CarolJoynt.com

The M Street Pot Hole, Or Sink Hole, That Walloped My Car

THIS TEMPORARILY PATCHED HOLE WAS GAPING OPEN & DEEP WHEN MY CAR HIT IT ON WEDNESDAY

Wednesday evening, driving home from work in the rain and the dark, rolling in the crowd of rush hour traffic, my car suddenly hit a very deep hole. The location was M Street at 23rd. I didn't see it coming, focusing instead on the cars and buses around me. It jarred me and jolted my car. It didn't feel lake any routine pot hole. The fact I could still roll forward was surprising, as various warning lights started to flash on the dashboard, one of them signaling the tires were in distress. 

SAME HOLE, SHOT WITH THE FLASH ON. NOTICE ALL THE PATCHING.

I didn't want to come to a stop on crowded M Street. The car was driving oddly, but it could roll - slowly - and I hoped I could make it to the Georgetown Shell or Exxon. As I got near my house, though, I realized the car couldn't make it. I pulled over. The tire was flat. Hopeless. Some young men, friends of my son, and my son, put on the spare in the dark and rain. I drove to the Exxon to get some air in the spare. The attendant there also examined my dead tire, noting that the force of impact had ripped it open. It could not be repaired. He also noted the front bumper was cracked. 

I reported the incident to AAA, to 311 and to Ward 2 Council Member Jack Evans. I have subsequently learned it was probably not a pot hole but instead a sink hole caused by DC Water. It's being investigated. That makes a lot more sense. Any DC driver is accustomed to driving over potholes, some of them fierce, but this was worse than that. I'm lucky it didn't cause a more devastating accident, like stopping my car suddenly with a truck on my rear. 

Nonetheless, very expensive repairs, in the hundreds of dollars. Watch out out there. 

My New Job: VP of Communications for The FP Group. Boom!

On Friday October 10 it will be my last day at Washingtonian magazine. It will also be three years to the day since I joined the staff as Editor-at-Large. On October 20 I begin a new chapter as Vice President of Communications for the FP Group. I'm eager for a new challenge. As I depart Washingtonian this week I'm thrilled about what's ahead but know I will miss good friends and the laughs we had and some memorable experiences, especially producing the monthly photo feature "Behind The Scenes." I'm so proud of that series. I'm also grateful for the support from publisher Cathy Merrill Williams. Washingtonian has an innovative new editor, Michael Schaffer, and many years of great issues in its future. 

Along with my role, FP CEO and Editor David Rothkopf announced two other new hires:  Gopal Ratnam and David Francis. 

Here's the full announcement:

NEWS RELEASE     Media Contact:   Maria Ory, Press Director [email protected] 202-728-7318

FP Group Announces New Hires: Carol Joynt to Be New VP Communications, Two New Reporters Join Edit Team   October 6, 2014 — Washington, DC — David Rothkopf, CEO and Editor of The FP Group, a division of Graham Holdings Company has announced three new additions to the staff of the company that publishes Foreign Policy magazine, ForeignPolicy.com and produces FP Events. These new hires come as the FP Group has passed a number of important milestones including more than doubling its paid subscriber base since the launch of its paywall a year ago, reaching 1 million registered users, over 800,000 Facebook followers and over 500,000 Twitter followers. The total aggregate audience reached by all FP platforms including the website, magazine, newsletters and social media now exceeds 6 million a month worldwide.   “These new hires are part of the continued strengthening of our team and the deepening of our capabilities as an organization,” said Rothkopf, “And we are delighted to have them join our already strong roster of top journalists and business professionals.”   Carol Ross Joynt joins FP as Vice President of Communications. She was at Washingtonian magazine as editor-at-large for the last three years. Her extensive career is principally in broadcast journalism. Carol has been a producer for all the major networks and cable channels, in New York and Washington, and worked closely with Ted Koppel, Walter Cronkite, Charlie Rose and Larry King as a writer and producer on their nightly broadcasts. She started her career in print, with the wire services and then as a reporter for Time magazine in its New York bureau. She also directed films for the National Gallery of Art.   Carol won the national Emmy Award for “Best Interview” for a Charlie Rose prison interview with Charles Manson at St. Quentin. Her memoir, “Innocent Spouse,” tells the story of the dozen years she spent away from journalism, owning Nathans, a Georgetown saloon. It was published by Crown and featured in Vogue magazine and on the Today show. Follow Carol on Twitter @caroljoynt   Two reporters join FP's news team. They include:    Gopal Ratnam, who is coming over from Bloomberg News and will cover the White House with a focus on the way the Obama administration crafts and carries out its national security policies. Gopal, who had been Bloomberg's Pentagon correspondent, has covered a wide variety of subjects in Washington over the last 15 years, including child-labor law violations, the international arms trade, the politics of weapons purchases, and the war in Afghanistan. Follow him @g_ratnam.   David Francis joins FP to guide the evolution of Situation Report, FP's morning email that combines sharp analysis of the key national security and foreign policy issues of the day with links to must-read articles from the U.S. and around the world. David, an award-winning international journalist whose work has appeared in Slate, the Christian Science Monitor, and the Financial Times Deutschland, will oversee The Cable, FP’s breaking news blog, which will provide FP's analysis of key events in the DC and US foreign policy communities as they happen. Follow him @davidcfrancis

 

What My Brain Has In Common With A Tool Shed

If this is not what my brain looks like, exactly, it is at least what it feels like from time to time.  

I came upon this room while on a field shoot for something else, but could not resist. The proprietor apologized for the appearance, to which I said, "please, don't. This is awesome." He said, "it's actually cleaned up." I said, "more awesome." 

A Memorable Night With David Frost, Henry Grunwald and Warren Beatty

DAVID FROST ON "THAT WAS THE WEEK THAT WAS," A TRANSPLANTED TV HIT

The death of David Frost took me back to a 24 hour period in 1972 when all in one night I intersected with him, Henry Grunwald, my boss at Time magazine, and Warren Beatty, at the time the most famous young movie star in the world. I give the evening a sentimental retelling on New York Social Diary. 

This is why, when 20 or so, a young person should live in New York. It's not dull. Things happen. 

Goodbye To All That: Summer Pleasures That Will Be Missed

SUMMER JOY AT THE GEORGETOWN WATERFRONT PARK

In no particular order, here's what I'll miss of summer:

--The long span of daylight

--Empty parking spaces on my street

--Easy restaurant reservations

--Heat

--"Let's deal with that after Labor Day."

--The summer prix fix 4-course dinner deal at 1789 Restaurant

--Hot dogs (at Haute Dog)  and ice cream (at Thomas Sweet) just because

--Frozen custard at The Dairy Godmother

--The revivifying embrace of an ocean breeze

--Sunsets after a thunderstorm

--Sand

--Sunburn

--The bounty of the farmers markets

--"Let's go have a swim at Chevy"

--Wearing sandals and slip dresses

--The scent of Coppertone

--Windows open, listening to the laughter at evening parties in neighbors' gardens

--Children, on city sidewalks, splashing in the water of garden hoses

--Wandering the grounds of Mount Vernon

--Sitting outside, anywhere and everywhere

--Fresh Chesapeake crabmeat

--That bracing first sip of an iced, cold glass of fresh lemonade

--Baseball (on TV and nights at Nats Park)

--Locally grown produce

--Taking a nap on a picnic blanket in a field of grass and flowers at the National Arboretum

--Steamed sweet corn with butter and salt

--The song of the Cicadas

--Fireflies

--The trashtastic summer season of  "Real Housewives Trannies of Orange County"

--Young and old splashing in the fountain of the  Georgetown Waterfront Park

--The shade of Dumbarton Oaks

--Long drives with the windows open, playing the beach Top 40

--Wash n' wear hair 

 Just think, soon enough it will look like this:

 

Tuesday Night Dinner at Le Diplomate

AUBREY SARVIS, DAVID DUNN, MOI, ELLEN CHARLES, AMY BONDURANT

Dinner at Le Diplomate. So far, it does not tire and remains interesting and delicious and a treat to share with friends. As tonight ... what did we talk about? Politics, Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, sex, royal babies, real estate, food, Paris, John Kerry, children, sandwich delivery, math, each other. 

AGELESS MODERN LIFE

Funny, at one point everyone had their cell phones on the table. I snapped a casual photos. Looks staged, but it's not. It's just ageless modern life.

Who was there? Well. Those I spent some stop-n-chat time with included Jonathan Capehart, Patrick O'Connell and Adam Mahr ... plus their dates/friends/significant others. Were their other boldfacers there? Of course. 

HANDSOME MEN: AUBREY SARVIS AND DAVID DUNN

No food pics this time but I always recommend a read or re-read of the Le Diplomate story I did for New York Social Diary. 

Happy Father's Day (photos)

COL. RICHARD H. ROSS, THE PILOT, IN THE MIDDLE, BEFORE A MISSION, WWII

CIRCA 1985: IN THE BACK, DAVID ROSS, HOWARD JOYNT, ROBERT ROSS. IN THE FRONT, OLGA ROSS, CAROL ROSS JOYNT, RICHARD ROSS

SPENCER WITH GRANDPA ROSS, 1998

J. HOWARD JOYNT III WITH SPENCER, AT HOME ON THE BAY

PRECIOUS TIME TOGETHER, 1992

FUN TIME AT BREAKFAST, 92

MY NEPHEWS CAMERON KUMAR, LEFT, AND ZAL KUMAR, RIGHT, WITH THEIR DAD, VIJAY KUMAR, ALSO MY BROTHER IN LAW, 2013

MY BROTHER DAVID, A DAD, WITH HIS NEPHEW, A TEENAGED SPENCER

Wishing all dads a happy day. 

What's Hot/Not On Men

 

PHOTO I TOOK, WHEN I WAS 22, DURING AN EXTENDED SAILING VOYAGE, OF A "FRIEND" WHO WAS, WELL... HOT (AT 44)

Last week I posted a list of what's not hot on men and this week I've countered with what's hot on men. The "not hot" list was more challenging to compose than the "hot." I don't recall all that I listed but here are some of the "not hot" items reprised with my  random thoughts. You don't have to agree. It is an entirely arbitrary and personal list. And there are always exceptions to every rule

--Facial Hair. This is a good example of where there are exceptions. But on most men it is a fail. Unless you are Jayson Werth or Brad Pitt, don't even try.  And Brad Pitt is debateable. Also, those little hipster soul patches and goatee's require amazing inherent handsomeness to carry off... and yet they seem to be the most popular with, shall we say, the others.  

--Shoulder Bags. With respect, unless you are gay you cannot wear this look and expect to hook up. Period. I mean, in Washington the odds work in a man's favor, but shoulder bags are not manly. Ever. Ditto shopping bags. Have what you buy sent.

--Jeggings. Oh, my Lord. I see men wearing them and I sigh. Look at yourself in the mirror before you go out of the house. 

--Going Commando Over Age 50. Do I need to explain?

--Justin Bieber Style. Please, please, do not wear skorts. Having them made ankle length and out of leather changes nothing. We doubt even outer space will welcome this dude.

--Face Work. It shows. Men age beautifully and when they start to mess with it the results show more shockingly than they do on women. Too often you look like burn victims, and out of respect to unfortunate burn victims, don't go there. How many times must you be told that age and wisdom are turn-ons. Show them off with pride.

--Comb Overs. One name: Donald  Trump. Don't fool yourself, "Well, at least I don't look like Donald Trump." Every comb over looks like Donald Trump.

--Crocks - Never ever ever ever.

--Cargo Anything - No, unless your goal is to be major not hot. The woman who tells you she's turned on by cargo shorts/pants is likely wearing Mom jeans. Add athletic shoes and it's a frrrozzen not hot.

--Over-Tatted - I've come to find the occasional, discreet tattoo to be relatively hot. However, the full arm display is not hot. When they climb up the neck, even more not hot. I see them and think: This man likes pain and I will never be able to inflict upon him the kind of pain that he requires. Also, there's a sadness to over-tatting that makes me think I will never be able to love him enough, too. So, not hot.

--Bicyle Helmets. I know they are safe, but take them off as soon as you get to where you are going. They are not a fashion statement.  Bicyle helmets are too safe to be hot. But be safe. Still debating whether bicyles are hot under anyone but messengers. The jury is out on that.

--Bob Benson Shorts. They are hot on Bob Benson, but he's a TV character circa 1968. A tough look for most men to pull off (heh heh) but when in doubt don't even try.  This may not apply if you are gay, because what's hot on men in the eyes of gay men is -- in some instances -- different from what's hot on men to me. (For example, for me, 86 the boxer briefs and the Speedo's.) And this list is only about me (and the 2 million women who agree with me).

--Flat abs. Yes, for the last time, they are  hot. They are always hot. Especially because it's so much easier for men to have a flat stomach and so, as a woman, there's some envy involved. I don't envy your junk, but I do envy your abs. They don't have to ripped, just flat or nearly so. It's worth the 100 situps in the morning and another hundred at night.

--Hipster. Hipsters are visually interesting but in part that's because of the unique absence of sexuality. It's a stage beyond androgynous, perhaps latter day goth, which was also asexual. It favors women more than men, but since it's whole point is anti-hot, then not hot. 

 Next week, students, we'll discuss what's hot and why.

America in the Post 9/11 Era

 STRENGTH AND RESOLVE 

At the Boston hockey game last night, the anthem singer realized quickly that the fans owned the stage and the moment. In post-9/11 America we run toward the crisis to help, we fight back if we can and we sing loudly together as a chorus.

St. Patrick's Day Lunch - Green Eggs, No Ham

Omelette with Truffled Spinach

Such a simple and casual meal. The chips make it casual, but I like the contrasting crunch that chips add to a Sunday egg dish vs roasted potatoes. Pommes Soufflé would be the ideal, but I didn't have the time. I started with a big bunch of fresh baby spinach, sauteéd with truffle oil and pinches of salt, pepper and grated nutmeg, and set it aside. Made the omelettes with fresh farmers eggs. Good fresh eggs don't need anything added to them beyond salt and pepper. I debated whether to add mushrooms or parmesan, and even Virginia country ham, but opted to, again, keep it simple. After all, the theme here was the color green. 

The photo below shows one of the omelettes cut open. With it, a glass of French sauvignon blanc. As Selma Blair says daily on my TV: "awesome." 

The green bagels from Georgetown Bagelry, served at breakfast, were devoured before they could be photographed, alas. 

Note: My firned Lynn Novelli said she missed my postings about food/home cooking. I said I do it principally when I'm NOT eating a lot/dieting. Well, I'm about to start a spring cleanse & detox & shape up (as in no potato chips!), so brace yourselves for lots of food porn. 

THE MYSTERY OF WHAT HAPPENED OUTSIDE THE FOUR SEASONS

 

THE FRONT PORTICO OF THE FOUR SEASONS HOTEL ON A RANDOM NIGHT

Over the last week a few people stopped me to ask, "what in the hell was going on outside the Four Seasons the other night?" And then they went on to talk about M Street being closed, a massive presence of police cars and EMT, a stopped bus, and lots of drama. I had no idea. There was no clue. But now the mystery is solved. Please read this email from a (tall, handsome, media/business mogul) friend, aka John Fox Sullivan of Atlantic Media and also mayor of Little Washington, Virginia. 

 "A freakish one in a million  (billion) event happened to me  6:30 Thursday night on way to dinner with Lockheed folks. Am walking on M street near 4 Seasons, a  car goes out of control, runs up on to sidewalk where  I am standing, crashes into metal lamp post between me and car. Post hits metal box which hits my ankle and I am off to GW emergency room. 

"The bad news, 21 stitches in ankle and very immobile. The good news, no damage to Achilles' tendon. The really good news, lamp post prevented car from making me a permanent hood ornament.Am (at home) recuperating.  Not sure when I will be mobile and in office but email and phone available. Feeling lucky to be alive.

"Ps. If you got caught up in massive rush hour backup in  Georgetown Thursday evening (fire trucks, ambulance, cops galore.. I apologize"

 

DC VALENTINE'S MYSTERY: Who Taped The Hearts on Store Windows?

Brian Noyes brought this to my attention on Facebook, where he sent this photo and wrote, "Valentine Mystery: Who taped a heart on nearly every shop window in Georgetown?" I don't know but the first one I noticed was on Georgetown Cupcake. I hope it's not something boring or agenda-driven, but just a little love, because romance and mystery go well together.

TONIGHT: VALENTINE'S COOKIES, NIP SLIPS & "ADEQUATELY COVERED" GENITALS

Met for drinks this evening with my friend Brian Noyes, owner of Warrenton's Red Truck Bakery. Look what he brought! A box of cookie weapons. This is precisely how I never start the calorie reduction I always plan to begin TONIGHT or TOMORROW. Clearly this will be TOMORROW, because what's better than being curled up on the sofa with a box of Valentine's cookies while tuned into the  red carpet arrivals at the Grammy Awards?

I plan to scrutinizie the talent to see whether they disobey the new rules. i.e., no side boob, no nip slips, and "adequately covered" genital "regions." That's regions discrimination, I swear. How'm I gonna get dressed to go out at night in DC if these rules make it to our shores? DC needs nip slips, side boob and  inadequately covered genital regions. Ha. Angelina Leg, too. 

BTW, when GR's are inadequately covered, try this trick that's out of fashion in 2013 but was popular with the ancients -  pubic hair.

A CONVERSATION WITH THE HEATING COMPANY

My conversation today with the heating company I've had a contract with for 25 years:

Heating Company Operator: "Hello."

Me: "Hello, my name is ....I live at .... I'm a contract customer ... My heat's out."

Operator: "Ma'm. I'll report it."

Me: "Can I please talk to someone?"

Operator: "Is it an emergency?"

Me: "My heat's out."

Operator: "Ma'm, is it an emergency?"

Me: "You've been here twice in the past two months for it being out, and it's out again."

Operator: "Is it an emergency?"

Me: "What difference does it make? It's out. I need to talk to someone."

Operator: "If it's an emergency someone will call you today. If it's not, someone will call you Monday."

Me: "My heat's out. I need to talk to someone today."

Operator: "But is it an emergency?"

Me: "That's semantics."

Operator: "I'll have someone call you."

UPDATE: I received a call from the heating company within 20 minutes, and a technician was at the house within 2 hours and the problem was resolved. In the spirit of Groucho, "semantics" was the secret word. 

 

The Year of the Staycation

THE CHESAPEAKE BAY CAN BE AN EXCELLENT STAYCATION

For several weeks I've been thinking that this is the year the Staycation will be the trend across the country. This morning, in a report on rapidly rising travel costs, NBC News as much as said the same thing. Having just returned from a week-long trip, I can testify to how ambitious and expensive it is to have even a modest journey. After making monthly payments on the mortgage, the car, utilities, insurance and a few other essential bills, I barely have money left to buy food, and certainly not clothing or other indulgences, much less consider a holiday. Hey, but at least I'm employed. No small thing. And I created a college fund for my son 15 years ago. (Phew!) Honestly, I don't know how people get by who have 2, 3 or 4 children. I can't imagine.

The trip to Austin and New Orleans was possible because I raced to consignment and sold as much of my stuff that would sell, used points for airline tickets, got a good price on a good hotel in Austin (the Stephen Austin Intercontinental) and we stayed with friends in New Orleans. For meals we sought affordable quality. We did the $20.12 prix fix lunch at three of NoLa's "grand dames" - Galatoire's, Antoine's and Commander's Palace - and these meals were delicious. Also, martinis were 25-cents. So we had that and it was good. But one step over the line of restraint and the trip would have been unaffordable.

I know I'm not alone. At a recent lunch with a successful Washington business owner I was frankly shocked to learn that her current financial plight is the same as mine: simply not able to make ends meet due to the rising costs of everything. What we're each earning is good, but income is not enough, and in her profession -- the food industry -- the forecast is not promising. She's put her home up for sale.

This brings us back to the Staycation. Done right and well it can be as rewarding as any lavish getaway.  Certainly innovative. The secret is to be into it, to embrace it as an opportunity, a bounty of possibilities. And by Staycation I don't mean take a week off but at home, doing chores and watching "America Idol" at night. You gotta go away from the zone of routine ... only not too far away, and nothing that involves planes or trains. 

If I were a DC hotel manager, rather than going overboard in promoting ridiculous $40K+ inauguration suite packages that aren't the draw this time around, I would be thinking of ways to lure in the many residents of the Metro area for an affordable but quality spring or summer holiday spree. A three-day weekend at the right place, at the right price, with a few perks, can fully rejuvenate the body and mind without slaying the wallet. 

There are borders to a Staycation. For me the measure is any getaway that is down the street or within a 2-3 hour drive. So, that could include Colonial Williamsburg, Annapolis, Middleburg and environs, a cabin on Skyline Drive, the region around St. Mary's or Solomons Island, Maryland; Baltimore, the Eastern Shore; journeys that can involve raft trips, canoeing, hiking, climbing (Old Rag remains a fun challenge), sailing, antiquing, good food and drink, historic touring, and plain old chill time, reading a good book. 

If a person were to decide to do an at-home Staycation there would be rules. For example, no chores. No going through the mail. Turn off the smartphone. Treat the house as if it is a rental, and behave as a tourist in one's own home, neighborhood and town. Movie matinees. Theater.  Maybe some meals out -- but at new places -- and stock up on some fun foods and appealing recipes to indulge in with a little time on your hands.

Every time I get together with a friend who is also trying to survive this Great Recession, we say, "it has to be over soon." And then it just seems to get worse. That's because businesses that weren't raising prices now have no choice but to make up for their losses. It's like the payroll tax. It's make-up time. As people have less  expendable income, the cost of living is more. We're living through a time that will be looked back on the way we look back on the Great Depression. People got through that - somehow. We will get through this - somehow, too. But a Staycation might help to preserve sanity.

(I'll have more on this theme in coming weeks.)

Me, At Your Sewage Treatment Plant

I'm making light of it, but my visit today to the Blue Plains Sewage Treatment Plant was actually fascinating. It was for a Washingtonian story, of course, and included lots of very up close views of the processing of our you-know-what.

PROCESSING STAGE ONE. IT'S OKAY TO THINK "YUCK." (LOVE THE GREENERY)

The people who work there, bless their stankin' livelihoods, have created a glossary of alternative words. But our guide laughed, thankfully, when he took us to a particular location, described it in the most PC possible way, and I said, "so, basically, this building is full of shit?" 

PROCESSING STAGE TWO. THIS IS JUST WHAT YOU THINK IT IS. MOREOVER, IF YOU FALL IN YOU DIE

And don't think you're not represented. The science of waste treatment is so advanced they have DNA codes for everyone. Flush. Boom. Identified.

A PORTA POTTY AT THE SEWAGE TREATMENT PLANT. THERE'S A LOGIC THERE 

Yes, I was tempted to headline this post "My Day In (Your) Dung." However,I still have a few, albeit loose, restraints. 

ONE OF THESE GLASSES HOLDS HIGHLY CLEANED EFFLUENT, THE OTHER HOLDS WATER YOU MIGHT DRINK. YOU GUESS.

In sum, when this story appears in Washingtonian it will be fantastic. 

Talking Inaugural, Washingtonian & Innocent Spouse on "News Talk"

 

I spent a nice few minutes with Bruce DePuyt today, appearing on his News Channel 8 "News Talk" broadcast to cover a range of subjects: the inaugural, Washingtonian, Washingtonian's inaugural ball, celebrity spotting during the Kennedy Center Honors and, last but not least, "Innocent Spouse," the paperback edition. Bruce and I both were suffering from head colds - his on the way out, mine on the way in. Had it not been that the interview was scheduled a while back I probably would have stayed in bed.

Shine On, Harvest Moon

Shot this Saturday night while walking home to Georgetown after dinner with friends who live near Logan Circle. It is the Harvest Moon. Fittingly, it's hanging over the Carnegie Institution for Science on 16th Street. Did the moon know? Enjoy. It will be full again on Monday, October 29. I know, isn't that sweet? A full moon for Halloween. 

I can't wait to get back out to Markoff's Haunted Forest. Do read my story about this great place in the current print issue of The Washingtonian. You'll want to go, too. (The website is nicely spooky, too).

Streetsense: This Week's Must Read

 WASHINGTON: HOME TO THE FUTURE OF VIBRANT URBAN LIVING

The theme of my week seems to have been the NEW DC. It started on Monday with a commentary for New York Social Diary about Washington becoming a sports town, among other grown up accomplishments (and some not), and ended the week with a story for The Washingtonian that focused on a Bethesda-based company that wants to shape DC's future everything. That company is Streetsense. I interviewed its CEO, Marc Ratner. My NYSD commentary and his vision are on the same bandwidth. Do take a moment to meet Marc and his company.

Washington Gets What It Craves

HE'S AMAZING: ROBERT GRIFFIN III

Yesterday's losses aside, Washington is at the threshold of something wonderful: becoming a legit sports town. It's all happening and will likely get better and better. It's the subject of a commentary I wrote for today's edition of New York Social Diary

"We All Want More Sex"

From the Sunday paper, in a wrap-up by Guy Trebay of New York Fashion Week:

“We all want more sex, and no one is getting enough,” Ms.(Joanna) Coles was saying, noting that the problem is perhaps more exaggerated here than elsewhere. And the reason, she said, may be that in New York people are so busy they forget to bookmark sex time in their day planners. Whereas in England, where she is from, people routinely head out in the evening with the expectation of drinking a great deal, going home and making love, although the term she used for the sex act was vintage Austin Powers.

...which is why, I hope, there will always be an England.

 

Stalking Bunny Mellon

THE VIRGINIA COUNTRYSIDE ON SUNDAY, AUGUST 26, AT 9:30 A.M.

When it comes to the classic 24 hour getaway, Washington is blessed with two distinct directions: East to the Bay and West to the hunt country. I'm just back from 24-hours in the Virginia hunt country. Upperville, to be precise. While I did not exactly stalk Bunny Mellon, I was practically her next door neighbor while on my visit and got to wander in the gorgeous surroundings created by her and her late husband, Paul Mellon, along Rt. 623, known to everyone out there as "the Mellon Road." For ten years Howard and I lived on that same road, about a mile over, and we always appreciated the stretch that belonged to the Mellons. A while ago I did a story on the church the Mellons built. (Worth a read). All the trees are groomed just so, and the stone fences are English and 18th century perfection. That there are 24 hour Secret Service-level security guards, and a jet landing strip built for a G-5, only make it more beguiling.

JUST BEYOND THE ROUND BUSH IS THE MELLON LANDING STRIP AND  A CHARMING TERMINAL
 

Bunny Mellon is 102 years old and coming to terms with age and life, if she hadn't already. Today most people know her name because of presidential candidate John Edwards or the late flower designer Robert Isabell. They are a small part of an epic personal story. Due to age and what not, Mellon is dealing with her estate, selling off large parcels of land (including the landing strip and terminal), while preserving her home and state of the art horticultural library, which will be protected by an endowment. Anyone who has serious money and an affection for the Virginia countryside should make a polite inquiry, though developers aren't quite the ideal buyer. There are easements to make the land unappealing to those who would just want to build on it and flip it. This is a slow and methodical process. However, the G5 is on the market now, and that sleek bird can go to anyone with the means.

ROUTE 623, AKA "THE MELLON ROAD"

 

My brief visit included a nice wander on some back roads, a couple of good swims, a couple of walks, a delicious and fun lobster and Champagne dinner with friends, but above all a lot of time to indulge in photography. My friend is next door neighbor to the Mellon estate and Bunny sold her the house and land after Paul died. The house had belonged to his personal secretary. My friend did a exquisite renovation and added gardens. Here are photos from an earlier visit. 

The above is a good example of a well-groomed Mellon tree.

And another.

How about this incredible garden? It is my friend's. Note the pool in the distance. The color and temperature of Lake Placid, which made it ideal. 

There were a few raindrops, which is when I snapped this reflection in the swimming pool. 

I'd like to joke that this was my room, but it's actually the pool shed. I could have posted only this photo and said I was in England and no one would have doubted me. btw, my room was this and then some.

A highback bench on the lawn. Sitting there, one looks across a large expanse of green toward the house and pool.

 

I couldn't resist this antique water pump.

My friend's garden features two of these dogs, facing each other.

This is a view of the terrace on the side of the pool.

One of the great pleasures of the good life: an outdoor shower. There's only one way to use an outdoor shower: au naturel.

A traditional photo of the sunset. In the distance: the Mellon jet runway.

...followed by a sunset shot.

My friends Sally Hosta and Jean Perin, above. We, and our husbands, (deceased and otherwise), go back decades. The ladies are dedicated equestriennes, and thus eternally fit. And, as you can tell from the photos, my host, Jean, is a master horticulturist and landscape designer. 

This would not be a complete photo story without a shot of food!

 

UPDATE: Bunny Mellon died on the morning of March 17, 2014. She was 103. 

Fresh From Iran, and Fun At Bandolero

This is how I distracted myself during the tense moments of the Redskins-Bears game. I nibbled on incredible pistachios that arrived fresh from Iran, courtesy of my neighbor Roz. Rather than being salted during or after cooking, they are marinated in salt before the cooking process. It makes such a difference - a subtler salt taste, and almost sweet.

Roz's lost her father the night of the durecho, when his home and car were hit by falling trees and burning power lines. He ran out of his house to try to figure it out and, stepping in a pool of water, got electrified. Roz's mother also ran out of the house and, seeing the peril her husband was in, tried to pull him away from danger. She got third degree burns.

Roz returned to Teheran this week for a memorial service for her father. At the same time as the service in Teheran, there was also one in Washington. I'd see her father from time to time, coming to visit his daughter and grandsons, but unfortunately I never met him. I did visit her mother at the Washington Hospital Center, where she endured many skin graft surgeries. But the good news is she's now recovering at home. 

Roz flew back to DC with so many native delicacies: a variety of dates, salt marinated pistachios (see photo above) and, as I hoped, caviar. Caviar is cheap in Iran for nationals, and so Roz loaded up. However, she had Lufthanza keep the tins in their onboard fridge and there they stayed. Roz reported the missing caviar and hopes it will return, but if not, so be it. Neither one of us lives for the stuff, but we will stop what we're doing, whatever we're dong, to pay respect to its excellence...now unaffordable in the West unless you are a lottery winner. For caviar lovers, Iranian caviar is king and queen.

Interesting to hear Roz talk about her homeland after living in the U.S. for more than a decade. It's not her Iran anymore, but it is her blood, and that makes it emotionally charged. She's married now and raising children here in the US. She's a doctor and a lawyer.

 On the way to Teheran, through Paris, the flight had a wreck with another airliner, on the ground, producing an afternoon of red tape that detained Roz for hours, making the trek from DC to Teheran take 30 hours.

Advice: you never know. So, love the one you're with and love them well.

ON TO BANDOLERO

SAM HARRINGTON, AKA "DR SAM" AND CJ AT BANDOLERO

Tonight I met my friends Sam Harrington and Debbie Weil @bandolerodc for pitchers of margaritas and the food to go with them. Fun. Total fun. I can't believe they went on to a movie. (I wouldda needed toothpicks for my eyelids). I came home to watch the Redskins game, and the Nats, which while not altogether satisying has been interesting and a lesson. For the 'Skins, a necessary tutorial and perfect for the preseason. For the Nats, a minor set back.

DEBBIE WEIL, AKA "MRS SAM"

Debbie had the Bandolero Margarita, made with blood orange juice, which she loved. We also got a pitcher of Classic Margaritas, which Sam and I enjoyed. The food was very good, as usual. We sat upstairs next to the window with a good view of M Street. I also like the downstairs window tables, though on a busy day it can crowded anywhere near the front door and bar. Clearly this place is a Georgetown hit, which is sweet.

Henry von Eichel (Remembered in Photos)

BEST FRIENDS LESLIE COCKBURN AND HENRY VON EICHEL AT NATHANS

There are so many hard parts to the death of Henry von Eichel at his home in Austria on Monday at the age of 64. One of them is that now begins the time when I won't be able to introduce people to Henry, to watch their delight in meeting him and getting to know him, and then thanking me later many times over. Instead, myself, and his many other friends, will have to learn to tell of Henry in a way that shows him, brings him to life, gives as much dimension as possible. All I have for now are photos I'm finding in my archives. Here are some of them, shot mostly in Georgetown, where he also had a home. I hope to find more photos.

HENRY VON EICHEL WITH CRISTINA MITTERMIEIR AT THE NATURE CONSERVANCY DINNER

HENRY VON EICHEL AT NATHANS, WITH LESLIE COCKBURN

NOT THE BEST PIC, BUT IT CAPTURES AN EXPRESSION FAMILIAR TO MANY OF HENRY'S FRIENDS. ALSO, IT SHOWS HIS AFFECTION FOR AND APPRECIATION OF LESLIE

HENRY AND HIS WIFE, MONIKA, AT A CHRISTMAS PARTY AT THEIR GEORGETOWN HOME

THIS IS THE FIRST IN A SEQUENCE OF PHOTOS SHOT AT CITRONELLE BAR, AT A FAREWELL PARTY FOR (THE NOW LATE) DAVID BRUCE AND JANET BRUCE BEFORE THEY MOVED TO CHINA

NANCY BAGLEY, MONIKA VON EICHEL, HENRY VON EICHEL AT CITRONELLE

DAVID BRUCE IN THE PINK SHIRT ON THE LEFT, HENRY IN THE BLUE SHIRT ON THE RIGHT

HENRY AND MONIKA ARE GREETED BY IZETTE FOLGER

THIS IS ONE OF THE LAST PICS I HAVE OF HENRY. IT'S AT A PARTY AT JULEANNA GLOVER'S (ON THE RIGHT). IT WAS AFTER HE'D BEEN ILL FOR A WHILE, BUT HAD BOUNCED BACK AND WAS LOOKING FORWARD (AS ALWAYS).

The Joys of a Small Wedding

It was with great interest that I read the piece in the Times yesterday about a couple who opted for a small, do-it-yourself wedding. I wondered when this day would come, and I hope it's the beginning of a trend. Every time I read or hear about a contemporary lollapalooza-style wedding, I feel for the parents, the groom and the bride. It has become a bloated, vicious industry, taking almost all the romance out of the sweet and simple ritual of nuptials. (Gaining on weddings is the trend of "staging" houses that are for sale; another predatory industry).

My own wedding was small and my husband and I wouldn't have had it any other way. Keeping it small made it possible for us to do it ourselves, our way, and that was one of the many joys of getting married. I know, I'm from the generation that eschewed anything that felt out of the Eisenhower years -- grand, big, formal -- preferring instead to be lowkey, casual, intimate. How many baby boomers got married in bare feet, I wonder? Lots. For some time now, we've been deeply back in the Eisenhower ethic (nothing to do with the man, only the era) and gosh I hope that's almost over. I'd love to see flea markets piled with stilettos, hair extensions, vagina jewels and what not. People, let's get real.

My husband I married at our 200-year-old stone and stucco farm house in Upperville, Va. We set the date for May 10th, because it was the same day we met, making our wedding day a Monday. We did all the flowers ourselves, we organized the food with a local caterer, who worked out of her own home kitchen. A concession to grandeur was very good Champagne and very good food. The guest list was small: family and a couple dozen friends. We did have "witnesses," our friends Patrick O'Connell and Rinehardt Lynch, who owned our favorite restaurant, The Inn at Little Washington (not yet a hotel). We had our pre-nuptial dinner there, and it was only family. In other words, small.

A Justice of the Peace married us in the living room at 5-ish. I forget exactly, except I know I followed the rule of the big hand either sweeping up or down the clock. My father walked me from the entrance hall into the living room. My wedding ring was a little gold link ring made by Elsa Peretti. It had one small diamond. (It also later got stolen ... so.)

I did wear a very lovely and traditional wedding dress, designed by Gina Fratini. But I bought it out of the window at Harrod's department store in London. No planning, no fittings, no hoopla. We saw the dress in the window, went in an inquired, and bought it. I knew it was the *dress in which I wanted to get married, even though the wedding would still be a long way off. My wedding slippers were the same white Capezio jazz sneakers I wore the night I met Howard at a private after hours party at Clyde's. He scuffed them and that got my attention. They were sentimental shoes. Besides, I wasn't going to get married in a farm house in a pair of Manolo Blahnik's.

After the wedding ceremony we drank Champagne, ate good food, and delicious cake from the Watergate Pastry Shop (classic pound cake with white fondant).( We saved the top tier for our first anniversary.) The bakery was next door to the salon where I got my hair done earlier that day, by George Ozturk, who now owns George at The Four Seasons. The first time George ever did my hair was for my wedding. It was long and he piled it on my head and placed little sprigs of Lily of the Valley here and there, to match my bouquet. Colleen Birmingham gave me a nice manicure. She's still with George.

I remember Howard and I came into DC in the morning, picked up the flowers, the cake, I got my hair done, etc., and then we drove back to Upperville, to get the house ready for our wedding. It was so simple and so much fun.

That night we drove back into DC, spent the night at the new Four Seasons Hotel, and then departed early the next morning for a honeymoon on Bermuda.

*Call me crazy, but I've already purchased the dress for my next wedding, whenever in the hell that may be. It hangs in my closet, glowing with simplicity and elegance. First order of business is finding Mr. Right II. I know he's out there, but he's not reading this. He fully understands the web, but his doesn't use social media to function. He has a cell phone, maybe the PGA and NFL app, and does email to communicate with his kids. He does not tweet or FB. I could go on...

 

 

Gore Vidal's Last Months, Days and Hours

GORE VIDAL (photo: The U.K. Telegraph)

This afternoon I had an interesting conversation with the man who was often at Gore Vidal's side for the past eleven years, his house manager and personal chef. He was with Vidal when the writer died at his home in Hollywood one week ago. Please read my report of the revealing conversation at washingtonian.com

Fourth of July - Delicious, But Also Real Life

So far today I've enjoyed a hot dog with relish, fresh onions and mustard, assorted chips and dip, fresh fruit and Rocklands barbecued chicken, but what stands out is this very simple dish photographed above: assorted heirloom tomatoes from Palisades Farmers Market, sliced, topped with Burrata and pepper. Before serving I drizzled with Laudemio Frescobaldi Extra Virgin Olive Oil (which you can get at Dean & Deluca). All of this paired with icy cold Veuve Clicquot Champagne (courtesy of a friend) and Whispering Angel Provencal Rose (courtesy of me). It was on sale at Bacchus Wine on Wisconsin Avenue. 

It's been delightful having a mid-week day off. I got in a good walk, did some work, went to a party, but mostly kicked back. It feels like Sunday. Tomorrow will feel like Monday. Friday will feel like Tuesday and then, BOOM, the week will be over. 

Notably I write this seemingly carefree tra la la la post as someone who did not lose power or directly feel the pain of this storm. I have a number of friends who have been sweltering without power since the storm hit Friday evening and, more catastrotrophic, a girlfriend whose father was killed and mother critically injured on Friday night when they were electrocuted.  I'm sharing my relaxation because it's there and real, but I know how very close to me resides the also harrowingly real agony of loss and grief. There was a story in The Washington Post today about her father. This is how small the world is. I know her and her family, but a good friend is also a close friend of the next door neighbor who fought with him about the trees. 

CRJ at TEDx

 

Merry Christmas

GEORGETOWN'S CHRIST CHURCH, CHRISTMAS EVE MORNING, BEFORE THE FLOCK ARRIVES. IN THE FOREGROUND IS THE CRECHE.

We'll be off the grid a few days, enjoying Christmas with loved ones and friends. Thank you for your messages of holiday cheer, especially from those who let me know they will be making Howard's Egg Nog today. You'll be rewarded. 

Schmaltzy they may be, but I like these lyrics from the song, "My Grown Up Christmas List:"

No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts.
Everyone would have a friend,
And right would always win,
And love would never end.
This is my grownup Christmas list.

To quote Ringo, peace & love.

Why Can't DC Anchors Be Kinda Fun Like This?

 I will take back the snark 150% percent if it comes out tomorrow that she hadn't been at a Christmas party but was instead on meds. Because you're not human if you haven't ever been messed up at work.