Mothers Mad at Maddie

So, did you read the post about my favorite designer ever? And did you figure out who he is….? RALPH LAUREN! So many designers are about throwaway fashion. Not Ralph. And not Red House. Take a look in your closet and see what you’ve held onto – I’ll bet your favorites (like mine) combine quality, comfort and luxury.

Ralph Lauren: The Man, The Vision, The Style by Colin McDowell

My favorite coffee table book!

My heart was racing - I was so excited! Both my parents and Michael’s were coming to Napa to spend Easter with us. As our guest room is occupied by Natalie, the in-laws elected to share one of the ultra-stylish homes of Calistoga Ranch. These are fractional ownership lodges that truly celebrate outdoor living. Nestled between old oak and redwood trees, each home has two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen that - get this: face an outdoor “great room” with comfy furniture and a fireplace. There’s even a private outdoor shower. Now that’s what I call wine country living! And just try finding that in Manhattan! The Ranch is part of the storied Auberge Resorts so there’s also an exquisite restaurant, hotel and wine cellar for soirées. My parents are very close to buying there, which would be fantastic, as they’d have no excuse not to visit often. If I’m lucky Mom will invite me to attend some of the winemaker picnics they offer. She’s talked about guided nature walks in the Maycamas Mountains, yoga sessions and making jewelry after lunch. I’m so jealous! Check it out: CalistogaRanchLiving.com.

There is one hitch in this family holiday: my mom, Marianne, and Michael’s mom, Janice do not as a rule get along. At our wedding, they both wore dresses in the exact same shade of blue. Each blamed the other for not giving a head’s up. Is that when it all started? Who knows! They are just very different, clashing creatures and the conflict endures. Mom is lively and outspoken and Janice is well, restrained and doctrinaire. (I love them both dearly, and in case they are reading: it takes all sorts of personalities to round out a family.) I did think they could both agree on the desirability of Red House pashminas (RH29), wrapped in big spring bows and delivered to their lodge door. My mistake! No, no, they loved the pashminas, but bad Maddie - I got them the same color! I figured that ivory would be a lovely neutral choice. But I just wasn’t thinking…about the wedding incident. Well, neither mother wore hers to Easter dinner so I decided that the rest of the womenfolk would make a statement. Natalie, Delia and I all came to the table identically clad in soft, ivory pashminas. I carried the rack of lamb, Natalie, the mustard-mashed potatoes, and Delia followed, carrying a coconut cake she decorated (very liberally) with marshmallow bunnies and chicks in a riot of pastel colors. Our warmth (literally and figuratively –pashminas really take the edge off a spring chill) broke the ice and everyone had a laugh. Thank goodness! It was a wonderful celebration, even the dessert. And I heard from my dad that both moms were “in uniform” (!) on the plane back home. And while cozy in their cashmere wraps, I’m sure they found something else to argue about for the next five hours!

The undeniable beauty of…mustard

Ok, we all make mistakes - even nieces… I am still mad at Natalie but I am slowly cooling off. And driving an unattractive Pontiac courtesy of the insurance company. Natalie was arrested! We paid her bail and took her home; though I wanted to drive her all the way back to Saddlebrook, NJ! Michael found her a lawyer and we’ll see how sympathetic a judge will be to her immature behavior. She wasn’t drinking or using drugs but she put many people at risk for the thrill of testing her reflexes. So far she hasn’t said much. How about sorry?

Despite the turmoil, the whole family had a wonderful time (Natalie too!) at the annual Napa Valley Mustard Festival the weekend before last. The fields of bright yellow everywhere just make me think of spring – and it is spring, much earlier here than in NY! The mustard festival celebrates the beauty and bounty that is Napa, and reminds us that no, it’s not all about grapes! We sampled so many mustards that my tongue got numb. I ended up with a purse-full of recipes too. The one I’ll actually make is easy: baked chicken, with a glaze of mustard, butter, honey and a bit of curry. The kids loved it, and kept asking for more samples. Since we’ve lived in Napa they have become junior foodies. Must be the lovely setting! Natalie made Delia a garland of woven mustard flowers, which she even wore to bed, wilted though it was by then. What a lovely day of good weather, food, wine, music and culture too. As you might guess, Napa attracts painters, photographers and many other artists. I enjoyed seeing their work at the festival. The mustard fields are inspirational to the artist in me also, and I will keep their beauty in mind when choosing colors for Redhouse. We really made the right choice in coming to Napa!

Guess what else made me happy this weekend? New business from an “old” customer. Many thanks to both the bride and groom of the big wedding that was not to be. They are great people, and may they live happily ever after (and apart!) I mentioned in an earlier post that after we created commemorative cashmere sweaters for the groomsmens’ retreat the wedding was called off. Not only did the groom not return the sweaters for embroidery removal, but Redhouse was asked to provide shirts for the entire wedding party with the wedding date - and both “sides” celebrated together on what could have been a mournful occasion. I’ve got to say, it was a wonderful party! The kind of event that reminds us not to take ourselves so seriously, and to forgive others (nieces?) for their mistakes…

Happy Spring, everyone!

My dazzling man of mystery

Today I’d like to talk about the man I’d most like to have lunch with. ALL lunches. He is my true style icon, He’s a brand, but more - a lifestyle, and one I relate to in every respect. He is the American dream! He sells the image first and the clothes second, so that you don’t just want to wear him, you want to be him. That’s pretty revolutionary, I think. Can you guess who he is?

His is a luxury lifestyle, but not an unattainable one. You’ve seen the ads - country estates with genteel people playing croquet on expansive lawns. It’s a fantasy of how life is supposed to be. Yet we don’t need to be wealthy to buy into this lifestyle. That’s the genius: what he sells is attainable - if not to all then at least to many.

Some would say he is not a designer at all, that “real fashion” needs a cutting edge. Why? My soul-mate of the cloth is about relaxed style and comfort that is also refined. Clothes you want to wear forever. I have followed his lead. And Wine country is to Red House what the Hamptons are to my design hero. We both try to impart a little of the beauty of our respective environments into each shirt, jacket and sweater.

My dream for Red House is to create an empire as my hero has done. Like him, I will do nothing to dilute my brand’s dedication to quality, luxury, fine details and customer service, even as the business grows. And then I’ll work on buying the estate properties. Or maybe just one megavilla in Napa where he and I will have poolside lunches, trading observations on our visions… now THAT’S inspiration! This pillow is in honor of my hero. Can you guess who he is?

Candy and a crash

I had an idea for a bit of family fun last weekend – a trip to Scharffen Berger Chocolate in Berkeley. They make incredible artisan dark chocolate and offer a tour that you have to book in advance. I have an ulterior motive for going, as they are a new business target of mine. I’d love to see their alpine goat embroidered on a Red House polo!

Natalie wanted nothing to do with the family outing and I reluctantly agreed to let her stay back and take the BMW for touring on her own. She said she wanted to explore the old pioneer’s cemetery in Calistoga, which, knowing Nat made perfect sense – her interest not in history but gloom.

Well, once at the factory we realized our chocolate tour was not to be - Delia and Andrew are under 10! I left a card for the events director and we left for Plan B – the Jelly Belly Factory in Fairfield, a mere 20 minutes from Napa. Dreaded by parents for all the reasons it’s adored by children, we have been avoiding it since we moved here though we knew a pilgrimage was inevitable. As expected, the tour was a riot of eye-popping colors and a cacophony of engrossing machines, robots and children’s happy screams. All a bit much for anyone over eight. And so much sugar –ugh! But the kids were SO happy to be there. After the tour (and sooo many jelly belly flavors), Michael suggested lunch and we decided against the Jelly Belly Café’s bean-shaped burgers in favor of Rutherford Grill, a family favorite, and with a higher percentage of adult patrons.

We were midway through our meal when my phone rang. I looked at it: CSP…? -CALIFORNIA STATE PATROL!! I knew right away it had something to do with Natalie! Sure enough. The officer let me know she was all right (thank goodness!) but that the car she was driving was not. Totaled is the word he used. Upside down on Trinity Road, between Napa and Sonoma valleys! My thought was that poor Natalie was unfamiliar with the area. The weekend winery traffic can be so bad in Napa that cars routinely pull out from side roads and hope for the best against oncoming traffic. But this is not what happened. I asked the officer could we come pick Natalie up? He said not to hurry - she was being interviewed by the Napa County Sheriff. She might be under arrest for reckless driving! Apparently, she and another motorist had been racing on the extremely dangerous winding mountain road. The other driver had crushed ribs and a broken leg. I was fuming! And I am way too mad to say more tonight!!!!

My Favorite Chocolate:
Scharffen Berger Semisweet 62% cacao. Paired with an old vine zin it is the ultimate dessert –
and no baking required!

The Cotton Fields of Confusion

A few weeks ago, I went to visit my friend Amy in Stone Mountain, GA. I knew her at Parson’s, and that was the last time she was willing to live away from Georgia. She has an interior design business now, and a family too, so we don’t get much of a chance to catch up. But after a year of trying to make this happen, we met up at an antebellum estate that had a new life as a bed & breakfast.

The place was lovely, but I almost didn’t get there. Instead, I got lost. Off-the-map lost. See, I didn’t spring for the navigation system for my rental car. (Don’t say it!) I must have taken some moon-shiner’s back road through the agricultural heart of the south. I had no idea there were so many farms! I saw acres something I’d never seen growing on weekend trips to The Hamptons. I got out of the car to look, but closer inspection revealed perfectly legal cotton. Then, when I tried to restart the engine – nothing! Out of gas?! I did have tennis shoes, fortunately, anticipating some court time with Amy, and I headed off in search of help.

It was a good five miles before I found a farmhouse, and its owner, Zed. I told him what happened and asked if he had a gas can. He pointed to a gaggle of geese and a bucket of kale and asked if I would feed them. Okaaaaay. (Cue the banjo music.) He came back with a gas can and insisted on driving me to my car. I reluctantly agreed, hoping for the best, i.e. that he was not an axe murderer. (He sure looked like one.) As I tossed the last of the greens to the geese I started to nervously struck up a conversation “San Franciscans pay good money for kale in the top restaurants.” He looked at me as if I were nuts. No, just nervous. I continued to chatter all the way to the car. The inside of his pick up truck looked like a hurricane had whipped through. It turns out that he had picked up the junk food wrappers, cans and bottles on the highways, and he’d recycle them as soon as he got around to it - after his organic cotton harvest. What?! Zed was not a psycho-killer but instead, an organic cotton farmer (he doesn’t even kill bugs)! We sat and talked about sustainable farming, biodynamics and fair trade business practices. I told him about my first organic cotton polo shirt and how I wanted to do more. I was very impressed with what he was doing and he was delighted (in an eccentric, curmudgeonly way) by my efforts to create green products at Red House. And he’s genuinely interested in providing us with his excellent quality cotton. This was great! After we got the rental started, he presented me with a “bouquet” of fresh picked cotton and I thanked him for his help. (Hey, I wonder if he could use an intern…)

By the time I got to Tara, or whatever the b&b was called, I was bone-tired and ready for a drink. I didn’t have to go far to find Amy. She was asleep in the porch swing, the pashmina I had given her for Christmas draped over her shoulders, and two empty mint julep cups on a silver tray next to her. I was beaten to the punch bowl! Julep in hand, I sat down next to a now-awake Amy. As I told her of my adventure, she perked right up and said, “At least there’s still time for tennis!” Well, I’d already broken Vacation Vow #1: “Never cocktail when hungry.” So, I was a mess on the court. Amy was apparently immune to this commandment and beat me soundly.

When you hear the whir of the blender – RUN!

Let me tell you about a bizarre evening. The flier I got in the mail said, “Entrepreneurs: Want to Boost Business? Attend An Exclusive Napa Seminar” and featured Trump-like phrases such as “only desire and determination matter” and “success is the only option”. This sounded intriguing. And legit - the pitch came in a heavy stock embossed envelope. Nice. I RSVP’d to “Tim” as instructed. My first clue that all was not as expected in the resort conference room was seeing “Tim” whipping up a foamy, grass-green concoction in a blender, with attendees gathered around the table, clutching paper cups but not exactly rushing in for a sample. It occurred to me that this green was the ideal spring shade for the Red House polo, though I elected not to sample the froth once I realized it wasn’t a margarita.

We were told to be seated, and “Tim” asked us to hold hands (something even ex-New Yorkers avoid) “because everyone is linked in the world of business ownership”. Great. “Tim”, obviously from a long line of televangelists was rev’d up. He circled us, gesticulating wildly - his hair as unmoving as a garden gnome’s. Wow! I had to hand it to him – he was animated, Maybe I could learn something from his ability to project, after all, I am as passionate about Red House as he is about…potassium deficiency?

It quickly became apparent that this was no entrepreneurial meeting of the minds, but rather a recruitment of independent distributors of nutritional powders and elixirs. “Be a sponsor!” “Follow us to prosperity!” I listened politely, until the words became as fuzzy as the drink. As my mind started to slip away, my eyes noticed the elegant bag of the woman seated next to me. This was not the accessory of someone who hawks drums of protein shakes. As we left for our break, she tripped over a stack of wealth-building manuals (only $19.95 each). I helped her to her feet and introduced myself. She too had been duped into thinking the seminar was about building her business - a boutique in St. Helena. AND, talk about turning lemons (or lemon-balancing nutrition powder) into lemonade - she just might be interested in offering my Red House pashminas at her shop! We’re having lunch next week to discuss the particulars – over sashimi and protein shakes! (Ok, maybe sake.)