…and now for something completely a little different. I’m starting miscellany, an every-other-weekish issue featuring short thoughts and fleeting things.
No. 1: such a dandy
New pocket squares arrived this month for my wardrobe! These two are from Fine & Dandy in NYC, whom I also love for their selection of sock garters and affordable bow ties. The pocket square, as a concept, is timelessly cool, and hits that essential note of sprezzatura — looking great without trying too hard. I don’t think pocket squares will ever be out of fashion, and everyone should try wearing them at least once, in my opinion. You’ll be hooked. For me, they really help a complete a summer linen suit and take it to the next level, or a blazer / casual autumn and winter ensemble.
I don’t believe in plain pocket squares. Whether cotton or silk (seek out vintage Gucci if you can), the point of pocket squares is to playfully hint at your personality. They are fashion in its basic definition of self-expression. What is your life like in full technicolor? What do you love in art and culture? What pleasures do you seek when no one is looking? Send a message in your choice of pocket square. Fold them every which way and see what you like best…some people like them nice and neat. I like mine a little messy with just enough peeking out that it piques curiosity.
Start with cotton if you’d like. They’re a little more affordable, washable, and are practical for me because they double as a handkerchief I can actually use (I can be messy at picnics or on a tipsy evening), but the feeling of silk is always *chef’s kiss.* There’s no hard or fast rule around fabrics, though avoid something scratchy or too stiff. Don’t press your pocket squares.
No. 2: elderberry season
Growing up here in the Appalachian mountains, where everything is lush and layered (it is a temperate rainforest), elderberries are everywhere. In the spring, I spot the soft sprays of their blooms along the river, in drainage fields, bordering ponds. Like baby’s breath, but better. We snip the bloom heads, every other one, and save the others for fruits that come later. The blooms are steeped and bottled as elderflower liqueur that can be enjoyed for a couple of months (a great way to kick off summer with an elderflower cocktail or spritz!). Then, in late July or August, we start looking for berries: deep purple and black. Get them before the birds do (but really, the birds can have all they hunger for at the tops of these towering bushes, just leave those there and take what you want/need at the bottom). There are some toxic lookalikes for elderberry, so study them and learn to differentiate before picking, but once you’re ready and you’ve found a row or one or two of them in a humid place, it’s time to harvest! You can freeze the berries if you need to harvest multiple times over a season. I use them for elderberry syrup which we take throughout winter as an immune booster or when I feel like I’m getting sick (the onset of a bad cold).
My elderberry syrup recipe (feel free to cut in half if you’re just starting out):
6 cups fresh black elderberries
6 cups water
2 1/2 cups raw honey (local if possible)
1 cinnamon stick
2-3 whole cloves
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
splash of brandy (optional)
Bring berries and water to a boil over medium heat, then lower the heat and simmer the elderberries uncovered. Add the cinnamon stick, ginger and cloves and simmer for about one hour, or until the liquid is reduced by about half. Just keep an eye on it!
Once it’s reduced by half, remove from heat, strain out the berries and herbs into a bowl, and let the liquid cool to just above room temperature. You can compost the berries and herbs. Then add the honey to your liquid and stir until it’s dissolved in and well mixed. It won’t be too thick. Add brandy if you want, then bottle and cap it, label the date. I keep mine in the fridge for a few months.
No. 3: why cucamelons
Why not? We all need something stupid and ridiculous in our lives, and cucamelons fit the bill. These little cucumbers look like miniature watermelons with a fresh, lemony crunch. They are easy to grow but they do grow fast and long with tendrils, so a vertical net will make them quite happy. You can pick them off their vines every few days and throw into a bowl in the fridge—they’ll stay fresh for a couple weeks. I like to snack on them between meals, or you can add them to any salad for a pleasant, textural surprise. A summery dish: take cucamelons and slice each in half, add some halved cherry tomatoes, dress in olive oil and a good balsamic, a bit of salt and pepper, torn fresh basil, perhaps add baby mozzarella.
They also make a seasonal garnish for martinis. Simply skewer a couple on a toothpick and drop into a very clean martini, lemon peel optional.
No. 4: meditation for dummies
At the beginning of August, I went through an intense surgery. My doctor said it would take 6 weeks to fully recover, and that I would not be allowed to run, exercise, hike, lift heavy things or do anything that required ab/core work for the first month. What? No, thank you. My forms of stress relief are movement, my after-work activity a nice long jog or walk, dancing, barre, etc. For the first two weeks, the pain and weakness were so hard to bear, it caught me by surprise. I shuffled like a little old lady, bent-over, back and forth on the flat street in front of my house, clinging on to my husband’s arm, until 15 minutes were up. Then I would take a nice, long nap.
And the problem was, I felt restless. My legs kicked violently in bed in the evening and my back hurt like a son of a bitch. And I struggled with feelings of helplessness, feeling vulnerable (ugh) and weak (ugh). As part of moving the anesthesia out of my system and preventing pneumonia within the first few days back home, I was assigned homework: take some deep breaths throughout the day. What I didn’t expect is that these deep breaths would mentally and physically save me.
I fell into an accidental meditation practice. And I’ve been doing it every day since. Meditation, to me, always seemed uncomfortable and pretentious, but I realized how powerfully it affects the rest of my day.
It’s much easier than I thought, and here’s the trick no one told me: I’m in control of my own meditation practice. Who knew?! There’s no expectation of me from someone else, from some book or guide or guru. I’m not in a classroom. My cat is next to me, purring along! I just start with a few simple deep breaths in the 4-4-4-4 count method (breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold, repeat). That’s all I ask of myself. I can lie down and be comfortable—that’s okay! Sitting up hurts my surgical site right now. No one says I have to do otherwise. No says I need to be a buddha, legs crossed, serene look on my face. All that matters is the breath. Breathe. Welcome in thoughts then gently brush them away, go back to the breath. I’m the architect of my own peace.
Some days I meditate for only two minutes, or up to 10 or 15 minutes. That’s a lot for me. Just breathing. But it’s enough to let go of my thoughts, to focus on the breath, to empty and begin again.
10/10 recommend.
No. 5: colts v steelers
Normally I would not point to something on the internet, because this newsletter is dedicated to offline pleasures. But I must admit I’m obsessed with this mini documentary about the 1976 playoffs in which the (Baltimore) Colts vs Steelers play without knowing that the outcome of this game will determine whether a group of people live or die.
And I’ll close with this quote from Walker Percy’s classic, The Moviegoer. It’s a lovely book, a good read for the autumn months. This scene with Binx’s Aunt Emily was something I remembered when writing my last letter on cocktails. Aunt Emily puts her arm in Binx’s as they walk down the sidewalk:
“I no longer pretend to understand the world.” She is shaking her head yet still smiling her sweet menacing smile. “The world I knew has come crashing down around my ears. The things we hold dear are reviled and spat upon.” She nods toward Prytania Street. “It’s an interesting age you will live in—though I can’t say I’m sorry to miss it. But it should be quite a sight, the going under of the evening land. That’s us all right. And I can tell you, my young friend, it is evening. It is very late.”
What I’m (re)reading: The Flamethrowers by Rachel Kushner
What I’m spinning: Aventine by Agnes Obel