Last night Carolyn and I put on glad rags and went to the Anthology party at West Elm in Bay Street. I didn’t recognise a soul there beyond the talented principals, but enjoyed a cocktail and lusted mildly after some wavy plates and bathed in total cutting-edge design savvy, hoping some would rub off. Great music, incidentally, and the proceeds are going to 826 Valencia Street which must be the most fun and one of the best causes around ( the link is to the store, and it is enchanting).
The real pleasure came afterwards though, when I lay in bed in blissful peace with a nice cup of tea (as I hope the girls managed). I enjoyed the magazine, and I hadn’t expected to – it has focus, it has content, dare I say something New Yorker about it. It’s a brave venture when so many shelter mags are folding, but they have lasered in on what we enjoy about print: informed opinion, the heft and availability of something you can hold in your hand, a clear aesthetic -and excised the irritations: gushy prose, irrelevant advertising, poor paper, thin content. All power to them.
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