Summer Scaries

Hi friends,

I tend to procrastinate writing these, and the longer I put it off, the harder it becomes to pick up the metaphorical pen. Silence is rare and precious these days, and nothing feels important enough to break it. The prospect starts to feel like interrupting a very peaceful nap, and I only want to share when I feel like sharing instead of churning out some biweekly ChatGPT-generated drivel akin to what fills my Substack inbox. (I may not be many things, but I do like to think of myself as integrous.) Synthetic intelligence is the opposite of artificial intelligence, however, the suggestion that this is intelligent in any capacity is an insult to anyone with even the lowest level of reading comprehension. I digress!

My anxiety and sensitivity to heat are inextricably linked, each one intensifying the other in a relentless catch-22. After a series of fainting spells in high school and college, I was diagnosed with panic disorder, which I have been able to manage for the most part. Maybe it’s Pavlovian, but heat is a holdover trigger, and come April, the looming fear of summer oppression eclipses the wonder of perfect bluebird spring days. Moreover, there is a tacit pressure to pack in as much as possible before I either escape Charleston or become a summer hermit.

At present, I write to you from the mountains for a quick interlude of silence and chill before the onslaught of Charleston’s swelter. As I’ve previously mentioned, my family of three elects to share a room here. You could say my six year old has outgrown the nest but is refusing to fly, and I am certainly not encouraging her eviction. (Is this a universal sentiment or just one possessed by helicopter moms of only children? Maybe I am alone on this one.) She used to sleep on a small campaign cot, but an antique Directoire twin bed previously in her room in Charleston has been reborn as a daybed here with the addition of simple ticking slipcovers. It’s a clever and inexpensive upgrade that I conceived for a client’s childhood beds in Blowing Rock several years ago.

What to Eat & Drink:

It’s ironic, if not tragic, that I loathe summer given my Cancer zodiac sign and summer color analysis (which I was heeding closely until these gold knot earrings came across my desk). I’ll concede that nothing trumps summer produce; I’m essentially 90% butter bean at this point and my pronouns might as well be she/shrimp.

Italians need not comment, but my summer pizza is the best pizza and I will die on that hill. I follow this Instagram highlight to a tee but top with corn, peaches, basil, and red onion and drizzle generously with hot honey before serving. Grilling is a blue job in my household, (aside: my feminism goes out the window under exactly three circumstances: grilling, walking on sidewalks, and standing up from a dinner table), but if you’re so emboldened, grill your stretched dough for 2-3 minutes, flip it, add your toppings, and put it back on the grill for another 2-3 minutes.

I’ve procured my first ripe watermelon of the season, which I am thrilled about so I can recreate The Dunmore’s Spicy Watermelon Splash at some hopefully happy occasion or another. Happy Mother’s Day to meee.

What to Read:

Sometimes I’m served up one of those reels that gives me pause: “Your child is watching you. Are you busy watching useless reels?” And I of course pledge to do better, and subsequently stay the course and change nothing. August Lamm is dropping tech in pursuit of a more meaningful life and documenting it along the way:

There’s no urgency to idleness. Why not be idle tomorrow, once you’ve finished everything you have to do today? You will never get a midnight text reminding you to do nothing. You will never get a calendar invite to do nothing. You will never program a spreadsheet to log your idleness. Idleness doesn't have your number.

She sold her laptop, writes from a computer at the public library, and relies on a 2002 “dumbphone.” We justify needing Instagram for professional relevance, TikTok for meal ideas, and phones for photos and maps. Inspired? August shares her tips for ditching the smartphone.

It took going cold turkey to see just how distracted I’d become, how anxious, how easily bored, how resistant I’d become to silence, presence, pain and other natural human states.

One can only hope that social media goes the way of cigarettes, and that 50 years from now, we will look back on social media as a toxic relic only visible in movies set in the 2020s. (Has anyone tried Brick?)

More so for seeing than reading, but in yesterday’s design news both Gil Schafer and Carolyne Roehm put their homes on the market.

To Shop:

These red Khaite x Oliver People sunglasses ($525)are at the top of my wishlist.

The RLT Soft Baby Tee in Sunburn ($68) would be perfect for casual weekends.

I scooped up these La Veste pants ($235) in the pale pink after setting alerts, but there are lots of funky colors still stocked. Another candy-colored ($135) option.

I’m on the hunt for a lightweight (I’m carry-on only in a paranoid way, not an elitist way), comfortable, goes-with-everything heel for a September trip to Italy. These slingbacks ($795) are the current frontrunner. (More here.)

Finally a claw clip ($29) for the fine-haired girls. I’ll take avocado and champagne.

Stalking the Donni taffeta pants ($338) to be the coolest mom at carpool.

Rave reviews for this hand cream ($62) that is meant to be seen.

Torn between practical Emme Parsons ($495) sandals and statement red sandals ($325).

I’ll marry my husband all over again to have this little ivory set ($498).

A cardigan top ($225) simultaneously risqué and conservative.

See you sooner than later hopefully. Leave a funny comment.

xoxo