Still...

Mary Magdalene's affects, courtesy of Caravaggio

In the same way that unpeopled environments are haunting in a certain undefinable way, painted possessions help us identify something deeper, more tangible in our tableaux of choice. The pearls and chains above, torn from Mary's throat in a fit of penitence, are indicative of her mental state; no woman in a normal state would dare destroy jewelry like that (unless she's one of Cinderella's stepsisters and is a tad anxious about meeting the prince...)

That's a good look on you, ladies!

In a brilliant update of the vanitas theme, Justine Reyes photographed a number of poetically gorgeous, dramatically lit scenes of half-eaten bananas alongside an open coin purse, pomegranates split open aside ceramic birds, and sugar plums delicately placed in a crystal goblet next to stacked supermarket fruit containers. Humans are excluded from these images, but their fingerprints are all over the actions represented in these photographs.

Clockwise from top left: Still Life with Fish and Orange Slices; Still Life with Sugar Plums and Containers; Still Life with Banana, Purse and Change; Still Life with Still Life Book and Figs. All © 2009 by Justine Reyes.

There's nothing especially appealing, however, about a pile of rotting fruit and vegetables in your own kitchen, and I'll take resin-cast or gold-plated bones over a real fish spine stinking up the kitchen sink any day.

Erica Weiner Jewelry Hummingbird Skull Necklace (left) and Noir Jewelry Dinosaur Bones Cuff (right). And how about those paper moons?

Enter Penkridge Ceramics; they describe their work as "still-life studies in clay," and what work it is. Stunningly beautiful trompe l'oeil pieces of fruit - from figs to artichokes, mushrooms to horse chestnuts - this is the stuff of dreams. My dream kitchen, at least. They're irreverent enough to elicit a chuckle, but beautiful enough to warrant a place of honor in the chicest home.

Porcelain Horse Chestnut Sculpture

Jelly Belly and Welly Time

Like any self-respecting bibliophile, I don't wait until an auspicious occasion to indulge in my obsession. My most recent spate of buying sprees has yielded some gems: a Maurice Sendak-illustrated version of The Nutcracker, for starters. The lovely people at Pantheon Books - they have the most gorgeous new suite of Kafka editions (how Don Draper perfect is that?!) - also sent me a huge package of reading materials as part of their Holiday Sweepstakes. I'm looking forward to a Sunday filled with lavender hot chocolate, Habibi, and some doggie snuggles.

Maybe most tantalizingly, I treated myself to two (of a series of twenty; you know what my wish list looks like) books from the Penguin Great Food series, with covers designed by the most fabulous Coralie Bickford-Smith.

Somebody over there is a marketing genius. A full rainbow? Sold

These guys. They're the antithesis of the ebook: eminently collectible (literally, they're like Pringles, and I dare you to buy just one), textured like a grown-up Pat the Bunny, with raised rococo swirls and patterns, and a glorious objet when stacked by the dozens. But enough rhapsodizing! They're also filled with practicality.

Isabella Beeton, grand dame of the manor house life, writes in her Campaign for Domestic Happiness of houseguests, horses, and ham. She also describes a recipe for something called invalid's jelly, which, if it doesn't make you sicker, just might dispatch your headache/fever/other incapacity left over from last night's debauchery. Serendipitous, Mrs. Beeton, and what timing.
 
Invalid's Jelly (from Isabella Beeton's Campaign for Domestic Happiness)
(I accept no responsibility for any illness resulting from the consumption of this concoction)
Ingredients

• 12 shanks of mutton
• 3 quarts of water
• bunch of sweet herbs
• pepper and salt to taste
• 3 blades of mace
• 1 onion
• 1 pound of lean beef
• crust of bread toasted brown

Instructions 

Soak the shanks in plenty of water for some hours, and scrub them well; put them, with the beef and other ingredients, into a saucepan with the water, and let them simmer very gently for 5 hours. Strain the broth, and, when cold, take off all the fat. It may be eaten either warmed up or cold as a jelly.

Time: 5 hours.
Sufficient to make from 1 1/2 to 2 pints of jelly.
Seasonable at any time.


Now strap on some Wellies, and back to the moors with you.

Dilly-Dalì

My father lived in Paris in the late 1960s, and likes to tell tales of restaurants, rendez-vous, and evenings spent at l'opéra. Among the latter, there are two legendary stories: one revolves around a roast duck, too much wine, and some inappropriate laughter during the production, the details of which may never be revealed (I am sworn to secrecy). Take a look at this beautiful madness and forget I even mentioned it.

The second took place at Les Invalides, where, wonder of wonders, dear old Dad found himself two seats away from the inimitable Salvador Dalì. Yeah, this guy.

Bearing an uncannily great resemblance to the infamous almost-murderer of the world's greatest Jamaican crab, it's hard to believe Pops was able to focus on the concert while bumping moustaches with this dude.

"He's a misleading man!"

For our own Surrealist trip to the opera, twist that moustache (nary a hipster strand in sight) into shape with a healthy dose of Murray's Pomade, cheap hair ambrosia to the gods. Pairs rather nicely with an evening gown and opera length gloves.

Man Ray. Who else?

Add the maddest, raddest, longest lashes you can find - with some glass tears if you're feeling fancy - et voilà! If you can't manage to see anything out of your mother-of-pearl opera glasses due to the extravagance of the decorations adorning your eyeballs, well, isn't that the whole point?

The Lady's Not a Tramp

 

Sing it, Ella.

There's nothing quite like a well-accoutered bag (or a peek inside it, for those voyeurs among us) to reveal delightfully good taste and the opportunity for some Freudian analysis. Look inside the imagined contents of Joan Holloway's purse and you'll get the idea. Herewith, a few ways to get started on your own self-mythologizing.

So what if you don't smoke? Can you honestly find a reason you don't need this leather and metal match safe from the Cooper-Hewitt Design Shop? I didn't even know what a "match safe" was, and I'm already obsessed.

Heinrich Vom Hofe's Match Safe

A few handmade leather accents stuffed inside your clutch/satchel/vintage vanity case can elevate the bits and bobs blossoming out of your bag. No one need know what's at the bottom of your bag with these bad boys.

Channeling Sam Spade.

Detective-style notebook on Etsy

For writing love notes and math homework, and maybe, hopefully, completing the crossword puzzle. Filled with Le Pens, natch. As many different colors as will fit.

Fahrney's four-slot leather pen case with flap

Traversing international borders was never so chic.

Leather passport holder (with monogram!) on Etsy

Another member of the why-would-you-need-it-but-you-somehow-really-do category: the lipstick case. Navy would contrast quite nicely with some shocking pink NARS Schiap.

Navy leather lipstick case from Leatherology

Extra credit if you fit everything into this wiggly-jiggly-giggly little thing from quirkmaster Christopher Kane. A real lady can dream about a $790 clutch, right? Particularly when it's basically a glorified excuse to play with a grown-up version of the $6.50 water wiggly.

Christopher Kane aqua-gel filled PVC clutch