Mad for Plaid

I've been looking for a cozy wrap for crisp Fall days. Enter the fall "Exploded Plaid" wrap, from Nordstrom. I swoon.



Buy it here.

Falling For Neutrals

Hi, my name is Jenna, and I have a decorating problem.

No, seriously. I decorate. A lot. For every season. In fact, I've designed our apartment with a fairly neutral color scheme in order to maximize my seasonal decorating potential. At Christmas time, I completely dismantle my parents' house and design each room according to a different theme. I take on difficult, time consuming craft projects. I fold napkins into swans.

During the summer, I scour stores for beach-y accessories and spend hours collecting rocks and sea glass on the beach. But now that Fall is (officially, if not in actuality) here, I start to think of throw blankets and spangled pumpkins, faux spiderwebs and apple centerpieces. Usually I gravitate towards your standard vivid oranges and reds, but this year, thanks to some stellar inspiration from the Pottery Barn catalog, I'm considering a more grown-up approach: sophisticated creams and neutrals, with sages and nectarines thrown in. And of course, mercury glass. So much mercury glass.

We'll start with a wall lined with antique plates, and a mantlepiece overflowing with pumpkins made of rattan and the aforementioned mercury glass.


{Via Pottery Barn.}

Add in antlers, birch candles, and some more pumpkins (sea urchin-hued, this time.)


{Via Pottery Barn.}


{Via Pottery Barn.}

Just for fun, some silver candlesticks and tea-soaked parchment paper.

{Via Pottery Barn.}

And finish up with a healthy helping of Midnight Black to up the Poe factor.


{Via Pottery Barn.}


{Via Martha Stewart. Loving that green wall.}

Can I live in this store?

So yes, despite the fact that I claimed I was ready for fall, and that temperatures up here in Boston have dropped to a crisp 60 degrees, I have to get my last little bit of summer in.

This store is incredible.



I've spent every summer of my life on the Cape, and a fair portion of that time in stores on Main Street in Chatham, but I had only been into Midsummer Nights one or two times before this past Labor Day weekend. We took a little group expedition to the town for some end-of-season seafood, beers, and shopping, and as soon as we walked into the shop I whipped out my camera and started snapping.

They sell everything from downy cashmere sweaters to designer cocktail dresses, handmade jewelry, and devastatingly elegant home pieces. And seriously, I want to move in. If I could design my dream summer home, it would probably look something like this:

A grey-shingled facade with classic architectural details.



A color palette based in creamy neutrals, accented with pops oceanic color- sky blues, sands, and shimmering metallics.





Nautical accents everywhere, like this sailor-style chest and crystal sea critters.



A little eastern influence.



Linens, linens everywhere.



Maybe even a clawfoot tub. Love the way they styled this, but of course, we non-boutique owners would probably keep it in the bathroom.



Now all I need is the house.

I Don't Care...

...if he wears Uggs, has a ponytail, and dances the Macarena with the gusto of a twelve year old girl.



So long as he keeps being Brady.
First win down.

Lately Loving...

"Boss" Loafer Pumps by Aqua, at Bloomingdale's




This Charcoal and Plum color palette from one of my favorite blogs, Snippet & Ink




A sweet treat to ease my way from Summer to Fall. Recipe found here, courtesy of Coastal Living Magazine.



*Coastal Living Photo by Howard L. Puckett.

A Dog-E-World

On Wednesday night, someone I know had a life-changing experience.



The Liberty Hotel, usually a hot spot for the Boston social set, rolls up its sleeves every Wednesday night during the summer and plays host to a crowd of canines and their Chardonnay-swilling human companions. How I missed this before, I have no idea, but it was amazing.

This little guy was my ticket in.



His name is Pierre Murphy and he lives, despite his Hispanic ancestry, French name, and Irish surname, in the North End, Boston’s traditional Italian neighborhood. So yeah, he’s a pretty confused little pooch. He is also deathly afraid of the following things: loud noises from the apartment next door, noises in general, invisible spiders, men of all kinds, rats (they’re usually bigger than him), water, people who enter his home unannounced, snow, all other dogs, and pretty much everything else in the known universe. He loves to watch movies and TV, specifically Beverly Hills Chihuaha (shock), and anything on Bravo (it must be something about the constant squealing.) Not exactly a social animal.

His human Mommy, Caitlin, invited my friend Lisa (her roommate) and I along with them to the Yappy Hour. We spent the better part of the walk over betting each other how long it would take Pierre to have a heart attack upon entering into such a small space with so many other dogs. Pierre walked sideways, whipped his head around in panicked swipes, and looked back at us every two seconds to make sure we hadn’t abandoned him in the middle of the urban jungle.

But something strange happened when we reached the event…

Yappy Hour took place in the Yard, a normally sophisticated outdoor patio with Chinese lanterns and twinkling lights. There were dogs everywhere; jumping on each other, playing, begging for treats, desecrating the flagstone, fighting and trying to get their- ahem- groove on.



There were Pugs, Bulldogs, King Charles Cavaliers, Labs, Cocker Spaniels, and Daschunds, mutts and pure-breeds, teeny little yappers and several Great Danes that (A) were each roughly the size of a snowmobile and (B) attempted to trample me at one point during the night. To be fair, I accidentally kicked one of them in the face while untangling myself from the leash of a French Bulldog Puppy that I was actively trying to kidnap. . Most of the dogs in the place could have easily gulped Pierre down and still had plenty of room for their Kibbles.



Pierre cocked his head to the side, sizing up the situation. He looked at us, then back at the Yard. At us. At the Yard. Us. Yard. Us. Yard…



And then suddenly, it seemed to hit him.



Holy sh*%$@! I’m a DOG!!!

And just like that, Pierre-“My-Head-Explodes-At-The-Sight-Of-A-Mothball “-Murphy went to town. We could barely keep track of him as he pranced around the yard, strutting his stuff, sniffing and nipping and tarting his five-pound self to every corner of the patio. He rough-housed with strangers, he ventured into new territory, he let men pick him up. He even let his inner tough guy out...



…with somewhat adverse effects.


Clearly, a star was born.


Me, Pierre, and Caitlin


Lisa, Pierre, and Caitlin

On the way home, we stopped for dinner at a local pub with outdoor seating, so that Pierre could embrace his newfound love of the city and its inhabitants. A couple that had also been at the Yappy Hour were seated at the next table, with their doggie next to them. The dog meandered over Pierre to make friends, and we waited for Pierre to reciprocate. He looked at the dog for a second, cocked his head…



...and lost his freaking mind.

He spent the rest of the night in Caitlin’s handbag, trembling.


I guess some things don’t change after all.


Oh, and PS, Pierre is on Facebook.