Last weekend we attended a dinner party at my brother’s house – a cozy rendezvous with a few moments by the fire pit. What does one wear to such a thing? None other than this fabulously-rendered knit poncho that I found in some hidden store in Portland, Maine a while back. I bring it out for fall days like this, as much for its layer of warmth as for its ridiculous form and style. We all look foolish in a poncho, let’s be honest.
Before dinner, Paul got the fire going, and Andy and I posed before the guests arrived. We would return to it at the end of the evening, when all was dark and the fire had softened to a pile of glowing embers. Sometimes that’s the best part of a fire, even if it takes some howling and crackling to get there. As for the dinner, it was a lovely gathering of friends old and new – the perfect fall escapade – and one of those rare times when I felt I was on the inside looking out instead of my usual vantage point on the periphery. Or maybe I just felt like one of the group instead of being the elephant at the zoo.
