Yeah, read this and lemme know what you think

From The New York Times:

Titans in Party Dresses

Socialite, debutante, advocate: all spell Hadley Marie Nagel, who at 19 boasts a résumé over the top.

http://nyti.ms/hZR2Tb

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Merry Christmas!

Here's wishing you many happy surprises this Christmas.  (Like my surprise, this morning, when, upon "borrowing" some L'Occitane hand cream from Mother's stash I discovered it was actually a hand masque...so ten minutes later I got to peel away layers of dead skin to reveal creamy, soft skin.)

Last night Mother and I made Ugly Christmas Sweaters to wear on Christmas Eve (woah, that's tonight!). It's gonna be a showdown, for sure!



Photo Credit

xxoo
jenni

 

Do you Q? (A Guilty Confession)

Ok, I know it's super cheeseball, but sometimes (especially late at night) I get sucked into watching QVC. 

Seriously, y'all, these pieces are pretty--albeit mass produced. 

Joan Rivers, Judith Ripka, Nolan Miller.  I mean, come on, people!



Kenneth Jay Lane





Nolan Miller





Nolan Miller


Yes, again with the sparkly. :)

xxoo
jenni

sparkles, sprinkles, and sequins

sparkles, sprinkles, and sequins: three of my favorite words and three of the most glorious elements in Christmas decorations (who says you can't decorate yourself for Christmas, too?).

Sparkle Hair Pin

GlitzGlitter's Sparkle Earrings



Gold Sugar Sprinkles



Glitter Sprinkled Birds on a Yule Log



Sequined Head Band

Sequined Cocktail Dress (Vintage)

FlashCab's Sequined Hair Pin Set

As always, sparkle, sprinkle, and sequin responsibly.

xxoo

jenni

My First Quilt (an epic, international tale of love and loss)

A few years ago, before I was Jenni20 Designs, I was out of grad school, teaching at a few local colleges, and generally having the time of my life when my mom called and said something like: “hey, do you want to go on a quilt tour?”

Ummmm. A quilt tour? I pictured going around in a bus to Amish country Pennsylvania being careful to avoid taking pictures of actual Amish people while trying to take pictures of their quilts (which I have since done, by the way, sans bus, and it was awesome, but at the time it didn’t sound that exciting). I wasn't sold.

Then she said three magic words: “it’s in Provence.”

SIGN ME UP!

I knew I’d be the youngest one there. I didn’t care. I love traveling with my mom; I knew no matter the other folks who'd be joining the tour, my mom and I would have a great time.

Then the other shoe dropped: "you’ll need to make a quilt for a quilt exchange with the French guild we’ll be having lunch with one day."

By that time, I was an accomplished fabric collector, but I was not a quilter. Too much math, not enough fun. But hey, if it got me to the south of France for a few weeks, who was I to complain?

So I dug out my favorite fabrics, asked my mom what the easiest non-pattern quilt I could make (you see, I have this thing with patterns. And a long-held belief that patterns are just suggestions.) The answer was half-square triangles.

Half-square triangles—sounds kind of mathmatical but once described to me I knew they'd be perfect because I had this lovely Amy Butler fabric that I wanted to showcase.

I finished the quilt, sewed the binding on the evening I got to Chicago for our stopover before heading to France the next day, and voila. Here I had a modern mishmash of a quilt I named “My Grandmother’s Garden” because it was bright and floral and colorful (to celebrate, you guessed it, my grandmother's amazing flower garden) but also kind of traditional and old fashioned. Man, I loooooooved it.

(See that border and binding? Yellow fairy frost. Yeah, I’m cool.)

I was so proud of my first quilt, I even announced that it was my first quilt on the label—which has my address and email on it per the instructions for the exchange (carefully disguised here with the pink moustache).

Our trip was awesome; vive la France!

Then it’s the day of the exchange.

In this awesome cave in the middle of a medieval part of a small town in France, we draw numbers—or whatever, I can’t remember—and I’m so happy to announce (in French, by the way) that this is my first quilt. I was beaming with beginner’s pride that mine was fresh and modern and cool (yay, young American quilters!) and not brown prairie points and flying geese.

Then I heard the woman whose name was drawn as my match mutter something that sounded a bit like: “I really don’t want this. Helene (or whatever her friend’s name was) do you want this?” To which Helene responded: “Non.”

I was heartbroken. It took all of my actorly training not to start crying upon hearing this conversation. (Had I heard it in French? English? I can’t even remember.) All I know is my mom was sad/mad, I wanted to pack up my toys and leave, and then, the sweetest woman in the world came in and proclaimed that she would love to have it.

In all the years since then I like to play revisionist history and imagine her saying how fabulous and forward the quilt is and how much she’d love to have it in her home to start great conversations about the great things this young American woman was doing with textiles.

mon ange

mon ange et moi

But I’m sure she was just a woman who knew when another woman’s ego was destroyed and was trying to help. Let’s face it, my randomly placed, half-square triangles aren’t exactly groundbreaking.

(But I loooooooved it!)

And yeah, that's my kick-a** landscape quilt of Provence I received in the exchange.

xxoo
jenni

Gift Guide: For the Book Lover

Inspired by our Gone With the Wind watching/crafting party last week, here's a little list for those who love "words, words, words" (yeah, I know it's Hamlet not GWTW):




for the cheeseball book lover

 


for the romantic vintage book lover (I own this print and adore it!)




for the generous book lover




for the social book lover






for the....aw, who cares, it's DARCY for heaven's sake!

 

for me. please?




xxoo
jenni

Twinkle, twinkle

It's no secret that I love sparkly things. Diamonds, glitter, the reflection of the sun on the sea.  But I especially love holiday lights.  Twinkle lights. 

Oh, the festive sparkle!

I started my own little tradition when I was in graduate school.  On the last day of class, once everything was turned in and I finally felt human again, I'd wait for it to get dark, go to Starbucks and pick up an oh-so-bad-for-me holiday drink, get in the car, turn on the holiday music station....and drive.

I'd usually start my trip going through SMU, checking out the twinkling lights on Dallas Hall.  Then I'd meander through Highland Park estates and eventually end back up at my cozy little apartment. 


My second year in grad school, Mr. Poodle came into my life.  And he became a part of this tradition.  So much so that I don't even really remember that first year.  He's always eager to go somewhere with me, so he of course joins me on my drive.  I usally put a festive sweater on him and roll down the windows a bit--or crack the sunroof open if it's nice enough.  He loves to sniff the (hopefully!) crisp air and watch the lights as much as I do. 

And, well, I'm not going to lie: he also really really really enjoys barking at the horses.  (I try to discourage that.)  

Someday I hope to add a mister to this tradition.  And eventually some little ones.  I hope they love sparkly things as much as I do. 

xxoo

jenni

Peruvian film---magical realism

http://www.npr.org/2010/11/27/131629702/-undertow-the-pull-of-a-lover-even-after-death?sc=17&f=1008

'Undertow:' The Pull Of A Lover, Even After Death
by Bob Mondello

- November 27, 2010

Awards season has arrived in Hollywood, bringing pictures large and small with Oscar hopes. Peru's nominee for best foreign-language film, Undertow (Contracorriente), is one of the small ones, but it has a big heart.

The story centers on Miguel, who lives with his very pregnant wife in a tiny fishing village on the coast of Peru. Village life is simple and unhurried. When a fisherman dies, the whole town is at the funeral, hearing Miguel promise to "take care of the body, so God may take care of the spirit and ensure it doesn't wander without rest."

On the fringes of the funeral is a photographer -- Santiago, a quiet, handsome outsider. To watch Miguel, you'd have no idea the two men knew each other. But after burying the fisherman at sea, before going home to his wife, Miguel veers off to meet Santiago in an abandoned building outside town, and they kiss.

Miguel does not seem troubled by their affair. He talks excitedly about his wife and the baby they're expecting. But Santiago chafes at having to hide his true feelings -- feelings so strong that when he accidentally drowns, his spirit spirits the film into magical-realism territory by hanging around, visible and audible only to Miguel, a real and substantial presence in his life.

Unlike the fisherman who was buried at sea, Santiago's spirit must wander without rest, at least until his body is found and offered to God. And Miguel, who couldn't choose between his lover and his family before, still can't. The difference now is that his lover is everywhere Miguel looks, present in ways he wasn't before. If you think about it, that's a pretty fair representation of how grief works.

First-time filmmaker Javier Fuentes-Leon both wrote and directed Undertow, and against considerable odds, he's made its unlikely ghost story complicatedly real. The mix of selfishness and compassion Miguel brings to his relationships, the feelings he and his wife must struggle with, the reaction of the town -- all are persuasive and wrenching and human. Undertow, for all its narrative tricks, has been given the rhythm and texture of real life, as well as emotional undercurrents that are haunting. (Recommended) [Copyright 2010 National Public Radio]

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