Savannah Bradley

Hey there, sailor. ICYMI, the Martha Stewart essay from Tuesday’s letter is now syndicated over at Dirt. Endlessly thankful to Walden and Daisy for being as cool as they are and letting this piece see a wider audience. A couple of weeks ago, I tweeted this out: With me being the way that I am, I set off to write the paper immediately and render it perfect (without having to conduct my own polling, which I would’ve preferred if I’d had more time).

I am demi-lobotomized when it comes to domestic life. I know this is a very Carrie Bradshawian personality defect. Most of my plants die; I like to bake, but I get frustrated easily and end up taking out my rage on dough; the copy of Emily Post’s Etiquette that I bought several years ago, at full price no less, is currently collecting dust between my music biographies, slated somewhere between Sonic Youth and Patti Smith.

Fashion Harris Reed’s signature textures and undeniable romance feel like home, thanks to a collaboration with English wallpaper studio Fromental. Plus, the British-American fashion designer hints interiors could be next for his label. "I think history is everything," Harris Reed tells me, the lilt of his accent, a British-American mélange, curling around the words.