Bandon-by-the-Sea, Ore.

Bandon or Bandon-by-the-Sea is a sleepy fishing town off the coast of Oregon that sits on the mouth of the Coquille River, about 5 hours southwest of Portland. Every year, thousands of exec-types pour into the town to avail themselves of what I have been informed are the "best damn golf courses in the country." (In fact, when I was in Chicago last month, anytime I mentioned I lived in Oregon, the first thing people asked me was if I golfed in Bandon. Ummm. No.)

The first and last time we were in Bandon was about 6 years ago and by pure accident. We came across it as we returned from a roadtrip from southern California to Vancouver, British Columbia--the trip that galvanized our plans to move out of southern California and into the Pacific Northwest.

We had been driving south all day on I-5, determined to make it into San Francisco to meet Vila. We took one turn off the highway south of Eugene and found ourselves cast into the dark of night on a sinuous moutain road to where we knew not. I recall being in a half conscious daze, but still cognizant (and slightly terrified) of the fact that this single road was completely devoid of light and certainty. After driving for about an hour and a half and passing small towns on the way, we found ourselves about as west as we could go and in a town called Bandon. We stopped at the first little lodge that showed a vacancy and ended our journey for the day.

When we awoke in the morning, we gazed out of our window at the harbor below and chuckled at our luck. What a charming town. Alas, San Francisco (and home) beckoned, and, after a hurried breakfast in a local cafe, we went on our merry way. South. To reality.

He loves Bandon, too. He turned 13 this week!

Luggage

source: official site for The Darjeeling Limited

Wes Anderson films always leave me feeling wistful. I can't explain it, and notwithstanding a few friends' disdain for anything that is the product of Sophia Coppola or Wes Anderson, I shamelessly tell you now that I could watch and rewatch those films happily.

I finally watched The Darjeeling Limited. Actually, I watched it about 2 months ago, on a rainy Oregon day, with a nice cup of coffee, a handful of chocolate bon-bons, and a healthy appetite for some aesthetic indulgence. Oh, and a warm blanket. It was a perfect afternoon.

Naturally, I enjoyed it. As it just so happens, India is one of the top 5 places to visit on my immediate travel list, so my wanderlust responded immediately to the film's images. (I would have visited India last August, but a friend suggested that I not go in what is quite possibly the hottest month of the year. I obliged.)

Even moreso, I enjoyed the cameo of the dead father's monogram, initialed luggage. I wasn't so much impressed that they were specially-made Marc Jacobs for Vuitton--that is more Vila's luxurious taste than mine (I know you're reading this). I was, however, overwhelmingly taken by the idea of worn-in luggage, personalized, so perfectly weathered and particularly suited to one's identity.

Call me sentimental if you must.

This reminded me instantly of a vintage briefcase/attaché that my sister purchased for me last year in celebration of graduation. Weathered? Yes, perfectly, in a cognac-colored hue, rich and warm. The handles showed subtle signs of age, but they remained in tact and strong. Upon receipt, I unhooked the brass clasp and curiously peered inside, wondering what papers and important documents it once housed, what possible secrets it kept safe. I imagine the weight of those items must have been heavy. Yes, very important.

Alas, the briefcase presently sits in the trunk of my car. But someday, I promise you, I'll put it to good use ... maybe perhaps even etch an initial or two.

Coming across this picture also didn't help:

source: Facehunter

New Arrivals: Eskell

New Eskell Spring 2008 items! We'll post a few more in the shop this week.

Happy Mother's Day

Cinnamon-flavored yogurt with apple compote and ginger granola. Yum.

Vicarious Wanderings and the Exploits of Expat Friends

My friend, Jerry, paid us a visit last night from Michigan. It was his last night in the United States before he embarked on a highly enviable expat lifestyle. A group of friends bid him farewell over dinner and soaked up the warm air, the crisp evening breeze. The weather in Portland has been excessively capricious this season. Take it when you can get it.

During the course of the evening, he also discovered that he was tragically allergic to my pets.

Good night.

Of the Navy Persuasion

As requested, here are more pictures of the Church & State blouse: Peter Pan collar, cascading scalloped ruffles--pretty darn adorable. I'll post these up on the shop.
As you can see below, the belt is removable, and this blouse is very versatile. This seems more prim and proper and, I think, works even for a more conservative office.

Here, I paired it with my current-favorite vintage necklace and (surprise, surprise) my Rachel Comey skinny belt.

Also, we have one more pair of the Mociun high-waisted shorts in navy, size small.

Splendor in the Grass

Technicolor skies are always a good excuse for a picnic in Laurelhurst Park. Apparently, we weren't the only ones with that bright idea. While I was too slow to snap shots of Portland bikers, as initially intended, I'm still satisfied with the day.

It doesn't look so technicolor in the picture, but--trust me--it was.

How perfectly idyllic: Perched underneath a tree, with a book, barefoot.

We even stumbled upon a traditional May Day celebration, complete with the dancing of the maypole by playing children, many of whom wore these really great wreaths. I was so tempted to ask for one.

On our way home.

Bicycle Love From Afar

It is true: I have a soft spot in my heart for bikes, bicyclers, and even more so, stylishly-garbed bicyclers of the European (and I'm guessing Asian, as well) countries. As a young twentysomething on her first backpacking trip in Europe (again, remember that cliches can be wonderful), I remember being completely floored by the ladies of Amsterdam, who, in European garb, including five-inch stilettos, rode around the cobblestone streets on their bicycles, lovely, floating creatures, somehow maneuvering around the certain mess I would create, had I been in their shoes (literally).

I, of course, do not possess that much coordination. And (come on!) a southern California upbringing, i.e., cars, cars, and more cars, does not lend itself to cultivating an appreciation for bikes, at least not where I grew up. I was mesmerized! To sum it up, it was a new aesthetic image for me, one that remains emblazoned in the landscape of my memory.

Fast forward, if you will, about 8 years: Living in Portland/Beaverton only compounds this fascination of bicycling. If you don't already know, Portland is huge on bikes. The resident male here is equally obsessed. (I also bought him a new commuter bike--cleverly labeled the "9.2.5"--for Christmas.) Meanwhile, I remain, and perhaps will always be, physically bike-averse. I fall. I stumble. It isn't pretty. I'm sure broken bones and crying will follow. (My friend, the amazing Steph, who started a biking non-profit, even offered to teach me and bundle me in pillows so as to cushion my fall. I am hopeless, however.)

OK, back to why I'm writing this rambling post: I came across the Sartorialist's bicycle posts a while back and fell in love. Look how darling and inspiring:

The first picture is of an American (yay!) in Brooklyn. Of course, I need to move to Brooklyn. Really.

Check out her European counterpart and those cobblestone streets. Very cute floral mini, flats. All darling. And CUTE bike.

Another chic girl in NYC, but in winter garb. Cute. Bikes with baskets are especially lovely. A more coordinated me would carry flowers and vegetables from the farmers market in that basket. Too bad a more coordinated me does not exist in real life.

This is my favorite picture. I took a few of these types of pictures when I was last in Lucca, about 5 years ago. There were many bikes in Lucca, too.

The picture below, I believe, speaks for itself. Fabulous.


Source: All pictures courtesy of the Sartorialist

This may be too ambitious a task for me today, as I am also re-arranging furniture, cleaning out my closet, writing a few other things, but I may just post a few pictures of our Portland biking counterparts. Stay tuned.

Mociun Summers

We pretty much adore everything and anything that Caitlin Mociun creates. Imagine our delight then, when, after much drooling--but reluctant waiting--over fall 2008 (SO great!), we received a little email from Ms. Mociun about her edited summer line. Summer line!

Doesn't looking at this picture (or, I suppose the picture below, as well) just make you happy, as if nothing but warm, sunshine-filled days could possibly follow? Well, duh.

We picked up this simple (but not so simple) tank in the fabulous doily print. (By the way, as with all of our posts, you can click on the picture to enlarge.) As usual, sizes are limited, and first come, first serve. Otherwise put, don't dawdle.