I spend most of my time on island at the beach. I know that salt water is the cure for everything, and a refreshing plunge in the Atlantic can cure the meanest hangovers you’ll have. My post bar morning routine has long been to hydrate and swim (throw in a breakfast sandwich with farm fresh eggs from the Scottish Bakehouse if you're really suffering!) . There are beaches for everyone on island- high surf body surfing beaches up island, clear water soft sand down island. My favorites are as follows:
I spent the spring semester of my Junior year of college studying at the Lorenzo de Medici Art Institute in Florence, Italy. I was twenty-one years old and pretending to love cheap red wine. I was so sophisticated, I could barter for leather handbags and say “Go Fuck Yourself” in Italian. What was I going to do when I had to go home for the summer? Little did I know my Mom was thinking the exact same thing. In March she started subtly suggesting my sister and I spend the summer on Martha’s Vineyard . She would pay for our rental up front, we would get two other roommates, and could pay her back at the end of the season. She planted the idea in my sister’s head too, and we started considering it.
See what we did there? Ho, Ho, Ho! Faux, Faux, Faux for us here at Fetes de Fleurs!
When I was young, my family would spend three hours in the car on the first Saturday of December. Driving from our South Shore home, to ”The Chop” in Stow. We got in the Christmas spirit listening to Irish Christmas Carols on cassette tape.
“The Chop” was a party of my Father’s college buddies, turned family, who got together every year to celebrate the beginning of the holiday season, and to chop down their Christmas Trees. It was because of this party that I became a Christmas Tree Snob.
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Next to my father’s piano shop, on the corner of Boylston Street and where Park Plaza turns to Charles Street in Boston, there was once a florist. His name was John and his storefront is now a Boloco. On the day before Thanksgiving my Mom would tell my Dad not to forget the flowers. My Dad’s eyes would get big and you could see realization come across his face- he would have forgotten the flowers- in fact- maybe he already had.
But it didn’t matter, John always had my Dad’s back. He would come home with a beautiful and different arrangement every year.
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With Halloween this week it’s no coincidence that you have surely been seeing an influx of flower crowns in your social media feed. I, personally, think there never needs to be reason to don a floral crown but Halloween certainly gives the excuse to take it up a notch or two. I've seen a whole bunch of different kinds of flowers crowns for halloween costumes.
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Confession: I attended what will probably end up being my final bachelorette party this summer.
It. Was. Awesome.
We rented a beach home on Cape Cod, we sang Celine Dion at the top of our lungs, we lay on the beach and reminisced. Reminisced about over ten years ago when we lay on a different beach and belted out Celine Dion in a different rented beach home. I puked twice during the weekend, but at 11 weeks pregnant I was counting myself lucky that it was just twice.
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