloomingdale’s. They had a clearance sale going on, and I spied some cute pink and grey mosaic tile-looking things that turned out to be Thirstystone coasters. They were adorable! They were only $9 for a set! They absorb the condensation instead of creating puddles! I am now the overly-excited-but-also-very-satisfied owner of a new set of coasters. They are solving a problem I never knew I would have, and they are doing so very prettily. And so, coasters of all things? They have now moved solidly onto to list of things I take a weird satisfaction from. If you, too, have an odd desire for excellently functional coasters, you can find them here. And while you order those, I will be setting my mail down without fear.