Saluda & Environs Photo Diary

My boyfriend's family have a long and storied connection to the small mountain town of Saluda, North Carolina. Every now and then - as we did this past October - we make a trip up there to see the mountain house, grab a bite at the Purple Onion, hike some trails, and take in the views. And oh, what dramatic and moody views those can be:

The mountains in the early morning. Photo by Nathaniel Haley.

Saluda sits nestled between low mountains, their peaks and planes softened by lush foliage that lights up with incredible color in the fall. I believe my boyfriend thinks of Saluda as his wilderness retreat: a place where he and his dad ride motorcycles,  hang out with foresters, and get unplugged for a little while. I think of it as my own artist-retreat-that-never-was -- as if, in another life on another timeline, I am a novelist who churns out her best work while sitting on a hardwood deck overlooking a Saluda gorge.

I lounged around in my trusty LL Bean boots...

And hung out with a pony - and even rode one. (Photo by Nathaniel Haley.)

Though I got a moderate case of cabin fever to show for it, in theory Saluda & its environs are probably best experienced at a slow, flexible pace -- one that lets you befriend the woods and creeks around you. 

To that end we took on the (easiest) 1400-step Chimney Rock trail, explored the paths up and down the family mountain, and made some time for late-night star photography.

The steep steps of Chimney Rock. Photo: Nathaniel Haley.

On at least 3 separate nights, there were s'mores involved.

Night walks with Nathan.

One of my favorite places to linger and shoot photos is the area around the Saluda Grade & Main Street. The Grade is, as the historical plaque nearby likes to remind us, the "steepest standard-gauge mainline railway grade in the United States." It no longer operates, and now serves a second life (in my mind) as an excellent place to sit and enjoy the diffuse and warm late afternoon sunlight the town gets. 

On the Grade. Jacket by All Saints Spitalfields, flannel by Abercrombie & Fitch. Photo: Nathaniel Haley.

The recurring food theme of the trip was beets. I'm not sure why. Maybe they're easily locally sourced? I must've eaten my weight in (very photogenic) beets and kale over the course of the week.

The Purple Onion.

And oh, the Blue Ridge Parkway. 

Photo by Nathaniel Haley.

A trip to the Carolinas is really not complete without taking advantage of the scenic overlooks that dot the length of this iconic highway.

On the last full day of our trip, we hopped down to Asheville to tour Biltmore House, the Vanderbilts' sprawling 19th century estate. 

Apparently it is permanently Christmas there. Either that or the property managers thought early October would be a totally fine & sensical time to whip out the holiday decor. I'm not complaining - greenery and lights pair well with high ceilings and luxurious digs.

What I do take issue with, though, is how unfairly gorgeous the scenery behind the palatial house is. What am I supposed to do with the fact that obscene amounts of money allow people to hoard views like this? It's a good job the estate wound up open to the public, or you and I would live our lives never having the opportunity to see all this:

Photo: Nathaniel Haley.

Boston & Cambridge Photo Diary

Two of my favorite people from college currently live and study in Cambridge, MA, where they are working on PhDs at Harvard. I last saw them in November '15 and thought it might be lovely to see the northeast at the end of summer, where it bleeds ever so slightly into fall.

One of my hosts is a darling redheaded chef with a predilection for casually sharing funny snippets from Louisiana life...as well as for canning his own fruits and veggies. That is just how together his life is. Meanwhile here I am, forgetting about moldy nectarines in my fridge and having to throw them out. 

I've been to Boston something like 5 times in my life and had never so much as set foot in the Beacon Hill area until now. It has a frozen-in-time kind of sedate charm.

I always love a night walk. Especially in cities, beneath twinkling lights and hard angles.

In the city we met up with an old high school friend of mine, enjoyed a few Wahlburgers (I could not resist - the name was just too good), & helped my hosts shop for a fancy new duvet cover at West Elm (expressions of domestic excitement not pictured).

The House of Seven Gables.

On Saturday we got a little group together and did something a little different - we rented a Mini Cooper (adorable despite being daubed with mysteriously orange bird poop) and took a short road trip up to Salem, home of Nathaniel Hawthorne as well as those infamous witch trials. 

We took a short tour of the House of Seven Gables & its grounds and got to scale a few sets of creaky, wooden stairs leading to hidden halls and rooms. 

Salem brought us near the sprawling Devereux Beach, where we unpacked a picnic we had...well, overpacked that afternoon.

Always love an excuse to wear this crop top, yusss.

New York Photo Diary

It's not every day I get to vacation with a group that has all the same interests and habits that I do, and to get to vacation in New York City over a fabulous Memorial Day shopping weekend? Nothing short of a personal miracle. 

Pictured here: about 4 days of big city sights, shopping, and savory moments. 

Around Town

A view of the fabulous Plaza, en route back to our hotel from Bergdorf's (because...priorities).

I'm not great at street action shots because my camera is Slow As Hell. But I'm nothing if not determined

New York's Central Park and midtown neighborhoods in the springtime are ridiculously photogenic - sometimes surprisingly so. Clean white light, lots of dramatic vertical lines, and oh, those bright candy colors.   

My friend L.'s luggage was misplaced by our airline during our flight, so we made an emergency late night trip to the Forever21 and Sephora in Times Square (2 am closing times!) for some sorely needed supplies. (Note the Wicked billboard in the distance -- we ended up seeing that show, starring the West End's longest-running Elphaba.)

There are a lot of things to love about wandering the city, but for me, it's always the liberating sense of insignificance. So easy to get lost in the ebb and flow of the crowds. I like to think that I don't matter in the grand scheme of things, and if I don't matter, is it really possible to mess up too badly? I am just the tiniest blip of human existence in this city.  

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Good Eats

I have a shameful, shallow confession to make, and it's called "I get all my restaurant recommendations from fashion blogs." But. BUT. That is not as eyeroll-worthy an approach as it sounds. Fashion bloggers are largely attuned to aesthetics above all, true, but very little food that looks good does not also taste good. Plus, bloggers have a great eye for striking eatery decor, and I'm a big believer in a dining experience that is holistically enjoyable -- i.e., I'm loath to spend time in a restaurant if the ambience is dismal, even if the food is A+. 

Toro (85 10th Avenue)

Veggie paella. Not pictured: glorious small plates, including the tiniest burgers topped with crisp pickled onion.

This was featured on the Toro Instagram the other week. The bar is solid - we had a gorgeous sparkling Spanish wine we've been trying (and failing) to hunt down since.

The famous greenery wall! I wish we'd been seated with a better view of it.

The Smith (1900 Broadway)

Alas, I did not eat this breakfast pot pie. I filled up on mac & cheese first and had to recall my order a little too late. 

An all-around well executed comfort food joint, right down to the vintage-styled menu and the waitstaff's crisp white shirts and skinny jeans, an almost East London hipster look. Highlight: a darling waiter who talked us all into ordering donuts with a single comical face that acknowledged our collective calorie guilt.  

Hunt and Fish Club (125 W44th Street) 

Of all the food we sampled in the city, this placed featured what I thought were the most mature, rounded flavors, and lord, their mushroom pappardelle. I could live on it. As questionable a choice as that would be. And of course: that drama! I am unabashedly a fan of marble surfaces, imposing and pretentious artwork, black and white table settings, and a striking light fixture. (Surprisingly, no blogger direction here - good old Pinterest sent me.)

Hnnnng.

NoMo SoHo (9 Crosby Street)

But wait. Let me tell you about the NoMo. Dear lord, let me tell you about the NoMo. I'm particularly proud of this find because I chanced upon it without the help of a blogger, and can no longer remember how.

And this place was an experience. Such a weird blend of eclectic aesthetics that somehow mesh harmonically (chandeliers? rustic chairs? lucite accents? mod couches? fairy garden grove type thing?) & featuring otherworldly sandalwood fragrance piped into public spaces via the AC vents.

So sharp. 

Oh, and there's a revolving bookcase that hides an extra event room.

A fairy light greenery tunnel provides a buffer between the industrial look of SoHo & the restaurant's rustic-glam vibe.

NoMo Kitchen. Not pictured: divine fluffy waffles topped with fruit.

Admittedly we didn't come here to eat. We came to scope it out as a potential event venue and to see That Dining Room in person. Egad that dining room. It's like a greenhouse at the heart of the concrete jungle. The juxtaposition just works and I could spend hours in it if allowed. Plus it's two doors down from the Reformation store, which doesn't hurt its case at all.

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Damage Done

And this is about as much evidence of our shopping binge as I can bring myself to share...

Rene Caovilla & Charlotte Olympia. A lot of Charlotte Olympia.

...even more Charlotte Olympia, because we are apparently cat ladies & because they were on sale.