This mix tape follows the arc of highs, lows, fasts and slows that was my week. I began all jazzed for my girls’ getaway but sadly, a lowly germ thwarted my enjoyment. Things took a turn.
By the end of our first night of the trip, I began to feel the old familiar sting. My throat crying out in pain, a disgruntled virus hell-bent on impregnating my healthy cells with their demon spawn. A dramatic start to what really amounted to a lil’ summer cold…which, while irritating, was in no way life-threatening. (And probably not worthy of the title “demon spawn,” but hey, I’m sure you can relate.)
By the next morning I was visibly slowed; the edge shaken from my usual perky demeanor. However, with a boat adventure in my near future I was determined not to suffer what my dear friend Megan refers to as “FOMO:” Fear of Missing Out. So, rally I did, and even managed to ring in Cinco de Mayo proper with a smattering of tequila! With which I was definitely hoping to exorcise the demons (oops … did it again), but instead, I found myself in dire straits.
I spent the next two days laid up on the couch, enjoying the cold feel of upholstery leather on my back as opposed to the soft feel of beach sands. But I can’t really complain: Friends, let me tell you that constant AC, warm tea, and a dubbed-over Spanish version of The Devil Wears Prada interlaced with various offerings from Turner Classic Movies is a surprisingly nice way to spend one’s vacation.
But! Back home in Austin, I got my strength back. I got washed out at the Washed Out show last Thursday at The Mohawk, and even pulled off meeting their frontman Ernest Greene. So glad he didn’t go with his initial career ambition: Librarian. (Seriously!!) I’m partially convinced Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein owe a large portion of Portlandia’s success to their wildly delightful theme song, for which they have Washed Out to thank.
All in all, I would have never made it through the week were it not for these tunes and their soothing, healing qualities. Like chicken soup for the eardrums. Hope this mix finds you in good health and demon-free. Happy listening!
So I was in a coffee shop yesterday when “Fields of Gold” came on. Do you remember that song, Reader? Of course you do. It’s a gentle, dreamy affair about a lovelorn Sting and his lady friend lying (having sex!) upon a field. Upon the fields of barley …
“We’ll forget the sun, in his jealous sky, as we lie in fields of gold.”
(Somebody had to disabuse me of the notion very recently that it was not “Bali” like I thought, but “barley.”)
My God, that song takes me back. Does anyone else remember slow dancing to this song in junior high?
I think I was in sixth grade when I went to my first dance, and if memory serves correctly, I danced with exactly one boy that night. I was dressed in a navy blue Limited Too sweatshirt, matching navy blue Limited Too shorts (which were, perplexingly enough, also made out of sweatshirt material), and topped off by brand new Doc Martens. For street cred.
Walking into the dance, I felt very on-trend. Very now. But it soon became clear that ensembles of color-coordinated, athletic fleece do not, in fact, bring the boys to the yard — especially when said fleece wearer is NOT in the popular crowd. So I resigned myself to upbeat, group dances in large circles with other awkward white girls with braces, bouncing our knees up and down to “I Would Walk 500 Miles” while the cool people took five in between their steamy slow dance numbers. You could divide the room in two that night, into cool/uncool, by who danced to slow songs, and who danced to fast. There in that fast-dancing circle, I knew I had found my people.
As the dance wound down, the DJ (a parent) announced there would be one more song. The soft strains of “Fields of Gold” came on, and I took my place by the water cooler next to my friend Margaret, where we’d pretend to be super concentrated on our water through the duration of the whole painful song. Damn Sting.
I saw Matt Lowry caught in the middle of the dance floor, looking around like he got lost. Surrounded by the beautiful popular people, he glanced around anxiously, as if he had just temporarily lost track of his dance partner. ”Nice try,” I thought.
Then, Matt Lowry looked at me.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“What the hell?” he seemed to say, gesturing to me to come join him on the dance floor.
Oh my God. Ohmygod!
Matt, like me, wasn’t cool. But he was a BOY. And not horrifying. In fact, he was kind of cute! Ok ok, so he was thirteen and he still had a bowl haircut, but whatever. I could work with this. I could dance — SLOW DANCE — with this person. To Sting. To The Fields of Bali. Maybe he liked me. LIKED me liked me.
As Matt Lowry and I “danced,” by which I mean straight-arm hugged each other while stepping in a small circle, I caught Margaret’s face. She stared at me, open-mouthed, from the water cooler. I smiled smugly. Yes, Margaret, one minute you’re jumping around with the other honor roll students to The Proclaimers … the next minute you’re locked in a romantic embrace, I thought. I was different now. Changed. I, Tolly Moseley, had slow danced.
Matt Lowry never became my boyfriend, and I don’t think he LIKED me liked me. But that Sting song has always stuck with me, and I get a little wistful each time I hear it. It will forever remind me of awkward-yet-exciting junior high dances. Of the heady scent of Polo Sport. I mean, I was 12 — but I wasn’t born yesterday. I knew that people totally frenched to songs like “Fields of Gold.” I knew that while people were slow dancing, there were actually thinking about MAKING OUT or DOING IT.
As such, junior high slow dance songs have far longer staying power than fast songs. I feel like teenagers and pre-teens are just so cool these days (especially teens in Austin, geez), and can avoid dorkiness altogether by virtue of the Internet. But I think that one of the reasons I get so nostalgic for these songs is because I was so dorky, and because I so badly wanted someone to ask me to dance. It’s like that line Philip Seymour Hoffman has in Almost Famous:
“The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone else when we’re uncool.”
So, thank you, Matt Lowry, for asking me to dance to “Fields of Gold” all those years ago. We were uncool together, but shared a very cool moment, and as a result I smile, really smile, whenever I hear that song at the grocery store. Or on the adult contemporary Muzak station in the bank lobby.
I don’t know about you, Reader, but I definitely have a secret, mental cache of my favorite junior high slow dance songs. The songs that I should pretend I’m too cool for … but actually turn UP when I’m in my car. They are, in Top 5 order:
2. Candlebox, “Far Behind“ — This song was so angsty and HARD CORE (if you were 12 or 13). I have to admit that those opening guitar riffs still get me, and hypothetically speaking, I would totally bust out some air drums in the car when the “may-yay-YAY-yay-be!” chorus comes on. Hypothetically.
What is going on in this video? It looks like a tall woman walking around showing off her lampshade hat. Anyway, this song seemed to capture the torrid affairs and whirlwind romances of junior high, namely, “Passion or coincidence / once prompted you to say / “pride will tear us both apart!” I’m pretty sure I was saying this to my boyfriends like every other week y’all.
5. Boyz 2 Men, “End of the Road” — The creme de la creme of “I can’t get over you!” breakup songs, with the added bonus of a classic, heartfelt Boyz 2 Men spoken songbreak:
“Girl, I’m here for you / All those times of night when you just hurt me / And just run out with that other fella / Baby I knew about it, I just didn’t care.”
Well, that sounded like one understanding guy to me. I’ll be your girl, Michael McCary! And I won’t run out with other fellas.
Hello, eavesdroppers. I (Jennifer) am going to get a little mushy before sharing our interview today, and I hope Tolly doesn’t mind too much.
There are just way too many reasons to fall in love with Austin – the food, Barton Springs, the music, you name it. But aside from the all the outdoorsy, musical, and delicious things, I continue to fall in love with the creative and do-good folks in this town.
A few weeks ago I met a fella who totally fit the bill of “nice Austinite who’s cool and bright and wants to make the world a better place.”
That sounds about right. Shelton Green of Good & Fair Clothing designs and sells your basic t-shirts and undies. If I had to wear anything for the rest of my life, a good pair of boy shorts and a cozy V-neck would no doubt be two of my top picks. Don’t get me wrong – I still love fashion and clothes, but to never have to think twice about where my clothing comes from is another thing.
Shelton took a similar approach in 2008, which led him to start Good & Fair. What started as a yearlong break from buying clothes altogether, while studying clothing production in the developing world, turned into a business idea to bring shirts and underwear to the states — directly from Fair Trade cotton farmers and clothing factories in India.
Austin Eavesdropper partners with a huge Fair Trade retailer here in town, so we’re already big fans of garments and products that are good and … well, fair. But I wanted to know more about Shelton’s basic tees and undies and how he started a Fair Trade clothing line from scratch.
So, Shelton – your background is in politics. How did you learn about Fair Trade and what inspired you to get involved?
That’s right. For 10 years I worked in Texas politics as a staffer and a lobbyist. I took time off from politics to rethink how I wanted to work and what vocation means for me. I started by launching a coaster campaign in Austin to educate people about human trafficking. We traveled around Texas sharing coasters with stories of freed slaves printed on them. We raised $6,000 to print 80,000 coasters, but I still wanted to do something more – something that would naturally connect with people.
I learned about Fair Trade after encountering Trade as One, a Fair Trade retailer that connects consumers in the west with artisans in the developing world to make goods. The idea of supply chains and how things are made really struck me, along with how we buy things from the developing world.
That’s when I decided to take a year off from buying clothing, to give myself a break from the consumer culture and let my brain and heart think about who’s making my clothes, how they’re treated, and, if I had some sort of choice, how I’d want them to be treated. I began looking for other companies that were more intentional about who makes their clothes. Turns out, there aren’t a lot of people out there making a statement about where their clothing comes from.
You didn’t buy clothing for a whole year? I’d die! How was that experience?
It was freeing. It was a time to reflect on how exactly the clothes I wore were made. It was also a way to untangle myself from the marketing around clothing, status, and identity. We, speaking as consumers, are just bombarded with messages all the time about how wearing the right thing will change your life, get you the right job, or win the attention of the people we admire. We’re told a story that simply isn’t true. It was nice to break away from that story.
You connected with a Fair Trade farmer’s cooperative and factory in India to produce the cotton and clothing for Good & Fair. How was your trip to India and what was that experience like? How did that influence your mission and business?
I wanted to see all the moving parts of the supply chain I was thinking about using. I met the people face to face and shared meals with them and their families, who grow the cotton we use and who make the clothing we sell. The trip itself was tough; I experienced a lot of culture shock. I scheduled the trip myself with only the knowledge from a few books I read about India and how to do business there.
You mentioned that Good & Fair is part of a new Fair Trade factory program with Fair Trade USA. What does that mean, and what’s the difference between “factory” and “cooperative” Fair Trade?
The factory at the end of the Good & Fair supply chain is Fair Trade certified, which is a new thing in the Fair Trade world. My company is part of a pilot program with Fair Trade USA, who is the certifying body for my supply chain. Certifying clothing production on a factory scale is very new, but it’s an exciting thing to be a part of. It’s also a bit unnerving sometimes. We are still learning and watching closely to make sure the program delivers what Fair Trade promises. We have to be vigilant and stay on top of suppliers and working conditions.
What’s next for Good & Fair, the clothing line and the business model?
Expanding our product offering is the next big thing. We have a line of scarves set to come out this fall, if everything goes according to plan. I’m very excited about it. As for the business model, I am not sure what’s next. Our model is wholesale, and we partner with retail boutiques and chains (hopefully) to carry our line. It allows Good & Fair to stay away from extraneous costs and focus on the supply chain and quality products.
What about Austin? How does this wonderful and creative city inspire your business and mission?
It’s hard to get our story out there. People don’t always share the same sort belief or aspirations for what one is doing and what one’s true motives might be. But that’s also one of the things I love about Austin. It’s that same questioning ethos that drove me to question the legitimacy of conventional clothing production. And to find a better way.
When Ross and I were looking for a home last year, we had a few prerequisites in mind. The trees, for example. How tall and shady were they? The back yard: Could it hold a music studio? The street: Were there general signs of people and animals enjoying life?
But in the back of our minds, there was one other question we voiced only to each other. Could we raise chickens there?
Both Ross and I are a little obsessed with having chickens someday. For me, it’s more than fresh eggs: I get a special kick out of their goofy walk and unwittingly reproachful faces. Their eyes are always slits and their beaks always downturned, as if they’re saying: “I’ve had just about enough of that, thank you.”
Our friends Zach and Virginia do raise chickens, and they’re just gorgeous — like the chickens you see on tea towels. They step across Zach and Virginia’s huge property, pecking for bits of food, tut-tutting around overturned buckets and coiled garden hoses.
They also like to perch on Zach and Virginia’s front porch railing, balancing their big haunch feathers. Kind of impressive, if you think about it. While there, they cluck softly to each other, perhaps recalling the days events: “How about those corn kernels, huh?” ”Delicious. Just delicious. But I’ve been eating too many starches lately … I’m going on an all-cricket diet.”
We shot a short movie at Zach and Virginia’s house the weekend before last, while all the chickens were running around. By “we” I mostly mean Los, who is my collaborator for AETV and just about everything else involving video. Sometimes, I help him out with his film projects, too.
Los is submitting his movie This is Kilo 3 to Austin Film Festival, and in it, a military man stationed in the middle of nowhere answers the call of a distressed pilot, who is about to crash his plane. I play the military man’s girlfriend back home.
Now don’t get excited — I don’t have any lines. I pretty much walk around. But I walk around with purpose. Acting!
In between my scenes, my buddy Dan and I played with Zach and Virginia’s cat Skillet, who has little white mittens on his paws.
Skillet is a bit of a tease: Generous with his purrs, but stingy with his arm-cradling. I like to pick cats up and walk around with them, but much to my consternation, Skillet won’t let me carry him.
“Stop that, Tolly.”
The best thing about Skillet, though, is the tiny bit of white fluff on the very end of his tail! If I were a bigger, better person, Reader, I would say to you that I had never squealed at this tail, and pulled it, out of sheer childlike delight. But, that would be a lie.
(Just for the record, Skillet, THIS is how you allow yourself to be arm-cradled.
The next day of the weekend before last (Sunday), I had that aerial silks show I was telling you about. Here are a few snapshots from the Swan Dive, where the performance was held.
Swan Dive is one of those spaces that’s infused with an invisible something. A subtle magic that encourages dreamy thoughts, and dreamy people.
My friends Colin and Tammy Lynn came to watch, and that’s them dressed so foxily above. The party was Titanic-themed, and more specifically, the Titanic sunken — hence the beautiful mermaid, with bubbles floating around her.
“Let’s do more,” Susan, my performance partner would say the next day.
After the show, we left the club, arms a little sore and false eyelashes akimbo. I tottered down Red River in my high heels at one in the morning, and passed a middle-aged lady that said to me: “Girl, you got some crazy outfits goin’ on.” Then she chuckled, and wished me a good night.
I (Megan) often joke about wanting to put my entire face into a dessert, but last Thursday, I had good reason to lose my mind over something sweet: two renowned pastry chefs melded their sugary minds together to create a special dessert dinner at Trace (W Hotel).
Chef Pichet Ong (P’Ong & Batch, NYC), visiting for last weekend’s Austin Food & Wine Fest, and Janina O’Leary, (W Hotel and Trace) hosted “Late Night Sweet Treats”, an inventive menu consisting of :
Barely Buzzed: Creme panna cotta, lavender & Round Rock honey biscuit Cream Soda: Market Berry Vanilla Swirl ice cream, black pepper genoise & Dr. Pepper reduction Smoked Chocolate Cream Beignets: Dulce de Leche & carmelized white chocolate ice cream
I corralled friend and photographer Sarah Leslie to accompany me and snap the goods. We had a terrible time! First, we had a waiter who was super mean:
He took the time to describe everything to us in detail, including patiently listing all of the ingredients in each cocktail while I jotted them down in my tiny notebook.
Second, we had to try said creations and their liquid companions (click to enlarge):
These pairings were not only insanely delicious, they were dreamt up and constructed by one of the best pastry chefs in the nation and his protégé.
Chefs Pichet Ong and Janina O’Leary
I mused aloud that my favorite dessert was the Cream Soda, so when Sarah dared to voice her own opinion that hers was Barely Buzzed “because of the lavender”, I declared us arch rivals. She reminded me that lavender and strawberries are harmonious, so we needn’t be enemies. Then, I insisted she take a series of photos of me crossing my eyes with a spoon in my mouth. (Results=not publishable.)
Chef Ong came to our table and chatted with us, all the while swiping furiously on his iPhone. “I don’t know how these chefs do it,” he confided. “The cooking and tweeting from the kitchen every five minutes.”
Sarah switched gears, her curiosity getting the best of her. “You studied architecture,” she announced. He stared at her. “So…the transition. To this. How did that happen?”
He brightened. “Well it’s not that different from cooking. In architecture, you take a concept and deconstruct it and put it back together. Cooking’s the same,” he offered. “Everyone’s doing it now: pizza, salad, shrimp cocktail.”
I grew wings and flew away from the conversation a little bit, imagining what those pizzas and salads and shrimp cocktails would taste like if Ong prepared them, picturing all those ingredients levitating separately in the air. I descended back to Earth to hear him finish his analogy: “Architecture is about determining what fits in the environment. Same with desserts…desserts that match the dinner.”
And with that, we went on to pepper him with questions about what else he’s doing during his stay in Austin, and I handed him a scrap of paper with “Alamo Drafthouse” and “Barton Springs” scribbled on it. Satisfied with our recommendations, Sarah and I went back to sampling our petit fours: salted caramel marshmallows (WOW), lemon verbana caramel brittle (which looked like stained glass) a lemon raspberry shooter (colorful and frothy) and dark/milk chocolate ‘pops’ that had the consistency of truffles. At this point, we were already in the grips of a brutal sugar hangover.
As a nice little bonus at the end, we saw Paul Qui walk in. He couldn’t have been more gracious, allowing us to interrupt a moment with friends to take a photo that I proclaimed was for “Austin Eavesdropper”, but really, was for me and Sarah because, come on, Top Chef. You won the hearts of everyone who watched the show, Paul.
His delightful lady, Deana, volunteered to snap the photo, which was just the froth on top of an already sweet evening.
Paul and Sarah (I cropped myself out because when someone doesn’t learn to brush her hair before leaving the house, someone doesn’t get to stay in the photo.)
For almost my whole life — and I’m pretty sure this gene comes directly from my father — I’ve been a glutton for physical thrills.
Horror movies? No. Haunted houses? Absolutely, definitely NOT, unless you want to watch me go Apocalypse Now on some poor hourly wage zombie actor.
But roller coasters? YEAH.
Cliff jumping? Sure!
Incredibly unsafe, disassembled every two weeks, I-can-literally-see-pieces-of-machinery-falling-off-onto-the-ground rides at roadside fairs? Let’s DO it.
However Reader, as you know, I haven’t always been, what’s the word? Graceful. I have a modest dance background, but that didn’t stop me from being a bit shaky on the silks when I first started. You remember. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the moves in a routine, they just didn’t look like a … dance. Per se.
In aerial silks, the height issue has never really bothered me.
But these other random fears come up.
While I’m not afraid of falling (and probably should be), I AM afraid of forgetting choreography. Of botching some little piece of move mechanics that will make me flustered mid-performance. Of not looking as good as other people, of not being flexible enough, of not blah blah blah.
In other words, these fears are in my head. Fear has been my mean partner-in-crime lately, and I’m not sure why.
But while I don’t want to make light of them, sometimes I do really envy fears like Lauren’s, which are so specific and diagnosable. Sometimes, I feel like one of those people for whom fear is woven into their very fabric, just looking to tangle itself around any anxiety source that makes itself available: My performance ability, my job, my body.
Well yesterday, I OD’d on fear.
It wasn’t triggered by anything big. Just a slightly overfull work email inbox.
Normal, healthy people might chuckle to themselves in these instances, and say, “another busy day!” while cheerfully sipping their coffee. At least this is what I imagine them to do.
But instead, I responded by FREAKING OUT. Because as you know, I am the first person to experience a full inbox, ever.
***
That picture above is an outtake from a recent photo shoot for Austin Monthly, featuring my new silk. It’s in my backyard now, and I’m totally f-g thrilled about it. I’m pretty sure AM is going to feature just a picture of my face in the story instead, but anyway … where were we? Ah yes. Fear.
On Sunday, I had my first public silks performance, at Swan Dive. It was the most amazing feeling in the entire world, Reader, and guess what? I didn’t forget the choreography. I didn’t botch the moves.
I fell even more in love with my performance partner, and we want to do more gigs. Many more!
There was a guy standing, like, a foot in front of my face during the show, and every time we did anything slightly flashy, he’d say (in my face): “I LIKE THAT.” ”YEP, LIKE THAT TOO.” It’s been making me giggle for the past few days.
So here’s the deal.
(Reader, the following is a private conversation between Fear and I, but you are most welcome to eavesdrop.)
Fear, I am hereby ready to take a break.
Actually, I’d like to fire you.
You will be replaced with dreams.
I’ve had a few ideas lately about my life / future, Fear. These ideas involve risk, and a teensy, tiny bit of uncertainty. Things I, careful, practical, calculating maker-of-plans that I am, am not always the best at.
But guess what? I like that. Risk, I mean.
And uncertainty, openness, a willingness to try new things, a more trusting spirit, and a kinder, gentler attitude about the world and its possibilities?
For the past few years, my closest gal pals and I (Amy) have made the extended trek south for some much needed fun in the sun. And by “south,” I am referring to the exotic island getaway known as … South Padre.
Anyway, I was running over my mental list of beachwear essentials — floppy sunhat, oversized rainbow beach towel, the highest concentration of SPF available on the free market — when I realized, duh. MUSICS!
A scarring experience working at Hallmark in high school left me more than a little burnt out on the Beach Boys, since the owners insisted on playing the Greatest Hits on repeat. You know, with northern Dallas’ proximity to the beach and all. However, I’ve since warmed to the beach music genre, and have come to a place in my life where I can extend waves (har!) of gratitude to the BB’s for inspiring some of the my most favoritest bands (even if I do still have a visceral, Clockwork Orange-type reaction to hearing “I Get Around”).
So in honor of the third annual beach-babes brigade, I’ve pieced together this assortment of sounds designed to channel our inner California Girls (and Boys). Whether you’re visiting the real beach or just the one in your head, I hope you enjoy!
Lately, I (Jennifer) have been rather fascinated by the idea of starting a business. Maybe it’s just a phase or growing pains, like when I wanted to be a photographer or a food critic. But nowadays, every time I walk into some of Austin’s most beautifully curated shops (like, Spartan or Take Heart), I get all proud and giddy over the women who own them and the fabulous jobs they’ve done building a business around a product or mission they love.
So when Tolly told me about San Francisco-based Greenhouse Design Studio, I kind of flipped. Owners Laurie and J.P. Furber source all of their eco-friendly, vintage pieces (mostly housewares and home décor goodies) from collectors around the world, as far as Eastern Europe.
I stopped by the Country Living Fair last weekend to visit Laurie and J.P. on the Austin leg of their southwest pop-up shop roadshow. Aside from the classic and sustainable design of their products, my absolute favorite part about the Greenhouse collection is the thought and precision that goes into selecting every item.
When I discovered that Laurie was a former VP for Pottery Barn, it all made sense. She has a true vision for Greenhouse and the kind of lifestyle they’re trying to promote – something that’s simply beautiful, tasteful, and wholesome for the planet.
Laurie and J.P. will be at Hotel San Jose with their traveling Airstream today (Monday, April 30) from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. for their last pop-up shop of the tour.
But the fun’s just about to start over here on Austin Eavesdropper. I asked Laurie to pop in for an Eavesdropper Interview to dish about the inspiration behind Greenhouse and her curation process.
Let’s do this, Laurie!
1. I want to know more about you! What were you doing before Greenhouse Design Studio?
I always thought I would be a curator in a museum, but took a detour into merchandising right out of college and never turned back. Before Greenhouse, I worked for Pottery Barn. You may have heard of it. I had one of the best jobs: running the mail order division, and I learned a lot there about product, marketing and, most of all, service. All that has come in mighty handy as I launched and nurtured Greenhouse.
2. Describe your journey to becoming a small business owner. How did you decide to “take the plunge?”
My journey to becoming a small business owner was more about my family than it was about my career. My oldest children are teenagers and after years of travel and spending twelve hours a day outside my home, I wanted to change my life to a simpler one that would allow me to spend more time with my family. When my daughter was finishing her sophomore year in high school, I retired from my corporate job so I could spend her last two high school years with her, and be home for my son when he started high school. I haven’t looked back. I love running my own business, I love having my husband as my business partner, and I love dropping my kids off at school every morning and picking them up every afternoon. It’s a dream.
3. You curate beautiful, sustainable, and vintage pieces for your business. What’s your favorite part about the curation process?
Every piece in the collection is something I would have in my own home, so shopping for the collection is like shopping for myself. It’s all fun, but I have to say my favorite part is shopping flea markets around the world. Meeting collectors and hearing stories about the history of the things we buy is so great. I love to pass those stories on to our customers to keep them alive.
4. In addition to promoting a sustainable, beautiful, and comfortable lifestyle through Greenhouse Design Studio, what else inspires you?
What doesn’t? Just looking around my own city of San Francisco is a great opportunity to hone my editor’s eye. Staying in a great hotel will inspire something, eating in a new restaurant will inspire something, even eating in someone’s home. When we were in Lyon, we stayed in a private home and our hostess used vintage jam jars for everything from condiments on her table, to yogurt in the morning, to flowers, to her homemade jam. They were so chic when used in the right way, so of course we started collecting them and now they’re part of the Greenhouse line.
5. What advice would you share with a creative, aspiring business owner?
Find something you love and make a career out of it. Then work will feel like play. I wake up in the morning and can’t wait to start working again.
6. What’s your secret to living a sustainable and beautiful life?
Beautiful is easy: I have a wonderful husband, three beautiful children, and I live in a lovely town that’s like being on vacation every day of my life. Sustainable takes a little more work. The secret is this: remember that when you throw something away, it doesn’t go away, it just goes somewhere else. Try to make each decision about what to use, what to buy, or what to throw away better than the last decision you made.
It was such a pleasure getting to know Laurie! Along with the beautiful online store, Greenhouse runs a very active Green Community and Healthy Home blog. Check it out to keep up with Greenhouse Design Studio and for some great green living resources.
Thanks for visiting Austin, J.P and Laurie! Safe travels back to San Fran!
IMAGES /// courtesy of Laurie Furber and Greenhouse Design Studio
Man, that’s a pretty corny post title. Oh well! Let’s chat anyway, shall we Reader?
So as you may have noticed by the paltry posting frequency lately, it’s been One of Those Weeks. The kind that shortens my fuse, makes my emotions erupt unpredictably, and overall makes me less pleasant … but just this morning, ladies, I finally realized what was going on here. (I hate love you, Mother Nature!)
Anyway, the antidote for times like these is always a walk. I have a standing walking date with Amy each week, and we like to stroll through Rosedale and gawk at all the gorgeous homes there. I’m one of those people who gets very vocal and excitable over good landscaping, known for outbursts like: “Trumpet creeper and zoysia grass and cabbage roses, ARE YOU SERIOUS?? Who lives here! GOD?!”
Amy puts up with it — even encourages it. I often tell her that I wish I had an Amy To-Go App on my iPhone, so I could pop it open whenever I need a little pick-me-up. She has this wonderful ability to not only crack me up, but to savor the delicious bits of pleasure in this world that I don’t notice. Here’s an example:
So there is star jasmine growing all around Amy’s apartment complex, right? But the star jasmine (it’s those white, dainty, clumpy flowers you see above) has selected Amy’s second floor balcony, and ONLY her second floor balcony, to climb up and wrap around her railings. Amy says it’s a special high-five from nature. I think she may be right.
Here’s another example: at some point on our walk, we were debating whether or not to break the law and jaywalk across the street. Amy confessed that up until her early 20s, she thought that “jaywalking” meant you stripped down naked, and THEN you crossed the street, and THAT is why police busted you. (You know, for breaking the “naked as a jaybird” law.)
I took those last two pictures on accident. Kind of.
At some point during our walk, Amy and I happened down this street where all these fireflies twinkled in the air. Now I ask you, is it possible to remain cynical and bitter about life when fireflies greet you? No. It is not. You can’t be upset when fireflies are around. You can’t even be less than ecstatic. It’s such a treat to see them in the city. It’s such a treat to see them at all.
Speaking of treats … guess what’s in my backyard now! (I’ll give you one guess.)
This went up on Monday, Reader, and I’m still flipping out from excitement a little. As you may or may not know I’ve been doing aerial silks for a little over a year, and have long fantasized about having my own silk that I could just go outside and practice on whenever I wanted to. Now, that dream has turned into a reality!
Also, guess what? I have my first public silks performance on Sunday! You’ll have to forgive me for keeping it under wraps; normally I’m a big showoff but I’m still a teensy bit nervous about this one, it being my first and all. So, I haven’t really told anyone about it.
Next time, I’ll tell you Reader, and if you’re in Austin you’ll have to come. OK?
Whenever I need some creative inspiration, I like to muse over my friend Angel’s Facebook page. There, I am sure to find people in bright costumes dancing up and down her wall, links to stories about 1920′s circuses and Old World artists, and on very lucky occasions, pictures of unicorns.
Today on her wall, I discovered the work of Austin portrait photographer, Leon Alesi. Can we just say … whoa.
I love how cinematic, haunting, and painting-like Leon’s photos are. Plus, that kitty! I want to cat-nap that little guy with his ear turned back. He selected a very lovely chair for his portrait.
What do you think of Leon’s work? Also, do any of you suffer from the same affliction I do — a compulsion to smile maniacally in all photos? I’d love to know how Leon got his subjects to be serious without looking PISSED (which is how I appear). Maybe they’re all just diligently watching their Tyra.
My name is Tolly Moseley. I write about the creative culture of Austin and beyond. I am a book publicist by day, blogger by night, and aerial silks dancer in between. I also host a webisode series called "Austin Eavesdropper TV" where we interview the quirky characters of Austin and those passing through.
