Everyone Loves a Parade (and some nice vintage linens!)

Just bought this wonderful photo on eBay of a parade passing the Tailored Woman store at 57th and 5th.  The seller thinks it was a campaign parade for Wendell Willkie, the Republican candidate for president in 1940.  (He lost, of course, to Roosevelt, who was elected for his 3rd term.)  Willkie was actually a liberal in many ways and Roosevelt ended up using him as an ambassador-at-large.

I know I should be more interested in politics, but what caught my eye is the shop name on the right of the building: Grande Maison de Blanc.  Apparently this was an outpost of the grand Parisian linen store of the same name.  Some gorgeous goods from the store are available at various vintage boutiques online.  (Where I may or may not be browsing right now!)

The Mary Frances Scowling Book

Damn, there went a button on a favorite pair of shorts.  So I guess it's off to the dry cleaner's.

My mother despairs that despite all of her efforts when I was young, I still can't sew a button.  I did love listening to the sound of her sewing machine when she was at work whipping something up.  And I really loved my grandmother's copy of The Mary Frances Sewing Book (originally published in 1913--when my grandmother was 3--but still in print). 

The book, part of a series meant to encourage little girls in their pursuit of the home arts, was full of color plates with patterns for gorgeous outfits.  I especially loved the ermine cuffs fit for a princess and the red cape, very Little Red Riding Hood-esque.  (Here's a link to a blog where a woman recreated the outfits.)

Alas, mom never made one of the outfits for me.  Or rather, for one of my dolls.  So you see, it's her fault that I never learned to love live among the thimble people and instead scowl when faced with a lost button.

Philly on the Cheap

I realize this isn't a bargain travel blog, but I had to share my budget hotel find: Club Quarters.  The one at 17th and Chestnut in Philadelphia has rooms as low as $89 per night on weekends, when the hotel's bread and butter business customers are gone.  (I checked out the weekend rates for the new Club Quarters - World Trade Center in New York and was equally impressed with $139 for a club studio.) 

My room at the Philly hotel was very basic, but who cares for that price.  I enjoyed the quiet club ambiance--hushed conversations, newspapers, and a nice little library--in the second floor lobby.  And my friend Beth and I very much enjoyed happy hour at the adjoining Davio's restaurant.  (Free appetizers and $5 drink specials from 5-7.)

I recommend, however, skipping breakfast at Davio's and instead strolling south down 17th a few blocks to Little Pete's, a quintessential Philly joint, for a breakfast sandwich or an omelet served up fast, cheap and greasy. 

Now what are you going to do with all that money I just saved you?  (Perhaps spend it on heartburn tablets?)

Hail to the Chief

I took the week off from work and tried as much as possible to put the Blackberry away as well.  Hence no posts lately.

First up on my vacation tour was bucolic Leelanau County, Michigan.  I've written about this area before:  It's like a living Ralph Lauren ad, with beautiful, fresh-scrubbed blond people zipping about the lake on gleaming vintage Chris Craft boats.  (And then there's my family. I'm glad they passed some kind of exemption allowing brunettes to enter the county.)  I stayed at historic Fountain Point Resort, owned by dear family friends, and soon to be the site of the Lake Leelanau Rowing Club.  (My mom, cousin-in-law and I all rowed and we decided we should put together a women's four--if the club will have us, and if we can find a fourth willing to put up with us.  This may be no small feat.)

Had one day back in Chicago before turning around and heading to Philly to enjoy yet more 100 degree weather while catching up with friends and attending the office party there.  Here's a shot of me posing as your new Commander in Chief, resplendent in Republican red, courtesy of a cool interactive exhibit at the National Constitution Center, where the party was held.  From the looks of it my political style is sassy and assertive, yet unfocused and blurry around the edges.  Some might say the whole thing falls apart on closer inspection.  (Very Sarah Palin of me, no?)

Death and Taxes (but not this year...)

I teased my parents that, if they were so inclined, 2010 might be a good year to say goodbye since it would allow us to avoid estate taxes due to a one year loophole in the tax code.  (Just kidding, of course. I enjoy having them around.  Good thing, too, since they seem as healthy as oxen.)

But more considerate folks such as the recently-departed George Steinbrenner have done just that; it’s estimated that by dying this year, the legendary Yankees owner saved his heirs over $600 million in estate taxes. (Unless, that is, a retroactive tax is added.)

This is a touchy subject. It’s easy to feel outraged about the tax-free transfer of massive amounts of wealth from one generation to the next. Yet I’m not quite sure why, in an avowedly free, capitalist society, that money belongs to anyone else. By the time it is handed down, inherited wealth has been taxed multiple times—when it was earned (income tax) and when it was invested (capital gains taxes). So a portion of the money has already been shared out over and over again.  (Furthermore, foundations funded by private wealth have been the source of much of the good that is done both here and abroad.  Certainly many private philanthropists appear to do a better job than our profligate elected officials.)

Sure, it’s fair game to add on an estate tax, especially as so many of the super-wealthy are creative about their accounting practices.  I just believe that such a tax should be reasonable. While taking nothing seems wildly generous, taking more than half (the rate goes up to 55% next year) seems rather greedy, no?

A Plea for the Public Library

I had to share this great editorial on the plight of public libraries from the Wall Street Journal a few days back. 

One of the jokes in my book proposal is that if my memoir is ever published, my family will likely just pick it up at the library rather than shelling out cold, hard cash.  But libraries don't exist just for thrifty Wasps horrified by the sticker price of a new book.  No, your tax dollars ensure equal access to vast amounts of knowledge for anyone and everyone.  What could be better, or more important?

Beatrix Potter and British Petroleum

I am returned from the land of flu and tonsillitis.  I do not recommend the trip.

While recovering down at mom's over the long holiday weekend, I lazed about in her backyard, where she has a moss garden.  (You know that book The Orchid Thief?  Well, mom is the moss thief.  Except she's really not stealing, just transplanting from friends' yards to her own.)  She has a cute little red-topped lichen named British Soliders that would have made for a great 4th of July post had I not been too bone-weary to think about taking a photo.

I did snap this set of Beatrix Potter books I found in the guest bedroom.  Our very good friends at British Petroleum gave them out as a promotion a while back.  How delightful!  But perhaps the titles should be updated to reflect the times: Jemima (Oil) Puddle Duck! Mr. Jeremy Fisher (is now out of work, thanks to that nasty little oil spill)!