Things Worth Knowing

THE summer shoe Forget barely-there sandals as inspired by Chanel (a brave trend which essentially involves a completely nude foot) and instead go for a more relaxed vibe this summer with the deck shoe. Miu Miu’s are the ones to have and I have just bought the softly faded suede ones which I adore. (Go down half a size would be my advice.) These are selling very quickly but looks like there are a few sizes left. You can find them here.

View from room 1010- worth requesting I have fallen back in love with New York. Maybe it’s a spring thing. All those smoking sidewalks and soaring towers and locals who stride about in Lululemon and crop tops looking as though they’re about to murder someone. I was there for work this week. Days really. A real in and out job. Just enough time to see a single friend, spend time with colleagues, work (a lot) and then zip back on the red eye.

Last week to claim your free present The Standard High Line- good rooms (ask for a corner bath) and great views. Can recommend Hello hello and greetings from NYC where I’m on a 72 hour trip to the Big Apple. It’s hot, it’s sticky and it reminded me to remind you that there’s one week left to grab a free gift with the ZIIP Halo that I mentioned in my post last week about perfect skin- which you can find and read here.

I never believed I would be someone with good skin. For thirty years of my life I waged a war with my body’s largest organ. I doused it in acids; attacked it with lasers, I picked at it and smothered it in foundations that were thick and suffocating. I dreamed of having anyone’s skin except the one I found myself in. My problem was not so much acne as it was a weird, almost pebbly texture that plagued me from my teenage years right up until my late 30s.

Someone recently asked me to describe my style. ‘It depends on which day of the week you catch me,’ I replied. You see my life meanders off into three distinct sartorial tributaries. For days in the office I lean towards minimal elegance- think The Row by way of (lots) of Cos. But when I’m working from home (a topic for a whole other Substack) it’s more casaulcore: Levis 501s and navy T-shirts mainly, along with those very cute shearling Birkenstock sandals that I am now addicted to.

Today’s post has been written in one, long breathless sitting. That’s because it’s about something I care deeply about. Or maybe I should say two things: magazines and journalism. I spent the best part of two decades working in glossy magazines; whilst my husband, my sister, my brother-in-law and just about every person I know and love is a journalist. Or I should correct that: was a journalist. Most of them, like me, left an industry they loved years ago.

I know the drill by now: a couple of books, a manicure kit, my favourite bath oil decanted into a small plastic bottle, as well as half the amount of clothing I think I’ll need. This usually boils down to one pair of jeans, a jumper, a couple of T-shirts and a pair of trainers. This is my solo travel kit, honed over the years for trips away alone. I have been travelling alone since my early twenties.

La Gonette. All images by Doreen Kilfeather One evening last year I had the good fortune to find myself, cocktail in hand, discussing the merits of modern literature with a bunch of strangers under a warm Provencal sky. I was at La Gonette, a mythical home in the Luberon Mountains, once the home of famed interior designer Robert Kime and now home to novelist Alice Nelson. (You can read all about my evening at La Gonette here.) La Gonette is a very special- and private, place.

This newsletter is in partnership with E45, because of that this week’s newsletter is able to be free to all. Some things are fads. Some things are classics. What separates the two is that the latter remains undiminished in its power to elicit some form of emotion. A scent that never dates. A book that always hits hard. A pair of shoes that always make you feel like the very best version of yourself. There are some classics I have had in my wardrobe for close to two decades.

I’ve never had much in the way of a kitchen. In my first grown-up flat - a tiny walk up in central London, the kitchen was no bigger than a toddler’s play mat. There was no oven, no washing machine, just an old microwave and a chipped Butler’s sink which used to drip all night long. When my husband and I bought our first home together, the kitchen wasn’t much better. This time it was a tiny postage stamp space that ran 6ft by 6ft.