25 February 2017. Fog Linen's new jersey knit linen epitomizes soft, graceful comfort. After debuting in Japan last year, the line is in its first, stateside run. Four pieces make up the new collection: the Kei cardigan, the Jun top, the Remi dress, and the Mami pants. With a delicate drape that hugs without clinging, the line has made a fast impression on us.
Though new to Fog Linen, jersey knits have a long history starting in the Bailiwick of Jersey in the Channel Islands off the coast of France. In Jersey, the knits were first made from wool to serve as clothing for fishermen, and until the late 19th century, jersey knits were usually confined to undergarments like hosiery and underwear. However, in 1852, the French fashion house Rodier started developing jersey knits for fashionable wear, and in 1916, Coco Chanel threw herself (and jersey) into the spotlight with one of her first clothing collections. The collection featured coats and skirts made with jersey, which was still considered more appropriate for underthings. Chanel continued to raise jersey's profile by using it frequently in her iconic suits of the 1950s and 60s.
These days, jersey knits appear throughout our closets. Their staying power is linked to their silky, soft hand that makes them a pleasure to wear close to the skin. With Fog Linen's jersey, expect to find four pieces you can look forward to putting on. Layered under a cardigan or over a slip, they possess the same wonderful qualities of linen with an everyday, easy elegance.
Image: Kei cardigan
9 February 2017. What inspires you when you're getting dressed in the morning?
Scratch that. Do you feel inspired when you get dressed in the morning? Especially in the winter, does the idea of waking up, getting out of a warm bed and into structured clothing cast a chill over your heart? It does mine. The last thing I want to do is get into clothes that require the right accessories, undergarments, and sucking in. Add to that every so often I decide I no longer like any of my clothes. To counter sounding spoiled, I'll offer that I've heard similar sentiments from friends. It seems like it's not uncommon to become disenchanted with everything in your closet.
The funny thing is, though, I love my clothes. I thought a lot about buying them before bringing them home and they are generally comfortable and match my style. Therefore, when I get that whiny, feet-stomping "I have nothing to wear" feeling, I know the problem is with me.
For most, buying a new wardrobe isn't an option. And, if I'm honest, I feel like that would be cheating. I have a theory that every piece of clothing has a certain number of combinations and permutations within it, and your job as its owner is to uncover them. Sometimes, it's as simple cuffing a pair of pants or unbuttoning a button-down. Often, it's taking a seemingly formal piece of clothing and pairing it with something laid-back. I have a blouse with a graphic print that I finally figured out can work under overalls. On its own, the blouse is loud and attention-grabby, but with overalls, it fits right in.
So, instead of starting from scratch, the real challenge is to find a way to become enamored with your clothes all over again. Full disclosure: this can involve buying a piece or two that help put a different spin on your look. Shoes and jewelry, especially, have the power to do this.
All too soon, you'll be putting sweaters and layers away for spring. While you still can, take another look at them, find a different vantage point, and give them a second, third, or thirteenth chance to win you over and put you back into the getting-dressed game.
Image: Runa Shop Coat
1 February 2017. Picture a cool summer morning. You wade into the garden ready to zone in and weed for the next few hours before the sun comes out and the bugs attack. You get so focused that you don't notice yourself growing grubby until, all of a sudden, you reach your heat-dirt saturation point. It's time to pack it in and scrape off the grime. That's the precise moment your neighbor chooses to stop by to admire your labor and chat. As you stand there talking, you long to feel less like a human bag of mulch. But how? A shower, certainly, but an instant remedy? An apron.
Aprons protect us from the dirt of everyday life, the stuff we don't want to wear after the task is done. They also create a united front of an outfit. This applies not only to gardening, but also painting, working with clay, dusting, cooking, demolishing. Imaginary scene #2: you're preparing for a dinner party, sweats on, hair askew, when you hear a knock on the door from a well-meaning but altogether too early guest. Suddenly, an apron is a godsend. It not only hides the not-safe-for-guests clothing, but makes you look put-together as you gracefully exit and scramble into your party clothes.
In essence, an apron is a uniform. It marks its wearers as hands-on, practical, and prepared. Even if you're attempting to throw pottery or rip up flooring for the first time, an apron can make you look ready for the job. And though we strive to have qualities that are more than skin deep around here, looking prepared is sometimes the first step towards feeling adept. It's only a hop, skip, and a jump from there to genuine confidence, the kind that, apron-clad, allows us to go out into the world and face the mess.
Image of our daily apron in Blue Violet by Jenny Hallengren.
19 January 2016 The other night, as we walked home, a full moon shone above us. Low in the sky, it gave us license to explain away the day's missed connections and inconsistencies. Weird interaction? It was because of the moon. A memory lapse? Oh, right - that moon!
But did we really believe that those anomalies had been caused by the moon? We did and we didn't -- but we wanted to believe. It was more fun, reassuring, even, to point a finger at that full moon than to have no answer at all.
For lots of us, these beliefs have been rattling around for so long, they're nearly second-nature. In a quick sweep, we found that many of our nearest and dearest avoid walking under ladders and crossing a black cat's path. When we think seriously about it, sure, we can see that superstitions have a childish, silly quality to them. But in adult life, with its unavoidable realities and challenges, it seems only natural to seek an easier explanation. That small bit of comfort we're afforded when we make sense of something is the reward.
Like that stash of emergency ice cream, these superstitions will be kept close, for they have the power to soothe and to brighten. At a time when so many things feel out of our control, we can't think of a single thing wrong with that.
05 January 2017 An insubstantial breakfast can be blamed for a litany of problems, from crankiness to headaches to sleepiness. So, given the wide-reaching effects of a sad breakfast, doesn't it make sense to eat a good one? But what exactly is a good one? If you look to trends, it's a green smoothie or avocado toast - chia seeds and bee pollen strongly suggested.
Let's pause for a moment and think back to a time when breakfast was simpler. Perhaps it was made for you by someone else, or came in the form of a toaster pastry in a silver packet. Maybe you had a little fun reading the back of the cereal box and even sat down while eating. Most likely, it didn't matter how many grams of protein could be packed into whatever was in front of you.
What if we could take this simplicity and lightheartedness and combine it with our needs now? As adults, our needs probably include being well-fed and somewhat healthfully so. Aside from that, the beautiful thing about breakfast is that it can be anything. It can be wonderfully easy - a banana. It can be deeply savory - a bowl of spicy stew. It can be sweet - a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And it we remove the chatter about all of the things breakfast should be, it may leave a little space to simply enjoy it. Though sitting down might not be an option, taking a moment and savoring always is, and that moment of pleasure might be the most powerful antidote to midday crankiness. So, come on - let's try it and see.
5 December 2016. How do you decide what to get someone as a gift, especially if you don't know the person well? An age-old question that has stymied the best of 'em. With two easy steps, you can get a lot closer to painless gift-giving.
Step 1: Accept that it really is the thought that counts. Reverse psychology is helpful here. Have you ever received a gift from someone you don't know well (so not your best friend or partner) that actually made you think less of that person? Chances are you haven't. A gift, even if it's not your style, almost always makes you feel warm and fuzzy and appreciated. The feeling that someone thought of you and made an effort on your behalf is part of the gift.
Now switch the psychology back to the normal direction. You're putting time and thought towards someone, and that is a kindness in and of itself. The gift could be a broad range of things, and it would still convey the desired message: I care about you.
Step 2: Plants, food, and experiences are winners. Plants: olive, rose geranium, and succulents are a few of our favorites. Food: a bottle of small-batch olive oil, pâte de fruit, or panforte. Experiences: a gift certificate to a new, local shop, a three-month long subscription to a spice/craft/coffee of the month club, or passes to a museum or theater.
Most people, even the most finicky, will appreciate something that brings beauty, flavor, or a new experience into their life. And if they don't, that's where "it's the thought that counts" comes in and saves the day.
This holiday season, don't agonize -- shop wise!
22 November 2016. The other day, I found myself in a field with a pack of dogs. They were romping around me, barking, jumping, zigging and zagging, playing like pros. So much of being a human around an animal involves play: chasing an animal through a park, rolling around on the floor, giving belly rubs and getting couch cuddles are a few examples.
But without an animal, play can become a complex pursuit. The Oxford Dictionary defines play as "Engag[ing] in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose." So is reading a form of play, or only if you're letting yourself sink into a story with no concern for edification? Is getting sucked into an hour of phone scrolling play, or not so much if you're doing it to distract yourself from a painful commute?
This kind of analysis probably defeats the purpose. Simply, real play should feel invigorating, natural, and absorbing. It's helpful, when you've been sucked into the internet or find yourself unable to get up from the couch, to think of those romping animals. Get focused on fun, whatever it may be. Maybe you get a little muddy and dirty, but play until you're so tired that all you can do is flop down and fall asleep. A bath can wait until tomorrow.
*image of grey white stripe cushion by jenny hallengren.
14 November 2016. By the time I knew her, my mom had become exceedingly practical; a chin-length bob, comfort clogs, and running shorts were her everyday uniform. But from the Kodak photos I sifted through, and from my dad's stories, I knew that she had once been less geared toward the utilitarian. I liked and admired my sensible mom, but I also really wanted to know that mom from the photos. So, on the regular, I would sneak into her closet to get a glimpse of that different side. In her closet, jewelry she'd collected had been thrown together in boxes and bags. Though I knew her to be thrifty, there had clearly been a time when my mom could be won over by the shiny and unnecessary.
As I got older, I started working my mom's jewelry into my outfits, and she was happy to see it being worn. A cuff studded with turquoise and 70's era plastic flower brooch were in my rotation. And now, fifteen years later, my mom remains practical and I find myself catching up to her. The waist-length string of candy-colored beads I used to wear to brighten a dark outfit has been replaced with quieter items. My everyday earrings are thin, brass hoops, which I scoop out of my own jewelry boxes that are now stuffed with pieces that don't quite suit me anymore.
We evolve, and what we choose to adorn ourselves with does too. There's no right or wrong direction. Maybe you were once streamlined and now you get mistaken for Iris Apfel. And if you're just starting to figure out what jewelry you like, have fun. Someday, some sniffily little kid will probably be rooting through what you've collected and you'll want there to be something in there for her, too.
07 November 2016. A tea cozy might seem like a terribly old-fashioned item, and, historically, it is. Tea cozies may have been used as far back as 1660, when tea was brought to Britain, but their first documented use came just after the custom of afternoon tea was introduced.
Around 1840, the Duchess of Bedford (Anna Maria Russell to her friends) decided that the wait between breakfast and dinner had become intolerable; dinner was getting later and later, sometimes as late as 8:30pm. (Sidenote: some of us around here consider an 8:30 dinner to be both practical and an achievement.) The Duchess deemed a light afternoon repast was in order, one made up of cakes and sandwiches that would stave off hunger. According to Wikipedia, the Duchess took such a liking to afternoon tea that she started inviting friends. "Hey Jane, wanna come over for this new meal category I just invented?"
As the Duchess and her friends ate, drank, and talked, their teapots and tea would grow cold. In earlier years, this might have put an end to their merriment, but the introduction of tea cozies solved this problem. Acting as insulators and, on occasion, silly hats, tea cozies kept the tea warm and the gossip flowing. Word of these nifty fabric teapot covers spread to America, and in 1892, the Philadelphia Enquirer reported on cozies' "sudden and unexpected rise in public favor." Unexpected? Let's be real. When haven't we co-opted British trends with a ravenous, frenzied appetite? Exhibit A: The Beatles. Exhibit B: Gastro-pubs.
These days, you might see a vast range of tea cozy designs in a variety of textiles. Ornate or simple, tea cozies still carry the practical function of keeping your tea warm so that it lasts through a date with a friend (or tv show or book). The importance of warm tea to carry you through a catch-up session? Perhaps one of the few things on which you and the Duchess of Bedford could relate.
28 October 2016. Shop Fog Linen shares space with our sister business, Pod, a brick and mortar retail shop in the middle of a residential neighborhood in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The shop is on the corner across from an elementary school and a highly trafficked playground. Our day to day is pleasantly marked by children's shrieks during recess and the school's broadcast that the "Chocolate Cone" bus has arrived for pick-up. (Fun fact: "Chocolate Cone" sounds exactly like "Chaka Khan" when you marry a loudspeaker with a Boston accent.)
Years back, a nearby side street was designated as the main stage for October 31st festivities. On Halloween, the street is closed to traffic so that kids can flood the area. Each year has a different theme, and homeowners enthusiastically decorate accordingly. Last year's theme was Star Wars; this year's is still a secret.
It might not be obvious from our wholesome image or selection of homey linens that we take great pleasure in Halloween. We love to walk down Crescent Street, marveling at the costumes on the kids and the houses. The street is a whirlwind of noise, lights, and action. Our favorite part, though, happens beforehand. We decorate the shop's entryway with cobwebs and a huge spider and hunker in the doorway to greet trick or treaters. Kids that we see almost everyday are transformed by a costume, becoming more brazen or soft-spoken, depending on the child and the get-up. Last year, we misidentified a little one's costume and we're pretty sure she'll never forgive us. For a few hours, we get to see the neighborhood transformed, and they see us outside of the shop's four walls. If you're nearby, come visit. We'll be on the stoop with plenty of candy.