Knit Sisters

First of all, I would just like to commend Sarah on her courageous, honest, and powerful post yesterday about parenting an Asperger’s child. I hope you’ll join me in extending her, and other parents who confront similar issues, our support in whatever ways we are able.

Maybe this is a good time for me to say this: I’m deeply impressed by parents. I don’t quite know how you do what you do, and it sure doesn’t look easy. Thanks to all of you who are civilizing and nurturing the next generation. Because it is a terribly important and terribly demanding job. And if people like me, who don’t have kids, don’t realize that, well…we should.

Sarah, I fervently hope that the rest of your week, and Harvey’s, is better.

Chez Mad Dog, things have been a-hoppin’. We richly enjoyed a visit from the lovely Emily:

Photographed shortly after each of us consumed a devastating Cointreau-and-Grand-Marnier-laced margarita. With lunch. 2 p.m. never looked so good!

She will soon be the recipient of the plum-rose colored Wine and Roses Mitts, which will be her birthday gift. That is, when I finish knitting them. And yes, her birthday was last week. But let’s not get all tangled up in petty and guilt-inducing details of that sort, shall we not?

One down. Er, um, all but the thumb…

I love to knit for Emily, who is one of the most generous and kind friends a person could wish for and who, furthermore, knows exactly how a handknitted gift should be received. She oohs and aahs appropriately at the moment of the gift presentation and then later reports that she is, for instance, wearing the Regia Bamboo socks several times a week and that they are like having a foot massage every time she takes a step and that they are wearing like iron and that no commercial sock could ever even hope to come close to these fabulous handknit socks that you made, Ellen.

Now that is the kind of response that gets you more handknit socks. And even cashmere gloves. Or someday a sweater. Take heed, ye readers and friends, and follow her!

That’s the right way to treat your knitter.

In honor of Emily’s visit to Boston, we hopped on the T and rode downtown to Newbury Street, home of Boston’s most upscale shopping and, as we discovered, a lone representative of bargain-hunting and frugality—the Newbury Street Filene’s Basement Outpost. Originally, we had planned to do exclusively the “window” variety of shopping. But there it was—right there alongside the Chanel Boutique, Emporio Armani, and Nanette Lepore—shining forth, a beacon of affordability.

Truly, it was a wonderful thing to behold! It was as if you had gone to an auction of Old Master paintings at Sotheby’s and found that Lot 31—in a stunning departure from the norm—was exclusively black velvet paintings, including the classic Dogs at Cards.

But seriously, we love Filene’s Basement. And yesterday, we discovered a truly marvelous fact. I’m not even sure I should share this with you, but…well, okay. The Newbury Street Outpost of FB has the most incredible collection of provocative, yet cut-rate lingerie.

I haven’t spent much of my life thinking about lingerie, but all that changed recently when I read (and I believe this was in the New York Times) that a survey showed that something like 85% of French adults believed that, “lingerie is an important part of life.”

At the time, I thought, “Of course. They are French! Naturally they believe that there should be a line-item in the household budget for lingerie. How could it be otherwise?”

But in the days that followed, I couldn’t shake the thought that the French were onto something. Perhaps it was the dizzying prospect of getting married next June, a commitment that represents my first genuine foray into long-term monogamy—an unknown and, admittedly, somewhat daunting territory for me. Perhaps it was the pervasive notion that the French are simply a more sophisticated people than we are. Perhaps it was the Bordeaux. Or the brie. Or the chateaux. Or the liberté, fraternité, et egalité!

I don’t know. I don’t know. I just know that when I was confronted with racy lingerie at prices that were a good old American steal, it suddenly seemed perfectly legitimate and perhaps even imperative to start including that $15 or so as a line-item in our monthly household budget.

Because here’s what I’m realizing: successful long-term monogamy requires props.

In your heart, you know I’m right.

Now then, when you look at it from that perspective, bargain-basement props with lace, satin, and burn-out velvet details are both a rather tame and an economical place to start. Et voila, as we learn from the old chanson, everything old is new again!

Les Français. There’s a way in which they really never stop helping us win the revolution. Et vive la révolution, mes amis.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 28th, 2006 at 11:27 pm and is filed under Lace it up. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.