I saw Eat Pray Love last night in a theater full of women from the Naples Overseas Spouses Club. Now, I confess, I couldn't wade farther than thirty pages into this book, but I'll let it go at that. The movie was a sensuous travel feast much like an old issue of Gourmet magazine (oh Lillian Langseth-Christensen, how you beguiled me with distant places in my teens). As to chick-flick requirements, I'm not really susceptible to Javier Bardem's charms, but James Franco certainly compensated.
There were many moments of hilarity during the Italian episode that might almost qualify as insider jokes for this particular audience. Perhaps the greatest outburst of laughter occurred at the opening of the Napoli sequence when a little girl on a fire escape accurately portrayed a certain less-than-welcoming attitude one comes across in this town.
I thought I'd give a little promo, though, to the Roman coffee bar where Julia meets her Swedish sidekick for her Italian adventures. The Neapolitan pizza place, Antica Pizzeria da Michele (I'm going off recall), gets full credit in the movie with long camera sweep of its front awning, but the coffee bar is only recognizable to those who discern the telltale sunflower yellow packages. They reveal that it must be Sant 'Eustachio's. My friend Lea Giovanniello brought me there twice, and I thank her heartily. I've just gotten down to my last grind from the bag I bought on my last visit to Rome -- which, looking on the bright side, means I have to go to Rome again soon. The coffee is so rich and lacking bitterness that even a froth devotee like me will take a few restorative sips before I pour in my milk.
Here's my morning cup in the polka-dot mug that's stood me well each morning for 15 years . . .
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Summer sewing and brief Roman holiday
Taking a little break from beads and jewelry to go back to my first love -- sewing. I've never really stopped , but it got crowded out for about a decade with, oh, parenting, work, and a hobby that didn't require machine maintenance. Home dec sewing always stayed in the mix, but now I'm back to making clothes. Though not for me (yet). I've got a few things piled up to tackle, but first were two projects for the girls -- a dress for Lil and an Anna Sui top for Em. The Lily dress turned out well -- the Anna Sui top less so, though Emily likes it. Let's focus on Lily's dress for this small entry. It's McCalls 2880 -- which may be out of print -- it's a surplice bodice and gathered skirt. I used a combination of Heather Ross prints -- a mermaid one on top and an aquatic octopus one on the bottom in apricot tones with a little orange rickrack to snazz up the top. Lily wore it the day after it was finished to go pick up Quinn from his visit with friends in Rome -- so we'll have a little Roman holiday sewing expo here with some brother shots included.
This was taken on the train ride up to Rome. We took the local which is a bit longer but much more to see (and cheaper) than the Eurostar.
We met Quinn with our friends the Giovaniellos who were preparing to return to Virginia after 20 months at the embassy -- it was a bittersweet day since their departure was imminent.
We walked through much of central Rome, eating gelato, people watching, seeing a few churches, and making a stop in Piazza Navona -- mostly killing time until the "Bone Church" reopened. Both my kids wanted to see the Cappuchin monks' meditation on mortality -- which paradoxically is called the Church of the Immaculate Conception.
It is seven ghastly rooms festooned with human bones -- trust me, it gets redundant. It has become quite popular on the German Christian youth group circuit . . . long lines of them both morning and afternoon in matching hats, scarves, or t-shirts (one group singing what sounded like "My knapsack on my back" -- seriously!). When I first visited in my early twenties, there was only me, my trusty travel companion, and a cantankerous monk in cassock glaring at us. But I have to admit these monks were quite creative with spinal columns. No photography is allowed, so you'll have to trust me on that . . . or wait, I found a Bone Church posting by someone who ignored all the signs.


This was taken on the train ride up to Rome. We took the local which is a bit longer but much more to see (and cheaper) than the Eurostar.
We met Quinn with our friends the Giovaniellos who were preparing to return to Virginia after 20 months at the embassy -- it was a bittersweet day since their departure was imminent.
We walked through much of central Rome, eating gelato, people watching, seeing a few churches, and making a stop in Piazza Navona -- mostly killing time until the "Bone Church" reopened. Both my kids wanted to see the Cappuchin monks' meditation on mortality -- which paradoxically is called the Church of the Immaculate Conception.
It is seven ghastly rooms festooned with human bones -- trust me, it gets redundant. It has become quite popular on the German Christian youth group circuit . . . long lines of them both morning and afternoon in matching hats, scarves, or t-shirts (one group singing what sounded like "My knapsack on my back" -- seriously!). When I first visited in my early twenties, there was only me, my trusty travel companion, and a cantankerous monk in cassock glaring at us. But I have to admit these monks were quite creative with spinal columns. No photography is allowed, so you'll have to trust me on that . . . or wait, I found a Bone Church posting by someone who ignored all the signs.
Then we had a little time in Villa Borghese park where the kids enjoyed a little amusement ride.
A posed shot with bougainvillea in the park.
(Quinn's has an almost-teen's reluctance to pose for photos)
Lily, on the other hand, loves to strike a pose!
Tomorrow, okay, soon, some posts on the 7 pillows, Anna Sui top, and shoulder bag (oh yeah, I did sew something for myself), and my limoncello recipe and our grilled pizza adventures.
Ciao-ciao amici!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Back in the (reupholstered) saddle!
Yes, I've neglected my blog FOR MONTHS, and I have no good reason other than . . . laziness? reticence? diffidence? Maybe the first with the other two liberally sprinkled in. But as I've become more and more invested as a blog follower . . . I've decided to get hopping here again. With two kids home all summer (and one working!), I've been pretty consumed with parenting, but as it is, I also have been getting our family room out of the doldrums and kitted out a bit. I sewed some new pillows and have a few more planned. But my big transformation is the "found-on-the-side-of-the-road" chair brought over from Virginia. If you can believe it, it was pristine when I found it set out for the taking on the sidewalk of a recently sold house. It had practically new beige ticking upholstery underneath a brocade slipcover from fancy schmancy and defunct furniture store Domain. But after four years of hard usage this is what it looked like:
I don't think this picture even does the grime justice! Of course, I've already taken a hammer to it in this photo.
What I wanted was something more like this:
Wow! Right?! It's from the London shop Squint Limited. I can't tell you how many times I've gone there to oggle the sofas, chairs, chaises, etc. But, the shop is in London and, well, chair prices start in the neighborhood of 3000 British pounds. So I'm not in the geographic or the financial neighborhood of Squint.
I had never done a proper reupholstery job -- a few chair seat recovers, some slipcover action, but nothing that required an electric staple gun. And then I purchased an electric staple gun. Now nothing stood in the way of the Squintification of above chair -- no power tool and certainly not a lack of fabric!
Anyone who knows me, I mean really knows me, knows about my large and ever-growing fabric stash. Stash is really not the right word for it. This cannot be stashed . . . it has to be stored in dedicated bins and closets -- occasional pruning has to occur. It's more like an inventory than a stash. It includes fabrics that belonged to my grandmother, a couple of bins of upholstery (!) samples from the decorator shop my mother's friends shut down in the '90s, freecycle acquisitions, garage sale acquisitions, proper fabric shop purchases, mail order, ebay, thoughtful parcels from my mother-in-law. What can I say? I'm a fabric magnet (don't use the word addict).
This surfeit of fabric, of course, makes this project even more apropos for a peripatetic creative type like me. I took as my starting point this Heather Ross "Far, Far, Away" unicorn print (I interfaced it to give it upholstery heft since it's a soft cotton woven):
Then I kept loosely to a palette of green, yellow, orange, and pink (with a little blue, too). I stacked up the fabric bits, mixing and matching as bins were dumped out all over the living room (to my husband's dismay). Then I painstakingly removed the old fabric from the chair, disassembled the pieces to use as a pattern, then pieced each section. I was impatient, so each section went on as it was pieced, and bit by bit, the chair came together . . . but no photos were taken of the process. I'm a hapless blogger. Until the end! VOILA! Here she is, my Squintified chair in her many sided glory:
front
A little wonky in some parts and then the use of pom-pom trim -- not something you'll find on a real Squint chair. But, it certainly neatens up first-time upholstery glitches. All in all, what a chair revival! And now I have my sight set on this little piece. My trusty power stapler is ready . . . but it's button upholstery . . . am I?
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