Benton & Tilley

The Dots Are Starting to Connect

2014-10-02T07:13:00.001-05:00

I lamented in a previous blog post about how I have spent a lot of time racking my brain, trying to figure out what the purpose of my time in London last year was. I referenced Steve Jobs who said, "You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in the future. You have to trust in something -- your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever." Consequently, when I went back to London last month for a couple of weeks, I decided to not overanalyze and over plan, and just do what I was drawn to do each day. One of those days, I took pictures of the Tower of London and then walked across Tower Bridge to get to Borough Market.

As I walked through the heart of the gritty Bermondsey neighborhood, I wandered down one small, curving street after another -- hopeful that I was still basically headed in the direction of Borough Market. I ran into a little pub on a corner and started taking some photos of it. As I was moving around, getting different angles of the pub -- I spotted a van parked on the street and saw that inside the van were shelves full of books.

I walked over to the van, and it turns out it was a mobile library run by Quakers. I started talking to Simon, one of the men who ran the mobile library, and he told me that they made a couple of runs each week. That morning they were serving the Manna Centre, a nonprofit that provides food and resources for homeless people. While I was talking to Simon, I noticed a man observing our conversation.

After I ended the conversation with Simon, the other man introduced himself -- David -- and asked if I wanted to walk with him for a couple of minutes to go see a nearby urban garden that had a little shared, "honor" library in it. He told me the name of the garden, but I couldn't quite understand him. Now, I know many of you may be thinking -- stranger danger! -- but here's the thing, I am confident in my gut feelings about whether I can trust people or not. And I felt sure about my gut feeling to trust David, and I felt drawn to go see this urban garden with him.

As David and I walked to the garden, I asked him about his life. I don't feel comfortable retelling it here -- as it's his private story -- but needless to say, he has had a great many disadvantages in his life. And yet now, he is firmly back on his feet. I found myself asking him, "But how did you get back up on your feet? People who have gone through much lesser challenges can't get back up on their feet?" He responded quietly, kindly, "The thing is, when most people say, 'I can't,' what they mean is is, 'I won't.'"

As we got closer to the garden, David told me more about it -- that it had been a dilapidated cut-through in a less than desirable area, but that a group of people and organizations, including well known architects and gardeners, had transformed it into a shared garden space. I asked him to repeat the name of it -- and he said it was called, "Gibbons Rent." The name sounded familiar but I couldn't quite place it.

When we came to the garden, David walked me through it and pointed to the parts that he had contributed and the pieces he had built himself. As we were leaving the garden, I realized that when I was in London last year -- I had attended a panel discussion at the British Library about gardens in the Georgian era. One of the speakers on the panel was a world renowned landscape gardener named Sarah Eberle, and she talked about how she had used gardens as a tool to revitalize urban areas. One of her projects had been Gibbons Rent. I watched David walk back to the Manna Centre, and I smiled to myself. Because I knew the dots were starting to connect.

London Through Her Eyes

2014-09-26T07:23:00.000-05:00

Last month, I was fortunate enough to spend a couple of weeks in London, and whenever I'm there, it's hard for me to not think about my mom. I wandered around the Bloomsbury neighborhood. In and out of little, locally owned shops. A gourmet deli. A home goods shop. A small bookstore. I know if my mom had been with me, she would have gone on and on about E.M Forster and Virginia Woolf and other members of the Bloomsbury Group, and as I thumbed through the small bookstore, I longed to hear what she thought about the authors represented there -- Ruth Adam, Katherine Mansfield, Winifred Peck and more.

She would have loved having tea at The Goring. She would have admonished me to sit up straighter. But she also would have delighted in the waiter's Scottish accent and his description of the crayfish salad as "the Queen Mother's favorite."

She would have made sure that we allotted an entire afternoon to shop at the Liberty London department store. She would have gone straight to the haberdashery department and would have smiled with child-like glee at all the fabrics and buttons and ribbons.

She would have grown quiet in St. Paul's Cathedral as she looked at the Honour Roll -- a book that honors Americans who were killed on their way to or were stationed in Great Britain during World War II. Each day a member of St. Paul's clergy turns the page so that a new set of names can be displayed. I can count on one hand the number of times I saw my mom cry, but I know she would have teared up after viewing the book. But she's not here to see the book or the tea or the fabrics. So instead, in one of the Cathedral's private chapels, I light a candle for her.

Guest Editor

2014-07-29T08:22:00.000-05:00

Essay for Cooking II, Johnson County Community College, 11/06/06

by Lyn Foister

Kitchen staffs invariably work in small quarters against hot stoves and ovens. They are under constant pressure to prepare meals quickly, while ensuring quality is maintained and safety and sanitation guidelines are observed. -- U.S. Department of Labor, Occupational Outlook Handbook 2006

Don't be a fuddy-duddy with your hollandaise; be bold, dunk your pretzels in it! -- Miss Piggy

By training, and by natural inclination, I am an editor. I have edited everything from stories about county sewer board meetings to profiles of the spouses of potential presidential candidates. I've worked with writers and reporters who struggled to put two facts together in a comprehensible sentence to those who could (and later did) win awards for their work.

Although an editor finds true joy in working with accomplished writers, the joy is no less when working with writers who can barely find their way to the next split infinitive. For an editor, tightening the story, refining and putting the words and facts in a logical and concise order toward a product that brings "the reader into the story screaming" is an almost tactile experience.

Cooking, whether described by Julia Child or by the 18-year-old standing next to you in cooking class, has the same feel.

Cooking is the most tactile of professions. You wash, you chop, you dice. You combine all those preparations in a way that brings forth enticing smells and golden colors and flavors you could only have imagined. Even as you learn fundamentals, you learn to refine, to tweak, to master that special technique that at first seemed beyond your reach. Oh, the joy when you find that caramelizing onions is almost second nature, or when you can form a mental picture of mise en place simply by scanning a recipe.

In the kitchen, you can see the raw materials form a whole. You can see the parts of the puzzle fit together. You can go from an onion, a little asparagus, some rice and cheese to a meltingly delicious risotto. Unlike the puzzle, though, there is room to move, there is room to take a chance. Would some tiny mushrooms make a nice companion to those thin stalks of spring asparagus? What about another kind of cheese? With practice you learn what the answers might be.

It is true that most of this creation takes place over hot stoves in crowded real estate. It's hot, it's noisy, you can't sit down, there's not enough time, who moved my eggs, is a bit of yolk in the whites...did the recipe say oregano, or was it mint? Gosh. Where could you have more fun?

Don't get me wrong. The cooking principles, and the students who study them, are serious. But I believe it is the wow factor that keeps most of us in the kitchen. Wow, I did it. Wow, that looks good. Wow, that tastes good. Wow, they liked it!

It is like a good story. At first, you can only write a simple sentence, subject and verb. Then you can add an adjective or two, then a little phrase that describes the scene, then some dialogue that gives your reader a clue about an unusual character. And, finally, if you're lucky and you work hard, you have Hemingway's true sentence. Or to translate to culinary terms, good food, well prepared.

And like a good story, a cook sees a definite flow. There's the beginning -- how could these spices and this meat and this cooking method go together to make a good dish? It has a middle -- perhaps it needs a bit more salt or cooked a little longer. And, of course, an end -- once again, good food, well prepared.

Take Miss Piggy's hollandaise. It's just a few egg yolks and butter, after all, with a few special touches here and there.

Of course, if you described to any sane person how hollandaise is made -- whip the egg yolks over water till they're thick (how thick? how long did you say this takes?) add lemon juice (lemon juice? oh yes, stops the eggs from cooking), did you really say to drizzle in melted, clarified butter and stir and hold the bowl (stainless steel, please) over a pan, all at the same time (what? I need a towel, too?), how's that again? drizzle and stir and hold the bowl? -- they would wonder why all the bother.

Julia Child once described it this way: "Noncooks think it's silly to invest two hours' work in two minutes' enjoyment; but if cooking is evanescent, so is the ballet."

So step back and take a look at the hollandaise. A sauce the color of fresh butter. Frothy and light. Then take a taste. Who could ask for anything better? And who would want to be anything but the cook who could prepare such a hollandaise? Good food, well prepared.

Good enough to dunk your pretzel in it.

I Could Have Been an Axe Murderer

2014-06-30T10:30:00.000-05:00

One time during my time in London, I went out to the English countryside and visited the Queen’s personal residence at Sandringham. After I finished the tour, I hopped on an afternoon train back to London and as the doors were closing, I heard a voice call out, “Is this train going to London?” I turned around, nodded reassuringly and said yes. The two women, Darlene and Susan, were around my mother’s age, looked relieved and sat down across the aisle from me.

I started up a conversation with them – because let’s be honest, I’ll talk to a wall. But also because, even in an English speaking nation, it was nice to talk to someone from America. They told me that they were visiting Darlene’s daughter who was studying abroad in London and making a girl’s trip out of it. They asked me what I was doing in London, and I said quite frankly, that I didn’t know. We started talking about our families, and it became clear my parents were no longer living and then I said, “I’m in London because I just needed some time and some space.”

As we got off the train, Darlene invited me to dinner with them that evening – to meet her daughter who was studying abroad and the other woman with whom they were traveling, Mary Alice.

I went to dinner with them that evening and met Mary Alice and a couple of days later, visited Windsor Castle with them. As we parted ways, we talked about me visiting them in Philadelphia after I got back from London. Darlene offered for me to stay in her house. I have to admit, it is not in my personality to take someone up on that kind of offer if I don’t know them incredibly well. But something in me said to just do it.

A couple months later in January, I visited them in Philadelphia. Susan and Darlene picked me up at the airport. They had made dinner for me when we got back to Darlene’s house – a rustic and delicious cauliflower soup. The next day, Mary Alice and Susan came over to Darlene’s house and we set off exploring museums and historic houses during the day. That evening we had a charming dinner at a restaurant on Rittenhouse Square.

On the way back from dinner, we all joked about how I didn’t know Darlene terribly well before this trip and yet I was staying at her house and for all she knew I could have been an axe murderer. Darlene laughed and said, “I knew it would be fine.”

When Darlene and I got back to her house, we sat at her kitchen table and started looking at pictures from her family’s travels over the years. I came across some photos of when Darlene looked to be about my age. In the picture, she was in Greece sitting next to her now husband. I asked Darlene about the trip and she began to tell me how she had a somewhat similar situation as me when she was my age – with parents being sick and needing to get away. And so she too took a trip around the world.

A few months after that, I received an email from Darlene that she was coming to Kansas City for a work conference and could we get together. Of course I said yes and we had a wonderful dinner catching up at Westside Local.

I still marvel at Darlene’s invitation on the train. That generosity of spirit. Of knowing me for only a couple of hours and saying come meet us for dinner tonight. Come meet my daughter. Come to a West End show with us tomorrow night. Come to Windsor Castle with us the next day. Well, it’s a generosity of spirit I hope to carry with me forever.

*Check out Darlene, Susan and Mary Alice’s Etsy shop: Eva, Elsie and Ella

LA Street Fashion -- Week of June 1

2014-06-04T08:16:00.000-05:00

Kansas City Street Fashion -- Week of May 25

2014-05-28T07:58:00.002-05:00

Kansas City Street Fashion -- Week of May 18

2014-05-19T08:59:00.001-05:00

Kansas City Street Fashion - Week of May 11

2014-05-13T08:01:00.001-05:00

Mary's Buffet

2014-05-07T08:26:00.002-05:00

When I was growing up with my parents’ illnesses, after awhile I didn’t realize how much those illnesses occupied my life. And when each of them died, I had some space from the illnesses and began to forget about them.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been preparing to sell my parents’ house and then hold an estate sale of their belongings. I’ve been knee deep in cleaning out and organizing. Going through item after item – every decision about whether to keep or discard something felt like a decision to keep or discard my parents. And then I came across six solid filing cabinets full of my parents’ medical records. And I couldn’t ignore how much the illnesses had consumed me.

For almost two years, I went back and forth about the amount of my parents’ furniture I was going to keep. At one point, I planned on taking almost half of it. The furniture is beautiful. It is. Well-crafted, dark wood and formal designs. Purchased for when my parents entertained with fancy affairs. Purchased for a different life than mine.

So instead, I took five items of furniture. One piece was “Mary’s Buffet. “ When I was a small child, I thought that “Mary’s Buffet” was the formal name of this piece of furniture – like a breakfront or a secretary desk. But it’s just what my mom called it, because it was her college roommate, Mary’s, buffet. It is not fancy or unique or even that pretty. But it stayed with my mom for over forty years from Denver to Kansas City to Washington, D.C. and then back to Kansas City again.

After the estate sale company had set everything up in my parents’ home for the actual estate sale, I drove over to the house late at night and wandered around. Each room was set up like a little boutique.

I flipped through boardgames on a table and hoped that some other child would find them endlessly fun as I had. I traced my fingers along the edges of my mother’s beautiful Portmerion dishes and hoped that some other mother would fall in love with these dishes the way my mom had. I sat down on a couch in the living room and surveyed the room, and I hoped some other family would find many happy memories on this sofa. Or maybe, happier memories.

*A special thanks to all the people who helped make this new chapter possible: Max Jones at Remax Revolution, Sue Shores at Changeit Redesign, Absolute Estates Sales, and Tucker Painting.

I Dream in Blue and White

2014-04-08T11:59:00.003-05:00

The incomparable Charlotte Moss via

I'm about to sell my parents' house and move into a new place in a few weeks. Right now I'm in the process of planning the interior design of my new home. I've never done this type of thing before, and I have had so much fun doing it. The other day, I truly spent 2.5 hours just looking at table lamps.

via

Over the past 10-12 years, I've kept a black three ring binder, filled with pages I've ripped out of magazines. The pages include things like moving passages in magazine articles, profiles on inspiring women, stories about historic hotels and lists of essential wardrobe items. I also have been keeping pages from magazines for my "dream" interior design.

via

Needless to say, I'm over the moon to finally be able to use all these "dream" interior design magazine-page-rip-outs. My dream bedroom always has been in light blues and creams and neutrals. I love traditional shapes and ideas, but with a modern twist. The pictures on today's blog post are some of my inspiration for the bedroom. I can't wait to see how it all comes together!

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Stan's Birthday

2014-03-25T08:28:00.001-05:00

The other night, I was in Washington, D.C., and I celebrated my friend Stan’s birthday with his family. I met his children and grandchildren and greatgrandchildren for the first time. His wife, Sara, was not there – which was a strange thing, because it’s hard to think of Stan and to not think of Sara. But Sara passed away a few months ago.

Right after college I moved to Washington, D.C., and worked for a Congressman; and like many twenty somethings, I was intent on changing the world.

A few months after I moved to Washington, my mom visited me. During her visit she arranged a dinner with Stan and Sara. Stan was an editor at The Washington Post and my mom’s boss when she worked there. We met at the Odeon Café on Connecticut Avenue near my apartment. Stan and Sara got there before us. Stan was wearing a sports coat. He always does. We shared stuffed mushrooms, and I had the salmon linguine.

After that dinner, Stan and Sara took me under their wing. I don’t know if that’s just the type of people they are or if they saw that I was in need of taking-care-of. Regardless, for the next two years, every couple of weeks we would get together for dinner.

One time, the three of us were walking out of the restaurant at the Mayflower hotel. Stan went ahead of Sara and me to get their car. Sara took me by the arm, leaned into me and said, “My hope for you, dear, is that someday you meet your Stan.”

Stan is an incredible journalist. Sara was always so proud of that. His writing is searing in its simplicity. He’s uses almost no adverbs.

He got the itch to be a reporter at a young age, when a substitute teacher took over his middle school class and with no lesson plans from which to work – had each of the students write newspaper articles. Stan has had a storied career. He was one of the reporters whom Robert Kennedy famously told that John Kennedy’s running mate would not be Lyndon Johnson, and as Stan said, “I thought John Kennedy’s brother was a pretty good source!”

Stan is one of those great men. From a generation of men with a strong work ethic, with gentlemanly manners, and with a sense of duty. And more than anything, I think what Sara meant is that – day in and day out – Stan is kind and he is decent. We should all be so lucky to meet “our Stan.”

London's Macintosh Typefaces

2014-03-06T09:17:00.000-06:00

It’s been over two months since I left London and came back home to Kansas City. I’ve asked myself over and over again, “What was the point of my time in London?” I haven’t figured it out yet. I am reminded of the Steve Jobs anecdote about how he dropped out of Reed College, and then for the pure fun of it, audited several calligraphy classes there. Years later, these calligraphy classes became the foundation of Mac computers’ typefaces. So perhaps I will discover the purpose in the years to come.

When I was in London, I had all these grand plans for side trips throughout Europe: Barcelona, Vienna, Copenhagen. But I fell in love with London. I fell in love with the rows of tiny chimneys atop the townhouses, with the Capability Brown designed parks, and with the winding streets that revealed a bit more of the city with each turn. I fell in love with my long walks along the Thames, with the electrifying theater of the West End and with the inspiring programming at the V&A.

And I fell in love with the English countryside too. The rolling hills of Yorkshire, Derbyshire and Lincolnshire; dabbled with white sheep and their little black faces; each view more beautiful than the next. But most of all, I fell in love with the quiet politeness of England. A country so thoroughly courteous and thoughtful, that I hope it stays with me forever.

London's Decorative Details

2014-02-27T09:14:00.000-06:00

Many of my days in London were spent wandering around my neighborhood admiring the architecture and decorative elements of the homes. Every item was an opportunity for refinement and expression. A stark contrast to so many cookie cutter homes in America. No cement slabs for the walk up to your front door; rather intricate mosaics or playful polka dot fun.

Why bother with a boring, brass doorknocker – when you can have a whale or a fox or the goddess of love herself?

And what about the beautifully detailed windowpanes? Such lovely designs, with each pane catching the light differently.

Shoreditch Inspiration

2014-02-24T07:53:00.003-06:00

In London, my flat was in the Chelsea-South Kensington part of London – full of beautiful shops, fashionable restaurants and perfect white townhouses. Kensington Gardens and Palace, the V&A museum and the French Cultural Institute were all in a 5-10 block radius from my flat. And so for several weeks, I did not venture outside of this area much.

After awhile, though, my neighborhood seemed almost too perfect, and I was restless for something to push the boundary a bit. I don’t even remember how I found the Shoreditch neighborhood of London. One of those lost memories of falling in love with a city and discovering it anew each day.

But I do remember it was different from any other part of London I had visited. Shoreditch is full of artistic energy – you can feel the creation and imagination and experimentation all around you. Alexander McQueen actually had his first studio in the area.

Every corner you turn there is amazing street art; daring, little stores; and welcoming yet inventive restaurants. And then the beautiful, winding back streets – full of stories I’ll never know. I kept coming back to Shoreditch during my time in London – and I always discovered something new – a new art gallery, a new food stand, an undercover sample sale. And I always left feeling inspired.

Real Wicker Baskets

2014-01-31T08:09:00.001-06:00

During the first week I lived in London, I took a walk down King's Road in Chelsea. A young lady whizzed by on a bike that had a wicker basket attached to the handlebars. It looked like it was right out of a Hugh Grant romantic comedy. I figured it was just a one-off. After awhile, though, I started seeing bikes with wicker baskets everywhere. And the baskets were real wood, wicker -- not some fake plastic substitute made in China. Often the wicker baskets were attached to the bike's handlebars with beautifully constructed leather straps. There is something so incredibly British about these bike baskets -- how proper they look -- the willingness to spend the money and take the time to find an aesthetically pleasing, nicely crafted real wood wicker basket.

Tennis Anyone?

2014-01-30T07:55:00.001-06:00

Look, I know a lot of people detest John McEnroe. Some people believe he was a spoiled brat who was disrespectful on the tennis court. Many people take issue with his sexist comments about female tennis players and commentators. But I love the guy. First of all, he has an encyclopedic knowledge of tennis, both the technical game and its history. Second of all, when Flushing Meadows was rebuilding its main tennis stadium for the U.S. Open, many people involved in the process opposed naming the stadium after Arthur Ashe. John McEnroe lobbied passionately to have the stadium named after his good friend, Ashe; and eventually McEnroe was successful.

So I was over the moon when I saw a poster advertising that McEnroe would be playing in an exhibition match while I was in London. Even better, the location of the match was just a ten minute walk from my flat. The match was held in Royal Albert Hall, which is a grand performing arts center. I was looking forward to the hilarious prospect of John McEnroe cursing and throwing tantrums in such a beautiful and historic building.

It was my first time seeing McEnroe play in person, and he didn't disappoint. His awkward, jerking forehand. His deft footwork. His aggressive serve and volley game (which, sadly, is so rare in today's game).

Of course, McEnroe couldn't get through the match without a few histrionics, but most of it was in good fun -- teasing his opponent, joking with the crowd, and kissing the net after the ball scuffed the top of the net and dribbled over to the opponent's side of the court. All in all, a fantastic night of tennis.

Champagne and Grappa

2014-01-01T09:16:00.000-06:00

(Whitney, Me, Julie)

I've known my dear friend, Whitney, for almost my entire life; both of our moms are from Oklahoma; and we grew up together at grade school, high school and church. Needless to say, when she told Julie and me that she got engaged over Christmas, it was time to celebrate!

The three of us headed over to Lidia's, and, of course, the first thing we did was order some rosé champagne!

Look at that beauty of a ring! Classic and stunning. It looks absolutely perfect on Whitney.

Cheers!

We brought along some bridal magazines for planning inspiration. Not surprisingly, I had 112 questions, and Whitney patiently answered all of them.

At the end of the night, our waiter brought us a round of grappa. But I was the only one who drank it. Look, I like my liquor strong.

Here's to many more celebrations in Whitney's honor over the next several months!

An English Christmas Tree

2013-12-31T09:06:00.002-06:00

One of my favorite parts of the holidays this year was decorating my little Christmas tree with English themed ornaments. In England, the St. Nicolas company creates handmade, embroidered felt ornaments that are of historic people and places. Most of the ornaments I collected from various palace and cathedral gift shops throughout London were made by the St. Nicolas company, and one of the ornaments was a gift!

The three ornaments below are of three British Queens who were Queens in their own right -- Queen Elizabeth I, Queen Victoria, and Queen Elizabeth II.

I had to look high and low for the Queen Elizabeth I ornament above, and I finally found one in the National Portrait Gallery gift shop. I love the fire red hair!

There are about four iterations of the Queen Victoria ornament -- a couple when she was a princess, one when she was an older Queen with enormous royal garments, and then the one above when she is a young Queen. Queen Victoria still looms large over London, and so it was no surprise that there were so many Victoria ornament options.

Above is Queen Elizabeth II on the day of her Coronation. I think this depiction is fantastic because it really captures the sumptuous robes and dress she wore on that day, and I love that she is holding the orb and sceptre.

Above is a Tudor Rose ornament that I found at Hampton Court Palace. The Tudor Rose emblem was created following the end of the War of the Roses, when the House of Lancaster (red rose) and the House of York (white rose) united. I became positively obsessed with the War of Roses after watching the BBC miniseries "The White Queen," or as many of my friends know, after I became positively obsessed with the actor, Max Irons!

The Queen's 60th anniversary of her Coronation occurred in 2013, and there were amazing events celebrating this anniversary throughout the year. I love the above ornament's depiction of the four countries that comprise Great Britain -- the daffodil for Wales, the rose for England, the thistle for Scotland and the shamrock for Northern Island.

Prince George was born a couple of weeks after I arrived in London, and I thought it would be fun to get an ornament commemorating being in London during this fun time!

And finally, my best friend, Hilly, made me this great needlepoint ornament of a Union Jack. I adore it -- a perfect addition to my English themed Christmas tree. I can't wait to collect more English themed Christmas ornaments in the years to come!

Getting My Art On

2013-12-05T05:12:00.000-06:00

I visited Windsor Castle a few weeks ago with my newfound friends from Philadelphia, and I absolutely fell in love with an exhibit there called, "The Royal Paintbox." It chronicles members of the Royal family who have been artists for the past 350 years. Apparently, art classes always have been part of the formal education of Royal family members. Queen Victoria was and Prince Charles is an avid water colorist, and they have, in fact, painted many of the same landscapes at Balmoral.

The exhibit inspired me to sign up for some art classes while I have been in London. I emailed one of my dear friends, a sorority sister and college roommate, who had majored in art and asked her for suggestions. Per her recommendations, I looked for drawing and watercolors classes. Thankfully, I sneaked into a watercolors class and have been going to classes for the last several weeks.

I was incredibly rusty at first -- it's been over twenty years since I've done any art! Above are some of the examples of my work from the first week or so. Taking the class and painting each week has given me an even stronger appreciation for the amazing talent and genius of great artists.

My need for precision often was confounded by watercolors. The more I practiced, the more I was able to get a handle on how the medium worked; and the more I painted, the more I was able to have fun with the imprecision and unexpected results of watercolors. Above are some paintings where I was just exploring.

And I finally started getting the hang of it! Above are some small pieces from my last weeks. During the class, I loved painting the sky and clouds and their infinite shapes and colors. I've already looked into some art classes offered at the Kansas City Art Institute for when I get back to the States!

The Lady's Castle

2013-12-03T04:52:00.000-06:00

I can't get enough of English manor houses. There is just something about a train ride out into the lush countryside and wandering through a house steeped in history! So the other day I took a trip out to the county of Kent, the "garden of England." When the Normans took over England in the 12th century, they built castles up and down the English coast to show their strength. While in Kent, I visited one of these Norman strongholds - Leeds Castle.

Leeds Castle came to be known as the Lady's Castle, because of a tradition started by King Edward I. When he married Eleanor of Castile, he gave Leeds Castle to her in her own right. Apparently when Eleanor died young, King Edward was so distraught he named many monuments and buildings after her. This anecdote was surprising to me, as my opinion of King Edward is completely based on his depiction in the movie Braveheart, where the character basically slaughters Scots for sport. In any event, the castle became a part of the Queen's dowry. This tradition continued for almost 300 years, until King Henry VIII granted the castle to an aristocratic family from the Kent area.

Like many great country houses, Leeds Castle requires an enormous amount of resources to maintain. By the early 20th century, the English family that owned the castle could no longer afford its upkeep. Consequently, they sold it to an American heiress with Kent connections named Lady Baillie. Above is a painting of Lady Baillie and her two daughters -- I think they look quite fashionable!

Lady Baillie poured her vast wealth into both major structural rehabilitation of the castle and redecoration of the interiors. She hired Stéphane Boudin, who also was an interior decorator to First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy, to do much of the interior design. He infused the castle with a French style, including fabrics, furniture and color. Notably, the initial talks that led to the Camp David Peace Accords were held in the above room.

One of my favorite parts of country houses is walking around the grounds. Leeds Castle was no exception, with its beautiful gardens and great views. I am so happy I was able to make a trip out there!

Snippets

2013-11-27T07:10:00.000-06:00

"Anyone can find a husband if they wear a Philip Treacy hat." -- Isabella Blow

London Street Fashion - Week of November 24

2013-11-26T09:17:00.002-06:00

Throngs of Tourists

2013-11-20T07:39:00.001-06:00

The other day I was running errands in the Westminster area of London, and I was irritated at having to wade through throngs of tourists. The taxis and their incessant honking -- at seemingly no one or everyone -- only exacerbated my mood. I started walking over Westminster Bridge to the south side of the Thames. Then I looked back at the tourists. They were staring up at Big Ben and Westminster Abbey and the London Eye -- and they were in awe. They were click-click-clicking away at their cameras, taking pictures to capture those London landmarks, their smiles, that awe. I smiled to myself, and I thought how fortunate I am to be here, to travel, to see the world.

English Country House Tour!

2013-11-19T08:44:00.000-06:00

A couple of weeks ago I decided to visit a slew of English country estates. England is a veritable treasure trove of these types of houses, and so I was thrilled to see several country houses before most of them closed their doors for the winter season. Below are some of my favorites!

Burghley House -- William Cecil, who was the principal secretary and Lord High Treasurer to Queen Elizabeth I, built Burghley House in the Lincolnshire area to display his power and wealth. The house is a prime example of Elizabethan architecture with its symmetrical design and its many towers and gables.

One of my favorite pieces in this house was the marquetry cabinet below. It is one of the first pieces of marquetry ever made, likely for King Louis XIV of France. The detailed ivory design of jasmine flowers was exquisite!

Harewood House -- I travelled up to Leeds in beautiful Yorkshire to see Harewood House. The house was far enough away from the Leeds train station that I decided it would be best to take a local bus out to the house. I clearly looked like a tourist, because essentially everyone on the bus told me when I needed to get off of the bus to get to the house.

Queen Elizabeth's aunt; Mary, the Princess Royal; was the chatelaine of Harewood House from 1929-1947 during her marriage to the 6th Earl of Harewood. When I was walking through one of the rooms, the House's curator was giving a talk about the Lady Canning Games Table in the house. Lady Charlotte Canning was a lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria and a skilled watercolors painter. She created a chess board where every other square was a mini watercolor painting of a place in India (where she had lived). The watercolor chess board and the rest of of Lady Canning's watercolor paintings were bequeathed to the 6th Earl of Harewood. Queen Elizabeth's nephew; David Armstrong-Jones, Viscount Linley; is the owner of Linley which is bespoke furniture company. When he heard about this watercolor chessboard, he created a games table around it out of English walnut and presented it to the 6th Earl. The games table is incredibly beautiful, and the history behind it quite meaningful -- but unfortunately, no pictures were allowed!

Sandringham -- Unlike Buckingham Palace, Sandringham is a Royal residence that is owned by the Queen personally, instead of the state. I was thrilled to be able to spend an afternoon there. In the Norfolk area of England, the estate grounds are full of pine trees, flowers and lakes.

When I walked into the house, it was immediately clear that this truly was a personal residence. The house has only one dining room, in which all meals are served. At lunch and dinner, menus are placed at each person's seat -- and the courses are listed out in French! Breakfast, on the other hand, is served buffet style every morning. Oh, and there are no soup spoons or fish forks -- because they are considered "new money" inventions - ha!

Snippets

2013-11-18T07:31:00.000-06:00

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Betty Halbreich, personal shopper at Bergdorf Goodman, explains her policy regarding taking on new clients, "I don't take the second wife if I've dressed the first one, and I don't take the mistress."