by SY

 

My 2025 New Year’s Blog shares the aspirations and acumen of three diverse individuals who shared a “get it done now” mentality.

Please join me, keep reading and explore with me these perceptive “doers and shakers”—

Regina, Henry and Iris,

THE CATALYSTS:

They endeavored to motivate, engage, and commit their thoughts and enthusiasms to us. Thank you and well done, movers & shakers.

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REGINA

 

 I recently reread an article from 2001:

Written by Regina Brett, 90 years old, of the Plain Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio.

“To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most requested column I’ve ever written.  My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more….”

Miscellaneous lessons from Regina’s column:

Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and family will.

Pay off your credit cards every month.

You don’t have to win every argument. Stay true to yourself.

When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present.

When it comes to going after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer.

Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

Forgive.

Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

Believe in miracles.

All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back. 

Envy is a waste of time. Accept what you already have, not what you need.

No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.

 

 

Interestingly, as I understand now, Regina did not write the tag line,“90 Years Old” or ANY reference at all to being 90 – including that “Written by Regina Brett, 90 years old…” She does not know who or when it was added to her list of life’s lessons, but it often perpetuates in repostings of the title, introductions and by-line.  Obviously, she hit a nerve by consolidating life wisdom in such an easily digested and simple list.  Wise beyond her years, indeed!  She was just 45 when it was written, and had also just learned of her breast cancer diagnosis.  She wrote, “At 45, I was so grateful to be alive, I wrote the 45 life lessons life taught me.  The column became a global hit.”

Regina is now 68 years old and still a successful author, blogger, journalist and family matriarch.

You have to show up when you have a serious diagnosis. Regina did. I did. I am a twice breast cancer survivor——it was truly a Herculean task for me to (as she wrote) “get up and go. I had to let go, reflect and then move forward.”

We all have moved forward in our individual ways.”Hurray for Moving Forward!”

HENRY

There was an explosion of criticism, critiques, and  commentary against the autobiographical novel, “Tropic of Cancer” penned by Henry Miller in 1934.

 One writer described Henry’s career as one of self-invention. Another as using semi-autobiographical novels merged with storytelling, philosophy, mysticism and social commentary. What is most important to remember is this reflection,”Miller was one of the twentieth century’s most prolific and provocative authors whose writing and literary example influenced many well-known writers who followed him, including Jack Kerouac, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Norman Mailer, Phillip Roth, Cormac McCarthy, Paul Theroux, and Erica Jong, not to mention such pop culture icons as Bob Dylan and the Beatles.”

Henry Miller’s thoughts at age 80.

Defining Success;

… if you are content to get nowhere, just take each day as it comes, if you can forgive as well as forget, if you can keep from growing sour, surly, bitter and cynical, man you’ve got it half licked.  It’s the little things that matter, not fame, success, wealth.                                                                                                                                                                    Focus on Now: The future of the world is something for philosophers and visionaries to ponder on. All we ever really have is the present, but very few of us ever live it. I am neither a pessimist nor an optimist. To me the world is neither this nor that, but all things at once, and to each according to his vision.                       

At eighty I believe I am a far more cheerful person than I was at twenty or thirty.  It was only in my forties that I really began to feel young. By then I was ready for it. (Picasso once said: “One starts to get young at the age of sixty, and then it’s too late.”) By this time I had lost many illusions, but fortunately not my enthusiasm, nor the joy of living, nor my unquenchable curiosity. Perhaps it was this curiosity—about anything and everything—that made me the writer I am. It has never left me. Even the worst bore can elicit my interest, if I am in the mood to listen.

With this attribute goes another which I prize above everything else, and that is the sense of wonder. No matter how restricted my world may become I cannot imagine it leaving me void of wonder. 

The Perspective of Age:

Perhaps the most comforting thing about growing old gracefully is the increasing ability not to take things too seriously. With advancing age my ideals, which I usually deny possessing, have definitely altered. My ideal is to be free of ideals, free of principles, free of isms and ideologies.                                                                                                    ...in reality it means that I have become more humble, more aware of my limitations and those of my fellow man. I no longer try to convert people to my view of things, nor to heal them. Neither do I feel superior…

When Henry Miller moved to Paris in the early 1930ties. his writing made a paradigm shift with the book “Tropic of Cancer”, his first-person account of a writer’s life in Paris with frank descriptions of his own sexual exploits.  Published in Paris in 1934, it was immediately banned in the US and Britain. The ban was lifted in the 1960’s in the US. He is perhaps the most famously banned author in American history.

“…The US Supreme Court ruled in June 1964 that Miller’s banned books were not obscene, Miller drew no satisfaction from this finding because he knew that American readers were consuming his books for their sensationalistic elements.”

His last years were spent happily living in Pacific Palisades, California, entertaining and hosting dinner parties, painting and corresponding with a huge number of writers and friends.

Henry Miller was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1973.

At 80, Henry vowed to “Keep his sense of wonder.” Let’s all keep our sense of wonder——it creates a smile.

Hurray for “our sense of wonder!”

 

IRIS

Sha Zam

The room lights up with color, a treasure chest of bold  jewelry arrives on one body and a pair of black rimmed mammoth oversized eye glasses perch under a cloud of silver white hair all accented by sparkling red, red, red lips.           

YEP,

The geriatric starlet, the matriarch of maximalism opens her door and we enter to hear Iris Apfel share parts of her story. Married for 67 years to Carl, they created the highly successful company Old World Weavers that sourced and replicated textiles from early centuries, traveled the world seeking and finding and working for nine Presidents at the White House.

She was adored globally and known for her acerbic wit. Completely unique, her admirers and followers were smitten. The New York Met Museum was a fan and gave her her own exhibition.

I never had to look for confidence because I just wore what I wanted to wear.

When you don’t dress like everyone else, you don’t have to think like everyone else.

Being yourself is always in style. “Style is in your DNA. You can learn to be fashionable and to have good taste, but style is something within.

Everything is your attitude. “When you think about things a certain way, you look a certain way.”

The fashion industry has done itself in by neglecting the 60 to 80-year-old market. They have the time and the economic resources. They want to go shopping.

Wear something that says, Here I am! 

You’re not a pigeon so don’t be pigeonholed.

Find your own way.

              “You only fail if you do not try.”

Always look at the world like you’re discovering it for the first time.Variety is the spice of life. Style has nothing to do with how much you spend on your clothes. …

 

Grow bolder as you grow older.

Love what you do and work hard at it. I think hard work is my medicine, my salvation.

The fun of getting dressed is that it’s a creative experience.

People are so tied up in the worst part of technology these days. They don’t use their imaginations.

Although Iris never met me——I know she was channeling this thought to me, just me!

 “Relax at home. There’s nothing like a good old bathrobe.”

(THANK YOU IRIS!!!)

Please know——if you see me in Walmart wearing my bathrobe, I am purely taking her advice!

Her husband Carl said this about Iris, “I have rarely met someone as vivid, alive, vital, vivacious, irreverent, joyous and needed as Iris.” He added: “She breathes young air, thinks young thoughts, and gathers no dust.”

Iris Apfel died at age 102 ——March 1, 2024

Let’s all be irreverent and joyous——

“Hurray for being irreverent and joyous!”

We are all our own, CATALYSTS!

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Sy’s Salient Points:

Each subject in this blog brought energy and audacity to their personal lives and careers.

They knew the two above traits would help perpetuate their strengths.

You may have noticed, Regina Brett channeled some of Iris Apfel’s viewpoints into her 45 Lessons. It never hurts for me to read or hear worthwhile conceptions more than once.

Actually  for me, maybe  a  “plethorat!”

 

Happy 2025, Darling Blaire and please continue adding your own audacity and energy into your life!

My husband dropped me off to explore Casa Amesti for our first visit. He was picking up some new film and thoughtfully thought I’d like to view this first morning on my own; the home of Frances Adler Elkins where many of the rooms are almost exactly as Frances left them——one of the major decorators of the 20th Century who presaged significant interior design changes.  The bright morning sunlight disappeared as I opened the pale blue and beige glazed door of this 1833 adobe house to step into a dusky hall onto the used brick floor as the door closed behind me….

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 In essence I was a lone sightseer adjusting to the dim light as silent tranquility surrounded me. The museum-worthy rooms beckoned. I loved that first moment of awareness and the mind-boggling treasures I was about to experience; too much for one blog to detail, but hopefully some “Casa Amesti highlights” to show a bit of what her breakthrough eclectic designs achieved.

As in all adobe houses with 2′ thick walls, I entered into diffused light lighting my way as candle wall sconces and chandeliers called my attention to intriguing 18th century portraits of Spanish royalty.  One period table held a blue and white Ming urn holding seasonal plants.

The long hallway opened onto a library, guest rooms and traversed the depth of the Casa and toward the rear French doors, a white plaster elk’s head peered at me from his lofty height.

My husband arrived, camera ready as did the three chefs who began preparing daily lunches for the Old Capitol Club members.  We had permission for a week to photograph and research with the caveat of leaving the Casa during Club member hours, lunch and late afternoons.   

Frances thrived in her bubble-like environment of treasures that kept growing and growing through her sharp, observant skill set. Yearly buying trips to Paris, a stay at her Palazzo in Venice brought entire antique bookcases, parque flooring and much more from French chateaus. Spirited meetings turned into deep friendships with her avant-garde boundary-pushing designer friends CoCo Chanel, Jean-Michel Frank and the Gioacometti brothers.

Frances chiefly lived on the second floor of Casa Amesti where her bedroom, her daughter Katie’s bedroom and her brother David’s bedroom suites were located along with the dining room and the Sala, the main nerve center where guests were treated to convivial festivities.

When Katie was a little girl, she said, “I remember peeking into the Sala to see buckets of champagne, heaps of crepes, great big trays filled with splendid food…”

Climb the stairs with me and view the Casa’s amazing second-floor hallway guiding us to the Sala. We are surrounded by a rich nineteenth century panorama of a blue Zuber and Cie 1834 wallpaper. Ingenious chandeliers made of French wicker baskets painted and wired for lighting spearhead our way.

THE SALA: David originated the extensive alterations to the main living/reception Sala included replacing the floor boards with new highly polished redwood boards, repairing the plank ceiling, adding steel floor supports, installing closets, bathrooms and french doors, an overmantel from England, new Dentil moldings, and painting the original stucco walls a lustrous white.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          THE SALA

   The first commission David designed as a young architect  for his Uncle in Lake Forest, IL

 He did not start out small!

It must have been incredibly romantic to enter the Sala at night. Lamps and candle chandeliers enfolded guests into the glowing candlelight.

It was amusing to think that as we stepped into the Sala we were entering the same room that CoCo Chanel entered way back in the 1920’s. Frances’ unprecedented style of decoration included using the vibrant colors of blue, yellow and white, introducing Chinese Oriental rugs, French Provincial and English Antique furniture and a collection of Ching Dynasty 1622-1722 Turquoise Monochrome figures on demi-lune tables on both sides of the fireplace and more and more. An English Regency wine tasting table circa 1820 had a pivoting shelf for liquors with a net sling to hold the empty bottles along with a brass rail to hold linen cloths.

David Adler designed the fireplace mantel and crown molding around the room. Wedgewood dolphin candlesticks, stag corbels and an 1783 oil painting  “Saddle Horse” completed the handsome fireplace. In the room’s center, a 19th century Georgian partner’s desk held silver candlestick lamps and lapis desk appointments. House guests and visitors had never seen this manner of mixing periods and trailblazing styles in one  home. This was the 1920’s and eclectic decor was here to stay. Friends and visitors were inspired and asked for help in their own homes creating a profession for Frances who quickly became an interior decorator with an outstanding future. Her future offices would eventually include a staff of sixty.

Dinner was served in an adjoining dining room. A dumb waiter in the butler’s pantry between floors sent up Clementine’s meals.

Clementine, Frances’ private Basque cook who traveled with her sent up her dinner treasures on the dumb waiter.

(When we met with Katie in her Hillsborough home, she told us the story of one Parisienne visit. When there, Frances had to have a kidney removed. Not being able to cook and hoping to surprise her mistress, Clementine enrolled herself in classes at the legendary Cordon Bleu cooking school definitively increasing the fame of dinner parties at the Casa Amesti.)

Dinner was served on Ming Dynasty plates. her table decor included small hand-made red decorative beaded trees created by her close friend, Misia Sert, the best friend of CoCo Chanel. (Misia was known as “the Muse Who Inspired Icons of Art” by Toulouse-Lautrec.)  The table is English Regency-1899, the crystal chandelier-1900 and in one of two corner cabinets yellow French creil china depicting scenes of  Napoleon’s campaigns.

Join me as we walk downstairs to the rear garden and the Solarium. Although the bedroom suites adjoining the Sala and hallway are creative and design-worthy, other highlights attract.  The death of David Adler’s wife at a young age meant that he began spending more time in Monterrey with Frances. They traveled to Granada, Spain and were influenced by a courtyard at the Alhambra. They copied the design creating their own serene formal garden at the Casa in 1919.

An early photograph of David and Frances.

A gentle drizzle was seeping through the dense foliage and sections of leafy canopy over us on that first visit. As we walked through the arbors it felt as if we were in an ancient cave where antique fountains popped up surprising us on our trek.

On the garden’s left is the original 19th century building that once housed the laundry, heating plant, wine cellar, servant’s quarters, and garage where the roof is home to a sweet watchdog viewing the scenery.

Frances maintained this garden until her death in 1943.

Walk with me to Frances’ Casta Amesti’s office in…

The Solarium!

 Frances had her brother design a solarium where she had her home office. It is an amazingly stunning room. Graceful white metal curved mullions of  lovely shapes hold glass sections that are not on the surface but the glass must be inserted into the shapes.

Architecture by David Adler——Interior by Frances Adler Elkins

Frances and David Captured History

It’s been a privilege to have you walk with me this first day and see why,
it was invariably full circle——they always returned to Casa Amesti.

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Sy’s Salient Points:

The Old Capitol Club Men’s club leases the Casa Amesti  property. It is open only to members and their guests.

Frances created a design movement that encapsulate and promoted the work of exciting new American design companies.

One hopeful client lamented,  “…if she turned you down as a client, you were better off leaving the state!”

Through Katie Boyd, we heard her Mother’s voice as only a daughter could bring their Mother to life.

The avant-garde designer, Jean-Michel Frank, a close friend of Frances was a first cousin to Anne Frank.

CoCo Chanel who seemed  to be famous for just about everything she said and did, made this comment,                               “Fashion passes; style remains.”  In making that statement, surely CoCo could have been thinking of her close friend,                                                                   “FRANCES ADLER ELKINS”

 

Resources: Katie Elkins Boyd,——Blogs: “A Daughter and her Mother,”  “Frances,” ASID Conference Lectures——Baltimore, MD.,  Sheila Yates,——Steven Salny,—— Scott Powell,-—— various University lectures, Sheila Yates,——Wikipedia

Happy Birthday Darling Blaire and Wondrously Festive Holidays To All

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE PRESERVATIONIST WHO WAS A NEOTERIC!

Frances embraced treasured design aesthetics and inspired the rise of eclectic design in your home and mine by blending periods, styles, and cultures.  She championed innovative new design industries, resources and in today’s world would probably be listening to the increasingly loud whispers of AI as it moves into the profession of Interior Design. Frances was open to the explorations of the old and the new!

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There is adobe in Monterrey and then there is more adobe. The simple adobe mud bricks are built out of the soil that surrounds their foundations which then rise into picturesque homes and when built in walls two to three feet thick it gives protection against heat and cold. Massive walls of chipped paint and gnarled stones protect secluded courtyards and near one of  Monterrey’s busy intersections stands the Casa Amesti, a house destined for stardom!

The Star Maker: Frances!

Hard to believe, but in 1834 this house started out with only four rooms. Jose Amesti envisioned a grand home for his wife Prudencia and their daughters. Jose added four more rooms opposite the original set and then he continued his dream with an upper veranda across the front and the back facades supported by slim square columns in 1853——long before Frances was born.

Frances was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, the second child of Issac and Therese Adler. Isaac successfully  manufactured men’s clothing and when offered an executive position by Sears Roebuck moved his family to Chicago, IL  Therese turned traveling into an avocation, taking Frances and her brother to Europe for months at a time as they absorbed art and culture. David, six years senior to Frances set a high standard for artistic excellence eventually becoming a student at Princeton University although showing no signs of academic excellence.

David Adler

The University archivist said, “He began by flunking almost everything and for some time was in the sixth group, which is the absolute bottom. Then he began to pick up and in his senior year was actually in the first group.” Apparently the University did not drop him, he passed the failed courses and graduated.

David and friends sailed for Europe to study architecture in Munich, eventually enrolling at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris, the foremost art and architecture school in the world. Again, David never bothered to take exams or submit dissertations, instead he traveled throughout the country on his bicycle collecting over 500 architectural post cards while using his photographic memory to retain styles and details.

He returned to Chicago with another student Henry Dangler to form a partnership. David’s first commission was a doozy as his rich and benevolent Uncle Carl Stonehill requested a sizable mansion. It was a major triumph and happily it was authorized to be built because David could not legally sign his own plans——he had no degree, no license——but Henry did and signed David’s plans until unexpectedly, Henry died. David was forced to sit for examinations to become a registered architect in the state of Illinois.

He failed, and failed, and eventually through the prestige of his masterful designs, the state granted him a license in 1928 for “Demonstrated Skill”.

Without question, David’s architectural career was exceptional, dazzling, virtuosic, and intelligent. There are many humorous stories resulting from his lack of scale in actual building elevations creating havoc for draftsmen but the final building renditions were superb. His many successes would take over a complete design blog, but David and Frances did work together on numerous projects.

While David was studying in Europe, the teenage Frances travelled back and forth across the Continent studying with great and near-great pianists. Frances was reported to be exceptionally talented but her career was curtailed when it was decided her hands were too small for a long professional career on the concert stage.

Frances Adler Elkins

In 1918 Frances married Felton Elkins a socialite polo player and in that same year they purchased the Casa Amesti in Monterrey, CA for $5000.00.  The marriage was not a success resulting in Felton deeding the house to Frances in 1923, and the birth of a decorator and the legacy she left to us.

When Frances and Felton bought Casa Amesti, it was clearly a rambling wreck but to Frances that doddering 1834 adobe spelled challenge!

Friendship and harmony described the lifelong relationship between Frances and her brother David. It was put into full force as they began their aspirations and goals for the “rambling wreck”. They removed the rear exterior staircase and replaced it was a new interior staircase, along with a little “Renaissance stairway in the sitting room off of the bar”.

  Example: Model of a type of Renaissance Staircase

A dumbwaiter made food accessible from the first floor kitchen to the second floor’s butler’s pantry. Bathrooms and closets were added, woodwork and hardware was replaced, and a new heating and electrical system was installed. Living room floor boards were replaced with new redwood boards and steel floor supports added.  An outbuilding was constructed with garage and laundry.  The grey desolate streetscape was replaced with lines of yew trees and when in full bloom, they formed an arcade of shade.  It is a masterpiece of historic preservation and design.

     Casa Amesti with newly planted yew trees.

The Gods of Design in Pebble Beach, Carmel, and Monterrey loftily smiled on themselves for centering Frances in their midst. The completed Casa Amesti captured the imaginations of decorating clients. They did not have to vicariously pour over magazines with black and white renderings; there was someone just down the road for ideas. They could visit her home, the Casa Amesti, Frances’ Design shop in the Robert Louis Stevenson dwelling or call her for insightful design conceptions for their homes. And they did!

Designated Robert Louis Stevenson House in the Casa

Casa Amesti was deeded to the National Trust for Historic Preservation in 1953 by Frances. My husband and I received the Trust’s permission to spend one week photographing and researching the property in Monterrey. We also needed to inform the Old Capitol Men’s Club of our permission. This Club leases Casa Amesti  for their private weekly use and serves week-day lunches to members with a full staff of three chefs.

We could work in the morning’s and afternoons towards evenings during the week. On weekends, the Trust offers tours of the Casa. We often were racing out the door every day at 11:30 a.m. with cameras and books to make sure we were completely away before Club members arrived.

We were soon to experience Monterrey first-hand because one week after our visit with Katie Elkins Boyd in Hillsborough, CA.* I unlocked the door to Casa Amesti, turning back the clock to the 1930’s decorating world of Frances Adler Elkins and her inter-layered treasures silently waiting to be admired and photographed….

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Sy’s Salient Points:

There are many examples of Renaissance Style staircases. Some are circular, others were ramp-like staircases designed to prevent bottlenecks. One stair was used to ascend and one to descend.

* Reference to Blog #  “A DAUGHTER AND HER MOTHER”— Introduction to the esteemed decorator Frances Elkins during a fireside chat in the home of Kathryn Elkins Boyd.

Coming soon: Part Three——The Casa Amesti

Happy Halloween Blaire Darling

It has been said that it is positive to move on, embrace change, accept new challenges.

But how do we do that without giving up our own power?

“Aye, but that is the rub!”

O.K., so what is this rub, Shakespeare?

Prithee, Unknowledgeable, but Curious, 

It is a new, friendly and personalized companion, your digital aid/your secret friend! And——                                                            It promises to sharpen your focus all the while offering streams of information. Plus, it is a creative introspective species that will personalize togetherness!

“The world is our oyster!”

This is exciting, Sooo——Will, “Art thou referring to that new digital soulmate which is known as AI?  Artificial Intelligence?”

Aye, my Lady. Yea, totally!   A’hem,  I was always, always at the top of the creative word game. AI doth dream to emulate me.

Hmmm, if thee says so. Thanks for the intro Will. Onto the future——Soooo, here goes, since I am new to AI, time to ask a savvy collaborator who is an extraordinary teacher to elucidate us on some of AI’s mysteries.                   Matt Karl!

Take it away Matt!:

There are three prominent AI formats that interpret and offer feedback/responses to questions, topics, original essays, poems and illuminate personal requests.

ChatGPT——Gemini Google——Copilot Microsoft

Firstly, we began asking ChatGPT a series of questions and looking for a reply/answer that is both spot-on, and interesting.

ChatGPT: Please create a Sympathy Note to a son who has lost his mother. A lady, who successfully created a Poet Society throughout the internet. The answer:

Dear Grieving Son,

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Sy’s Salient Points: As we made a request from each site the answer started online before the last word of the request was finished. AI is a phenomenal technology.

It seems paramount to balance new innovations with our personal and social values. We do not want to give our power away.

Does/will using AI take away students efforts to present original and creative material? Schools and Universities seem to have strong opinions on the subject.

* This blog could not have been completed without the help of my supportive daughters and adorable friend, Matt!

 

DARLING BLAIRE, CHEERS TO YOUR UNIVERSITY JOURNEY! I LOVE YOU!

THE BEGINNING

(of a whole lot of research for a whole lot of lectures!!!)

It all began as my proposal for a package lecture deal. I hoped to research three original decorators and present three one hour lectures titled: “Don’t Forget Elsie, Syrie, Frances and Ruby!” for an ASID National Design Conference in Baltimore, MD. 

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   My subjects were the first decorators to turn their talents into dollars and cents in the early twentieth century and I wanted to know their stories and help preserve their accomplishments. I only told two people about what to me was a daring proposal and was not the least bit surprised when a close friend——an esteemed San Diego designer said, “Don’t get your hopes too high——Washington D.C. is pretty much of an ‘in group”. 

I honestly had not one hope, but then, the phone rang, ——Poof!

“Good news, Sheila, We’d like you to…”

I almost said, “REALLY, are you sure?”

The only words I had written so far, was a title and
they wanted three one-hour lectures, one after the other???

TOTALLY GOBSMACKED!!!

Magazine archives, used book stores and libraries became my nearest and dearest friends along with an opportunity  to interview Katherine Boyd in her Hillsborough, California home near San Francisco. She is the only child of Frances Adler Elkins who created a stunning career and a salient cottage design industry in Monterrey, California. My hope was to catch a glimpse of Frances Elkins who shared her life with her only child. We visited her daughter, Katie Boyd in  Hillsborough:

It was early twilight in her library where she entertained my husband and me. It was filled with treasures and mementos from renown European sources where a miniature fire illuminated our seating area. Endive with slivers of Roquefort circled a silver tray as we sipped Kir in our antique Venetian cocktail tumblers.

As a counterpart to her mother’s talent, Katie’s home generates her own international mood. In this universally appealing home there are separate seating areas, a “Frank” leather table and a “Giacometti” lamp in the sizable living room.   The dining room is dominated by large “McComas” murals and “Salviati” art glass designed by Katie.  There is a lovely chandelier that creates a pool of feathery light over the coral porcelain centered on the dining table.

McComas Art in Katie’s Home*

Jean Michel Steel & Leather Table **

*Behind my chair the soulful-looking Giacometti sculptured lamp with a mica shade offered diffused light as my sophisticated hostess, Katie, with her contagious sense of humor shared anecdotes of Jean Michel Frank, Coco Chanel and more.

Alberto Giacometti Sculptured Lamps ***

Example of Salviati Wine Glass Set****

 

Although wanting to ask a million questions,——I was not invited to move in for a month or two therefore my goal centered on a bit of her personal history with her mother,—-Frances,—-a decorator whose work has long enticed designers and writers to research the eclectic and brilliantly conceived interiors she created. It was a journey worth taking!

When I asked Katie about life in their home, the “Casa Amesti” in Monterrey, she said, “I grew up there with Mom, but we traveled all the time. I had a pretty solitary life because there were really no children to play with, but it was interesting. Mom took me everywhere. I always had a governess and that was my schooling. I never went to college because I got married.

That was a very glamorous era with its own aura. When we were in Biarritz in southern France, the King of Spain and his court was there.  My Grandmother Adler traveled over to help. Grandmother was a beautiful old-fashioned lady— from Milwaukee. It was a startling contrast when Ma had her wear dresses designed by Chanel.”

“Did that make your Grandmother Adler less old-fashioned and more sophisticated?”

Her emphatic answer, “Never!”

Katie became adept in living a life of dramatic change which included traveling with a governess, a cook and family. A fascinating account included her story——”Mom adored Venice and every year rented a palazzo on the Grand Canal. Coco Chanel was often our guest. I was a little one then and I loved looking out the window with its magnificent view.”

One day, I said to my mother, ‘What are all those white things floating out the window? Is it snow?”

Mother said, “It’s nothing dear, Mademoiselle Chanel is very upset with Monsieur Dali.”

I said,  “But what ARE all THOSE white things floating around?”

And my Mother said, “Oh, he keeps sending her all these drawings and paintings because he says he is in love with her,—but,—she doesn’t think they’re very good so she’s tearing them up and throwing them away!”

Katie said, “How I laugh when I think of all those Salvadore Dali’s at the bottom of the canal.”

“Mademoiselle Chanel occasionally did keep some that she considered well done. Of course he was not the only one in love with Coco”,—-three-fourths of the men in Europe were because she was such an interesting woman and always ahead of her time.”(Picasso once said, “She has more sense than any woman in Europe.”)

“When Mademoiselle Chanel visited us in Monterrey. I remember some of the clothes she designed for Mom. I’ve never seen any like them. They were absolutely beautiful.”

“Did you ever wear Chanel?”

“No, but some of the designers were very nice. They’d make pieces for me which I could purchase. Before Monsieur Mainbaucher died, he said, ‘I want you to have some of my clothes for your mother’s sake.’

Katie smiled when she remembered her comment, “But I can’t begin to afford you.” He answered, “Don’t worry, it will be all right,”

“Was your father Felton Elkins a part of your life?”

“No, I think I was four when they divorced. The little I know is it was not a long marriage. Those were the years when you could be a glamorous playboy. My father was a polo player and I think he was one of those men who always had too many ladies.”

“I believe mom realized she couldn’t have a life with him.”

In Monterrey, there is adobe and then there’s more adobe. The simple mud bricks are built out of the soil that surround foundations which then rise into picturesque homes and the Casa Amesti has been described as a superb example of Monterrey Colonial architecture. When Frances and Felton bought the Casa in 1918 Monterrey had become a forgotten world and it was a lingering wreck built in 1834.

The chronology from the National Trust for Historic Preservation show photos from 1915 of the Casa in deplorable conditions. A private men’s group, the exclusive and expensive Old Capitol Club leased the Casa in 1955 for their sole use during the week where daily luncheons are offered for members and in return they maintain the property.

When I asked Katie, “What do you think of your mother’s home being occupied by a men’s club?”

Her look of genuine disbelief precluded her answer, “I am trying to help the National Trust organize details. Mom would have a heart attack if she saw what was happening in her boudoir—actually playing cards and backgammon in her bedroom!!”

Part Two:  Soon!

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Sy’s Salient Points: Both Katie’s and the Casa Amesti are aesthetically beautiful with treasures worthy of museums and galleries.

*Francis McComasÚ “…once rated “among the twenty best painters of the world,”  Monterrey Museum of Art

** Jean Michel Frank Table on sale at 1stdibs for $42,816.91 (at time of this writing.)

*** Giacometti Lamp Bases on sale at 1stdibs.com for $37,000 (at time of this writing.)

****Salviati Wine Glass Set on sale at eBay for $85,000 (at time of this writing.)

 

Happy Moving into Your University Freshman Dorm, Blaire Darling

 

 

David Brooks, N.Y Times Opinion——“The universe is a silent, colorless place. It’s just waves and particles out there. But by using our imaginations, we construct colors and sounds, tastes and stories, drama, laughter, joy and sorrow.”

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THE FOUR WALLS

When my daughter and her husband purchased their home one late September, they offered me a preferred design space. It was the Nursery for their Christmas Baby.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           DISREGARD THAT TIME LINE

It was the day before Thanksgiving and I was lunching with a friend  amidst the clamor of enveloping noise, squished tables, Japanese fast food when my cell phone rang. My daughter was in a Phoenix hospital awaiting an emergency C-section at 9:00 p.m. that night. My husband and I were in San Diego.

FOUR VERY DETERMINED RELATIVES

My watch dial pictured 1:45 p.m. I offered a nervous, graceless good-by and become a purposeful NASCAR driver on a busy California freeway not known for sensible or sparse traffic. My husband dismissed his University rehearsal, the Aunt-to-be was already at a satellite L.A. airport and the Daddy-to-be was piloting a plane from Canada with extra gas to get to the hospital pronto.

ACTUALITY

Television news relentlessly informs us that this Thanksgiving week has unusually heavy air traffic. We know! No tickets! But wait, A Wrinkle in Time opens for us and we become the last two standby passengers to board a late afternoon flight.

SERENDIPITY

Three of us meet in the waiting room along with neighbors and friends. It’s a crowd scene.

The Daddy appears behind a glass wearing a deliriously sappy grin holding a 3 lb., 6 oz. baby girl. Entranced, our noses are at the apex of the glass window as we gape, grin, and hug. Heaven! All too soon, she is whisked back to her Mommy for their first skin-to-skin contact.

OUR MAGICAL BABY IS HERE!

Our beguilingly new arrival needs a room of her own and since it was too soon to ask her what color room she’d like, I chose green. To me, It is a source of energy and takes its cue from the natural world with green walls that are intimate, livable, and inspiring.                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Green is a life force, a hue that is “shown to reduce stress and foster creativity.” Her Daddy is a distance walker, hiker and loves moving in fresh air. Her Mommy is a Master Gardener who grows “Jack-in-the-Beanstalk” veggies, Moringa trees for their antioxidant and anti-inflammatory assets and creates picturesque leafy trellis walls. Green!

HER OWN ROOM!

I planned to create a joyful space containing pops of animated and whimsical figures from the artist Silke Leffler.*

“Silke Leffler’s delightful and whimsical drawings capture some of the happiest and most curious moments in life. Inspired by a childhood exposed to a variety of cultures, nature, books and poetry her illustrations reflect a world that is part make-believe and magic.”  We laminated her creations and placed around her poem.

What could be better, for my Granddaughter!

                                                .   

Sweet dreams, hopeful dreams, peaceful dreams to hopefully evoke and support her fast changing development with a poem of her own. Written words that will always be “hers” and will watch over her.

IMPLEMENTATION!

The green walls were a snap to achieve. Her Mommy and Daddy painted them. Painting the words of my poem on the wall to her was another story!  Not only did I want meaningful thoughts, I opted for a clever arrangement proving detrimental to my neck, arms and back because I was doing it on a small stepladder in the dark while a projector was shining that “clever poetic arrangement” on the wall. I had clearly underestimated my painterly ability as the ladder and I stumbled back and forth. Her Mommy stepped in to lend a helping hand.

                                                                                             

TOGETHERNESS!

The ladder and I still needed more togetherness moments. I eschewed curtains in favor of  blinds for privacy and light control, but wanted a stylish window treatment and found a lace pattern that I could stencil in white around her windows.

HGTV: “A key advantage of using a stencil is that it can be used repeatedly to rapidly reproduce a design or lettering.”

ME: (It is not rapid and unless it is a large one piece stencil. The constant overlapping, matching, and repositioning of the stencil over and over can be monotonous.) Guess who came to rescue?

ACCENTS & FURNISHINGS

We used a combination dresser and changing pad to save space, anchoring the dresser and crib to the walls, covered electrical outlets and used the top dresser drawer to store medicines/ointments and diapers. A comfortable rocking chair for sleep and night time stories with arm rests at a restful height was a priority.  Also necessary, a video baby monitor to check on our baby when she was sleeping.

Small bookcases and shelves appropriate for a nursery’s toys and books, two streamer ribbons with rosettes at the top held tiny gifts, even a decorative vase to hold future baby teeth.                                                                                                                         

                                                                       

And of course, the real purpose in designing a nursery is to offer a nurturing, creative and safe room that incorporates an  environment to spur intellectual growth. Words, colors and figures that teach the magic of discovery. As a professional designer, my goal for my grand baby and every client is to interpret and embrace sustainable design.

Again, as David Brooks said, “… by using our imaginations, we construct colors and sounds, tastes and stories, drama, laughter, joy and sorrow.”

Our grand daughter has given us millions of precious memories.

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Sy’s Salient Points:–SustainableDesign:

Design that protects people’s health and well-being while also protecting the environment. (We used paints with no VOCs——volatile organic compounds,) to improve indoor air quality, recycled furniture, and materials.

 

 

 

*Silke Leffler: Silke Leffler was born in 1970 in Vorarlberg and grew up in Holland, Austria, Germany, and Africa. After graduation she did a tailor’s apprenticeship and studied textile design. Since 1998 she has worked as an illustrator for stationery and children’s books. She lives with her family near Lake Constance, Switzerland.

My grand daughter loved having her own poem. When her family encouraged her to move to a larger bedroom with bath, she wanted them to move her wall poem and delayed moving. She eventually did and together we designed her new digs.

Blaire wishes Happy 4th of July to all!

 

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A PERIPATETIC SOFA & ITS COAT OF MANY COLORS

Travel along with me and enter the zeitgeist of my peripatetic sofa as we roved through many, many incarnations!

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Once upon a time, I decided to try solo living and move a few blocks away from my large rental house on the beach. It was a great property and my roommates could easily find a replacement.

I assured my new landlord I would never, ever want to vacate the stunning haven he had newly created over a double garage——meaning a “two Volkswagen bug-sized garage” with an alley view.

“All right,” he optimistically said, “let’s give it a try.” I met my husband the next month, after I signed the year lease.

In the meantime, it was my first opportunity to decorate and that desire had been percolating on my back burner ever since I discovered the heartless truth at University that the Interior Design branch was under the Home Economics umbrella with a requirement of Chemistry & Physics. The brutal truth is I clearly knew the “math problems” in chemistry would be my “problems”. New major——History and Education.

The sofa was white wool. Who in their right mind would buy a white wool sofa to hang out at the beach?  Hmmm…

It was not a confrontational sofa, but it demanded most of my living area and when it teetered up the slender handmade rickety wooden staircase, its girth was revealed. Tucked inside was a heavy queen size bed!

I happily looked forward to my parents visiting my new lair and resting on the sofa bed when I heard a throaty whisper, “Thanks, it’s serendipity to have a home. I love your choice of white wool fabric.”

“You talk!” I screamed.

“Just to you! No worries——only a mini-interlude——my new rhythm and pace——, you know, I’m mostly a ‘sleeper!”

(I had high hopes that was our one and only conversation.)

Fortunately my landlord, albeit a little tersely allowed me to break my lease. This was only the tip of the iceberg.

Our sofa, “IVY” was on the move and taking two of us along with her.

My husband, Ivy and Me moved inland to a rental that Ivy disliked. To please her, we bought a house with a view. I was beginning to follow her directions!

Optimism ruled. Perfect!

Almost!

Seven months later, my husband was offered an Assistant Professorship in Long Beach. We moved. Ivy adored our delightful rental in Naples, CA as it nestled on the corner of a picturesque canal where we brought our first precious daughter home.

Never assume, always presume!

Private time. Ivy was an irrepressible eavesdropper and heard the word——Idaho. She whispered, “I’m staying.” We suggested a furniture psychologist. Nope!

Ivy:  “I like you——I ‘really’ like you.”                                                                                                                                                                Us:  “You’re moving.”

All in all, we moved, she moved, but believe it or not——ten months later, Ivy happily agreed to move to Hermosa Beach, CA with us. USC offered my husband a teaching contract with a salary and reduced tuition to complete his PhD.

Ivy sang, “California, Here We Come”  all the way back.

And so our behemoth was moved and moved up, down, in, and out.

We were back on the beach. The moves took a toll. She sat huddled in a dismal gray with baby and child stains artistically interspersed between cocktail party and house guests’ stains.

I came up with a savvy solution. Why not hide the stains with a custom professional dye job in a lush forest green? The “professionals,” said, “Good choice!”

Truth is, bad choice. The green was murky and swampy while each stain took on its own aggressive hue. After a few weeks of passing  with our eyes averted, IVY actually yelled to me, “I have no more self-esteem or dignity. Do something! I need a real face-lift!!”

Out the door and back in came a new pragmatic brown naugahyde Ivy, making realistic beach wear sense.

Two years later we were now a family of four with a treasured second baby girl. Another hither and yon move to a home we would cherish in the San Diego area and an esteemed University position for my husband (where my husband retired as Professor Emiritus). Ivy was smitten with a long term residency.

When we moved her to our family room Ivy looked sartorially ugly and started to whine. I tersely told her in a raised voice, “No! No more cosmetics for you. I’m going back to school. My time——my turn.”

Because sofa Ivy was seriously addicted to us, she knuckled down to mellow and wait her turn. And what a turn! “Oh boy.”

Her naugahyde really did not look like leather in this brightly lit room! What are the odds?

Luckily for her, at least I thought so; I studied Environmental and Interior Design at San Diego State University, began a design career and became a member of ASID. Best of all, I worked with Dusty, my blue-chip upholsterer.

I asked Dusty to  slim down Ivy’s solid two seated cushion back and replace it with six down cushions and build up the sloping arms to back height. A  practical and handsome fabric was next.

My thought was a canvas that could be whisked off and dumped in the washing machine and whipped back in place, but this was early in the game of canvas upholstery weight fabrics in showrooms. Nada!

I would wing it!

AAron Brothers sold artist canvas. But I would need extra yards, because unbleached and unprimed canvas shrinks and ravels. A vortex of long tangled fringe appeared every time it was washed and re-washed before it was ready for Dusty’s magic touch. I persevered. Ivy smiled.

Characteristically, time and the dreaded bargain-basement guise. Granted all the cushions could be bleached and washed but its outer limbs, the sides and backing would not fit in our washing machine.

That intractable sofa never wavered when our teen age daughter approached with a can of white latex paint. Beautiful!

We next painted it blue. Eventually we painted wide white stripes on the blue. Ivy said, it was her favorite incarnation.

We/she kept evolving.

After repainting it white, I added bright quilts. A bit of grime, out came the roller to recreate a pristine back.

Before dinner guests, ”Honey, do you mind painting the sofa again?”

Expressing my final thoughts on our sofa parody, I did not want it to be up for grabs in the crowded world of used furniture at a re-sell-it shop. We called a charity that supplied items to needy families. They knew of a family who needed seating!

Our sofa was hoisted on sweet shoulders and then onto a small worn-out truck as we waved good-by to a lovely family and a beloved sofa.

Ivy and I had a private moment where she whispered, “I had a fantasy life. Thank you for not letting me be adrift in no-man’s-land.”

We closed and locked our gates. Our family would forever have happy memories of a long journey, we shared with a piece of furniture——a sofa——and its comfort——and its coat of many colors.

There is always a choice to reinvent, refresh and renew. In this case it was a piece of furniture——an elixir to create. That stalwart hunk of upholstery was willing to shed personas and become a catalyst for blossoming new looks. We had fun and then, astonishment——a new look!

There is still equilibrium to the universe after all.

I kept my  sofa out of the landfill.

I rest my case!

Did we sit ON our sofa a lot? We did, hence we have barely a single photo OF HER!  Her quilt incarnation.

(This was the best I could find!)

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Sy’s Salient Points:   Ivy, our lionhearted sofa personified a “what-if” lifestyle.                                                                                  She continued to sparkle as we waved good-bye!

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Picture: Partial family room with view of solarium.

                                                                 HAPPY SUMMER VACATION BLAIRE DARLING

Neil, Barbara and I waved good-bye to my husband as he was returning to San Diego with the  University band members and the alumnus. In the afternoon, we headed to the Tokyo antique shops and their array of provocative wares. (More about that a bit later.)

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We left the next morning with our smiling host, the head of the Yamaha Company to visit his Northern Japanese family retreat. He and Neil had completed their business affairs for Neil’s music publishing company.

The train was lightning fast and the heated seats were chili pepper hot. We took to slightly lifting one thigh at a time all the while continuously smiling at our smiling host.

Three hours later we arrived in the northern mountains where our thighs and the rest of our attached bodies were now introduced to incredibly cold weather as we trudged through the abundant and bottomless snow in this frozen wonderland to our host’s retreat.

In 1274 Kublai Khan and his powerful Mogul forces landed in Japan—BUT–they immediately——evacuated.

Extreme weather happens for about six months in northern Japan because, and I am quoting a Japanese author, “the penetrating, bleak, damp, cold winds blow from the Siberian wilderness.” (Small wonder, Khan retreated!) We did not.

We were to spend the night at a traditional Ryokan Country Inn.

According to custom we needed to get rid of our journey’s fatigue by visiting the hotel hot springs. Barbara and I padded to the onsen (hot-spring bath) in our kimonos, with our thin-dinner-size-napkin-towels, adequate for drying one arm.

The ten by twelve foot thermal hot-spring was three feet deep and held scalding water. Neat little stools were placed next to water taps along the wall where we hung our Yucatan and then perched on a stool to completely soap and rinse. The Japanese like their communal bath waters to be at least 110 degrees Fahrenheit. It was a study in stop-motion to see us get into the baths and then watch two shrimp boil. Only Gauguin could have achieved our painterly red glow. And then the door opened—three Japanese men were about to disrobe, soap and join us. Now it was full speed ahead as we gathered robes and 12 inch towels to exit.

We were to dine heya-shoku in Barbara & Neil’s suite where bountiful colored ceramic dishes were exquisitely arranged on a rectangular table. The hosts were on one side, Barbara and Neil had another side and I was placed next to the host’s young son about eighteen inches from an outside wood wall. Once again, half of me was sizzling because we sat on floor cushions with our legs in a deep pit which had a heater radiating hot tidal waves. The top of my body enveloped in steely, pervasive cold——fried frog legs on bottom half. Agile hands flew across our table as chop sticks gustily scooped up dried squid, slightly boiled octopus, pickled chrysanthemum blossoms, dried salmon roe, etc.

 

Hours later we bowed and offered our arigatos.

I climbed an old narrow staircase to the second floor. My room had two outside wood walls. This was a de facto Siberian night!

My sleeping tatami was a futon hovering about a foot off the floor. Quoting again, “Although the exterior of Japanese houses are quite picturesque especially those in the country their construction makes Japanese houses extremely cold in winter.” A perfect quote for my two outside walls.

I carefully took everything out of my suitcase. Soon my tatami was brimming with the contents of the suitcase, underwear and all, plus artistically hovering on top—— (what else?) my cloth raincoat as I slid underneath and promptly fell asleep.

Loud, exasperating sigh! A need to visit the communal bathroom.

I know almost all reading this blog have experienced this sinister, slightly raised ceramic contortionist device. Suffice it to say; it was only one night.

I later discovered our ryokan also had American style guest rooms, but smart and curious Barbara lives with flair, loving real experiences. I was not surprised. She was born and raised among the Third Reich where her family carved and sliced out a life of survival throughout the war.

Formerly, on one occasion Barbara mentioned her childhood. We were sitting in her living room. Her sister-in-law entered and proceeded to empty an ashtray on a table next to Barbara.

Her sister-in-law said: “Where’s your apple core, I’ll throw it away!” Barbara said:” I ate it!”

Sister-in-law: “You ate the stem, core and seeds?”

Barbara: “I always eat the whole apple—I love the different tastes. When I was little we would scour the ground during the war, it didn’t matter if the food was old, spoiled or dirty. We were desperately  hungry.

My mother always said a little dirt on food would not hurt anyone!”

Of course, she would choose an authentic ryocan——for our fantastic journey.

SHOPPING

I was enchanted with Asian art, pottery and wanted tangible keepsakes to define this trip. Of course I strayed from light, packable purchases when my eyes lingered on an enormous blue and white pot of fine-drawn scenes. Next to it was a smaller one of deep blue with equally lovely designs—-actually it was not a lot smaller.

My fate was sealed when the Japanese antiquarian offered to crate the pots and deliver and place them on our plane. I never looked back.

Also purchased were beautiful Imari dishes for our daughters AND all my treasures were certificated as being over one hundred years ensuring my not having to pay duty. I am a gifted shopper.

FLY AWAY & THEN SOME

It seemed simple enough——fly home——alas——who knew China Air would arrive hours late in Los Angeles OR that customs officials would not lift my crate onto a flimsy shopping cart that wobbled OR that the inter-terminal bus service was closed for the night OR that no taxi would pick me and my crate up to drive the teeny-tiny distance from the International terminal to the Main terminal OR that the last possible flight to San Diego had left for the night OR that cell phones had not been developed.

LAX is behemoth. So was my ratchety unstable cart with the crate gingerly balanced amidst the muted ghostly lights in that empty uninhabited airport. The landline phone booths were few and far between. It was a memorable undertaking as I juggled the phone to my ear while holding onto the cart with the other hand.

Barbara and Neil had deplaned in Honolulu to warm up at their condo. Sooo, where would I hunker down for the night?

My options were to push my cart on the 405 freeway to San Diego at 10:30 p.m.——124 miles——wearing my high heeled black leather boots and my raincoat or—— so much for independence, I called my husband. (I forgot to mention my crate when we talked. It was a surprise!)

He called my cousin who lives somewhat close to the airport. This call was the unreal about to become “real.”

“Hello! Wondering if you can help. Sheila’s at LAX…it’s closed for the night……” Her husband gallantly drove to the airport. They housed me and my crate with warmth and care to then re-deposited at the airport the next morning. Think about it, a long trip, abandoned and standing alone at an empty, ghostly LAX at night and a family rescue. How lucky can one cousin get?

When I emerged from customs the next morning in San Diego with a luggage attendant struggling to balance our treasures—-my husband’s look was unforgettable.

Equally unforgettable——the un-crating! We discovered the antiquarian shop merchant cleverly filled the pots in the crates with sand to keep them balanced.

Phew——Not only a trail of broken backs across oceans, but a trash bin of slithery sand. GUILTY!   My coup de grace! I carefully placed my snappy high-heeled black boots and folded rain coat on top of that snappy sand!

And I now dedicate this blog to the empowerment, advancement and the orbit of family and friends!  And the following, meaningful word to my husband, Neil, Barbara and my cousin and her husband,

ARIGATO!

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Sy’s Salient Points:  I love the fact that my antique pots exude a sense of history and sophistication for me. If I had placed the large pot by itself, it would be a very pretty pot, but by jaxapositioning it with more blue and white pots, a lovely ordinary transforms into the extraordinary. An eye-catching display!

 

P.S. Once again, Thank you for sharing your synergy to elevate my blog:

Betty Barnacut – Editor

Sue Berman & Caroline Meade – Artful Art

Matt Karl – Outstanding Blog Webmaster & Creator

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Congratulations on Your First Theatre Performance
and
Graduating High School, My Darling Blaire!

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Early 1980’s:

Our good friends, Barbara, her husband, Neil, and I were traveling to Tokyo on a new cheap ECONOMY international airline, “China Air.” Granted we weren’t flying in a milk can and sitting on folding chairs, but it was close.

Included on our “milk bottle” twelve hour flight was a formidable twelve hour propaganda movie featuring the Chinese Red Army in Chinese playing on a continuous loop.

Enlivened, we rushed out to flee the Red Army to be greeted by an avalanche of taxies, polite drivers wearing white gloves, nodding, smiling, bowing and profusely repeating “arigato ” (thank you).

My husband was traveling separately with university marching band students and San Diego State University football fans/alumni to cheer the University’s winning football team for a presentation game against the Air Force Academy team. The Japanese were avid football and band music fans.

It seemed preposterous to travel to Tokyo for a football game. But, when the university announced that the Football Gods had chosen San Diego State’s team–PLUS—the University was taking virtually everyone who had ever stepped onto State’s grass, how exciting…except they forgot me, the wife——how unforgivable!

Neil’s music publishing company had extensive business dealings with the Yamaha Corporation and the head of Yamaha had invited them to visit his northern Japanese retreat spurring them on to attending the game and a Sony music concert. The head of Yamaha also awarded the visit to me——we were a trio.

ENERGETIC & VIBRANT TOYKO

Automatic Japanese taxi doors made it imperative to stand totally away from the doors because after our driver cleverly unloaded the suitcases plus three oversized metal cases jam-packed with music scores, it was our turn to get in. He raced around to his own door, got in, hit a lever and the back doors flung open with the speed of a Nasa rocket.  Whew! Thank goodness Neil said, “Stand back!” (I could have ended up on the moon visiting Neil Armstrong’s flag.)

[Flashback] Previously, I hustled right out to Nordstrom’s junior department and acquired what I thought was a snappy travel outfit. Black cloth raincoat with a hood and a zip-out lining highlighted with black high-heeled boots. Upon donning the hood I resembled Ichabod Crane. In contrast, Barbara wore a knee-length chinchilla fur—-because our trip would be over Thanksgiving and early December.

(Hint—-DO NOT WEAR a cloth raincoat with a pathetic zip-out lining in arctic Japanese weather. The snappy high-heeled boots were also not a piece of cake!)

My husband was to be guest conductor for the Sony Band Concert. The Japanese love music from their stylized gagaku,

which is ancient court music to an absolute affinity for every conceivable form of Western music. Many of the large companies have huge band programs made up of their employees with a full time paid conductor. Their concerts last three or four hours and are standing room only. Bento box lunches consisted of rice, pickles, grilled fish or meat with vegetables.

The o-bento are multi-layered lacquer lunch boxes.

Not only do the Japanese people bring their lunch, eat during the program, they also bring their amazingly young well behaved children. After 3 1/2 hours I was a lot more restless than the children.  The 130 Sony band members wore brilliant red jackets that contrasted into a coordinated panorama with their jet black hair—nary a blond, brunette, or redhead.

My husband was a masterful and gifted conductor; audience members were captivated listeners—no whispering, no coughing, no bathroom breaks!

Bouquets and various Sony treasures were given to my husband who then presented his thanks in Japanese. A few weeks after returning home we received a beautifully written copy of his speech in Kanji which we had framed and displayed in our home. Japanese friends delightedly smiled politely when they visited and viewed it. We had artfully hung it upside down.

Can you tell me which way is correct?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I thought so!

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Can a mob of people be controlled? Absolutely, particularly if in Tokyo. Their trains are easy, efficient, and visitor friendly. We always seemed to be in the middle of hundreds of men wearing their uniforms of black overcoats, suits, starched white shirts and ties—a moving op-art portrait. When the train arrives at a stop——frenzy——doors fly open as masses push out. Then professional pushers ram new passengers inside.

The automatic electronic doors bang shut—— no-wiggle room.

Clearly this was a country dedicated to sexism. Men were seated first on trains, they exited elevators first and when dining at hotels or restaurants manned the tables.

At a formal dinner reception to honor an American music conductor who moved to Japan, there were over one hundred men and about twelve of the weaker sex. We watched an almost intolerably monotonous in-depth slide show of his life, listened to lengthy speeches and then as Barbara and I watched from the side, the male honoree and dignitaries filled their dinner plates, then the male guests descended to the laden food buffet, (virtually everyone in the banquet room,) and lastly we on the distaff side dined.

It’s a dynamic city unmatched for bustling activity. The department stores were wonderlands of merchandise where even inexpensive purchases were clever wrapped. At night, lavish neon lights competed in Olympian pageantry to create a protective veil against darkness.

We stayed in the skyscraper Shinjuku district in a glitzy hotel. But, emotionally we were deeply missing our daughters particularly for Thanksgiving dinner. Not them! We left money with a dear friend who would stay with them. They unabashedly and merrily waved good-bye and raced out to buy items that were not or never ever in abundance in our home. Boxes of sugar cereal, Count Dracula’s chocolate puffs was the top choice. My propensity for serving thick hunks of oatmeal now faced a giant hurdle upon return.

After returning from a favorite meal, (Shabu, Shabu), we heard a knock on our door. A teeny, tiny grey haired Japanese woman waved a paper in our face—-

“Massagee, massagee!”

Not us: we said.

“Massagee, massagee,–paid,” and resolutely moved into our room.

My husband said, “You”:

Me: “No, you”,

He: “No, YOU—–

She apparently trained Ninja warriors on how to insidiously commit pain. Deep down I know my husband was the donor. He insisted the “treat” was from Neil and Barbara.

My husband was committed to return back to San Diego with the Aztec football contingent leaving me abandoned and forced to travel solo with my dear friends.  We were then on our way to the home of the Yamaha business executive.  [ To be continued…]

And – to my dear husband for abandoning me in my cloth raincoat and black leather high-heeled boots,

ARIGATO!

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Sy’s Salient Points:

The real Ichabod Crane came from a distinguished Military Family, was a Colonel in the Marine Corps. His great-nephew Stephen Crane penned The Red Badge of Courage in 1895, a piece of American literature more befitting the Crane family name than Irving’s whimsical Halloween story.

The thick, velvet-like fur of the rodent  Chinchilla has the densest fur of all mammals.

DARLING BLAIRE, HAPPY FIRST DAY OF SPRING & SINGING & DANCING IN YOUR THEATRE DEBUT!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET, HANDSOME, PRECIOUS, BRILLIANT, EVERETT!

I’d like you to imagine the lobby of the Dorchester Hotel in London after a World War II air raid.  A beautiful woman in her late fifties with a magnolia complexion, black eyes and a neat, well-proportioned figure meets her ex-husband.  She was about to sail to America to seek shelter. In an effort to enlist his attention and sympathy she said,  “Oh Willie, I’m so afraid my ship will be torpedoed.” Willie, who was afflicted with a severe stammer, but true to his form, said,  “I have only one piece of advice to offer you. Keep your mouth open, and sw-sw-swallow and you will drown the s-s-sooner.”

MEET WILLIE!

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It was the dawn of the modern era and a new profession would unfold. Hovering off-stage, stood the first decorators. They were ready to tempt fate by offering their ideas for some cold, hard cash. And Gwendolyn Maud Syrie Bernardo Wellcome Maugham, the Mrs. William Somerset Maugham,* was one of them.

MEET SYRIE!

Syrie’s was an improbable childhood for someone who in her early thirties would live in expensive and fashionable Regent’s Park and be a member of the dazzling Mayfair smart set. That child, was far removed from the glamorous divorcee she would become.

The Bernardo family devoted their entire Sundays to reading the Bible. Smoking and drinking were    never permitted and Syrie’s free time was occupied with playing the organ at her father’s London fund raisers. But at twenty-two, “Queenie,” as her family had called her, had grown into a bright, strikingly beautiful girl with jet black hair, brown eyes, ivory skin and an exquisite figure. Sent to journey on the Nile because of a broken heart, Syrie joined a group of English tourists where in the legendary city of Khartoum she met Henry Wellcome.

An American at birth, Henry had traveled to London to start a pharmaceutical company specializing in tropical diseases. He was in Khartoum to open a research institute. Henry was forty-seven, shy and reserved with few friends. He became so enamored with Syrie that he pursued Syrie to the point of taking lodgings in the Bernardo home.

                                                                                                                                                                                        It was not a successful marriage although they had wealth and traveled extensively. Henry was a jealous husband and wanted his home organized as a business. Syrie received a generous settlement of 2,400 pounds ($50,000.00) a year, a vast sum in 1909. Before Henry died, he had been Knighted by the Queen.**

When Syrie first entered business as a decorator her focus was on selling painted and pickled furniture. She apprenticed herself to Thornton-Smith, Antique Dealers of the prestigious Fortnum and Mason store to learn about the restoration of antique furniture. She traded her time by working without pay in their showroom, Syrie handled and pacified difficult clients. In return she spent mornings in the workshops watching painters mixing colors and applying them.

CENTER STAGE!

In 1926, it was time for Syrie to move to center stage with a visually stimulating all-white room created by exquisitely mixing different combinations of white and adding a multitude of shade and texture variations.*  The rooms were impressive, gutsy and intelligent. Decorative arts historian, Martin Battersby, said, “Syrie’s all-white room is beyond doubt one of the two or three most famous and influential schemes of decoration of the century…it has been imitated for over fifty years.”

 

Her home at 213 King’s Road was her permanent residence where she entertained and lived. It was not the first of its kind, but the publicity it received was cause for celebration, particularly for Syrie. The low coffee table is in the style of Jean-Michel Frank as is the white lacquer folding screen which partially hides the dark piano. Minimal wall decorations consisted of a white plaster still life on the over-mantel with mirrors and wall sconces in white plaster rococo frames.  Three Louis XV chairs were painted white and placed behind the long low sofa covered in beige satin. The carpet in two shades of cream was designed to Syrie’s specifications. Her favorite designs used variations of a Chinese Chippendale theme, usually in cut and uncut pile.

At night the changes were notable when the white walls caught and held soft candlelight to cast romantic shadows on glistening surfaces of satin, chrome, mirror, silver, rock crystal and lacquer.                                                                                                                                                                                       (The mirrored screen with its reflecting images was described by one visitor as being somewhat “hazardous”.  It seems the glue holding the thin strips of mirror in place melted when the room became too warm. Pieces of glass would fall off without warning!)

The dining room had walls of stripped and highly waxed pine paneling where rock crystal sconces created dappled light. There were white-painted chairs around the table which was covered to the floor with an ivory lace tablecloth. Her knives and forks had white porcelain handles and in her centerpieces of white flowers, she sometimes hid small lights to shine flatteringly on the faces of her guests.  Syrie learned this from the theater.

Those rooms have been described as modern, romantic and sophisticated; even as a stage upon which her guests would enter to become the stars.

Syrie was excellent copy for magazine editors.  Her table settings as well as her rooms were always on display, and for sale. Entertainment was essential to her life and to her career. Her cooks were reputed to be among the best in London and at one of her dinner parties, Syrie is said to have entered with her hair powdered white, to match her decor!

Enormous publicity from the current fashion magazines created an international name for Syrie.  The famous, the noteworthy, and the rich beckoned. She was ready.

An example of Syrie’s reigning and continuing popularity was a home decorated in the 1930’s that featured white  upholstery, draperies, venetian blinds, wood tables, and an off-white carpet. The walls were covered in a stretched Swedish white linen embellished with an overall scroll pattern in two shades of green. This 1930 room was copied for several decades. Twenty-seven years later, here is an example of a 1957 rendition done by Michael Taylor, the California designer who revived and reinterpreted other Syrie Maugham room schemes.

1957 Rendition

While spending a weekend in the country, Syrie discovered The Pavillion on a Rothschild estate. It was a vast red-brick edifice variously described as “sheer Walt Disney ugliness.”

  

Syrie saw it one day and the following day, it was hers. One friend commented, “she converted it into a dream”. In 1934, Syrie abandoned the all-white look and used color overtly.

Beside her flair for using dynamic colors, she is credited with being the first to use the color “coral,” in decorating.

Syrie was traversing back and forth across the United States. She had her permanent shops in New York and Chicago and then opened temporary shops in Los Angeles, CA and Palm Beach, FL.  This was still at the height of the all-white craze where the Paris collections showed white beachwear, white daytime and evening wear. Humorists had a field day with comments such as one regarding a trip to Calcutta with Lady Mendle: “Syrie Maugham has gone to paint the Black Hole of Calcutta white”.  But, her clients wanted white rooms. (White worked because paints were developed with new bases that yellowed less rapidly and bleach whitened more effectively and with less damage to fabrics).

Change happened back in 1911 while Syrie was learning the art of refinishing and painting furniture. At a dinner/theater party, she met one of London’s best-known playwrights, William Somerset Maugham, who had four plays running simultaneously in the West End. Maugham had recently been rejected by an actress and was deeply hurt and humiliated. Syrie, who was pretty, popular, and socially acceptable restored an inordinate amount of confidence in him. They began an affair that was compatible until the outbreak of World War I when Willie volunteered to be an interpreter in France. Willie was too old (40), and too short (5’6″), to enlist and ended up driving an ambulance. Willie and Syrie were hoping to have a baby, but Syrie had still not filed for divorce from Henry Wellcome. While she filed for divorce, Willie was in France driving an ambulance, and there in France, Willie met the love of his life:

.                                                        Gerald Haxton: Willie’s Partner of 30 Years

Paul Fussel, who wrote The Great War and Modern Memory, said, “War was a situation in which two illegal activities were actually sanctioned…men killing men and men loving men”. Gerald became his secretary-companion and Willie profited from Gerald’s personality, because Willie was reserved. Willie was as an unhappy youth, shy and lonely. In middle age, he was despondent because of the unresolved social conflicts of his life and he spent his old age filled with guilts. His nephew, Robin Maugham wrote this quote from Somerset, “There’s no point in trying to change your essential nature. One hasn’t a hope. I tried to persuade myself that I was three-quarters normal and that only a quarter of me was queer…whereas really it was the other way round.” But Willie persevered to keep up his heterosexual pretense in public to the end of his life.  Syrie could help fulfill that role. They were a content couple and he was agreeable until he met Gerald. Unfortunately, Gerald was alcoholic, dishonest, unfaithful, and violent. In the future, the partnership of Willie and Gerald was often filled with episodes of upheaval, with each one trying to make the other one suffer.

At the same time of Somerset’s meeting with Gerald, Syrie became pregnant. Because Syrie’s divorce was still not final, they went to Rome where Syrie gave birth to a daughter whom they christened Liza after the heroine of Maugham’s first successful novel. This also did not please Willie. He had hoped for a son.

Two years later, Willie married Syrie. He had been off on six-month-long jaunts with Gerald and by this time, he did not want to marry, but felt responsibility for Liza. But Willie bore Syrie a grudge until the end of his life. He felt it was her fault that he had to act honorably and marry. In return, Syrie truly was in love with Willie, “she loved him with a whole-hearted devotion that never died,” but the relationship became estranged with Gerald’s cruel comments about her also.

Syrie adored Liza and took her everywhere she traveled. Willie, was not so-good as a dad. In typical self-justification of himself, Willie wrote, “I have a notion that children are all the better for not being burdened with too much parental love.”

A profound bitterness prevented Maugham from realistically adjusting to the break-up of his marriage. His insecurity regarding his public image was overwhelming. He went so far as to pen an unkind portrait of Syrie, full of scandalous allegations. He made up many of his declarations and both his English publisher, Heinemann and his American publisher, Doubleday refused to publish his book.

For the most part, except for anger of Haxton, Syrie never returned Maugham’s vindictiveness. She took pride in his achievements, and never spoke badly of him.

The author, Beverly Nichols wrote his book, “A Case of Human Bondage”opposing and exposing  Maugham for “unjustifiably attacking” Syrie with this foreword quote, “This book is not an attack upon a dead man: rather it is the refutation of libel upon a dead woman.”

Examples of some famous Syrie Maugham Decorative Rooms:

White Satin Drapes with scarlet trim. Chairs, upholstered in flame-colored velvet.

The Pavillion: “Georgian pink” walls, upholstery in apple green & dull red.

White Dining Room: Palm Beach, Florida 1932

White Rococco Fireplace with Nymphenberg Horse Statuettes on Brackets

Syrie died in 1955 at the age of seventy-five. Liza took care of Syrie when she became bed-ridden. At her death, close friends launched a fund to purchase a sculpture for the Victoria and Albert Museum in Syrie’s name. They bought a marble bust of Catherine the Great, by the Russian sculptor, Shubin. It is said, the elegant bust “bears an uncanny resemblance to the lady” they were honoring. 

                                                                                                                                                                          Richard B. Fischer,*** closed his biography of Syrie by saying, “Untutored, autocratic and self-assertive though she was, Syrie Maugham brought a breath of freshness and beauty into her world.”    Ours also!

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Sy’s Salient Points: One of Syrie’s romantic rooms was dominated by huge mirrors, strategically placed so the swans on the lake outside were constantly reflected in the mirrors inside. Her clients were the Prince of Wales and his future bride, Mrs. Wallis Warfield Simpson. 

*Sheila Yates lecture/slide presentation: Syrie Maugham ASID National Yearly conference——Baltimore, MD.

**In 1880, Wellcome established a pharmaceutical company, Burroughs Wellcome & Company, with his colleague Silas Mainville Burroughs. Burroughs and Wellcome introduced direct marketing to doctors, giving them free samples. In 1924, Wellcome consolidated all his commercial and non-commercial activities in one holding company, The Wellcome Foundation Ltd. The Wellcome Trust is now one of the world’s largest private biomedical charities.

***R. Fischer: Syrie Maugham Biography 1978

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, DARLING BLAIRE