First of all, my 50th birthday is coming up this summer, so this is foremost a reminder to plan accordingly. Fifty don’t come cheap. 

Second, and perhaps more importantly (I said perhaps) next Friday marks a planned economic blackout to show the oligarchy so disturbingly in charge right now that we the people still have some say and some semblance of power (at least until it’s finally shredded in whatever monstrous Executive Order or Congressional action gets unleashed next – will Medicaid or Medicare be the first to go? FAFO, MAGA morons!)

On February 28, I encourage you to join me in not spending or ordering anything from any entity other than locally-owned-and-operated businesses for one day, which will double as a helpful lesson in saving, while sending a message, if enough of us join, that we are entirely fed up. It may take some planning and preparation, particularly if you’re like my husband and me, whose meal plans are usually created and purchased the day of – but it will be good to go without spending at Amazon or Target for a day, and perhaps longer. 

Do I have any idealized belief that this will result in anything concrete? Not at this point – one would be a fool to think that such things matter anymore, but it’s something we can all actively do. And maybe we will feel a little better about not having contributed to the richest people in power for one day. 

Almost every casual conversation I’ve had this week – from co-workers in the elevator to the cashier at Trader Joe’s – has referenced the wear and tear of this particular winter. I think we are all feeling weary of it, and I don’t recall a stretch of such sustained frigid and icy weather in recent years without a bit of a break. The winter doldrums are here, and relief is a long way off. 

For my part, I’ve largely avoided dwelling on something over which we have no control, such as the weather, and the winter. Instead, I look to the sweet spots of beauty, even in the awfulness of a weekend-long ice storm. 

There is magic here, a wonderland that can only be conjured in the winter. For that we should be grateful. 

This wasn’t something I wanted to happen. While I love many of the Byredo fragrances, and have a few of my own, I find the majority are too light and don’t last long enough to justify their price points. (Exceptions of note: their glorious Night Veils collection.) When I was last in Boston, Chris and I were ambling about Newbury Street on a frigid day before our holiday gathering. The wind was whipping wildly, the temperatures were brutally low, and we went storefront by storefront to keep warm. One of these was what looked like a small Byredo pop-up, perhaps a holder for something more grand, or maybe just a holiday gift for passers-by like us. 

I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t need or really want another cologne at that moment – my signature holiday fragrance had already been chosen, and I was entirely enamored of it. But there was newest Byredo release – ‘Desert Dawn’ – and on such a cold day the idea of a warm desert was too tantalizing to  ignore. Spraying a bit on my wrist and coat sleeve, I brought it to my nose, hoping to hate it. No such luck – it was exquisite. The dryness of cedar and hints of sandalwood lent it a warmth that immediately spoke to me as the winter was then just beginning, while a small accent of cardamom gave it additional heat. A crisp note of vetiver gave it some effervescent and sparkle. Despite Byredo’s deserved reputation of not being the most lasting of fragrances, this one stayed with me even after our morning stroll ended, thus eliminating my last possible objection to such a gorgeous scent. 

By that time, my Christmas wish list had long been finalized, but I sent Andy a missive that if he was looking for a Valentine’s Day gift this would be most welcome, and as he usually does, he heard the plea and delivered like the sweet and generous soul he is. While I was planning on saving it for a trip to California or a warmer time close to summer, this actually works as an antidote to winter, so I’ve indulged and decided to make it happen now. With icy weekends bound indoors with Andy, I can’t think of a better memory to encapsulate with a fragrance. 

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” ~ Edith Wharton

I read somewhere that there were only thirty more days until spring. Though I trust nothing I read online anymore, I didn’t bother to do the math because it doesn’t much matter. Spring will arrive when she arrives, whether by date or by weather, and there’s not much more we can do about it. 

Due to the difficult weather we have had, I’ve spent the entirety of the long weekend inside our home, watching and listening to the raging winds and the clattering of branches and ice against the roof and windows. When I saw ‘Babette’s Feast’ listed on the TCM schedule, I asked Suzie if I should watch it, as it was one of her favorites from childhood. She said yes, so I lit a candle and hoped for the best.

I wasn’t expecting the subtitles, or something entitled ‘Babette’s Feast’ to be anything other than porn, but in both instances I was pleasantly surprised, and our next goal for winter will be Suzie hosting a dinner inspired by this quaint movie. We shall call it ‘Suzette’s Feast’ and instead of quail we’ll have Cornish game hens. Oh, who am I kidding – we’ll have everyone over and throw some chicken tenders on a paper plate. 

The almost-full Snow Moon cast its lovely light over an aptly-snow-covered earth, calling to me to step out into the cold air and brave the discomfort for this brilliance. In only a few minutes, I was chilled and shuddering, but the moon often does that, forcing us into situations and circumstances and bad ideas we never would have entertained at any other time. Its seduction is dangerous, and one follows its madness with an acknowledged risk of ruin. On this night, it was nothing nearly as dramatic as all that, merely the pesky trials of a brisk chill to capture a few peeks of the moon shyly drifting among the winter clouds and trees. 

Winter moons hold their own magic, and though their light is merely a reflection, it feels no less illuminating for that. There’s something more poignant about it – as though it’s giving up everything for the rest of us, even the stuff it doesn’t even have to give. Of course there’s another way of looking at it: who gives away something they have only borrowed? 

The Super Bowl happened more than a week go, but this is my Super Bowl – a bowl of Wedgwood from my Mom’s collection. It provides solace in any dark time, with memories of my childhood home glowing in my heart with all the happenings of our formal living room – birthdays, Christmas mornings, graduations, and visits from family and friends. Escaping into those happier times is a necessary component of current days, and looking back is sometimes a comfort. Along those lines, here’s our weekly recap…

More than cocks and flowers… slightly. 

An unexpected stiffy first thing in the morning. 

A crotchety old man am I.

A Divine Diva’s schedule is set in sparkles. 

Visitor for the full Snow Moon.

Abracadabra: return of the Lady. 

The architecture of ice. 

A Valentine’s Day blog post!

Snow still lives. 

A purple-hued interlude.

Style & panache!

I just wanna dance!

A crisp style. 

Let me entertain you. 

Magnificent muted wonder. 

Dazzlers of the Day included Jalen Hurts, Saquon Barkley, Pete Davidson and Patrick Schwarzenegger.