My talented friend Alana Stone has done it again. She and her husband Stefan Horn have just published the three latest editions to their Analogue Guide travel series- Barcelona (where they currently reside with their young daughter), Berlin and Los Angeles, folks. If you’re headed east or west anytime soon, you must pick up one of these little lovelies to accompany you.
Alana is my go-to girl for all things la dolce vita and especially all things done with a crafted and detailed hand. The maps in their guidebooks are impeccable and the photos, beautiful. Little gems. The New York Times just named The Analogue Guides in their 2013 Holiday Gift Guide- “Can a guidebook be artisanal? The almost pocket-size Analogue Guides are about as close as they come”. True that, Times.
The guides are organized by neighborhood so you can take in the city’s spots like a local, not a crazed tourist trying to traverse the city at top speed while checking off the so-called must-sees. These guides really give you an insider’s look into how the locals live from a well-rounded perspective. Great for foodies, art lovers, design mavens, bon vivants and adventurers alike.
If you have a traveler in your life, the Analogue Guide is an awesome gift. Currently available for London, Paris, Copenhagen and New York as well, with more cities on the way.
Read it to believe it.
Alana’s 5 favorite spots in the City of Angels:
1. Intelligentsia Silver Lake
One of LA’s premier coffee spots, Chicago based hipster haven Intelligentsia offers cutting edge brew in the artisanally tiled Sunset Junction outdoor complex, which also houses Café Stella and The Cheese Store of Silver lake. Undoubtedly a place to see and to be seen, Intelligentsia’s tiled bar is an excellent spot to catch up on the latest news while losing yourself in the depths of a perfectly formed flat white.
2. Heath Ceramics
Founded in 1948 by potter Edith Heath, Heath Ceramics grew to become one of the most iconic names in California design. Heath’s wonderfully earthy single kiln fired tableware and tiles, still hand crafted in Sausalito, California, are available for purchase at the attractive LA flagship store. A testament to their lasting quality and artistic value, Heath’s designs are on display at LACMA and MoMA. In addition to phenomenal ceramics, the shop also sells books on craft and design.
3. AXE
Named after a Yoruban salutation, Axe is the brainchild of chef and owner Joanna Moore. Designed in a light and modern mix of congona and black acacia woods softened by handmade lamps, Axe is one of Venice’s most attractive haunts. Open windows and a lovely back patio allow for a constant whiff of Pacific breeze. Dishes are fresh, delicious and inspired, taking full advantage of the diversity of fruits and vegetables sprouting locally. Wines incorporate robust California and Old World selections.
4. Stahl House
In the aftermath of World War II, Arts & Architecture magazine commissioned America’s architectural avant-garde to create a series of efficient yet inexpensive model homes. Many of these Case Study Houses, designed by the likes of Richard Neutra and Eero Saarinen, were built in the Los Angeles area. Overlooking the city from the Hollywood Hills, Pierre Koenig’s Stahl House, or Case Study House #22, is perhaps the most iconic representation of Los Angeles modernism. The house is privately owned but open for visits upon arrangement.
5. Hollywood Bowl
A summer evening concert at the Hollywood Bowl is a quintessential LA experience. Dramatically nestled in the Hollywood Hills with prime views of the Hollywood sign, the Bowl hosts world renowned classical and contemporary musicians, in addition to the LA Philharmonic’s summer season. Bring a picnic and a bottle of wine along or simply book a table at one of the Bowl’s al fresco restaurants.
I’m a pretty smiley person by nature, but I’ve never known a true cheek hangover until now. Not that I haven’t had some seriously smile-worthy moments in life- my wedding, opening nights- but those were all infused with a myriad of emotions. This one was pretty much just all smiles all the time.
I don’t usually do posts like this, I like to share my opinions and ideas and mostly highlight the lives of others, but this one I just had to document. I had the tremendous good fortune to accompany my amazing father-in-law, Jacques d’Amboise, to the White House and Kennedy Center for the 2013 Kennedy Center Honors this past weekend. Cue self-inflicted pinch times ten.
Knowing that I would be Jacques’ guest to this event nearly a year in advance, I planned carefully, which is very out of character me (you know what they say about plans…). I carefully selected- with the help of my fabulous stylist-to-the-stars pal, Katy Robbins- my two Rent the Runway gowns literally months in advance. There would be two nights of events- the dinner at the State Department and the White House gathering/meeting the President and the First Lady followed by the Honors at Kennedy Center. I was all set with an Alice Temperley gown and a David Meister on the way for a grand total of $125- oh yeah, discount codes were in full effect.
Then came last Friday night. 8pm, tick tock tick tock, No UPS special delivery as expected. After a long wait on hold with the parcel service, I learned that the dresses would arrive promptly Monday morning. Hmmm. I’m royally screwed, I thought. My babysitter is out of town, Christopher is working and I’ll have to haul two toddlers to Tysons Corner and frenzily shop for not one but two expensive-looking but reasonably affordable black tie gowns. What the what?
I prepared to wake early Saturday and make the mad dash to Nordstroms. Enter the Norovirus. Around 1am on Saturday morning, my hubby came down with a severe dose of the stomach virus. If you’ve ever experienced this, you know how intense it is. It hits you like a ton of bricks and you are violently ill for a solid 24 hours. Saturday morning 10am and Christopher was starting to come out of his nausea-daze when I started to feel a bit wonky. By noon, it was clear that I would not be going to the State Department much less Nordstroms. At that point, I can honestly say however, that I didn’t much care. We had two toddlers to take care of as two very sick parents who were doing everything we could to keep them from getting sick. How that works with a crazily contagious virus, I have no idea. If you’ve ever tried taking care of small children while you feel ghastly ill, you can empathize. It was a rough day, maybe the toughest yet in my newbie parenthood. These are the days you really want your mommy.
Then that beacon of the week, Sunday morning dawned and all started to look a bit brighter. I didn’t feel great, but Lord knows I was going to that White House. I made the mad dash to Nordstoms, gave the saleslady my budget and after a heartfelt wince from her, she brought me dozens of dresses all of which only emphasized my post-baby bump that has no business being a bump at this point, it’s more like a lump- let’s call a spade a spade. She finally brought me one last dress- this one revelatory -to my dressing room. It was like the popcorn ceiling opened up and the Angels sang “AHHHHH”. I had to have it, it actually made my lump look kind of great. I dashed up to the register only to find out upon ringing up, that this was indeed well above my fantasy and idealized price range. Oh well, it’s the frigging White House, I mean come on. So, dress bought, baubles on, we are ready to roll.
Off we went. At 3:15 on the dot, Jacques’ appointed driver Carl rolled up into my modest little apartment complex’s parking lot to escort me down the slick ice rink that was masquerading as a sidewalk. I somehow managed not to take a dive, even in my 4 inch heels- and believe me, this momma does not wear 4 inch heels- not since around my 34th birthday anyway. I lost my tolerance for the self-inflicted pain caused by ridiculously high heels, so I had to kind of pat myself on the back for this one.
We arrived at the front gates of the White House and all I could think about was that scene in Dave when Kevin Kline drives up to that very same gate and convinces the guards to let him out. Here I was, at that very gates. What next? We were escorted after multiple security checks up to the White House. Now I’ve never been to the White House, never taken a tour and although I’ve always wanted to, I never got around to writing my Representative about that one. But this was much better, I had an actual invite, I was actually invited by the peeps at the White House- ok as a plus-one, but still.
Entering the White House for a party that it is throwing was a kind of dazzling, surreal moment for this American girl. Another “AHHHH” moment with the angels harking all over the place as I was handed a glass of champagne upon entering. I found myself sashaying down the perfectly decorated hallways in my lump-licious dress, bumping into the likes of Garth Brooks and Sam Waterston all the while with a ridiculously huge smile on my face. Mind you I was completely aware that I was striding down these said hallways with a giant smile on my face, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I don’t want to sound like a naive fresh-off-the-bus farm girl here, I’ve had my share of star-studded evenings and shared the stage with the likes of Hugh Jackman and Tony Bennett (dreamboats- both of them), but this was something entirely different.
Sitting in my little seat with my very own name imprinted on its little white card, I couldn’t believe I was surrounded by less than one hundred people waiting for the President and the First Lady to arrive. They fabulously strode into this little room and almost knocked me over, not literally but quite figuratively. There is a reason why people get elected to office beyond their politics, it’s that old charisma thing. It’s the same reason the Clooneys and the Pitts of the world are our mainstays- star wattage, people. Despite what you may think of them or their politics, the Obamas are stars.
Enter my very un-Presidential comment to the First Lady. Meeting Obama himself was fantastic, he is charming and genuine with a firm handshake and an authenticity that oozes from his sparkly white teeth. He thanked me for coming (uh- thanks for having me!). Meeting Mrs. Obama, I just blurted out, “You are too fabulous!”. She graciously replied, “Thank you” and also thanked me for coming. Seriously, I was kind of mortified and I still can’t believe I said that to her, not the most Presidentially-appropriate behavior to be sure, but honestly, she is- too fabulous. She dazzled in her jade green Marchesa off-the-should gown, she oozed grace and importance and honestly, she’s a modern day Goddess.
Embarrassing moment behind me (I had to have one), we continued to make the rounds and that’s when I found myself standing next the the D-O-double-G. Oh yeah, Snoop. He jokingly asked the Marine Corps band to play “Gin and Juice”- one of my favorite parts of the night. They didn’t comply, too bad- what a miss. I snapped a picture with the hip hop superstah and ta-dizzle-fo-shizzle, we were off to the Kennedy Center.
I arrived at my seat to find my darling hubby all dressed up in his tux complete with bow tie, which I’ve never actually seen him in- he was effortlessly tieless at our wedding. The drumroll began and the the curtain went up. Attending the Kennedy Center Honors is like attending one of the greatest mulit-artist concerts ever. You get opera, you get drama, you get dance, you get music, music, music. In a word, it’s awesome. It’s a proud-to-be-an-American kind of evening. The show airs on December 29th, and is one to watch. The standout of the night for me is the tribute to Billy Joel with a rousing and tear-jerking number by Garth Brooks and a beautiful turn by Rufus Wainwright, not to mention a great performance by Panic at the Disco’s Brendon Urie. Snoop absolutely kills in the Herbie Hancock tribute- don’t miss it.
We capped the night off with a dinner under the giant mod chandeliers in the main hallway of the Kennedy Center surrounded by some of America’s most inspiring artists and Washington’s finest. I had a blast yucking it up with the legendary Eddie Villella all evening and was once again dumbstruck to find myself shooting the sh*t with Billy Joel, who is one of the most down to earth, coolest cats around. After commending him for his career (with lack of anything else to stay, being completely startstruck) he replied, “Hey, I’m just doing what I love”. And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it.
Midnight struck and we were jolted back into our real lives remembering that we promised our sitter we would be home by 12:30. We dashed down the marble halls of the Kennedy Center like Cinderella running for her carriage, in this case our minivan, and raced home before the clock struck 12:30. We made it. No pumpkins here and the kiddos were all nestled snug in their beds. What a whirlwind, but how great to be back in our tiny home with our tiny bebes.
Metallic woven bins. So stylish and chic. My living room/playroom desperately needs a few of these. I have a mishmash of cute(ish) baskets piled up in the corner overflowing with toys. These would be much cuter.
Happy Weekend dear readers. This powerful photo was captured outside the home of Nelson Mandela this morning. Isn’t it amazing. It kind of sums up his life’s work. What wonder one man can do, so humbling.
I hope you all are off to a fun-filled and festive holidayish weekend. Or something like that anyway. I’m attending the Kennedy Center Honors and all of the fancy dinners that accompany it with my father-in-law Jacques this weekend. I’m seriously pinching myself. He was an honoree himself and goes to the dinners and show every year, so it’s old hat for him. For me, I’ll be rubbing elbows with the President (say what?) in the White House (come again?) and with the likes of the Meryls and the Dustins of the world at the State Department and then again at the Kennedy Center. Hello. Not to mention the actual honorees this year including Billy Joel, Shirley MacLaine and Carlos Santana- so cool. I’ve rented 2 dresses from Rent the Runway, both of which were supposed to arrive at my doorstep tonight before 8pm and as of this post, are not yet here. What is a girl to do. It’s not like I can just reach into the back of my (tiny) closet and pull out a floor length black tie appropriate gown. Yikes. I’ll keep you posted.
What I’m Drinking This Weekend:
Lots of Presidential-approved vino. I’m hoping for a Virginia-made Thibault-Janisson sparkling- one of our great state’s best bottles of bubbly. It really is absolutely delicious, I know you might be dubious being that it’s Virginia-made, but trust me- it’s truly divine. They love the stuff up at the House that is White, as they supposedly regularly serve it up at State Dinners, but honestly I’d be thrilled with a cold can of PBR in the company of those peeps.
A Renaissance Man to the end, my dear Dad passed away 12 years ago this week. I can still hear his laugh, see him bust out his moves, and sense his overwhelming generosity. He was giving and kind and funny and such a character. My dad inspired my own curiosity as he was always up on the latest trends, ideas, gadgets, cars (see above with his swanky Corvette), and people and places of note. David Crandall grew up in Fort Worth, Texas and was a self-made business man, working his way up from his first job as a 12 year-old ride operator at Six Flags, to establishing his own import business with Hong Kong merchants back in the 70s, a pioneer in the industry.
He was somehow a wide-eyed old soul- an uncommon combination. Travel was his jam, part of his dna. My dad showed me the world, quite literally and made sure that travel was a major part of my makeup, so that my eyes were opened beyond the comforts and familiarity of my hometown. We went everywhere- from long and winding road trips through America’s National Parks to the grandeur of Venice’s Grand Canal. I credit my dad for my career. He took us to NYC every year as kids, where we took in countless shows and sights. It’s because of all of that theater, that I was inspired myself to become a Broadway performer, a dream which he championed every step of the way.
As kids, my parents regularly took us out of school to travel and felt strongly that seeing the world was as important an education as the one we were getting at our school desks. I thank them both for that. Dad was thrilled when I chose to study abroad in Italy my junior year of college, and for my graduation gave me an around-the-world ticket. Cue an incessant case of Wanderlust.
My Dad had a deep rooted love for the tradition and beauty of the American West as well as a hankering for spontaneous travel. I remember one morning in August of 1992 when he excitedly announced that we should promptly pack our bags as we would be leaving shortly for the airport to fly to Barcelona. We went to the Olympics on a moment’s notice with zero plans. Seriously, I live for that stuff. He managed to find us a place to stay in an impossibly booked city and tickets to the biggest events- loving every minute of the challenge. He was always so adventurous and filled with life, humor and curiosity. Dad was just as excited to stay at the Hassler in Rome as he was to bunk in a Route 66 roadside motel. The apple doesn’t far fall from the tree.
I am eternally grateful for everything my father gave me in terms of life experience but more than that, he was a man of such style and grace, smarts and wit, a true original. A trailblazer to the end, with a knack for no-nonsense advice, I miss that advice and sound judgment more than anything. He was my rock at the end of the day. I always went to my dad with the big stuff and he always knew just what to say. He was a problem solver, a loving father and a curious spirit and force in the world. He didn’t much care what people thought of him, outside of the ones he loved, and I always admired him for that. I try to channel a bit of my dad’s no-nonsense and enthusiastic approach to life every day.
David seized the day. He is forever my hero and my heart hangs heavier without him here. Miss you dad, miss you every day.
We had big plans to spend the holidays in NYC with family but at the last minute decided not to brave the early winter storm with toddlers in tow. Instead, we opted to stay home and host dinner for our family here in town. It’s been a while since I have hosted Thanksgiving dinner and was a real treat, even in our tiny 700 square-foot apartment. While dinner itself was imperfectly perfect, I learned a few things.
1. My bookshelf doubles as a fantastic little bar.
This may be a duh, but I had never thought of it before. I whipped out one of my favorite graphic tea towels, set up my vintage champagne bucket and we were in business.
2. Make sure the turkey thermometer is set to Fahrenheit. Again- duh, but we almost demolished our hopes of a super juicy turkey by reading the thermometer at Celsius (mine is an all too fancy digital model). We caught it in the nick of time- turkey save.
3. Homemade Poire William makes for a beautiful and impressive aperitif with a story to boot. The Poire Project was a huge success and the drink itself turned out pretty and pink. More later in the week.
4. Store-bought food on the table is a-ok.
I didn’t have the time or the energy to bake a homemade pie. My sister-in-law brought a pecan pie over from the local bakery and holy smokes was it good. Seriously the very best pecan pie I have ever tasted and I’m a tough crowd, being Texan by blood. All nuts and hardly any goo- way better than any pie I would have made.
5. Handwritten tasting notes are always a good idea. I was running short on time but really wanted to include my tasting notes on the table. In a last minute dash, I wrote up the cards, stamped them with some snazzy metallic ink and voilá- success. I think tasting notes are a fun way to engage guests about your wine picks and are a nice little keepsake from the day.
How was your Thanksgiving dinner? I’d love to hear your tips or lessons learned.
Former showgirl, forever travel junkie, sometime sommelier, and mom to twin bebes. This little blog is a mixed bag of tasting notes, travels, tales of motherhood, and current musings. Thank you for stopping by. Cin Cin! (photo by Amy Dickerson for Anthology Magazine)
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