End of the Decade

A picture of The Century building at 25 Central Park West to mark the end of the decade seems rather fitting. There in the park on the coldest of days, yours truly was compelled to pose in a welcome ray of sunshine while elsewhere, pedestrians were whipped by winds that howled down icy brick and steel canyons.

Less icy but by no means lacking in impact was the thrift store display window that seemed to strike its own blue mood. One can't help notice the mannequin's haughty, er, expression. And what was I thinking? So long, 2009. Hello 2010.

Shake It Up

A lovely Christmas and a rich and full Sunday afternoon spent exploring Manhattan's garden of gustatory delights in the company of Sisters2 and friend Babsey. I got my thrill at The Shake Shack where Kobe beef and garden fresh cherry tomatoes feature largely in their famed hamburgers. Long lines deterred serious investigation, but got a delicious custard late in the day, so all's well that ends well.

Christmas Desecration

Where many are traditionally driven to excess, one can discover unexpected art. One of the funnier Christmas displays we've seen features a faux disaster as its centerpiece.

And speaking of disaster (real or imagined) our first snowfall (the so-called "Blizzard of 2009") sent thousands to the stores in search of milk, bread and toilet paper. Are these truly the things we can't live without? Milk certainly qualifies. And toilet paper. But bread? Does bread belong in the holy grocerial trinity? I motion for bread to be stricken from the trio, and chocolate drafted in its place. Now there's a trinity!

Off Your Brass

Visitors to the jardin de Sparquette on Little Mass. Ave. in Cambridge may have noticed the memorial tile chipped and fading after only a season and a half's exposure to the harsh New England clime. Utton Bay R&D to the rescue: a solid brass plate designed and etched in our labs, which my experts tell me will weather a century or more. The project required no small amount of elbow grease on my part; however, I can report success. The plate is ready for installation come Spring.

Fashion Education

I often take on the job of escorting young neighbor girls Helen and Emmy to school. I really shouldn't call it a job because the two of them never fail to amuse and dazzle me with their oh-so-fashionable school outfits and backpacks. The other day I spotted Helen sporting a foulard featuring a peace sign pattern laced with metallic threads. Such is life in the fast lane at Maria Baldwin elementary school. And judging from this little passerby's up-to-the-minute GAP ensemble, apparently Columbia University too. Those pre-teen girls play to win.

Closer to Christmas

As the holidays loom, I observe the frenzy of consumer consumption fed by TV ads and store displays with mixed emotion. Being an aspiring retailer and good consumer myself, I often wonder if I'm doing my part to support the economy. Do I need a Google phone? Is Netflix worth signing up for? Should I switch to Geico? Scholars in the audience will note that comedian Bill Hicks and the legendary Stan Freberg have mocked the seasonal marketing onslaught as "The United States of Advertising". Yet I think commercialization is as much part of the culture as Christmas itself. At any rate, I'm going to look into signing up with Netflix. $10 a month seems a small price to pay to join in with the holiday spirit.

Strange Bagelfellows

It's been called "the tastiest Judeo-Sinic collaboration since Marco Polo discovered noodles." I refer, of course, to Nussbaum & Wu, a bagel bakery stumbled upon during an expedition to Manhattan's Morningside Heights neighborhood, adjacent to Columbia University. Alas, though I didn't have time to sample the goods, I immediately understood the concept. The fusion of Jewish and Asian cultures may be foreign to some, but the two ancient peoples have a long history of close cooperation, especially during the Christmas holidays.

Faces of Election

"Get out and vote" scolds the media. I admit I'm unprepared. Today's election will decide Ted Kennedy's replacement. As the deadline looms, my knowledge of the candidates is still too meager to cast an informed ballot. Which one seems nicer? More sane? Sure, that's no way to vote. But sometimes that's what it comes down to.

What might sway me is a candidate who supports tearing down Faces, the long-abandoned nightclub off Route 2 in Cambridge. I'm told the last time anyone did the Latin Hustle in this ghostly disco was over 20 years ago. Who knows how many kilos of crystal meth have changed hands in its parking lot since then? A worthy Senatorial candidate could spearhead a project to build a community center on the site. Or maybe a park. I wouldn't even mind an Ikea store there.

Biz The Season

Church: Saturday

Just when I thought I'd go stark-raving mad from the endlessly looped medley of Christmas carols booming 300 decibels loud in the Christ Church auditorium, young friends Elsa and Nicole showed up from the wilds of New Hampshire. Good thing, because they generously offered to cut me loose from my retail duty to enjoy a proper lunch with Mme. L, Elsa's mum, far from the holiday madhouse.

Later, two small elves plied me with cookies and milk at $4 a shot. I was happy to pay it, as the winsome pair trailed a bevy of cooing Christmas shoppers in their wake. Alas, none brought the holiday spirit of buying to my booth.

Still, it's good to have friends and attentive elves when you need them.

Hive: Sunday

Even as we speak, I'm weathering yet another medley of overpoweringly amplified Christmas songs. After the 3rd repetition of "Jingle Bell Rock," I'm ready to bug out. If this morning's light turnout of shoppers is any indication, Utton Bay's interest in a sales table at Design Hive (or similar holiday craft event) is definitely waning. I'll probably miss the opportunity to disport myself in public while meeting new and old friends, but I believe there's a better way to sell my boatnecks, and it's right here on the web. Stay tuned.

All-Table Weekend

If you're reading this on Friday or Saturday morning, why not plan to stop by Utton Bay's sales table at Christ Church's annual Christmas Fair? The church is located at Zero Garden St., Cambridge, MA. That's Saturday, December 5 from 10 am-3 pm.

Utton Bay's table-mania continues on Sunday, December 6th at Design Hive from 10 am - 5 pm at the Maria Baldwin School, 28 Sacramento St., Cambridge, MA. I'll be showing boatnecks in classic cotton as well as some fab new materials, so check it out.

Maintenance Not Required

Most people would write about the wonderful Thanksgiving they had with their family gathered round in Mummy's lofty Manhattan digs. And of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade that surged and throbbed with crowds and excitement just outside her door.

Yet I, in my own iconoclastic way, would rather tell you about the MAINTENANCE REQUIRED light on my otherwise lovable 2005 Scion xA. The girls in the audience will recognize the sheer terror that comes with seeing a warning light blink -- or worse, stay lit -- on their dashboards.

However, I'm told by reliable sources that the "maintenance" the light advises has nothing to do with foretelling that your car is about to blow up. It's merely another scam to get you to run to the dealership for a $300 oil change.

Have the car companies no conscience? I ask. Making a faithful consumer worry for their safety is a line, as the police like to say, that no one should cross.

Meet me @ the Club Car

It's becoming harder and harder to find a diner-like venue on a Sunday morn that isn't clanky with dishes or squalling children. Imagine my delight at discovering The Club Car Cafe in West Concord, MA, a station house I've passed a hundred times without noticing. There I enjoyed a peaceful and leisurely breakfast sans souci with the ever-cranky Global D in tow. A trio of little girls ran amok "helping" the two waitresses refill sugar and wipe table tops. One even presented us with the check with professional aplomb. I'd return. And isn't that the highest compliment?

Plains of Jamaica

Note: Owing to cutbacks and downsizing, we're trying out a new style of stripped-down prose for this entry.

Sunday, the Arborway: Sunny, mild. Trees, foliage, paths.



Light. Leaves. An old friend met. Tai Chi.




Town center. Market. Hip. Artsy. Coffee. Apple strudel.

Stronger than Dirt

A theater marquee during last month's trip to New York predicted my current status: cleanup woman. Little did I know then that my apartment would undergo ritualistic deep cleaning at my own hand.
Redolent of the smell of freshly scrubbed floors, I felt a little like Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment, in a sweet Siberia of my own making.

East of Beacon

Determined to enjoy the few remaining sunny Saturdays before the onset of winter, I took a stroll down Beacon Hill. A market on Charles Street yielded a display of oranges watched over by a neighborhood Corgi, not indifferent to a young bell-ringer plying her trade next door.

Nearby, an upscale hardware shop window touted household iron, crystal and brass trinkets priced in the stratospheric reaches. I gazed upon the parade of store windows filled with exotic clothing. Unexpectedly, someone took my picture. Did they mistake me for Anna Wintour? Maybe on a good day. And this was a banner day, at that.

Saladio Law

But not too picky...
I do appreciate a finely tuned salad. I guess it runs in the family. My mother wrote a cookbook years ago that required conducting nightly exotic food experiments at home. We kids were presented with, let's say, 3 different salads, and asked to vote on our favorite. From this came her immutable law set down in print, and to which I adhere to this day: "If a puddle of dressing collects in the bottom of the bowl, you've used too much."

Eureka!

I may have discovered the fountain of youth (at least for hair) thanks to a brush I found in a Parisian dollar store. It's nothing special to look at, just a generic plastic hair brush made in Taiwan with a simulated wood-grain handle. But after using it for a week or two, I noticed something strange. My normally gray-streaked mane had reverted to the deep russet shades of my salad days.

How this happened I cannot explain. I haven't changed shampoos. I eat the same old foods. The only difference I can think of is the daily ministrations with the damned French brush. I began imagining a potential retail bonanza; my own infomercial: The amazing Brush-your-Way-Back-to-Youth System! Turn back the clock with each stroke! Brush the years away! Only $19.95! And if you order in the next 20 minutes, get his and hers Brushaways for the same low price!

It could happen. I'll get back to you as soon as I've talked with the FTC.

Hive, No Jive

Button Buddies

Two weekends ago I spent a splendid hour gawking at the thousands of buttons in New York's Tender Buttons. The shop is apparently named after a book by Gertrude Stein, a collection of confusing gibberish that's more often written about than actually read. I'm told the book consists of three chapters: "Objects," "Food," and "Rooms" --coincidentally, three things I'm particularly fond of myself.

I think Gertrude would have liked this shop. It reminded me of a sleepy old village store somewhere in the French countryside. Yet its not-so-dusty shelves held an endless variety of buttons that ranged in price from $1.50 to $150 each.

Predictably, I ended up spending $9 on a half dozen colorful plastic types with an irresistibly kid-ly theme. As one of Stein's contemporaries (Oscar Wilde) said, I can resist anything...except temptation.

The Larch

This weekend marked the unofficial peak of fall foliage (natives refer to it as "foilage") around Boston and also the end of a week-long tribute to Monty Python on IFC. In an effort to find a balance between the two, I ambled over to Larch Road in Cambridge. Directly across from Fresh Pond Park, the sleepy little residential street offered a resplendent display of autumn colors as well as conveniently free parking for park-goers without resident parking permits.

There may not be any actual larch trees on Larch Road. Just a neighborhood baseball diamond of the type you might expect to find in a Norman Rockwell painting surrounded by well-groomed single and multi-family homes.


The central feature of the Python sketch in question is a dull-voiced announcer's repetition of the phrase, "And now...the Larch" followed by a still photo of an ordinary-looking tree. Could it be that the larch has gotten a bad rap?

Uptown Girl

It was so cold this past weekend in New York that pickpockets were sticking their hands in strangers' pockets just to keep them warm. Luckily I'm safe from being "dipped," thanks to sister Doun's personal instruction in defeating the Two-Handed Street Grab™ often employed by Manhattan's criminal element. Where she learned such a maneuver, I couldn't say.

Lexington Avenue may be known for its theaters and pastry shops, but this girl's a sucker for fresh cut flowers, so I stopped to smell the roses. Burger Heaven beckoned me from across the street. I pondered visions of a place where ground beef goes when it dies, or at least aspires to go. Perhaps there is even a Burger Hell somewhere. Hell, why not a Burger Purgatory! I couldn't decide. All this thinking about food was making me hungry.

The only place to be was the Fairway Cafe. A jealously guarded secret heretofore known only to seasoned boulevardieres like me, this little gem of a restaurant is perched atop a busy premium supermarket of the same name situated on Broadway at 74th. Encouraged by my well-traveled and generous Mummy, I happily tucked into a meal of sumptuous crab cakes and a platter of onion rings the size of a small ranch house. "Like No Other Market®" proclaims the Fairway's slogan, and I heartily agree.

Splenda in the Grass

A trip to New York this weekend in the midst of a cold snap. Central Park was decked out in stunning fall hues as well as the usual errant cigarette butts and packets of ersatz sugar. My sisters graciously sponsored my attendance at a New Yorker Festival event on West 57th that featured a dozen humorists reading from their works. Calvin Trillin delivered his piece in a low monotone. Woody Allen was appropriately wooden. The rest were variously funny and/or edifying. Courtesy of my beloved M66 bus, I also made a pilgrimage to New York's premiere button store and spent an afternoon enjoying the delights of the Cooper Hewitt museum, both of which I'll tell you about in subsequent blog entries.

Vigilance Propreté

Embarked as I was on a whirlwind of house cleaning this week, my thoughts turned to the green trash bags seen in public places all over Paris. The bags have the words “vigilance” and “propreté” printed on them – placing vigilance before cleanliness. The exact meaning remains mysterious. Perhaps "be mindful of cleanliness" comes closest, although some theorize that since it first appeared shortly after 9/11, the message advises the French public to be vigilant in preventing terrorism as well as strive to keep things spic and span. The bag I'm holding in the photo was located in the garden behind Notre Dame cathedral. Little wonder it was "miraculously" empty.

Honk if you love Cambridge

Once a year the Honk Parade comes honking through my little neighborhood. I don't mind. It's a chance to enjoy the sight of waves of people filling the streets dressed in crazy costumes, tooting on saxophones, plunking banjos, and banging drums.
The participants are highly organized and put a lot of effort into their performances. Wacky props and various paper mache creations are de rigueur.

Themes run the gamut from "Rude Mechanical Orchestra" to "End War In The Middle East." Don't ask me how Honk started or why. All I know is that it begins in Somerville, proceeds up Massachusetts Avenue, and ends in the middle of Harvard Square before first going right by my door.

Full Sale Ahead

I took a quick jaunt to Providence, RI, for the seasonal RISD alumni sale. Although I did not see Seth MacFarlane or David Byrne in the mob of students there, I was assured at least some of the items for sale were made by actual RISD alumni. There were earrings that boasted fragments of advertising, luminous landscapes, ingenious space-dyed knit tops and scarfs, and blown glass with a simple colored rim. It was tough to restrain myself, but I indulged in a felt doll inspired by anime made by an artist called Aomimi. I also bought a delicate ceramic bowl, gracefully inscribed "No. 10" inside with a faint imprint of a fork on the outside made by Asya Palatova. A good day, even though there were many artists whose work remained to be seen.

I stopped at the famed RISD store for lunch and immediately fell head over heels for two chairs that featured my favorite stripe pattern. I was prepared to hunker down until they let me have 'em, but was told they were not for sale. Well, a gal can't be blamed for tryin'.

Is the Fish Fresh?

As some of you may recall from my past adventures battling salmon chiselers, the price of fish is of special interest to me. I was back at H Mart this week to take advantage of their wide selection of seafood, a lot of it selling for under 3 dollars a pound. Is it fresh? You bet.

Buzzin' at the Hive

Today I celebrated Utton Bay's Design Hive debut and my first face to face retail selling experience. My booth was set up and ready by 10 AM, despite some initial mishegas. I was first issued a heavy round table roughly the size of the Titanic. It left no space for my clothes rack or for me. Luckily, I was able to trade this monstrosity for a pair of small school desks that fit the space much better.

DJ Keith Jensen spun funky tracks to get sellers crunkin' and shoppers buyin'. The hands of the clock went round. Hours went by. I got to know my booth neighbors well.

Happy as I am to have seen repeat rounds of friends and neighbors, it was a lighter crowd than regulars tell me they've seen at previous Design Hive dates. As they say in baseball, "Maybe next time." (And a special shoutout to my best customer, Ms. Westerman, and to my dear friend who helped me launch The Bay, Ms. Webster Holmes.)

H is for heavenly

I've confirmed eyewitness reports of unbridled pandemonium coming out of Burlington, MA. Was it a Justin Timberlake sighting? No, just the grand opening of H Mart, a supermarket specializing in Asian foods. Outside, shoppers jockeying for parking spots were directed into overflow lots by private police. Inside, I encountered crowds that put the Superbowl to shame.

The seafood counter featured umpteen varieties of exotic fish and bivalves on ice. A staff of knife-wielding fish cutters stood ready to clean and filet shoppers' selections. There I received advice on how to gut a sea bass from a young salt and chef de cuisine. "Slit from the tail and pull it down the middle," said he.
I pressed on, discovering heavenly heaps of fresh vegetables and fruit at pre-inflation prices. The bakery, however, took the grand prize. Tucked into a corner of H Mart and separately branded Tous les Jours, temptingly exotic breads (many touting a chestnut filling) and pastries exuded fresh, buttery smells. Will I return again soon? My-oh-yes...with a bigger shopping bag!

Reminder: tomorrow (October 4) Utton Bay appears at Design Hive!