Wednesdays with Carol, April 5

Whitney Biennial Washes Ashore
& Table for Two with Jeanne
The 78th iteration of the eclectic flotsam and jetsam known as the Whitney Biennial was the setting for my third Wednesday with Carol. Joining me for a jaunt through the Whitney Museum was my sister, Jeanne Markel.

The Meatpacking district around the Whitney is becoming a neighborhood of luxury condominiums and shops. There is the noise and dust of construction everywhere. Where once the whiff of the animal carcasses, lamb chops and T bones wafted through the streets of Belgian block, there is now only an olfactory memory.

There are 63 artists in the show which covers the 5th and 6th floors. Themes are painting, installation, activism and video-game design.

Carol on Wednesday at

The Whitney.

Photo by Jeanne Markel

Coat by Alpana Bawa

Herman's Dress by Jessi Reaves.

This is an actual Herman Miller sofa which

the artist has covered in pink silk.

Materials are silk and thread (so glad they

included the thread in the label).

We met this guy, David Dranoff

while looking at the Reaves works.

David is a graduate of Tyler School of Art

where Richard taught for 37 years.

We liked his necklace which

spells Dranoff in plastic letters.

Photo of David from a Tyler Look Book.

 An intriguing "closet" with a tile interior.

 Our favorite painter in the Biennial is

Celeste Dupuy-Spenser, a

38-year old artist living in Los Angeles.

Her work is described as raw and

cartoonish, with a wry humor

and sympathy for her subject.

 A teaching moment in front of a

painting by Henry Taylor.

Fashion in the Whitney.

We loved the red and blue palette

and the poppy motif on the pants.

 We admired this lady in a
whimsical Marni blouse.

 A stunning stained glass installation

with beaded figures by Raul de Nienes.

A figure covered in beads and tassels.

We lunched at a cafe called Bagatelle.

Two blocks from the Whitney,

it is a calm oasis amid the

clamor of jack hammers.

And a lovely Francophile space indeed.

On a trip to Paris, Richard and I wandered

the Jardins de Bagatelle within the

Bois de Boulogne.

There we lost ourselves amid

the intoxicating Rose Garden of over10,000 bushes.

Bagatelle, from the Italian, means
"decorative little trifle".

Wouldn't you know it?

Jeanne brought me a present just "for Wednesday".

And French-themed to boot,

in a French restaurant!

It was wrapped like the French flag.

Bleu, Blanc, Rouge.

Here is the lovely Equipment Femme blouse from Jeanne.
 It's embroidered  with tiny French flags
and Eiffel Towers.

Lunch was delicious. Hearts of Bibb lettuce

and a chicken paillard with quinoa.

After lunch we walked through the

bustling Chelsea Market.

Our destination was Del Posto
on Tenth Avenue
for their famed Negroni.
Jeanne sipped a Campari and tonic.

À Bientôt!
Tous les mercredis.

Wednesdays with Carol

A Table for Two
Lunch with Tobi
My second free Wednesday dawned beautiful and bright. A lovely, sunny, cool day. Camille arrived on the dot of 11. After showing her the lunch I had prepared for Richard, I was off on the F train bound uptown. Of course, when the train pulled in to the East Broadway station, it was an A train. Dear MTA: Why is there an A train on the F track? So the conductor kept saying, this is an A train via the F line. Until it got to West 4th Street. Then it was just an A train and would veer over to 8th Avenue. I got off.

Taxi time to 23rd and 6th. I was headed to meet my friend, Tobi, for lunch at Giorgio of Gramercy, not to be confused with Sergio of Soho, on 21st Street between Broadway and Park.

On the way to the restaurant, at the corner of Park and 21st, I spied a fun store from Denmark called Flying Tiger. A quick detour took me through it's aisles filled with bright, inexpensive, fun stuff.

 Easter Bunny Stuff.

 Sheep and Bunnies.

Plastic Chick Thingies.

Better than live ones, which the parents

will have to send to a pretend farm

in the country after Easter.

When I reached the restaurant, Tobi had already arrived and claimed a cosy corner table, so I gleefully joined her, ready to indulge in at least an hour of good conversation, good food and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

The waiter took our picture.

Over lunch, Tobi told me about her recent honor of being invited to the Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts for a three-day residency. Tobi sat in on several classes and gave a gave a speech entitled: "Lies, Hoaxes and Nonsense: Truth on the Battlefield."

Tobi is a writer and teaches at the Columbia School of Journalism. She was formerly National Writer and Arts Editor of the Associated Press.

I would like to quote the final words of her speech in Massachusetts because the message in so important in our Trump world:

We can stop calling this trend fake news and start calling it what it is: Lies.And we can educate ourselves and others.  It's up to all of us because truth is on the battlefield.  And when we lose truth, we lose our humanity.

A gorgeous display of Forsythia

at Giorgio's.

I had the soup du jour, lobster bisque.

It was delicious, as were the olives,

marinated in olive oil, honey and lemon zest.

After lunch, it was time for a bit

of exuberant mugging at the

barbershop next door.

The revelation of the sky

in Manhattan.

Fifth Avenue and 23rd Street.

The Empire State Building

 We stopped at Maille, the

mustard purveyors depuis 1740.

The sales lady sported a mustard-yellow

scarf as she pointed out

the Maille picnic basket

on the back of a spiffy bike.

Yes, I will take it for a spin to

Madison Square.

Final stop: Marimekko.

This outfit reminds me of  the hippie

look from the sixties,

particularly Portobello Road in London.

Love the flying caftans too.

À Bientôt!

À mercredi prochain.

Wednesdays with Carol

A Date with Myself
Wednesdays will always be with Carol

I have been remiss of late in not publishing more frequent posts on Femme et Fleur. To offer a frank explanation, I have not been inspired to write because my world is now circumscribed by a need to stay close to home with my spouse because he needs my help. We no longer travel to my beloved France. Visiting with friends has been curtailed. We still do a lot. We go to museums. We dine out. We will once again go to Orient in August when Lazy Girl will make an appearance. But too often I must beg off seeing friends or hurry home.

So at the urging of my interventionists, my sisters, Susan and Jeanne, and my friends and with the encouragement of my step-daughter, Dianna, and her husband, Michael, I have decided to hire an aide to be with Richard one day a week. This will be my day off. We started this week when a lovely, professional woman named Camille came to be with him.

I will plan wonderful things to do. I will wander and flaneur. I will see friends. I may even sip an elegant cocktail or two. It will always be Wednesdays with Carol.

This week my Wednesday began with a visit to The Morgan Library to see an exhibit about the American poet, Emily Dickinson. When I was in high school I had a slim volume of her poems and brought it to Ms. Sheila Saferstein's English class to read aloud. Ms. Saferstein was a great teacher and quite a looker. She had short, dark hair swept back from her face, wore pencil skirts and heels and was thrilled to have a class full of smart-alecky first-trackers at North Shore High.

For our final exam, Ms. Saferstein gave each student a copy of the hardbound, cultural magazine, Horizon. My issue was devoted to Emily Dickinson so I wrote an essay based on her.

Emily Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts,

and except for one year which she spent at

Mount Holyoke Female Seminary in

South Hadley, Massachusetts, lived in

Amherst her entire life.

 The glass elevators in the Lorenzo Piano

atrium addition to The Morgan Library.

 The sun-filled cafe in the atrium.

My perfect afternoon tea.

Earl Grey.

Loved the deviled egg and sandwiches.

 Emily Dickinson was born in 1830 and died in 1885.

Particularly in her later life, she was

enigmatic. She dressed only in white and avoided people.
Her poems were enigmatic too.
Short, eccentric and sometimes
difficult to parse.

 She would hide behind doors. She did not visit others,

but sent letters instead.

She would send a bunch of flowers from

her garden.

She said that people might prefer a posy to a poem.

In her later years, Emily Dickinson created hand-sewn books 

of her poems that she had hand written.

These are called fascicles.

Her fascicles contained 800 poems.

 A portrait of Emily (left), her brother, Austin,

and sister, Lavinia.

 Only 12 of Emily's poems were published

during her lifetime.

Her entire oeuvre was 1,800 poems.

 Amherst College, founded by Emily's grandfather.

Her father was a trustee of the college.

 Emily loved flowers.

When she died her coffin was carried through 

a field of buttercups to the graveyard.

She was buried with vanilla-scented heliotrope,

a Lady's Slipper and a knot of blue field Violets.

 Emily had an herbarium of over 400 dried flowers.

This is one of Emily's more accessible poems,

which is perhaps why it was used as a title for the exhibit.

She was an intense poet of mystical proportions.
She was hardly a "Nobody".

When a friend named Thomas Wentworth Higginson

visited her he said,

"Without touching her she drew from me.

I am glad not to have lived near her."


À Bientôt!
Je vous verrai tous les mercredis.

Birthday

A Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday. I am 73. Thanks to some wonderful people -- friends and family, I had a great day.

A delivery man arrived bearing sweet flowers from The Flower Girl, sent by my sister, Jeanne, and her husband, Chris.

My sister, Susan, sent her good wishes. Susan is in Florida where she resides in the winter. We are all grateful that she is recovering from a life-threatening medical incident that she suffered recently.

At The Odeon, celebrating my birthday.

I am wearing my new two-tone beads

which I call Le Boom-Boom.

I planned a dinner at The Odeon, one of my favorite restaurants in New York. I invited my nephew, Jack, who is a student in the film program at NYU, to come along. Jack brought a friend, Jo. She is a student in Fine Arts at Parsons School of Design.

Jeanne and Chris sent these flowers.

They are on a shelf with a hat I designed

to wear to a Fashionista New Year's Brunch.

Before leaving for dinner, I found a small package at my door. It was a beautiful resin bracelet from Arts and Artisans in Chicago. It was sent by my stepdaughter, Dianna, and her husband, Michael.

Resin bracelet by Madame Piedran of

Normandy, France.

I got some nice birthday cards. My cousin, Barbara, whose birthday is two days before mine, always sends me one. I owe her a belated card. It's so fun to get cards. When I was young, I used to get a birthday card every year from my Aunt Margaret with a dollar "for a Coke".

Card from old friends, Dyan and Michael.

The manager at The Odeon is named Roya. She is tall and elegant and always dresses in vintage outfits. Last night she was wearing a wonderful dress. She purchased it in Arizona while there for a friend's wedding. "I went shopping for vintage the morning of the wedding," she said. A girl after my own heart. The dress was originally from Iceland!

Roya in her Icelandic dress.

I had never met Jo, Jack's girlfriend. She has a cute haircut and a beautiful smile. She was wearing a light-colored coat adorned with a collection of pins on the shoulder. She had on a black beret and wore large-rimmed glasses. I liked her right away. Jo gave me a book she had made of her etchings.

Jo. I think she had the pasta.

Jo's etching.

Jack is a serious guy. He is serious about his art. Jack was wearing a red and black checked shirt buttoned up at the collar. I like that look. Jack gave me a painting that he had done. He always has so many things on his mind.  Painting, animation, film and video games to name a few. It is challenging to an artist to have so many facets to their creativity. I am in the same boat.

Jack at The Odeon.

The painting that Jack made for me.

Chris came along too. We had some good conversations. I told him how I make my beads and swore him to secrecy. I am pretty sure he will not try to manufacture them and become my competitor. Jeanne could not come because she had her book group.

Richard had a good time. He had a dozen oysters, duck confit and duck breast with pear all washed down with Cote du Rhone.

Richard in a favorite shirt 

purchased in Nice, France.

We finished the evening with deserts. I had the famous Odeon chocolate pudding with a dollop of whipped cream. Someone had overheard it was my birthday, (Roya) and my dish arrived with a candle. Everyone sang happy birthday.  At the next table, a tow-headed boy of nine was also celebrating his birthday. We exchanged birthday greetings. He was born in 2008, 64 years after me.

À Bientôt!