Mum's the word

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This week I am pretty sure we had the last day jacket-free day for next 5 months. I knew it as it was happening, too. Walking down the street thinking oh god please let this never end. It's going to, so what is there to do but love it while you got it.

I found this blouse a few days ago, picked it up thinking it was a funny little 1970s Annie Hall polyester deal. After closer inspection, it's silk (with hand sewn buttonholes) from the 1940s. There's a boy in my life who's parent's apartment in the 1970s was in Annie Hall. I've touched a sofa that was in Annie Hall. I can't even make stuff like this up.
IMG_4621IMG_4339IMG_4304IMG_4524IMG_4503 Flowering has slowed a little since wedding season started to snooze. I've been stealing away every weekend this month for either work or play and have gorged on leaves and fires and antique shops. I found my dream edwardian boots with jazzy little lizard buckles, in my size and barely worn. I've had bucket fulls of flowers every moment since September. I'm also loving trashy, corner store spider mums right now and I don't care who knows it.

Frances' wedding

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On the first of October one of my dearest friends got married. The night before the girls got together and ate nachos and drank more than we should have but less than we could have. The next morning I woke up bleary eyed at 7am to pack all of the flowers I made the day before. Things got hectic (even the smallest of weddings do) and I ended up changing into my party dress in an ally right before we delivered the ceremony flowers. Eyeliner was applied at stoplights. I rolled a wheely cart with two massive arrangements into the park and my 4" heels splashed with spilled vase water.

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IMG_2435IMG_2344IMG_2373Untitled-3IMG_2385Untitled-2IMG_2583IMG_2587IMG_2605IMG_2501Untitled-4IMG_2578The wedding had the makings of a movie- a 45 minute late start because of a lost set of parents, a teary eyed officiant, a hot-stuff love connection between guests and an impromptu first dance to Helpless by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. Pitchers of german beer and platefuls of bratwurst. The bride wore navy Manolos while eating a personalized Carvel ice cream cake. She married her man and I couldn't be happier.

Falling

My favorite wedding leftovers are fall branches. A big vase in my bedroom makes a tree in miniature, crumpling just like outside. Wedding work hasn't slowed yet, but instead has focused into intense bouts. One of my favorite friends was married a week ago and this coming weekend is an event that will bring me and 5 of my nearest and dearest assistants upstate. I'm holding my breath for the bottle of wine that will happen Saturday night at my grandfather's house. Fire in the fireplace. All that.

A few weeks back I stumbled upon a wasp's nest on a branch at the flower market, up for sale by a farmer in New Jersey. He told me he'd never finds them and especially so well preserved. I cradled it like a new born baby, skipped out of going to dinner that week and have been staring at it every chance I get. 

Fall is happening here, my collection of dried bits is growing and my houseplants are finally getting a break from the heat. Cider doughnuts and apple picking happened. The season's first shivers, too and a boatload of new old boyfriend sweaters were purchased. Tights have debuted. Leaves got stuck in my forever tangled hair and hot coffee is sounding better than cold. Hold on tight, fall. You are being very nice to me this year.

Double duty

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Things have been happening here. Flowers. Like crazy. Weddings of friends and strangers. Coffees and hangovers and 6am flower market runs every other day. Pizza more often than not. 24 dirty flower buckets waiting for me in the bathtub. 10 large cardboard boxes of fancy vases in the living room. 6 weddings in September. 3 gorgeous, massive cast iron urns stolen from my hallway. 2 accidentally thrown away pairs of expensive clippers. 1 very special vintage umbrella taken at a bar and lost for all time. Cliff notes version-I've missed you here.

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These photos are from a wedding at Frankies in Brooklyn. The bride and groom's hired photographer had a sudden death in the family and he completely forgot about the wedding as he headed out of town. He remembered when the groom called 40 minutes before the wedding to ask where he was. 

I was there, snapping away at the flowers, and was asked to pull double duty. It was a fancy little party, so my jeans were minorly mortifying. Afterwards I immediately met a friend for dinner and ordered the best steak of my life. Or at least, the most well earned.


(My new column on design*sponge, in addition to living in, first used these photographs. Please give it a look, I mention Carl Sagan so it's worth it for that alone.)