angloyankophile

Friday, March 7, 2014

The Prettiest Thank-You Present

I recently reviewed MyShowcase for the Myfriendslike website and they sent me this gorgeous Sage Lifestyle roll-on perfumed oil today as a thank-you because I mentioned that I loved the range - isn't that so nice? I have been utterly spoiled this week.

These petite, travel-sized roll-on bottles come beautifully packaged in a decorative paper tube, which is what initially caught my eye when I attended the recent MyShowcase pop-up event in Marylebone. The scents are positively alluring, as well as addictive. I've spent the past few months looking for my "signature" scent, but I've been having trouble finding it. I've been trying out several options from Jo Malone and Chanel, but I still haven't yet found "the one". This Sage roll-on just might be it, however.

I love roll-on oils because they last longer than eau de toilettes or parfums and are lovely to dab behind your ears, neck, and wrists. They offer a more subtle version of a scent as well, which lingers on your skin just a bit longer than the spray versions do. Plus, they don't contain any alcohol, which means it's less irritating on your skin.

One of my favorites is Diptyque's Philosykos, which I also own. It's an intoxicating blend of fig and white cedar. I love to wear it in the colder, winter months when I prefer a "warmer" scent as opposed to floral or fruity perfumes.

Thank you, MyShowcase!

Hot on the heels of my sock monkey making (no pun intended, but my mom did also recently refer to my new-found hobby as "monkey business"), I was sent this absolutely HIGH-larious pair of socks from ChattyFeet, a company that makes amazingly cheerful socks (sidenote: my other favorite pair is the Don Cottone). So. Clever. And unlike other character-themed socks, the pattern appears on both the top AND underside of your feet. Guaranteed smiles all around.

To be honest, crazy socks aren't usually my thing. I'm typically in black opaque tights or boring black cotton socks on most days, but I couldn't resist pulling these out this morning when I looked out my window and saw the gray skies. Aside from the fact that it's Friday (yay!), I needed some instantaneous cheering up. Plus, crazy socks are making a comeback - just look at Swedish company, Happy Socks (a favorite of John's), plus the latest crazy color combinations at ASOS and Topshop.

This pair may be called "Brad Feet", but they also bear an uncanny resemblance to another handsome, blonde fellow ... AKA my husband. SO. I've decided (since I barely see him these days) that the next time John's away on ~~monkey~~ business, I'll just pop these socks on, sit in front of the TV, and have a little convo with them. Test driving this on Sunday.

Brad Feet were sent to me by ChattySocks to review on Angloyankophile. You can buy your own Chatty pair either via the ChattyFeet website or Not On The High Street.

Sin City Meets Handel: Rodelinda @ English National Opera

Photograph © Clive Barda 2014

Despite being a less-than-10-minute walk away from my office, I had never been to the London Coliseum, home to the English National Opera (or "ENO", as it is better known in classical music circles). I've always been a little embarrassed by this, so I was thrilled when Alice said she had an extra ticket (purchased under ENO's Access All Arias scheme, which is fantastic, btw) for Tuesday evening's performance of Handel's Rodelinda (second embarrassing revelation of the evening: I never even knew that Handel wrote operas. Oh, dear).

In short, Rodelinda tells the story of Rodelinda, who is mourning the supposed death of her husband (the King) Bertarido, after he was driven out of his kingdom by the evil Grimoaldo. But in reality, Bertarido is alive and well (I'm not spoiling anything for you here, don't worry) and returns in disguise to seek revenge. Grimoaldo keeps Rodelinda and her son in a prison cell, unless she agrees to marry him, thus allowing him to become King. So far, so dramatic.

Having been warned in advance by Alice that ENO's often modern staging could be, at times, a little distracting, I was surprised by how well Richard Jones' production worked. Yes, at times the acting was a bit over the top and the comedic elements perhaps could have been perceived as making a mockery of Handel's original, tragic score, but you know what? It was also very enjoyable. I'm sure there are other productions out there that have remained true to Handel's original "vision", but I also attend operas, plays, ballets, and other theatrical performances to experience the myriad of interpretations by artistic directors rather than one, true-to-form version of events. Yes, at times, it was anything but credible, but it was wonderful to be transported into another world entirely and one that was full of unexpected surprises - even if some of those surprises raised eyebrows.

The set itself was inventive, quirky, and relevant. Described as a "neon-lit, Lynchian dive" by this rather scathing (though interesting) review in The Spectator, one of my favorite scenes was played out in, yes, a fantastically neon-lit bar. The majority of the production reminded me very much of Sin City, with its bleak, crime-noir setting, interjected by short bursts of black and white cinematic interludes.

Though Welsh soprano Rebecca Evans was magnificent in her role of fiercely loyal Rodelinda, the standout star of the evening was definitely countertenor Iestyn Davies, whose Bertarido had the audience in stunned silence as soon as he opened his mouth for his first entrance. His voice was of the purest quality and his singing, effortless - as if it had simply been plucked from the air. It was really incredible to hear, as I've never experienced anything quite like it. I began to look forward to his solos in anticipation, and the duet between Bertarido and Rodelinda in the third act was just perfection. Grimoaldo, performed by John Mark Ainsley, seemed often overpowered by the orchestra - especially in the first act. The ends of phrases seemed to disappear and one had to strain to understand his words. Despite this, the acting and overall performance of the entire cast was marvelous.

Every time I watch an opera, but especially this one, I am amazed at how much coordination is involved to ensure everything runs smoothly. The orchestra must stay perfectly together, even in the trickiest parts for ensemble - otherwise the singers are thrown off. The singers must act, sing perfectly, and breathe at the appropriate places, otherwise the whole ensemble is thrown off. At the end of the day, the conductor is the glue that holds it all together: the cues, the careful watching, the allowance for the smallest nuances, all had me at the edge of my seat. When you think about it, it's really extraordinary.

Rose Gold Kick

I've been on a rose gold jewelry kick lately, ever since John bought me this rose gold Kate Spade watch for my birthday last year. I know it's good to mix metals and clash a bit, but I just find that rose gold works particularly well with my skin tone.

I'm also guilty of buying lots and lots of fun but cheap costume jewelry from places like Forever 21 or Banana Republic, which - after just three or four wears - turns my fingers and ears green and/or gives me a rash on my neck. Attractive, no? So now that I'm more like Forever 31, I've resolved to buy less cheap jewelry and invest in some quality pieces for every day wear, which have the added benefit of not giving me a skin condition.

First, after navigating through some trying and triumphant times in February, I rewarded myself with a trip to the Monica Vinader showroom on South Molton Lane, where I purchased their beautiful Ava bracelet in rose gold vermeil and personalized it with my initials (shown above, left). I have particularly small wrists, so I love how this bracelet comes on a sturdy, but adjustable cord - and the fact that it's so unexpectedly delicate in person.

Also, can I just say? They are so nice in there. So helpful, patient, and friendly - which is extremely rare to find in London. Recently, I've been especially disappointed by the far from satisfactory customer service in Links of London, considering the fact that I've spent a small fortune in their stores over the years. As an American, positive customer service makes a huge difference to me and while I'd happily purchase from Monica Vinader again, I doubt I'll shop at Links of London in the future.

More recently, the rose gold vermeil floral paisely bracelet (shown above, right) from Chavin Jewellery caught my eye when I saw it on the wrist of SheerLuxe founder, Georgie Coleridge Cole, on Instagram. Luckily, Luxe Ltd was running a short promotion on a select number of bracelets and necklaces, so I think I ended up getting this bracelet for less than half price.

Chavin is based in London and Lima, Peru. The company is actively involved with the charity SOS Children and prides itself on its ethical standards of practice, which you can read more about here. Again, I loved the delicate nature of the design and thought it would be a lovely addition to stack with my other bracelets. The three adjustable sizes was another plus: my wrists are so small, most chain bracelets slip down to my hand, rather than staying where I want them to. Despite being on a chain, this bracelet has a size setting that's just right for me.

Have I tempted you to expand your rose gold collection?

Gifts for Babies: The Best Baby Journal

You know the TV series, "One Born Every Minute"? Anyway, I just thinking the other day how our friendship circle is currently resembling "One Born Every Month", since nearly all of our friends are due this spring within a month of one another. And of course, our darling niece, Dorothy Rose, was just born earlier this year.

This means a couple of things: a) people have started to ask me intrusive questions about my own family planning and b) I've become Petit Bateau's most popular customer ever. I've also stocked up on gender-neutral congratulatory-baby-birth cards just so I'm prepared.

But one gift I think is really special for a new baby or expectant parents-to-be is a baby journal. I still look at mine when I go home (Sesame Street themed - my brother's is this gorgeous one from the Metropolitan Museum of Art) - it contains a lock of my hair from my first haircut, as well as my hand and foot prints. My mom kept the sweetest diary of my gurgles and movements those first few months after I was born and it's a lovely keepsake to have.

I recently bought this baby journal for my niece, as well as Ruth and Peter's baby, Jack. I love everything about it - from the wonderful, whimsical illustrations by Yasmeen Lomail, to the actual content of the book, which covers baby-related topics with a humorous twist (perfect for those more cynical, sleep-deprived moments).

Although it's not for everyone (some prefer a more traditional format), I think it's such a great alternative to those gooey, gushy, pastel-themed baby journals you find everywhere else. When I first saw this book, I thought, "Finally! A baby journal that my friends would like!" It's just really, really cleverly done. And unique.

The only drawback is that it's softcover, which I don't think is very durable or long-lasting - but if you keep it away from explosive diaper changes and burping sessions, it should be okay.

Happy baby gift shopping.

The Art of Living Abroad

I would never consider myself to be an "expert" on living abroad. But when HiFX asked me to contribute to their campaign (which consists of a collection of tips from ex-pats around the world), I realized that the 7+ years I've spent living in a country that isn't my own has earned me some entitlement to wax poetic on the subject. So ...

Be a tourist. Even if you've lived in your adopted country for a while.

You know what? I've been on the London Eye three times. Most recently, last year. I seek out the highest points and parks in London (Centrepoint, Primrose Hill, Hampstead Heath, Heron Tower, and The Shard, to name a few) and scramble up each one, oohing and ahhing like I've never seen the city from above before. And every time I exit Westminster station, I almost always stop to take a photo of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. I HAVE NO SHAME. Because, why not? They're beautiful. They still take my breath away. When I walk across Waterloo Bridge? I stop, like a tourist, and just stand in the middle, facing Southbank, overlooking the Thames. Then I turn the other direction and look East towards Tower Bridge. And I take one (or four) photos. I don't care. It's my favorite view of London. I'm allowed. What I'm trying to say is, it's okay to still be enthralled by the place you live in. Who cares if it's not cool? I'll tell you what's not cool ... the people who think they're too cool to stop and smell the roses. They're definitely not cool.

Explore the city on your own.

When I was living in shared housing (i.e. not with John), I wandered around a lot on my own. I had a handful of friends that I enjoyed making plans with, but one of my favorite memories was getting on the DLR from Shadwell, where I lived at the time, all the way to Cutty Sark station for Greenwich Market. I'd spend an afternoon there, wandering the market stalls and taking in the smells of the delicious food bubbling away. I'd buy a brownie and save it for later, sipping a coffee as I strolled through the grounds of the Naval Academy. I liked the solitude. I felt like the experience was mine and mine alone to interpret - and it was in this way, in little chunks of different places, that I began to get to know London a little better.

Go on "friend dates".

Yeah, they're awkward and 9 times out of 10, you'll walk out of the restaurant/pub/bar/coffee shop both knowing that you'll never see each other again, but they're worth a gamble. How else are you going to meet new people if you don't go out on a limb? Say you start chatting to someone at a friend's party and realize you have a lot of common interests - it's worth swapping email addresses or taking up an offer to explore a museum or hear some live music together. Sure, I've been to one or two friend dates that turned out to be disastrous (we had nothing in common and I found the other person to be utterly annoying, though I'm sure they felt the same) but a few were amazing. For example, I met my dear friends Ruth and Peter (who have since moved back to the US - boo!) during a group friend date and it was a match made in friendship heaven. I'm pretty sure Ruth and I would have traded friendship bracelets by now, if we were in the third grade. She's still totally my pen pal.

Stay away from negative people - at least, in the beginning.

I definitely have complaints about living in the UK. My friends always ask me what I bring home in my suitcase after a visit to the US. Embarrassed, I think about it for a second: "Um ... well, you know ... razors. And kitchen sponges. And dental floss. Scotch tape. Red Vines. Marshmallow Peeps. Scissors. Sticky notes. Sharpie markers." Confused, they respond defensively: "Oh, what? Our dental floss isn't good enough for you?" And meekly, I have to say, "Sorry, no, it isn't." It's always little things, but I feel like Americans are just so darn good at inventing things to make your life just that much easier. Or, those products aren't available here.

But too much complaining leads to a huge negativity suck. And that is so not good. If you're going to live in a new country, you have to try to accept that things work differently there. It may be frustrating, you may cry into your pillow (as I type this, the black skinny jeans I want to wear tomorrow are hanging up to dry because I only had time to do my laundry today and our flat, like most UK homes, doesn't have a tumble dryer and I just know - I just know that there'll be some major panicked blow-drying around the crotch area tomorrow morning if I want to wear them to work).

I had a lovely American friend who lived here a few years ago (she's since moved back to the States) whom I loved meeting up with. But it didn't take long before I started rationing our meet-ups because she was one HUGE complainer. The worst things always seemed to happen to her. A sales assistant was rude to her. She complained to the manager. He was rude to her. She fell on the Tube. No one helped her up, etc. etc. Everything was better back in the States. Everything was terrible here. After a while, I just got really tired of it. I sympathized with her but I also believe that you can find the worst in everything - if you go looking for it. And she definitely looked for it.

So I just stopped hanging out with her.

Find an activity that "grounds" you - and stick to it.

It's totally natural to feel off-balance/off-kilter/unbalanced/untethered when you first move to a new place, let alone a new country. I'm settled enough now that I have routines and habits that make me feel at home and at ease in London. But in the beginning, I settled in and was like, "Okay, now what?" Something was missing, and I felt lost. So I joined a gym. I started practising Vinyasa flow yoga twice a week. I also joined an orchestra, The Royal Orchestral Society, which performs three times per year and rehearses once a week after work.

These were activities I brought with me from the US - activities that felt familiar, yet different enough (since I was doing them in a completely different environment, not to mention that the Brits have an entirely different musical vocabulary - e.g. I still don't know what a "crotchet" is. Is that a quarter note or an eighth note? I just nod when the conductor says it during rehearsal and then continue to play it incorrectly) that they helped me feel grounded.

And that's when I started to feel at home.

Last weekend, John and I went over to Joe and Jodi's to watch Six Nations rugby with a few friends. Rob brought over his three kids (ages 3, 5, and 7), and luckily enough, John and I went prepared with craft kits to keep them entertained while the grown-ups watched the game. Brilliant idea, right? Wrong. Naively, I hadn't realized that the kits required not just adult supervision, but total adult involvement - as they always do. Which meant that far from being sprawled out on the sofa, Jodi, Kirsty, and I were left to demystify instructions on how to make bouncy balls, a felt owl key chain, and a sock monkey.

I felt totally responsible for this unfortunate assumption that the kits would be mildly age appropriate (they were, but just needed a lot of hands-on help!) so I helped the oldest with sock monkey construction. First of all, HAVE YOU EVER MADE ONE OF THESE THINGS? THEY ARE NOT SIMPLE. THERE IS NOTHING EASY OR SIMPLE ABOUT MAKING A SOCK MONKEY. IT IS ONE OF THE MOST INVOLVED CRAFT PROJECTS I HAVE EVER UNDERTAKEN.

Meanwhile, I had a bored 7-year-old on my hands who, thank goodness, patiently waited as I frantically and sloppily hand-stitched arms, ears, legs, and a tail for her to stuff with poly-fill fiber. Long after the game had ended and the 5-year-old had burst into tears because she wanted to get home, I was still sewing like a madwoman/child laborer because the 7-year-old begged me to sew the mouth on before she left. Finally finished, and with a contact nearly dangling out my eye, I hunted down the girl (who was now playing a game of hide-and-seek behind the couch) and handed her the far from satisfactory sock monkey, which she grabbed immediately from my hands with delight. It looked awful, but passable. The stitches were totally exposed in the seams and some over-zealous stuffing had caused some of the poly-fill to bulge out of the sides.

As a child, I was always a crafty kid. My mom bought every craft kit under the sun to keep me entertained through long summers and winter breaks. When my friends came over, we made sequined headbands and friendship bracelets. We played with iron-on transfers on t-shirts (with my mom's help, of course) and made lanyards out of beads and that weird plastic-y material I can't even describe. As I grew older, my craft kits got stored under the bed but I was still heavily involved with art - painting with acrylics and watercolors all throughout high school and winning a few contests here and there.

As an adult? I hadn't touched a craft kit until that afternoon. But the whole time I was on the train back to London, I couldn't help but think, 'Could I make a better sock monkey than the one I helped produce that afternoon?' I'm a pretty competitive person - and a perfectionist. The combination of these two things meant one thing: I had to make a sock monkey. A good one.

So I decided to make one for my baby niece (when she's a bit older, of course!). And let me just preface this by saying that there are not nearly as many craft stores in the UK (read: one) as there are in the US. In the States, we tend to craft like it's our main source of leisurely activity. I can count 3 craft stores within a 2 mile radius of my Washington home already.

But this didn't stop me. First, I went to the Hobbycraft website and bought a bunch of stuff: poly-fill, buttons (for eyes), felt (for the face), and thread in every color. Next, I went to the Gap and chose some socks (3 for £10) in fun colors. Then I went to YouTube and found this video, which has the clearest instructions and the best tips ever. And after a few days of spreading out the work, I ended up with the sock monkey in the photo above. It's not bad, but it's not exactly professional either: a closer look and you'll see exposed thread in the seams, uneven stuffing, and the fact that the stripes don't match up on the arms.

But as time-consuming as it was (I also think I broke my back, ankles, and eyes in the process, as I was bent over in the worst light and most awkward positions imaginable), it was also a really fun project to make. And I have to admit, I was kind of proud of the finished product.

Even my parents seemed impressed. I showed it to my dad yesterday on FaceTime and we had a conversation that went like this:

"Dad, want to see the sock monkey I made?"

"Wow, that's neat! Hey, if you have time, make me one too."

"Yeah! I want to! What color do you want?" I held up two pairs of socks to the camera.

"Oh, definitely the darker one. That way, it won't get dirty."

"What? Where are you planning to take this sock monkey, Dad?"

"Oh, well, I don't know! To work, to the grocery store ... everywhere!"