Seasonal Postal Greetings - A Thing of The Past?

A selection of past Christmas cards I've received and saved, displayed for the purpose of this blog post

Photo: Chronica Domus

When I was growing up in England, sending Christmas cards, or should that be holiday cards, as they are more commonly referred to in America, was an act which heralded the beginning of the Christmas season in our household.  My mother always wrote and addressed each card by hand, and those that were to be sent overseas were posted first, followed a week later by cards that would reach addresses throughout our fair isles. By mid-December, all of our cards had been safely dispatched via the services of the Royal Mail.

My sisters and I would delight at the postman's deliveries made in the weeks prior to Christmas because we knew there would be at least one, if not more, Christmas cards within the pedestrian pile of printed correspondence and bills that got pushed through our letterbox daily.  We looked forward to opening those cards as much as we enjoyed opening the little windows on our advent calendar.  If we received a card from foreign lands, as we did most years from friends and family that lived across the globe, we would study the interesting stamps and their designs, and then reflect upon how that country differed in its celebrations of Christmas.  The cards within those envelopes not only brought good cheer and merriment to our family, but also provided us the opportunity to think about the senders as it was unlikely we would have the chance of visiting them personally over the Christmas and New Year period.

My mother would display the cards we received on the mantel shelf and also attach them to little makeshift "clotheslines" as I called them, with tiny pegs, strung across backs of doors, or on ribbons cascading down the tall pocket doors of our drawing room.

Today, in my own household, I like to do much the same as my mother in terms of taking the time to hand-write and address my cards, and pop them in the mail within the first two weeks of December. I enjoy both sending and receiving cards, and have kept many of the ones sent to me over the years.  I do this for sentimental reasons, and for the fact that I enjoyed the design of the card that was thoughtfully selected and written to me.  They are reminders of friends and family, and that their generosity of spirit and good wishes still live on whenever I get the urge to look through my stack of saved cards.

For the reasons stated above, the modern trend for sending seasonal greetings via electronic-mail leaves me dumbfounded.  Does anyone actually think this is a good idea?  I am afraid that such electronic cards have as much longevity as the majority of junk mail that floods my e-mail box daily. These "cards" lack warmth and personality, and more than likely will not be seen by the other members of the family to which they are being sent.

I do realize one must invest a certain amount of time in sending cards during the holiday season and, of course, the nominal expense involved in acquiring said cards and associated postage fees. However, if you select your recipient list with as much care as you will have taken in your card selection and hand-written message, your thoughtfulness will reach your most beloved family members and friends, delighting and overjoying them with happiness, which is after all, part of the generosity of spirit associated with the Christmas holiday season.

Do you enjoy sending and receiving Christmas holiday cards through the mail, or have you succumbed to the more modern electronic trend of e-cards?

Thankful

Photo: Chronica Domus

I have much to be thankful for, not only today, this Thanksgiving Day, but each and every day.  I am thankful that all the preparations are finally in place so that in a few short hours, when our guests arrive, we shall break bread together and enjoy a bountiful meal of home-cooked fare and delicious wines.  

Photo: Chronica Domus

I am thankful for my family's health and happiness, and for our continued good fortune and sanity.

 Chronica Domus' favorite old Paris porcelain dessert service that will soon hold slices of home-baked pumpkin pie

Photo: Chronica Domus

I am thankful for all that our friends bring into our lives and that they honor us today by joining us at our table.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

And most of all, I am thankful to my readers for making my foray into the blogosphere a most enjoyable and enriching pursuit.  I wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving Day.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Decorating The House and Preparations For Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving day is almost upon us and this year, as we do most years, we are hosting a celebratory dinner for eight of our nearest and dearest friends and family members.  I jokingly refer to this as our annual Thanksgiving dinner party for waifs and strays. This is because we like to include friends at our table whose families are scattered far and wide, or for whom circumstances are such that they are unable to be together for the holiday.  We inevitably make a spirited group, and by the conclusion of the evening, we are always so thankful for each other's company.

One of the great pleasures of hosting a gathering at home is decorating the house in preparation for the festivities ahead.  I find it particularly joyful to entertain during the autumn months as there is an abundance of natural material from which to compose little cheery arrangements for the dining and drawing rooms.

Yesterday morning, I returned from the farmers' market loaded with squashes and gourds, leaves, flowers, fruits, and seasonal berry branches.  My first job was to make a pair of autumnal arrangements that would sit upon the mantel shelf using the pin oak leaves and amaranth I had gathered in shades of brown and vivid green.

Autumnal shades of brown, russet and green gathered on the mantel shelf

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

I then placed the remainder of the mahogany-colored pin oak leaves beneath a handsome little pumpkin that seats perfectly in the recess of a gilded old Paris porcelain confiturier in the drawing room.

A pumpkin fit for Cinderella 

Photo: Chronica Domus

I was lucky enough to find a small bundle of American bittersweet, Celastrus scandens, which is a plant, or should I say a vine, with which I was not familiar.  In fact, this was the first time I had seen it for sale in my area.  I added the bittersweet to some branches I already had at home which still held their acorns in perfect preservation. Several hours after making my impromptu arrangement, I was shocked to discover that the glorious rich yellow-colored skins which I had so admired on the bittersweet branches had burst open, revealing brilliant jewel-like orange berries. Mother Nature was obviously playing tricks on me as I doubted my eyes for a fraction of a second, then realized the warmer temperature of the room was probably at play.

Bittersweet berries and acorns mingle in the dining room

Photo: Chronica Domus

Aside from the pleasant pursuit of decorating the house, there remains a laundry list of tasks that require attention if we are to insure our passel of guests are fed tasty and hearty fare and delicious libations. Specialty foods, ingredients, and wines all need to be procured from our favorite markets and vendors, and much elbow grease is required to make the house spick and span.  Silver requires polishing, linens ironing, china and serving pieces all need to be selected and brought out of storage, at least those pieces that are not immediately set to hand, tucked within the various crammed cupboards and drawers.  The late-nineteenth century place card holders, below, always bring a smile to my face whenever I unwrap them for use at our Thanksgiving table.  I never discard the old place cards, choosing instead to keep them as a sentimental reminder of good friends and family members that have dined with us over the years.  Looking through the little pile today, I see the names of those no longer with us and it makes me thankful to have known them.

The perfect Thanksgiving place card holders; a rafter of gilt bronze turkeys sit upon their marble discs

Photo: Chronica Domus

Do you have a list of things to accomplish in preparation of your Thanksgiving day celebrations, and how do you choose to decorate your house?

A Night at The Opera

Photo: Chronica Domus

What is it about opera that immediately floods one's mind with images of overbearing ladies in horned helmets and stuffy gentlemen dressed in tailcoats nodding off in the box seats, à la Tuppy Glossop of Jeeves & Wooster fame?  If you've shied away from attending an operatic performance for these reasons alone, you are missing a marvelously entertaining evening, at least that is if you pass up the opportunity of seeing Rossini's The Italian Girl In Algiers.

Our evening's entertainment beckons

Photo: Chronica Domus

My family and I were guests of dear friends, one of whom being among the evening's musicians, at last Saturday night's opening performance. This comedy-filled opera was staged at the beautifully renovated California Theater in San Jose.  Built in 1927 as a movie palace, the theater is a perfect jewel-box of intimate scale and fabulous acoustics, where the orchestra's glorious notes waft effortlessly throughout the venue and fill the audience with sheer delight. We sat in the orchestra section which was a mere twenty rows deep, affording us unobstructed views of the mayhem and madness being played out on stage.  No need for opera glasses this evening.

The opulent lobby of the California Theater bathed in golden light

Photo: Chronica Domus

A view of the stage and the meticulously restored domed ceiling

Photo: Chronica Domus

The Italian Girl In Algiers is a perfect opera for beginners and one that will certainly sway you from any misconception that opera is well, how shall I put this delicately, a pastime for pretentious stuffy types. This is the first opera my twelve year old daughter has attended and she was absolutely riveted by the witty and beautifully sung dialogue chock full of comedic antics in a world of palaces and harems in far away lands.  I do not recall there being a dull moment during the two and a half hour performance.  In fact, we were having such a wildly amusing time that the interval between the two acts arrived faster than we had anticipated. The cast was especially entertaining as they entertained us, their captive audience, singing sublimely in Italian. The story is easily followed with the aid of super-titles in English that are projected high above the stage.

Mustafa, the lecherous and foolhardy Bey of Algiers, tires of his wife and demands his captain find him an Italian girl, the sort that "drives men mad", which he soon does with the aid of his pirates. Isabella, the newly captured Italian girl, uses her womanly charms and head-strong ways to outsmart Mustafa, who inevitably tires of her antics so back to Italy she happily sails.  There is much physical comedy to this opera, especially from the lead male character Mustafa, who was played brilliantly by Mr. Nathan Stark.  Mr. Stark possesses the most extraordinary elastic facial expressions to bring Mustafa to life, and a stentorian voice that booms throughout the theater.

I unashamedly took this sneaky snap (sans flash) of the curtain call where the entire cast received a well deserved standing ovation - Bravo!

Photo: Chronica Domus

I consider opera to be very underrated in today's world where most of us seek our entertainment via electronic means.  I believe it to be the most creative of the performing arts.  Where else can one go to hear live music, experience passionate acting and singing, and view exquisitely lush costumes and stage sets?  It really is a terrific treat to behold.

Back in 1813, when Gioachino Rossini was a young lad of twenty, The Italian Girl In Algiers became a huge hit, affording him rock star status and catapulting him to international fame.  Today, his opera stands the test of time and is still able to provoke peals of laughter and joy from audiences two centuries later.

If you've yet to have the privilege of attending an evening of opera, please do yourself a favor and seek one out.  You may want to begin with a comedic opera, such as this, which will surely delight and inspire.

Have you attended an opera, and if so was the experience positive?  Please do share your thoughts on this form of entertainment that is so very often maligned.

Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.

Autumnal Delights Of The Garden

It seems that the onset of autumn here in northern California takes an eternity to arrive, but when it does, I leap for joy at the sights and sounds that herald its long awaited arrival.

The wisteria in its autumn glory

Photo: Chronica Domus

The white wisteria is the first thing in the garden to don its autumn coat of many colors. Tobacco, mahogany and amber riotously collide to blot out any traces of green before the leaves are shed and the plant lies dormant for the long winter.

Photo: Chronica Domus

The most arresting shade of brilliant fiery orange has begun to envelope the apple trees.  I find it quite extraordinary how one leaf turns even as its neighbor is not quite ready to yield to the season.

Brilliant orange leaves on the apple tree

Photo: Chronica Domus

The pear tree, on the other hand, takes on a reddish hue.  By the end of November all of the leaves will be uniformly colored, and then in the blink of an eye, they are gone, carried away by gusting winds and scattered to the corners of the garden.

Mottled shades of red and green on a pear leaf

Photo: Chronica Domus

A branch of the autumn pear tree 

Photo: Chronica Domus

It is at this time of the year that I place seed bells among the boughs of our trees to help the birds supplement their autumn diet of berries and fruits. I think they look rather whimsical dangling from the branches attached by garden twine.

Seed compressed into a bell shape dangle from the pear tree attracting an array of hungry birds

Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, the seed bells are not the only thing attracting the birds to our garden in November.  The Pittosporum's fleshy berries are ripening from green to burnt orange aided by the cooler temperatures. Once ripe, they burst open to reveal their sticky innards and provide our feathered friends with sustenance throughout the season as well as a welcomed shot of color to the landscape.

The attractively colored berries of the Pittosporum

Photo: Chronica Domus

Photo: Chronica Domus

The cherry tree has its own colorway during November.  Lime and sulfur yellow predominate on this specimen, making the entire tree appear as if aglow once it has fully donned its autumn show.

Cherry tree leaves turning shades of lime and yellow

Photo: Chronica Domus

The vegetable garden has been cleared and prepared for winter with only a scattering of lettuce seedlings remaining.  Once those are gone, I'll amend the soil with nourishing manure and let nature do its work until I'm ready to sow more seeds at the beginning of the new year.

Lettuce seedlings are the only signs of life in the vegetable patch this month

Photo: Chronica Domus

The annual autumn ritual of adding ever more spring flowering bulbs to the garden recurrently beckons and this year is no exception. I am a slave to the powers of a beautiful narcissus or tulip. More often than not I like to purchase my bulbs from a wonderful independent nursery down the coast in Half Moon Bay, where I feel like the proverbial kid in a candy store as I make my selections and fill my brown paper bags with the promise of a cheery spring garden.  This year, I'll be planting late flowering Queen of The Night tulips for a little dark drama, along with pure white Thalia narcissi, and white muscari.  I've also placed orders for narcissi Albatross, a rare propeller-like white and orange daffodil from 1891 with Old House Gardens, a fine mail order catalog that specializes in older varieties of bulbs which I enjoy growing whenever I can.

An afternoon of bulb planting awaits

Photo: Chronica Domus

My bulbs have been languishing in the basement for a few weeks so this past Sunday afternoon I found a few hours to play in the garden and tuck them into the cool damp soil.  It always feels so rejuvenating to be digging around in the garden when the temperatures are not as punishing on the gardener as they are during the summer months.

Sixty Queen of the Night tulips positioned for planting along the border

Photo: Chronica Domus

As dusk sets in, the vocal honking of migrating Canadian geese is often heard directly overhead.  I love to catch a glimpse and hear the commotion as they fly over the house and garden on their way to sunnier climes, and witness firsthand the awe and excitement of hundreds of geese flying in their familiar v-formations.

Just as the geese fly south, gangs of noisy crows and ravens descend to replace the honking with banshee cries of "caw caw".  It is only in recent memory that I recall these noisy birds arriving during the autumn months and they remind me of England so much.

What is putting on a show in your autumn garden, and are you lucky enough to live in an area where trees put on a colorful display in November?

Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.

Part III of III: Bespoke Retirement Gifts From My Father

My ladies frock coat awaiting its first fitting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Nota bene: I apologize for the delay in publishing this post, the final installment of the three-part series.  I've had to dig deep into my seemingly bottomless digital photography library to find the images of my father at work that best illustrate this story. I do hope you enjoy reading and viewing this post. 

My father enjoyed a great passion for his craft during his long career as a Savile Row tailor, a passion that went far beyond merely earning his daily bread.  You would think that in his spare time he would turn to other pleasures to occupy his hours.  Not my Dad.  He had a working love affair with fabric and our family has reaped the rewards handsomely over the years.  His sons-in-law wore bespoke suits made for them as wedding gifts by his hand, as did most of the male cousins in our family.  He was also our favorite curtain maker, and even turned his attention to upholstery on one occasion.

Shortly before his retirement, my father generously offered to make my husband and I some bespoke sartorial gifts. My fortunate other half was to be outfitted with a new two-piece suit and a heavy winter coat, and I was to be the lucky recipient of a ladies frock coat.

We were sent along to visit Chittleborough & Morgan on Savile Row, where we met with Mr. Roy Chittleborough who expertly measured us for our new clothing.  I've known Roy, and his business partner Mr. Joseph Morgan, since childhood and always make a point of stopping by the shop to say hello whenever I'm in London.  In Roy's capable hands, we were assured that the numerous measurements taken (I lost track of exactly how many after about ten) to make our individual bespoke patterns would be handled with the utmost skill and dexterity.

While at the shop, my husband had the opportunity of selecting the cloth for his new suit, a grey superfine British worsted wool, and also the lining for his jacket and trousers, a brilliant purple silk which would impart a dashing shot of color to an otherwise conservative looking suit.

The photograph below shows my father cutting the suit trousers from the grey wool.

Chalk lines indicate where to cut for economy of cloth

Photo: Chronica Domus

The mark of a quality British superfine all worsted wool, woven at a mill located in the town of Huddersfield in northern England

Photo: Chronica Domus

Nothing is wasted, not even the cloth's identifying label, seen above, which is woven at the edge of the fabric.  Eventually, this will be cut and stitched into the interior backs of the trouser cuffs, providing extra durability and extending the life of the trousers, a nice bespoke detail not found on made-to-measure or off the rack trousers.

Making adjustments to the trousers at the first fitting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Chalk is so important to a tailor.  In the photograph above, my husband receives his first trouser fitting.  By the end of it, he is covered in chalk marks indicating where alternations are required.

The suit jacket is single-breasted with two buttons, a breast pocket, and a classic peaked lapel.  It is a well known fact among the tailoring community that cutting peaked collars on single-breasted jackets is one of the most challenging aspects of the craft.  I think my father did an outstanding job on my husband's jacket, seen in the photograph below.

A classic peaked lapel complete with buttonhole for one's boutonniére

Photo: Chronica Domus

The interior of the jacket is a work of art. See how beautifully the silk lining has been hand-stitched into the jacket, finished off with neat triangular pocket flaps and little horn buttons.  The seam that runs slightly to the bottom right of the flap shows how this pocket is divided into two so that the wearer can store a narrow item, such as a pen, upright.

The interior work of the jacket beautifully highlighted in purple silk

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now, onto the next item of clothing, my husband's heavy winter cashmere coat.  Part of the inspiration for this began with Benedict Cumberbatch's portrayal of Sherlock Holmes, who is kitted out in a marvelously dramatic coat that combines aspects of a traditional frock coat and a military greatcoat.

Watching the two men in my life collaborate on the design of the coat provided some rather amusing moments. Here is what they came up with while brainstorming one evening.

The design process of the winter coat as it evolved - left, my husband's crude drawing, center and right, my father's interpretation using the medium he works best in, cloth

Photo: Chronica Domus

I was curious to see what sartorial marvel would be concocted from the lavish heavy black cashmere wool and blood-red colored silk chosen to line the coat.

The photographs below show the incredible amount of hidden detail that goes into every bespoke coat and jacket.  Hundreds of stitches help build the foundation of the chest area, lapels, and collar. It takes many hours of concentration and nimble fingers, in concert with needle and thread, to achieve the correct structure.

 The hidden workings of a bespoke coat
Photo: Chronica Domus

The interior of the left front coat panel, showing my father accurately measuring the angle and width of the lapel

Photo: Chronica Domus

Snipping the black cashmere fabric that will line the lapel, no mistakes allowed!

Photo: Chronica Domus

At first fitting, below, you can see how much progress has been made.  The coat is beginning to resemble the crude design that was hatched during the brainstorming session.  A canvas waist band is pinned in place to get an idea of it's final positioning.

White thread and chalk guide my father in achieving the perfect fit

Photo: Chronica Domus

The style and placing of the cuffs and slanted pockets are picked out in canvas at the initial fitting

Photo: Chronica Domus

It took several more fittings, and many more hours of work, until my father was ready to hand sew the silk lining to the interior of the coat.  Below you see the old master beginning to thread the various panels together.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Like a jigsaw puzzle, much concentration and skill is required to align the silk panels for a flawless fit

Photo: Chronica Domus

The completed interior showing one of the pockets embellished with a little horn button

Photo: Chronica Domus 

The elegant curve of the cuff imparts a dashing touch of artistry to the coat

Photo: Chronica Domus

Below, I present my husband, photographed on a chilly December evening in London alongside a statue of the dandiest of Regency dandies, Beau Brummel.  I think they both look rather fetching in their double-breasted coats, don't you?

Two elegantly attired dandies on Jermyn Street, one of London's most fashionable streets and home to many gentlemen's clothiers

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now it was my turn to be outfitted in style.  My father asked me what I would enjoy wearing and find useful to add to my wardrobe.  We discussed the idea for making a very handsome coat that I knew would be put to good use whenever I had occasion to be dressed to the nines and out on the town for some fun.  I was to receive a ladies double-breasted frock coat, designed to be worn over a dress as a light layer and not really meant to keep the cold weather at bay, such as a heavy overcoat would.  The frock coat would be long-skirted, slightly nipped in at the waist, with two back vents running the length of the skirt. I was floating on a cloud at the prospect of wearing such a theatrical coat and could not wait to witness the magic my father would conjure to make it all materialize.

Here is the front panel of my ladies frock coat being readied for my first fitting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Here I am under the careful gaze of my father as he pins and chalks away

Photo: Chronica Domus

I was so excited to see what the front of the frock coat looked like that I dashed into the bathroom to peek into the mirror

Photo: Chronica Domus

For a feminine touch, I selected a salmon pink two-toned lining that appears green as the fabric shifts around in the light.  Pink thread was also used to highlight the bottom buttonhole of the cuffs adding another idiosyncratic detail to the coat.  Can you see the clandestine pocket that has been incorporated into the lining at the waistline?  My husband and I have immensely enjoyed taking advantage of such bespoke detail, adding flamboyant touches where they would not ordinarily be expected.

Horn buttons, pink buttonholes, and secret pockets, bespoke touches that make up my ladies frock coat

Photo: Chronica Domus

It was a fascinating educational journey of discovery and awe as we documented my father at work and watched him create immaculately tailored garments for us  We find ourselves so very fortunate to be the grateful recipients of his magnanimous nature, and shall wear each garment with pride and joy for many years to come.

Slipping into an item of clothing that is made to one's exact form which traces perfectly the curve of the shoulders, the small of the back, and the length of the arm, is a great joy. To state something fits like a glove is truly the best possible way of describing the experience, and to know each item was made by my beloved father with love, generosity and care is indeed wondrous.