There is no day like Saturday to look up into the azure sky and thank God that you live in California.  The naturally air-conditioned climate, honeysuckle smells, bewitching sunsets, beautiful rustic canyons, and sparkling oceans juxtaposed  with the bustle of city life and a casual, relaxed joie de vivre make this a domain that’s hard to leave for even a second. This is the state I call home and a place I love more than words can say.  Enjoy your Saturday wherever you may be and like the card says, “wish you were here!”

Daybreak in Napa

I can’t write this post without getting around the fact that it will sound very “The Secret-ish” but truth be told, I have a problem with The Secret.  I believe it’s true that if you can visualize your dreams and goals you will indeed find a way to make them happen but the operative word here is “find”.  Too many people read this book believing that their Bentley and dream job of selling jewelery on QVC will happen instantly despite the reality that they’re currently watching Oprah and eating a second helping of Cheetos.  On the couch.  Not moving.  Not doing anything about it.  Just dreaming.   All of us know that nothing comes easily.  You simply have to make it happen.  But what I will agree with, dear Secret fans,  is that it all starts with a great photo.

So here is my Dream which I will one day make happen.  And this is the photo that launched it all.  One day, I will look out my window and this is what I’ll see.  It’s a crisp October morning and the just-breaking sunlight is dancing on the cabernet vines of our Napa vineyard high, high in the valley hills (this could also be in Argentina, Santa Ynez or Sonoma, for the record).  The coffee is roasting in the background and my gorgeous boyfriend (because the jury is still out on marriage) is rustling about, getting ready to tour the field.  I’m staring at the dense fog that blankets the hills and can smell the dewy drops trickling down the trees.  I’m leaning against a solid wood plank in the outdoor veranda of a magnificent but casually elegant Tuscan Villa – perfectly nestled into the hills. It’s early and there’s a ton of work to do.  I’ll join my swarthy Latin bf in the field soon, after which we’ll change into smart clothes and greet guests in the tasting room.  There’s laughter, clinking glasses, happy couples and fantastic blends of cabernet franc, sauvignon and merlot. 

At the end of the day the sun will set and I’ll be looking at this view again for it tends to be eerily similar to the early breaking hours of the morning.  He and I will share a glass of our recent vintage, smile and gaze upon Napa’s pulchritude while Madeleine Peyroux plays in the background.  We’ll entertain guests for dinner where the most decadent spoils of the Valley will be served.  The house will be lively, candles will dance throughout the airy corridors and music will fill every space.  This view is still present yet slowly fading away as dusk takes over.  For a moment, it seems to wink as it fades away, for it knows it will surely be there again in the morning.   

And this is my Falcon Crest dream.  Off to making it happen!

Paris

Ah, Paris.  There is nothing like a glimpse of an authentic Parisian bistro to immediately transport you into a chic mindset.

Bonsoir,

H

New Twist on the Little Black Dress

I need to have this dress.  Nothing more to say.

Scarves still remain the ultimate accessory and although I believe most plaid clothing  belongs on the racks of Abercrombie & Fitch, this stylish little devil looks amazing on most everyone because of the bright blue color set against white and hints of silver.  It immediately adds a bit of edge and whimsy to any outfit.   Lasso one for yourself!

Blue/Silver/White Checkered Scarf, www.amiciaccessories.com, $14

Just in time to get you all riled up for Spring,  a delicious sandal that’s sure to attract the Sun’s sparkling rays and the envy of other streetchicers.  I usually cannot stand Lilly Pulitzer if only because it’s worn by girls named Muffy who vacation in Palm Beach, winter in Aspen and never got the memo that paisleys and whale belts are out, but these set just the right tone.  Maybe they’ll be cheaper in a few months. 

Lily Pulitzer Gold Metallic sandals, $220, www.piperlime.com

I recently attended the funeral of a friend of a friend held in a beautiful Catholic church in Santa Monica.  It was a traditional service and well-attended as befits a prominent man.  Behind me and all around me you could hear sniffles, tears, and others recalling their favorite memories.  People held hands and caressed their loved ones’ arms.  It was a time to remember and no-one cared about expressing their raw feelings.  There were plenty of unguarded displays of emotion.

And then the new-age crap reared its pretentious head to ruin the authenticity of the service.  When it came time for the euology, a member of the deceased’s family took their place on the pulpit, all too smugly if you ask me.  The congregation sat upright eager to listen to the stories, good times, intimate memories and sadness that will inevitably wash over the family due to this unfortunate series of events.  But it was not to be.

 The family member marched up to that pulpit, stenrly looked at the crowd and said,

“I’ve decided that we have all come here today to CELEBRATE.  This is not a FUNERAL but a celebration of X’s life.  We are here to laugh and applaud.  This is NOT a funeral.”

Insert eye roll here. This directive was broadcast with so much uppityness and authority that you were embarrassed to even shed one tear.  It was now not allowed to cry.  You were told you couldn’t.  It’s a party!  We’re gonna throw down!  It’s a celebration!  Woooohooooo!  All of us sitting there felt like little children who were told how to act at the dinner table.   Ah, but I realized this wasn’t the brain child of the eulogist because I have heard this mantra one too many times before– she was just following the new pop culture trend spouted at every funeral gathering from here to the Hamptons.  Apparently in America we no longer have funerals.  We have celebrations!  Of their lives!

The problem with this is that I believe people have a right to express their feelings any which way they want.  They shouldn’t have to be told how to act by someone putting the last rite and ritual into some new modern context.  When I’m at a funeral, I don’t want to celebrate.  Call me Debbie Downer but I want to cry. I want others to cry around me.  I’m sorry this person is gone and it makes me sad.  The words “celebration” conjure up different images.  Those are party words – words associated with smiles, laughter, cheers, champagne and streamers for God’s sake. 

I agree that the last service of someone’s life should bring people together but it’s a fact of life that the end of life is unhappy.  I suspect people use this modern “celebration” thing to  put a more refined “tip” on the day (people wailing and passing out in the aisles is so tacky and Godfather, they think) but when I’m gone I want people to tear up and bolster the profits of Kleenex.  Not dance around the room with my face pinned to their jackets doing tequila shots with Uncle Marty.  But that’s just me.