Cup Angst

I'm not a shopper. I don't have the patience to go through a lot of stuff I don't want. Much of the 'tude I have comes from having disastrous shopping experiences as a young girl with my mother. She shopped at R.H. Stearns, a Boston institution that had a reputation for quality. (In those days, clothes had quality.) Women must remember the joys of new patent leather shoes or a new dress. For me though, those spring wardrobe refreshes were a disaster. At R.H. Stearns, my mother took me up in the elevator to the eighth floor where they had dresses for chubby girls. Mortifyingly, it was called the Chubette shop and everything you bought there had the Chubette label in it. I felt branded and humiliated and I never again felt that "I looked good in clothes." I wear them every day and no one has ever complained but those early experiences never go away.

What I love is shopping for dishes and textiles. Home stuff. I have a particular taste that certain designers like. My favorite people are John Derian, Jon Robshaw, this lovely shop in Hudson, New York called Rural Residence. I love the way Anthropologie merchandises and if I take my reading glasses off in ABC Carpet so I can't see the ludicrous prices, I love the way they seemingly throw things together. It has a random, slightly cluttered beauty.

I was in the West Village the other day walking with my niece who is visiting from London. She was going off to do something and I went toward the subway on 12th and Seventh and I remembered this shop that I love called Le Fanion. French handmade pottery. For me, an addiction. I don't indulge it on a regular basis, but I found a possible excuse for buying something there. The new cup! I'm going to treat myself to a new cup for Easter. And when I do and I test drive it with the Ethiopia Sidamo Bonko I am roasting now, I will let you know more. I'll even start taking some photos for this blog.

Cups

I love cups. I go through/have gone through phases with cups. Right now, I'm drinking from this lovely cone shaped light blue porcelain cup designed by Sophie Conran, daughter of Terrance Conran the British founder of the design store. We had a Conran's in New York over on 59th and First Avenue for many years. Last time I was there I bought this robin's egg blue cup. I love its shape and it's thin porcelain lip. I drink my home roasted coffee from it every day that I am upstate. I'm thinking of buying another one for the city. The Conran store closed and they moved to ABC Carpet on 19th Street.

When I'm in the city I drink from this bright yellow thick mug that was handpainted by an artist in Israel. I bought it in Jerusalem's Old City when I was there with my late husband in 1987. This cup is a riot of design. It has a thick lip. It is cylindrical, not conical. And I love it too.

It reminds me of our trip. Jerry hosted it for his family. We weren't married at the time. He was, in fact, still married to his former wife who traveled with us--ask me sometime over coffee. There were ten of us: His four boys and their spouses or girlfriends, me and his former wife. Jerry and his cousin Mordecai planned this trip so that his children would know their Israeli cousins. At the big reunion gathering there were 66 guests. Drinking from this clay mug with its chips and history, I feel closer to Jerry and the wonderful memories.

My daily morning coffee ritual includes planning my to dos that start when the coffee is gone. I hang on to my cup as long as the schedule will allow to my thoughts, my coffee and my cup.