The return of book week, #3: Isn't she lovely?

We've got plenty of public services that don't work in this city. Take our neighborhood post office, for one. I've never seen such an abysmal operation: lines out the door, a total lack of concern on the part of the management and employees for the frustrated would-be customers waiting, and if you need to pick up a package on premises you'd swear there was no organizational system whatsoever behind those unstaffed bullet-proof windows.

Or witness our inability to pass the congestion traffic proposal for midtown last week; apparently some in our city don't appreciate efficiency, no matter how practical or effective it might be.

On the other hand, have I told you how much I love the New York Public Library? Now there's a system that works; with just a library card and a web connection, you can reserve a book from anywhere in the system and have it delivered to your local branch, easy-peasy. It's simple to check the status of your holds and to estimate the arrival of any item on your wait list based on the number of people in queue ahead of you. And renewing the items you've taken home is no trouble at all, provided no one is waiting behind you. It's all so orderly and pleasant and sensible and dreamy.

My dear friend and former student, Barbara, recently brought me a copy of Jane's wonderful book, The Gentle Art of Domesticity, from England. Every evening (or, really, early morning) before bed I've been taking a few minutes to soak up Jane's writing. Much like her blog, these beautifully composed observations on home life (not scrubbing and dusting, mind you, but creating, contemplating and appreciating) are enormously inspiring. Jane writes about art, baking, color, knitting, books, and a wide variety of topics. I love the well-thought-out nature of her writing. Each piece is beautifully composed in the same manner as her blog posts. It's an over-used metaphor, but Jane's pieces are like little gems. Or maybe tasty fairy-cakes would be a better description.

Anyway, every night while reading I make a mental note to get myself over to my friendly and efficient online library and reserve myself some of the films and books Jane references. Last night I finally got around to it; I reserved some old favorites as well some I've never heard of or have always meant to read or see. It's been a while since I last read Jane Eyre or watched Amelie. It was through Jane's blog that I first discovered Elizabeth Taylor (the writer, not the actor), and I've never read Dorothy Canfield Fisher or Elizabeth Gaskell. It's going to be a pleasure.

And speaking of pleasures, the book contains mostly Jane's own photography, which is always loaded with color and inspiration. Perhaps not the sort of visual stimuli one needs shortly before bedtime, but it's certainly a lovely book.

I'm thrilled that the book is going to be released here in the states by Stewart, Tabori and Chang later this year. Jane, I hope you'll still refer to them as fairy-cakes when the book is "translated" for us Americans? We may not be able to comprehend London congestion traffic plans, but I certainly hope we're able to sink our teeth into a proper English pastry, complete with it's appetising name.

Whoops

Did I leave you hanging? The suspense was unintentional; it's just been so busy over here with all our preparations for Quilt Market and the fall collection. In all the bustle I left you sitting there wondering what happened to me! Sorry. Here are a few updates:

Thank you for the Saturday Market Bag pattern info. Yes, it's now posted Jodi's blog as well as on Ravelry (which, if you're a knitter in any way, shape or form, you should absolutely sign up for--it looks great. And the waiting list moves very quickly, so don't let that dissuade you). Knit away! My alterations to the original pattern (results above) are still located here.

And speaking of knitting, my two little cardigans are being knitted up by one lovely Leila. Thanks for all the help, everyone!


Regarding our little flood situation, the studio is cleaned up and back in working condition again. But the patterns are now located on higher ground (i.e., in Tsia's bedroom at our apartment) while we find time to look for a new space. I love my studio because it's just two blocks from our apartment, but the same pipe has now sprayed boiling hot water on two separate locations. And we can't have leaks near paper patterns, can we? Not to mention the fact that the water is coming from above, not from the floor, so there's no easy way to protect the space from future leaks. I'm hoping to find a new space in the neighborhood sometime in the next few months, but certainly not before we leave for Market. Ah, the joys of Manhattan real estate.


In the meantime, our apartment complex is busy with some spring planting and landscaping, and the root balls of these 20-plus-foot-high trees are reminding me of knitting or macrame or weaving. Aren't they lovely? I wonder who has the job of making creating all those woven support systems for the roots of our new neighbors. The grounds will almost certainly be spectacular when all is planted, based solely on the number of plants outside awaiting their new homes.

It's still book week.

I've just had to alter my definition of "week" a bit due to some pressing matters. Like the flooding of my studio and near loss of my pattern inventory as well as my beloved sewing machine.

All is saved, minus a few minor items like my really ugly sewing table. (I was looking for an excuse to get a new one; now I've found the excuse!) It's a miracle the patterns were entirely untouched by the water, and the sewing machine was drenched but revived by my superhero local repair shop.

I'll be back soon with happier things. Like those books I mentioned.

Knitters, I need your help!

Two quick items before we get back to book week:

1. Does anyone recall who wrote the pattern for the Saturday Market Bag on Magknits? I've had a number of queries for the original pattern (I had done some modifications to the pattern for my version) over the past few days; apparently the Magknits site is down (gone?) and it's no longer available. I don't have the pattern and can't give it out without permission.

Update: Thanks, everyone! Jodi has re-posted the pattern on her blog, and you can find it via this link.



2. Knitters wanted: I have two lovely bundles of yarn, a pattern, and an idea. I'm looking for an expert knitter (or maybe two) who can make a couple of kid-sized cardigans before Quilt Market on May 16 (I'll need them before I leave on the 13th). Any takers? I want to do it myself soooo badly but just don't have the time these days. Besides, I have sizing issues when I knit.

Ok, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Books #1 and #2: I'd spend a year almost anywhere,

but Tokyo or Paris would be top on my wish list.


Having lived in NYC for more than 15 years, I like to think I know the city pretty well. But I still love to wander the streets, exploring and looking and constantly finding new things.


And it's still fun to see such a familiar city through fresh eyes, which is one of the reasons I enjoy published sketchbooks like A Year in New York (looks like this is out of print, by the way); I love to see it all through the eyes of someone for whom it's all new and unusual.


So when I saw the similarly titled A Year in Japan, by a different author, I knew I had to read/see it. Todd and I spent some time in Tokyo a few years ago and loved every bit of it: the robot do-it-all toilets, the back alley noodle shops, the various styles of dress. All fascinating.


The concept for this book is similar to A Year in New York, although the two are completely unrelated: young artist spends a year living in a new city and records his/her experiences in a sketchbook journal that later gets published. But I especially loved, in this book, the attention to minute details. She notices the spectacular washcloths displayed in the department stores (it turns out that Japanese women use them to dry their hands in public washrooms. How cool!), the amusing use of English words on products and signs...

...the rubber stamps available in public places for souvenir hunters...

...the spectacular socks...

...the plum blossoms (Tsia wanted me to take this photo for you. In fact, she insisted.)..

...the children's school bags...


...and my favorite, the tiny plastic soy-sauce fish for take-out sushi. Obviously I liked mine well enough to take them home and save them.

In any case, it's a wonderful little cultural exploration, filled with lovely paintings and details that I enjoy dipping into again and again. And now I can't wait to get back there again, to experience it all myself through my own fresh eyes.

Hmm, I wonder if anyone has published A Year in Paris yet? Or A Year in the Netherlands? Sweden? Australia?

Still here

Whoops! Sorry about that; the fall collection was calling for some serious attention. It's still calling, but I'm just not listening for a few minutes.


So I missed the opportunity to wish you a happy Poisson d'Avril, but I hope you had a good one all the same.

Since it's been consistently cloudy over here lately, I offer you some overcast shots from an after-church walk last Sunday, when we wandered around (and shivered) looking for any little bit of spring to brighten our day. I love the West Village; lots of architectural detail and pretty little window box gardens. It's a far cry from our more run-down, gritty East Village neighborhood, which also has it's charms. But not many well-groomed window boxes.






I'm declaring the rest of the week Book Week here at Disdressed; so many good things to show you!