My Failed Attempts at Berry Picking

On Sunday, Jamie, Melissa and I took a circuitous drive to Sauvie Island. We intended to go berry picking. I intended to make blackberry jam. In fact, with these intentions in mind, I promised many, many friends a jar of blackberry jam.

Disappointment. Bad driving. Laziness. All rolled into one. No blackberries or berry picking. No blackberry jam. I did, however, grab freshly harvested veggies and fruit at a fruit stand.

And I had an amazing rootbeer float. Success?

If we had gone berry picking, I imagine it would something like this:

Girlhula via Flickr

Sue and Subtitles

Each February in Portland is met with flocks of anticipation-filled people waiting in the cold, usually entrenched in a book/periodical/other ostensibly high-brow reading material, lined up outside the old Portland Broadway Theatre, Arlene Schnitzer Hall or Portland Art Museum. The Portland International Film Festival is in town!

This year, I'm going with friend and foreign film aficionado Sue who, every year, maps out in meticulous fashion which films will and will likely not be available stateside. (By the way, Sue is the embodiment of mother-hen chic. Though not entirely an inaccurate caricature of her, I always imagine Sue with baguette in hand, crunch crunch, shawl draped dramatically around her shoulders. Maybe she's always cold? But I think in her previous life she was a French woman. ha.)

There are so many films from which to choose, and even random jaunts to the theatre at this time produce entertaining finds. My current list of go-sees:

French film "Shall We Kiss?"

I cannot resist any film with the promise of cheeky French humor.

Austrian film "Revanche"

Iranian film "Tehran Has No More Pomegranates"

source of all pictures: Portland International Film Fest

Frolic Time

source: Pike/Pine

I'm channeling Pike/Pine style with this picture. We will be out for a few days to frolic on the streets of our northern neighbor, the bustling city of Seattle. See you Monday!

Weekend Wrapup

My weekend in Los Angeles was too short. It was 80+ degrees this weekend, and the sun shone unapologetically. I sipped one of my favorite chai teas, found a new favorite vegetarian restaurant, and spent some time with my two sisters and a dear friend. And, upon my return from Los Angeles, I realized that Fall--sometimes, it feels like Winter--appeared in Portland, coating the ground in fallen yellow leaves.

Below, some images from my weekend. Actually, most of the images are pictures of my sister, Jennifer, in her two favorite IRO dresses. I threw in a shot of Jaclyn in a thrift shop blouse from years past (that I should have stolen from her) because, well, I wanted to.

Sorry for the blurry shots.

(Note the lack of tights in mid-October. Oh, sunshine.)

Jennifer likes floaty mini IRO dresses, like so:

Jack likes to flaunt thrift shop treasures in front of me, like so:

Hood River, Ore. Via Walla Walla, Wa.

Clear blue skies ahead.



Me, enjoying the last few days of summer and summer dresses sans tights.



He, enjoying the last few days of summer and laying in the sun sans sweater.




A wine tasting room in Walla Walla, Washington




Going home.


We drove, drove, drove for hours, tracing the path of the Columbia River, a clear stretch of highway ahead, crossing goldenrod-colored fields, under the sun, shining, shining.

Did everyone have a nice Labor Day?

A Mid-Summer Hike

Sitting at the confluence of the Willamette and Columbia rivers, Portland is a veritable hiker's dream. It is green, lush (my friend, Alex, makes fun of my use of that word), and solely within the confines of the city, a hiker can find many trails with which to distract himself/herself.

If, however, you tire of city hikes (as we did this weekend), you can drive 20 miles east to the scenic Columbia Gorge, which alone boasts of hundreds of magnificent day hikes. After you've completed the requisite visit to Multnomah Falls, do yourself a favor and try some of the more obscure trails.

This is our first hike this summer. Shame on us! We've been cooped up a bit and been fairly satisfied with traipsing around the city and trying new restaurants (more on that later).

A few pictures from the Wahclella Falls Trail, which is short, easy, and dog/family friendly:

Cathedral Park Jazz Festival

This is one of my favorite events in the summer. More low key than the Waterfront Blues Festival and in the very cool--that's gentrification speak for slightly "seedier"--St. John neighborhood, the Cathedral Park Jazz Festival is a reminder that summer is the perfect opportunity to lounge lazily in the grass, with ice cream cone in hand and sunshine lingering gingerly over your limbs.

We did exactly that this Sunday, among a small group of people who swayed quietly and in unison to the sweet cacaphony of the trumpet.

The Devotte Shirleys were a welcome companion that day.

Brightly-colored umbrellas dotted the horizon.

One of the best things about going to St. John is crossing the St. John Bridge, one of my favorite bridges in Portland.

Sights from the Farmers Market

In Portland, there are a few things that mark the spring/summer months. One of those things is Pedalpalooza and the naked bike ride, to which we were treated with a rather generous helping last weekend, while enjoying our desayuno cubano. That is, however, a story for another day.

Another of these markers is the proliferation of farmers markets throughout the city and suburban sprawl. For instance, Wednesdays in downtown Portland-- where I spend the majority of my days--are typically marked by bustling crowds of people armed with the requisite bouquet of fresh flowers and/or bag(s) of organic vegetables and fruit.

Beaverton, home to SOTTO, boasts of a rather large farmers market, one that we, unfortunately, haven't visited in a while. By the time the warmer months have returned, I am surprised by how much I enjoy farmers markets; I don't know how we ever do without them. PLUS, they are a great way to support local growers, while getting cheap, fresh veggies and fruit. If you can, go. NOW.

I love perusing the local vegetable offerings and, ummm, pastries.

A drawback of the Beaverton market, unlike the downtown Portland market, is the prohibition on pets in the market area. PROBLEM SOLVED: He played in the appurtenant park and terrorized little kids.


Then, we sat and enjoyed vegetarian samosas with chutney and a great cup of chai (REAL chai, mind you) ... and examined our purchases from the day, which I hope to whip up into a spring risotto.

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!

Happy Mother's Day

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

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.

The Weekend was a Delightful Blur

After a rather chaotic Friday morning and afternoon, I somehow made it onto the plane and landed, exhausted and groggy, in Los Angeles. And, only after an hour or so of sitting through lovely 405 traffic, I met up with my better half (and the resident male at SOTTO).

The weekend was a huge blur, as are some of my pictures. WE: caught up with family and dear old friends; scrutinzed food arrangements, but somehow only took a few bites; obsessed over a lederhosen-clad Scott selling girl scout cookies (don't ask); drooled over my best friend's yellow vintage lace dress, which I will happily borrow (thank you); listened to my sister's stories about attending a mustache party and decided that handlebar mustaches are, hands down, the best; poked and prodded my new nephew, who unbelievably slept through my incessant cooing; danced; ate too much cake; were given many bracelets and even more blessings; laughed ... a lot; and watched my sisters try on shoes, like so, which they subsequently purchased, i.e., took.

My sister in her Devotte Shirley, which she paired with one of her many maxi-dresses.

Blurry side shot of Devotte Shirley

Then, we boarded a plane and headed back home to Portland. And upon arrival, WE: slept, slept; sipped steaming cups of cardamom-and-ginger-infused chai tea; slept again; dodged a hail storm unsuccessfully; picked up my new issue of Jille (which had many a drool-worthy, fringe-heavy item); and subsequently conspired to take another trip to Japan.

It was hailing/raining in Portland today.

He was a very tired jetsetter.

Absenteeism and Other Things

I have been the absentee blogger this past week, primarily due to the fact that this week has been, if nothing else, a whirlwind of life. It started with quite possibly the most gorgeous weekend yet (this year, anyway) in the Portland-Beaverton sprawl. Finally, Portland was showing off in all its spring glory: flora and fauna exquisitely in bloom, the long summer days slowly, but certainly, taking over. (In the summer, it doesn't get dark here until about 9pm.) I'm convinced Portland/Oregon is one of the most beautiful places in which one could spend their summers. I can't wait to languish in the sun, lazy and content. It was also a weekend of star and Toulouse-Lautrec/Forain/Degas-gazing. Simply divine.

Oh, and I scored a few great vintage finds this weekend. That's always a plus.

While We're Away

This is the resident male of SOTTO, writing to let you know that we will be away and in the windy city for a few days.

All orders placed after Wednesday, April 2 won't be shipped out until Monday, April 7. We apologize for the inconvenience and to make it up to you, we're offering 15% all orders from pretty much now until we get back on Sunday with code: chicago.

La Pâtisserie

Satiated with sunshine.
We adore sleepy Sundays.

It rained today, however.

Imagine that.

Lovely, Lazy Days

Don't worry. We haven't forgotten about you. Waiting for spring shipment has left us with some extra time on our hands. Since one can never take extra time for granted (and because time and opportunity rarely so conspire), we took a well-deserved detour and headed north for the weekend.

Steeped in sunshine and self-reflection, we visited our usual haunts and trolled around the Ballard and Fremont neighborhoods of Seattle. Accustomed to welcoming deviations of any sort when they present themselves, we found ourselves in the middle of an impromptu walk/hike in the dogpark. It was good for the soul. Even the little monster seemed pleased with himself.