Princess R

Lee Radziwill has long been a subject of fascination for many. She has always been terribly discreet and not spoken publicly about the family. Recently she has spoken to Sofia Coppola for a charming filmed interview that introduces a new generation to her husky, alluring voice and disarming candor. My aunt and Lee were friendly at Farmington.

                                                                 Andy Warhol's homage

The printed interview in The New York Times Magazine is even more revealing.

                                   

She remains a standard of the elegance of simplicity, and yet incredibly modern.

ABL

Old school 2013 diary

I have not joined the 21st century. When it comes to keeping track of appointments and my calendar, I cannot use Outlook. I must confess that the lowly pocket diary appeals more to my sensibilities.

I have tried them all. But I have come to prefer the Louis Vuitton small agenda, as it is sized just right. It fits perfectly into most of my bags, and is ideal for my small desk.

                                                       I love the bookmark, and the French 

These are actually stickers

                                        These stickers are great for indicating the type of engagement


The diary is filled with all sorts of other goodies, including beautiful maps, detailed guides to the various arrondissements, rulers and more.

I have had mine for about four years and love it. Each year the refills get better and better.

For the diary:

http://www.louisvuitton.com/front/#/eng_US/Collections/Men/Small-Leather-Goods/products/Small-Ring-Agenda-Cover-MONOGRAM-R20005

For the refill:

http://www.louisvuitton.com/front/#/eng_US/Collections/Women/Books--stationery/products/Refill-SANS-LIGNE-ESTHETIQUE-R04233

LoVing it,
ABL

Platinum principles

To me, platinum is the gold standard of precious metals. As the price of metals surges and dips on the market, I remain immune to the trends in my old-school preference.

Antonio de Ulloa, platinum pioneer

To be clear, I adore all the metals. Gold and silver are both unique in their properties and appearance. Even the flash of rose gold currently all the rage...including Tiffany's new rubedo...has its appeal.

                                                         The "new metal" rubedo from Tiffany & Co.


But platinum--especially when we're talking about engagement and wedding rings--has a certain eclat and age-old appeal that resonates for all time.

I also am convinced that certain stones look better in a platinum setting. Diamonds and sapphires being "cool" stones, seem to be more at home surrounded by icy tones. Diamonds in particular sit better without the residual shadow effects and reflective yellowing that a gold setting sometimes achieves.

(This is of course, my opinion. I have many friends with gorgeous rings set in gold.)

Platinum's origins intrigue me. Its name is derived from the Spanish term platina, or "little silver." It is a dense, malleable, ductile, precious, gray-white transition metal and is one of the rarest elements in the Earth's crust. Known as a "noble metal," it was used by pre-Columbian Americans near modern-day Esmeraldas, Ecuador to produce artifacts of a white gold-platinum alloy. The first European reference to platinum appears in 1557 in the writings of the Italian humanist Julius Caesar Scaliger as a description of an unknown noble metal found between Darién and Mexico, "which no fire nor any Spanish artifice has yet been able to liquefy." In 1741, Charles Wood and Antonio de Ulloa were both credited with the discovery of platinum.

I was raised with the concept that platinum was the only proper metal for engagement and wedding rings. This was clearly a prejudice. I grew up looking at my grandmother's rings from 1920 and beyond, and my mother's and aunt's 1950's ones. All were that somewhat dull, dense silvery color. My mother went so far as to compare its neutral shade to that of the proper blonde color for hair. A pale, silvery blonde was preferable to a brassy, yellow blonde. Again, out of my mother's mouth.

                                                              Clearly partial to platinum

In addition, my intrepid mum shared distinct instructions that I would likely have to "bring along" any prospective suitor on the preferred setting for any diamond in my future.

Ironically, the world seemed to catch on a but in the last few years. Platinum has begun to be recognized...imbued with a special allure of exclusivity and timelessness.

Today I chuckle a bit about the "platinum or bust" principle. It seems antediluvian, tied to such cliches as the lockjaw and the hope chest. But it was a charming conviction that was reflective of its time and place in my family.

Platinum forever,
ABL

Pink memories

My mother died in November. She was 90. I and others expected she would keep on going. For the longest time she was extraordinary.

                                      Mummy at her 60th Skidmore College Reunion, 2004.

In her family, stuff was important. New England antiques, family portraits, sterling flatware. I grew up listening to the tutorials, learning the provenances, absorbing the differences between Sheraton and Hepplewhite, Chippendale and Queen Anne. I was a dutiful student, never straying into mid-Century or French Country as I ventured into living on my own.

I just staggered up from our basement, carrying a large packing box, one of dozens from the place where we rented the U-Haul we used to clear out first her condo, then the assisted living facility where she lasted only two weeks. My fifteen year-old daughter had packed the box, as she had so many others filled with ephemera and heirlooms, detritus and divines. She had stood tirelessly in the kitchen in my mother’s last real home, surrounded by her things before they were scattered to a different setting, intact but never again together in the same conformation. It took hours to wrap teacups, saucers, salad plates, butter plates, soup bowls, dinner plates and serving pieces. Impatient in daily matters, my daughter took time and worked silently.

Standing now in our kitchen, I pried open the stubborn crab-trapped cardboard flaps and began the unloading and storing.

Seventeen Sunday supplement-wrapped dinner plates. Where was the eighteenth? Crashed against the rocks of a cocktail-y dinner party, the hapless victim of slippery, soapy hands afterward? The familiar pink-and-white of my memory: English Chippendale Johnson Brothers transferware. Not my mother’s best china, but her favorite. “DESIGN PATENT 103232. ALL DECORATION UNDER THE GLAZE DETERGENT & ACID RESISTING COLORS. A GENUINE HAND ENGRAVING.”

These were the blank canvas of so many holidays, filled to the brim with my mother 1950’s housewife shortcut-driven recipes, never homemade. Brilliant gouaches: Stouffer’s green beans, Pepperidge Farm stuffing from a bag, sweet potatoes in a marshmallowy slop, frozen Butterball turkey at center. I had been at first a fan of my mother’s cooking. By my twenties it was an embarrassment. Having had maids and cooks growing up, she had never really taken to the culinary arts.  For a long time we had Arthenia Porter in our kitchen, whose southern-tinged creations gave my mother another reprieve from recipes and execution. The small eating audience of my early life seemed to have discouraged her inner Martha.

What mother of her era wasn’t in the kitchen, baking and cooking away? It seemed to me that all the mothers I knew were superb graduates of the Cordon Bleu, rendering their own spectacular versions of duck a l’orange, beef wellington and risotto for their families. My mother remained immune to the allure of the stove and cookbook in the sixties and seventies. Cube steak, spaghetti by Ragu once a month, overcooked pot roast were her specialites de la maison. There was no rare meat, no tell-tale pink pork.

There was her pink china, each plate now wrapped as a babe in swaddling by my mother’s granddaughter: tightly wound round, first one way, then the other in a full-color display of supermarket specials and clippable coupons for snack bars, dishwasher detergent and baby diapers.

I worked quickly, unwrapping and balling up the sticky newsprint. I cleared out some summer plastic patio plates and made room on the pantry shelves. It all fit.

I ran my hands under the water, stained blue and red from the Sunday papers, wrapped by my daughter, read by my mother. 

Tabling my sadness,
ABL

I love my...

Louis Vuitton Vermont Avenue in Monogram Vernis.

This is a true "ladies' lunch handbag" and is perfect with a dress or suit, or out to dinner.

Bravo to Marc Jacobs for his superb tenure at LV, bringing such fun and elegance at the same time to this venerable old house.

Carrying on,
ABL

Candles

Another year older. 'Nuff said.

Celebrating,
ABL

Sprung

Hardly the respite from winter's cold it usually represents, this year Spring arrives as an afterthought. Amidst the record-breaking March balmy temperatures and premature blooms and buds, we pause to embrace (anyway) what is always joyous: the renewal of nature and the coming of summer's long days.



Weeding,
ABL

I love my...

Valentina perfume by Valentino.

My typical light floral choices have been Flowerbomb by Viktor & Rolf, Caleche by Hermes, and the new one by Narciso Rodriguez. Tried this--it's brand new--and love it. The sensual combination of a lengthy list of notes--Calabrian bergamot, white Alba truffle, jasmine, Amalfi orange blossom, tuberose, wild strawberries, cedar and amber--is simply lovely.

The Telegraph has an interesting article about its creation.

What's nice about Neiman Marcus is that the fragrance counter will group similar scents together, so it makes it easy to locate choices that are sort of "same church, different pew."

Happy weekending,
ABL

Merci, Georges Perrier

M. Perrier has hung up his toque. The revered French chef, restaurant pioneer, author and influencer has officially left the kitchens of his many establishments, most notably Philadelphia's Le Bec-Fin, after a long career of food, feuds, and fiefdoms extraordinaires. Even the New York Times, somewhat out-of-town from their usual NYC dining reportage, marked the event as noteworthy.

The magnificent Le Bec-Fin, at its zenith


A visit to LBF was an almost indescribable experience, back in the day. Courses...too many to count...each one such a delight...all waiters in tuxedoes...wines with each course. And what happened was that the 80s became the 90s, and the 90s became the lackluster 2Ks... and along with the humorless decade, came a new era in dining aesceticism. Gone was the big expense account lunch and dinner that had been the backbone of the luxury meal economy. Out went quantity, traded in for the spare, three-course prix fixe focused on brevity and the time-is-money sensibility of the day's super-productive executive.

I recall a dinner there with a friend who was struggling with a life-threatening illness. We embraced each over-the-top plate as it appeared before us, each acutely aware that this meal would be the substitute for all the other meals we would not get to enjoy together. It was, indeed, a last supper of sorts, and no better place to have had it than LBF it its heyday. Out from the kitchen came le gastronome petit to accept the supplicating appreciation of the terribly discerning crowd of diners. An evening to remember.

M. Perrier had other establishments as well. His George's on the Main Line is one of our go-to spots, a bastion of lighter fare and a lighter life, a midday trip to Aix-en-Provence.

And his devotion to area philanthropy is also well-known. He was my Honorary Chair for Paoli Hospital's April in Paris Ball a few years back, and regaled me as my dinner partner with marvelous tales out of l'ecole from his years of cooking for everyone from Presidents to puppies. All in a Gallic accent as thick as a bechamel.

Another chef will take over, once the newly re-tooled LBF reopens. But it will never be quite the same.

Rouxing the day,
ABL

Photos courtesy of the Philadelphia Inquirer.

I love my...

Celine Nano Luggage tote bag.




It's my go-to everyday bag due to the ease of getting into it and actually finding things.



Goes with everything...an instant classic.

Happy weekending,
ABL

Charm offensive

Years ago a political candidate got much mileage out of asking "Where's the beef?" Lately I have been asking myself a similar query, but with a more society-as-a-whole focus: "Where's the charm?"

Which then leads to the need to identify what "charm" actually is. When I was growing up, there was a great deal of store set by the charm factor. I was raised to be charming, by people who were also raised to be charming, by other charming people. Not in a false or ingratiating way, but in an authentic, natural-extension-of-your-personality sort of way. I always assumed (without actually thinking about it, and that is important), that it was the way to be, not to act.

By definition that would translate to possessing the quality of pleasing, fascinating, or attracting people, or delighting them greatly. This, as opposed to "casting a magical spell" over them, is what I am referencing.

To me, the charm recipe has been equal parts a healthy desire to please, lovely manners which strive to put others at ease and at comfort, along with a dab of that X-factor of "personality."

I am fortunate to have many friends who are from the South, and I can attest to the perceived fact that there is something to the expression "Southern charm." Both men and women from Virginia, the Carolinas and their neighboring states seem to ooze charm, confidently, effortlessly, with nary a self-conscious bone in their well-clad bodies. Is it innate in the DNA of those who hail from south of the Mason-Dixon? Is it a cultural inheritance, reinforced by modeled behavior and communities? Is it valued more in educational setting and families...including sororities whose sisterhoods claim charm as a Greek point of character?

Or is charm now an anachronism, headed the way of the classic charm bracelet? (And I'm not talking about those Italian charm bracelets or Pandoras here.)

I still wear my charm bracelets, the favorite of which was handed down to me by a relative whose husband was a romantic with a direct line to Caldwell's jeweler ( a now-defunct but long-heralded citadel of style here in Philadelphia).

The bracelet, circa 1950's...



Uncle Dick's love for Aunt Betty is evident....not in the abundance of charms (because he thought too many was "gaudy"), but in the superlative quality and size of the charms themselves (most measured 1 1/2" to 2" in length, all in 18k, with sapphires, diamonds and rubies). There was the horse shoe studded with rubies, reminiscent of their stable, Uncle Dick's Navy Cross, the now-out-of-favor St. Christopher's medal with sapphires, a working whistle--a tribute to Lauren Bacall's famous "You know how to whistle, don't you?" line to Bogie. Each charm was engraved "Dick to Betty" along with the date of the occasion.

The "lovebirds" charm...




When I wear this bracelet, the tinkle of the charms transports me to my childhood, reviving the chic presence of Aunt Betty in her pale blue cashmere cardigan, silk blouse and matching pale blue swing skirt...her black hair in a simple chignon, the nascent whiff of Caron's Bellodgia...

Most of all, the bracelet is a tactile and tacit reminder of the charm of its first owner, her roots deep in Maryland history: her soft drawl, her sweet laugh, her lively eyes, her flawless manners that somehow were not stiff and formal, but borne out of an organic ability to make everything more beautiful in her relationships and her surroundings. There was a small sadness to her charm as well; she was childless, and she and Dick treasured me as their "borrowed" child.

In this modern day of short time, short attention spans and tempers, I pause to reflect...


Charmed, I'm sure,
ABL

In like a lion

Lee Radziwill, lionizing

A new month turnover today...and an unpredictable, often cruel month March can sometimes be here in the northeast. The unusually mild winter is giving way to a mild, damp gateway to spring. But beware--our worst snow storms have occurred during these same four weeks.

The old saw "March comes in like a lion but goes out like a lamb" intrigues me. The phrase has its origins with the constellations Leo the Lion, and Aries the ram or lamb. It has to do with the relative positions of these constellations in the sky at the beginning and end of the month. English playwright John Fletcher wrote in 1624, "I would chuse March, for I would come in like a Lion...But you'd go out like a Lamb when you went to hanging." In 1670, English writer John Ray observed that "March...comes in like a lion, goes out like a lamb." On our side of the pond, the phrase "March came in like a lion" appears in the Ames Almanack in 1740, and none other than John Adams wrote in 1788 that "The month comes in like a lion, and according to the farmer's proverb it must go out like a lamb."

Herewith, some lions here that I adore, no matter what part of March they appear.

A prone pair in bronze, slumbering languidly on a bookshelf...


A doorknocker, awaiting a visitor to engage...




A David Webb cuff, sadly not part of my collection, but available on ebay...




A David Webb "doorknocker" necklace and bracelet from the early 1970s...




I await the season of the lamb, shepherding in the Easter season once March has turned.

If I'm lyin',
ABL

The Return

With an 11-month break from blogging, I feel it's time to come back. Sometimes the brain needs to re-charge, along with the spirit. In my case, it was that plus a surge in duties on the home front with regard to extended health concerns within my family.

All is now well, so I am once again getting cozy with my Blogger account, and thinking about posts to come.

In the meantime, while content is on PERCOLATE, thanks for sticking with me and sending the occasional naggingly affectionate note.

Today is chilly and wet here in Chester County, perfect for Barbour, jeans and a long walk with one of our now once-again-young stable of canines. The hunt is going through our property beyond the creek, as is usual here in Tuesday-Friday country, rain or shine. The yelps and full cry make our dogs yearn to join in the chase, qualified or not. I recall once when one of our whippets fell in with the pack, returning exhilarated but bloody from the zealous herding of the foxhounds.

So in my own way, I am joining the pack once again, with musings and wanderings posted here.

Back in the saddle,
ABL

REPOST: Emerald Isle

Think this post from last year's St. P's Day says it all...

Aren't these silly hats so hilarious?


The ears have it with this one...


And this is more of a Cat-in-the-Hat type thing...

But on St. Patrick's Day, sedate celebration is an oxymoron. Unless, of course, one were to don the lovely birthday gift my Spousey gave me last year to honor that "special nativity..."



Going green,
ABL

Mastering the Detox

Sorry for the long posting break. Occasionally the rigors of family and business do interfere...

A rare share of a personal nature...during the last five days I have tried a detox program as a way of revving up the system. I usually anticipate my birthday in late March every year with various self-care and other more introspective activities. This year, I felt a little cleaning and clearing out was in order.

I have long been a fan of the intermittent fast or detox routine. But this is the first time I have used the somewhat controversial Master Cleanse. Not for the timid, it has been famously employed by Gwyneth Paltrow and Beyonce to detox and shed extra pounds...very fast. And indeed, that is what you can expect.

While not truly looking to take off weight, I have given the Cleanse a try this past week as a part of a spiritual path on which I find myself of late. And I am happy to report that it has been so far an effective tool for the following reasons:

1. My thoughts have cleared out...a more mellow, peaceful moi has been revealed.
2. I feel completely energized and very positive.
3. I feel very focused, with less interest in sweating the "small stuff" of everyday living.

For anyone unfamiliar with the Cleanse, it involves leaving all solid food in the fridge and cupboard, substituting a lemonade drink, water and organic non-caffeine tea. The lemonade drink is something you make yourself (see the website). It is recommended for a 10-day detox, although some use it longer as part of a real weight-loss plan. (Robin Quivers of Howard Stern fame has shed over 70 pounds using the Cleanse.)

The issue is being in touch with yourself enough to know if this program works for you, or if you feel "hallucinogenic" using it. I can say that I have not felt weird at all...the key is drinking enough of the drink when you feel hungry.

And yes, the bonus is some weight loss. After 6 days, I have shed 7 pounds (and I am already fairly lean.) Key to success is easing back into regular food intake. Many people who have used this to drop weight go for a vegan or largely raw food diet after cleansing. (I am already macrobiotic and exercise regularly.)

If you have tried this, please share.

Squeezing the lemons,
ABL

Fave Escapes

Well, it's getting to be THAT time. As we batten down up here on the Eastern Seaboard for yet another round of snow, thoughts turn to sneaking off to favorite places of yore, where memories are sweet and sunshine is plentiful.


St. Martin's La Samanna, on the French side (tres importante)


The beautiful pool there and main house


Our favorite villa's pool in Bermuda, on Knapton Hill overlooking the water


Hobe Sound, my grandparents' winter place

Bermuda is on the docket for June. Thinking about escaping now, though...

Passport in hand,
ABL

The Swans

With all the hype about the film Black Swan, thoughts turn to the other swans of yore: Truman Capote's famous "Swans," the bevy of beautiful socials who constituted Capote's circle of international hostesses and confidantes of the 1950's and 60's. Known for their long, graceful necks--hence the "swan" metaphor--these icons of femininity represented the ultimate in looks, style, elegance and the tenor of the times.


Mexican-born Gloria Guinness...




The beautiful CZ Guest, whose hair Capote once described as "champagne," shown here with Woolworth heir Jimmy Donahue...




Babe Paley...


Here with husband, CBS titan Bill Paley...


Marella Agnelli, wife of Fiat founder Gianni...




Slim Keith, once married to Howard Hawks and Leland Hayward, the inspiration for Lauren Bacall's style in her classic film roles with Bogie

All were invited to Capote's famous Black and White Ball. These were the days when men of power reigned, having chosen decorative and immensely capable consorts whose role was to advance and enhance the personal, professional and private social lives of their men. Today it seems almost quaint for a woman with as much skill and personal eclat as a Babe Paley, for example, to obsess over perfection to such a degree as to cut the then-serrated edges off postage stamps to give mailed correspondence a more elegant touch. Their existences, while seemingly spectacular, had the predictable sadnesses, tragedies and stresses that life lived at such a Zeussian altitude often produces.

These Swans live on in the vast trove of photographic archives chronicling their global comings-and-goings. A book about all of them would seem a nice idea.

ABL

Having a Ball

Academy Ball-bound

The Academy Ball is just around the corner here in Philadelphia. And what a tradition it is...one of the few remaining white tie events in the country. It is also one of the all-time best parties here.

The Anniversary Concert and Ball, as it is more formally known, is held every year at the end of January as a fundraiser for the Academy of Music, on the short list of the great concert halls.





This year--the 154th--it will be held on Saturday, January 29. While proceeds from the Concert and Ball are shared between the Academy of Music and The Philadelphia Orchestra, all of the monies donated to the Restoration Fund go directly to the restoration and preservation of the Academy.

Founded in 1957 at the Academy's centennial by Stuart F. Louchheim and a group of civic-minded businessmen, the Restoration and Preservation Fund has been instrumental in restoring the Academy to its current splendor. Combined proceeds from the Concert and Ball and the Annual Giving Campaign have gone towards numerous restoration projects, including a new main house curtain, designed and woven by Scalamandré, conservation of the ceiling murals and wood sculptures, the restoration of the main lobby and grand staircase to their former splendor, and the renovation, soundproofing, and carpeting of the ballroom. Two new elevators were installed, thanks to the generosity of Ambassador and Mrs. Walter H. Annenberg, making all levels of the auditorium accessible to the physically challenged. The Academy was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1963.

The 146-year-old Academy of Music is the oldest known continuously operating opera house in the United States. The building, constructed in 1857, was built using solid brick bearing walls and timber framed floors and roof. It has served for the last 147 years as Philadelphia's premier opera house and served for over a century as home to The Philadelphia Orchestra.

The Philadelphia Orchestra returns once again for a performance, including Renée Fleming and Paul Simon as special guests. Lester Holt, weekend anchor for NBC’s Today and Nightly News, serves as host for the evening.

Immediately following the concert, gala guests will make their way north on Philadelphia’s iconic Broad Street to the Hyatt at the Bellevue, formerly known as the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel. This magnificent hotel is as much a part of Philadelphia as the William Penn statue atop City Hall. An exquisite gala champagne supper and ball follow the concert, with as many as 15 different bands playing in as many different rooms of the hotel. In recent years, the Ball has hosted such distinguished guests as HRH Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall.


Best of Britain at the Academy Ball

The theme for this year’s Concert and Ball is “Protecting Philadelphia’s Cultural Treasures,” which highlights the remarkable non-profit organizations in our region that make a difference every day in the lives of our citizens.

Typically, one stays over at the hotel, or the Union League so one doesn't have to drive.

To the grand old lady of Broad Street,
ABL

Capital Clubs

Our nation's capital is one of my favorite destinations. In many ways I actually prefer it to the other big-time cities (New York, Chicago, et al) due to the formality of life that stills exists there. It's one of the few places left in our culture today where suits and ties and dresses are still de rigeur.

Another plus to Washington is the number and quality of beautiful private clubs (like New York). Unlike New York, entry into them continues to be exclusive, not as business-focused or dependent on the size of one's wallet.

My two favorites are the Cosmos and the Historic Georgetown Club. Each has a lovely history entwined with that of Washington itself. The Cosmos was founded in 1878 by men distinguished in science, literature and the arts. In June, 1988 the Club began accepting women. The Cosmos is all about personal distinction: scholarship, creative genius or intellect. Among its members have been three Presidents, two Vice Presidents, a dozen Supreme Court justices, 32 Nobel Prize winners, 56 Pulitzer Prize winners and 45 recipients of the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

There is even a lovely poetry collection published in 2000 featuring 25 Cosmos member contributors:, including Maya Angelou, Roy Basler, Thomas Peter Bennett, Carl Bode, John C. Broderick, and many others.



From the Introduction, by Robert E. Barnett: "In the remarkable history of the Cosmos Club, now spanning three centuries...the art of poetry has been...part of a tradition of humanistic principles that have been at the core of our identity...The current anthology of original work produced by our own members is an outgrowth of the [Library] Committee's desire to share the wealth of talent that is part of our noble history." One is in august company at the Cosmos, and its ambience reflects that. Its rooms are among the most elegant in Washinton, most notably the magnificent Warne Lounge Ballroom, where a wedding recption is a lifetime hallmark indeed. One can stay there in one of the beautiful guest rooms as a member or reciprocal club member.







The Historic Georgetown Club is in the former Suter’s Tavern, where President George Washington, surveyor Andrew Ellicott and Capital architect Major Pierre L’Enfant met to plan the District of Columbia. Today it is an understated enclave for social gatherings and fabulous meals, a bastion of how things used to be. Our son introduced himself to Kobe beef there at age 13 and has been spoiled now for life.













Can't wait to visit again soon.

Gtown Jonesing,
ABL