Inside Red House

Bye, bye blog!

2009-03-25T13:53:00.000-07:00

My time in Hawaii cleared my head, despite the copious amounts of rum consumed. (Whoa!) I had an epiphany there: the time has come for me to re-prioritize myself. I realize I don’t have enough time for everything I want and need to do, so… I need to take a break from the blog. It’s hard not to feel wistful as writing has been such a great release for me. All the trials of moving to Napa and starting Red House - wow, what an adventure! And writing about situations with clients has helped me grow as a business owner. Looking back, over more than a year of blogging, I think I have matured too – losing patience a little less than in my bad old days in New York. Lately though, after the kids are asleep, I find that I’m typing away while Michael watches ESPN. The kids need a mother who is less sleep-deprived, and Michael needs…a wife (!). My work at Red House is even more demanding now, with Michael’s bank projects in Charlotte. And while life will be easier in many ways with Kat, our new au pair around, I need to spend time helping her adjust to our family quirks and right-side drive.

So, if I’m not blogging, then what? I have some ideas.

Pizza Beat-Downs - Once a week, on Kat’s night off, the family will create a signature pizza. I will not fear flour and its tendency to end up everywhere! And, this summer I’m hoping to build an outdoor wood-fired pizza oven to recreate our favorites.

Start “Natalie Nights” - Regularly scheduled evenings out with my niece. I think it’s time we get to know each other better.

Become a student - I will enroll in wine and food courses at St. Helena’s Culinary Institute of America (ciachef.edu/California). No more excuses not to, and I can walk there from my house!

Spend occasional weekends in Charlotte - Surprising Michael when he’s there - with an overnight bag and nothing more! BlackBerry will stay home. You get the idea.

Get a Puppy? - This is my least thought-out and least favorite plan. Maybe I’ll have Nat set up an aquarium for us instead.

Host Wine Blending Parties - With knowledge from the C.I.A. classes, I will invite Red House clients to partake in a little liquid chemistry lab. We may mix up something great!

Read! – Every last airport book I’ve bought and merely skimmed!

Create and innovate – Spend more time on inspiration for Red House. Where will the next ideas come from – India? Australia? Even if I can’t get there I can read, see films and explore art forms. San Francisco will be a great source of material. And speaking of creating, maybe I’ll get the Red House fragrance designed. (If so, can I take a tax write-off for my garage space?)

Live more of the dream – My love affair with Napa endures, and I want to experience more of everything this fabulous region has to offer. The lifestyle is Red House, and our goal is to be the finest customized corporate clothing company out there.

In closing, I especially want to thank my clients for choosing Red House in its infancy and sticking with us as we have adapted and evolved. Stay tuned – there’s much more ahead! Thanks for appreciating our commitment to quality and attention to detail and customer service. I will endeavor to always keep Red House ahead of the curve and leave my competitors to cut corners. (The buttons that break and the fabrics that pill will not be what we are known for.) Keep counting on me - I won’t let you down!

From the heart of Red House,

-Maddie

Instant Aloha.

2009-03-24T09:46:00.000-07:00

This is the life! I am next to a small pool surrounded by verdant tropical foliage. Just me, Michael, my laptop and two mai tais - light on the pineapple juice. Somewhere, a waterfall beckons to be explored. (So what if it’s fake!) It feels like we’re in the middle of a jungle and not the meandering, interconnected pools of the Grand Hyatt Resort in Kauai (www.kauai.hyatt.com). THIS IS JUST AMAZING! My first trip to Hawaii! It would not have been practical during my years as a New Yorker as the travel time would have consumed much of the vacation. Ah, the joys of living on the west coast! Michael and I actually had a direct flight from SF that was just a tad over five hours. And unlike in the Caribbean, I’m not hearing New York accents or experiencing the fussy intensity and predilections for obnoxiousness. (Traits I’ve been working out one by one since I moved to Napa, as you know.) Maybe the easterners are here but subdued, and like us, stretched out on very comfortable lounge chairs shaded by big umbrellas, with cocktails and novels in hand (or laptops!). The real difference between them and us? They are trying to get tan, as they don’t know when they’ll have another opportunity!

It feels like we’ve escaped! It’s a little bit of a guilty feeling, but we really did make a last minute decision to come here. In a more robust economy, everything would be booked up and a last-minute trip wouldn’t have been possible. Kat had settled in (sort of). Well, she knew how to get the kids to and from school and where to buy groceries. Michael had nothing immediate on his calendar with the bank, and there was nothing pressing enough at Red House that I couldn’t take six days away. Besides, Kerin will call if I need to step in. So, with the stars aligned, we threw some things together and just LEFT. Not in a long time have I been so excited to get on a plane! I was like a kid! Even the packing was easy: our Red House Honeycomb Piqué Polos (RH02 for me and RH01 for Michael) are perfect for tennis, golf next door at Poipu, and exploring Waimea Canyon. All of which will happen…later (!). And that’s pretty much all we have planned. Oh, and lots more of this poolside time. I’ve never spent so much time in a bathing suit, ever!

I really get now why people always refer to Hawaii as paradise. Near-perfect weather, incredible scenery, and a relaxed approach to life – what’s not to love? It would take me a while to miss the mainland. However, being here has made me even more enamored of Napa, which is close enough to paradise for me. And besides, local winemaking leaves a lot to be desired. The sparkling pineapple “champagne” we bought in the hotel gift shop was really, really, bad!

Time to float down the lazy river to the pool bar. If not for need of rum we’d get no exercise at all. Ahhh…

Family of Five!

2009-03-23T11:58:00.000-07:00

The time has come to add another person to our household. No, no - I do not mean a BABY! What were you thinking?! (I don’t even have time for the dog that the kids keep asking for!) The term for our addition is au pair. As soon as Michael started interviewing in Charlotte, I did the proactive thing and started the process of finding someone I could count on to be there for Delia and Andrew 24/7. No other option, unless there are elementary boarding schools. (I think they call them orphanages!) I need to be able to travel for Red House whenever, and had to assume that Michael would be gone part of the time too. As it turns out, he’s already away on a project for the bank – all week. Good thing I’m home right now. In fact, today I’m literally home, cleaning out the refuse from Natalie’s room. By tomorrow it will be spotless, every last cigarette butt and beer bottle gone, because someone is moving in!

The au pair I found sounds great, really ideal, but I had to interview eight candidates before I found the qualities I was looking for. And even if she is perfect, I can’t get too comfortable because this is only a one-year program, after which she’ll return home to continue her education. Once home, she will probably want to gather her friends and classmates around the campfire to extol the virtues of Napa. And over time, she will unlearn whatever bad habits she might have picked up crossing paths with Natalie. Let’s not even think about that right now!

Here are a few highlights from my phone interviews with a few of the runners up:

Irina from Ukraine: Seemed a little too disappointed that Napa wasn’t a suburb of L.A. Sorry, Iri, weekends clubbing in Hollywood are not an option.

Marta from Costa Rica: Very close to graduating from college and didn’t sound serious about committing to a whole year. And why would a Petroleum Engineer want to be an au pair anyway?

Neha from India: Does not drive, which is not what it said on her application!

Kirsten from Norway: She cried! I asked what her biggest fear was if she took the job and she said missing her family. (Next year I’ll check to see if she’s available, and whether she’s outgrown the apron strings – I liked her otherwise.)

And the winner is (drum roll!) ---- Kat from Scotland! I liked her accent. Well, and she just sounded really bubbly, capable and kid-oriented. Even better: she wants to be a Child Psychologist. That should be handy with our man Andrew and his kindergarten antics! And how about the cultural advantages of having someone from another country around?! She can teach us about the history of clans, plaids, moors, golf and single malts. And cook oats and haggis! (Or not…) And hmmm… I wonder if Kat might like dogs. What better time, right? I won’t spring that idea on her right away!

Viva la Venison!

2009-03-20T12:27:00.000-07:00

It happened so fast, a couple of seconds and - SCREEEEEECH!!!!!! It had been a basic morning and I was taking Delia and Andrew to school. Suddenly, there was a beige blur in front of my windshield to which I reacted with an expert skid (aided by a combination of coffee and adrenaline) - but then, AGAIN - another beige blur and my BMW landed in a drainage ditch as the kids screamed in horror. Damn Bambi! There were two of them, actually. The first darted across the road anticipating the best opportunity for impact inflicting maximum bodily damage. Things weren’t going well in the woods? Overcrowding maybe? Not enough grapes. (Not enough grapes?!) But s/he wasn’t exactly accurate. Nor was s/he planning to exit this world alone. No, no, a pact had been made with Bambi No. 2, the one I didn’t see until too late.

Once in the ditch we were quiet for a few seconds, stunned. I reached around the handy air bag and made sure the kids were ok. The car was almost sideways and the booster seats had done their jobs of keeping them in place. I remembered that after an accident you are supposed to turn off the engine, which I did. Then, as if on cue, the kids started crying loudly. OMG - did I hit that deer?! I think I only nicked it. But nicked is bad… Delia wailed about me killing it. I remember seeing a crazy coal-black eye and – that’s it.

I called Michael and the police, crawled up and out the passenger door, and then got the kids out. There was no way a basic tow truck would be getting this car out, but I’d let AAA worry about that. Delia wanted to look for the dead deer (!) and Andrew wanted to be picked up. He’s too big for that so he took my hand and we looked around. I was wearing heels, which are not what you wear looking for deer. At least I didn’t sink in as I did when Michael ran out of gas. There were treed areas on both side of the road and I made a mental note to see if a deer crossing sign could be put up here. Anyway, no sign of death or dismemberment, but I wasn’t going to go too far into the woods and risk finding a dying deer – or worse, a meth lab!

The police arrived and looked for signs of blood evidence on my car and surrounding area. None. Was I sure I “nicked” something? (The officer actually used his fingers to make those little quotation marks when he asked.) Did he think I was distracted by my cell phone or typing on my BlackBerry, and that’s why the accident?! If so, he didn’t actually say it. I asked if the officers would please go look in the woods to check for carnage. They said they would, but did they? I didn’t hear back. The car appeared to be pretty much intact, but the alignment was almost certainly in need of adjustment after that tumble.

Once we were in his car, Michael told me to look in the vanity mirror – I had scratches on my face from the airbag! That’s when I noticed my ribs hurt too - all of them. The kids said they were ok to go to school so we dropped them off, and warned the principal about potential post-traumatic stress symptoms. Michael took me home for aspirin and a cleaning up, and then to get a rental car as I had plenty of Red House meetings to get to and deliveries to make. I was shaken though, and the day seemed awfully long. I was very happy to get into a hot bath later. Michael, in an attempt at gallows humor, brought me an empty glass of wine and returned with a bottle of Stag’s Leap! It was the Gypsy Camp Napa Valley red wine blend (www.stagsleap.com), chosen to help me heal and reconnect with the natural world, as the gypsies once did on Stag’s Leap land. (Huh?!)

I promised the kids that next weekend we’d go to the “crash site” to leave flowers and say goodbye - or good luck, as applicable - to “unknown beige deer” or “Jane Doe”(!). I will say that I hope he or she is still with us, and thankful to be alive and running in the beautiful Napa Valley – on one side of the road only. Cross no more, fair woods-dweller, and may your nick heal quickly!

Career Opportunities x 3.

2009-03-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

Yes! Which is to say the answer is NO! Michael’s mega bank potential employer has decided to reopen its search for a dedicated full time employee! It didn’t say no to him, it just said maybe later, dude. And meanwhile, it would like to utilize Michael’s talents as a consultant on specific projects. He can do it all, right? Focus on Red House numbers while advising the bank now and then? This I like - as it means no major changes at home or Red House - for now, anyway. What an instant mood elevator and anxiety reducer! (And I’ve needed it!) I told him I might even be willing to hop a plane to Charlotte with my overnight bag if he’s working on something. Meanwhile, I’m thinking a celebratory “bullet-dodged” dinner at Martini House and a nice bottle of Anderson Valley’s Roederer Brut Rosé are in order – Cheers!

And there’s yet more employment news to report as niece Natalie has taken a first step towards a career involving her love of marine life. It is a small step, but could be significant in both determining her interest level and coming up with a longer-range plan of action. Nat’s going to spend her mornings taking care of office fish! She’ll be driving a van full of chemicals and “replacements” to various medical and dental offices, recovery centers (!) and managed care facilities where tanks of active finned friends add a measure of calm, color and distraction to people’s lives. She’ll clean and feed and tend to the dead (fish only!) as necessary. There’s a larger variety of critters swimming in tanks here in the twin valleys than I would have guessed, and maintaining the correct ph levels in salt and freshwater, and learning what swims well with others will be part of Nat’s day. I think it’s great! Afternoons she’ll still be helping out at Stefan’s parents’ winery. So, this is going to be a very busy 20 year old and I can also take comfort in that. And I bet my sister and her husband are having their own celebratory dinner for this milestone.

Finally, we made Kerin’s day by formally changing her job title from Receptionist to Client Relations Manager, with new business cards to prove it. There’s a raise too, which came earlier so she could qualify for the loan on the condo she’s buying. She’ll continue to be my right hand on client contact and new business development, plus gaining more experience as my design assistant – too much for one person’s business card. For now though, she still has to answer the phones!

Goin’ to Grgich.

2009-03-10T15:29:00.000-07:00

Here’s a winery that’s easy to find and hard to leave – Grgich Hills Estate, located in Rutherford just off Hwy 29, parallel to the Silverado Trail (www.grgich.com). Founder Mike Grgich, though not mentioned in Bottle Shock, is the winemaker who crafted the 1973 Chateau Montelena Napa chardonnay that stunned the world by winning the1976 blind tasting in Paris. His wine beat out the fabled white Burgundies of France, and not only gave Mike instant stardom in the wine world but also secured Napa’s place forever on the map of world-class winemaking. There would be no looking back to hippie roots and laid back winemaking techniques, bong over-use and tasting from Mason jars. That’s what Bottle Shock would have you believe Napa was all about before 1976. I prefer to think it was mostly just a quieter place of fewer wineries and small-yield vintners doing their own thing - some perhaps waiting for that big break that did come. The tasting triumph took Napa from a sleepy hamlet to the huge business that it is today. (Though it would have been fun to experience it in the hippie era…)

When you visit the Grgich Hills tasting room, you might even see Mike Grgich in his trademark blue beret, though he’s in his mid-“80’s now and leaving the heavy lifting to daughter and winemaker, Violet, and his nephew Ivo. He’s earned the right to rest on his laurels, having been inducted into the Vintner’s Hall of Fame. He’s big on philanthropy too, supporting Napa causes via the annual wine auction, as well as in his leadership efforts to eradicate land mines in his native Croatia. (Referred to as “replacing mines with vines”!) And Grgich wines have been enjoyed at state dinners by U.S. presidents, Queen Elizabeth, and even the very French (!) François Mitterrand.

There’s nothing not to like at Grgich Hills Estate. All fruit used in their six wines is from their own vineyards. Innovation is key; so all 366 acres are certified organic and have been converted to biodynamic growing techniques. And, the winery is solar-powered.

While the signature wine at Grgich Hills Estates continues to be its inimitable chardonnay (one of my very top favorites to splurge on!) you will find the same supreme commitment to craft in their other wines. But on the subject of the chard, keep in mind that the Grgich is a sublime experience in the lighter, French winemaking tradition - not the BIG, firecracker fruit of (the also beloved) Rombauer chardonnay. These are two very different experiences. And make sure you try the richly powerful Grgich Zinfandel, the grape, Mike believes, originated in Croatia as the Crljenak. (Don’t ask me to pronounce it as it took me a year just to get Grgich right!) Another wine I love is their complex and airy Fumé Blanc – it’s easy to pair with food. Their Cabernet Sauvignon holds its own in a valley of masterful cabs. There’s a Merlot too, which I have not yet tried – sorry. And for dessert, Violetta, named for Mike’s daughter. It’s one of the most complex wines in the dessert category, and a very special treat. Serve this with some cheese biscuits and your guests will never want you to bake again.

Oh, you know how I said I am opposed to purchasing items for White Elephant parties? I had to break my own edict when I saw a Mike Grgich bobblehead for sale in the tasting room. But how will I be able to part with it?!

The monkey woman and me.

2009-03-05T05:45:00.000-08:00

Never underestimate women of a certain age who have their priorities etched in stone. I’ll know better next time. I found myself with a client I thought I understood. Someone fun and free-spirited like my mother. In fact, she was referred by my mother, who met her at a yoga class on her last visit to Calistoga Ranch. My new client headed a chapter of an organization she said was much like the Red Hat Society. You’ve seen that group – red hats, purple and red clothing and accessories, a visual proclamation that they would not go quietly into old age nursing their regrets. Instead, they are about celebrating (or distracting themselves from) the ravages of time with book discussions, historical tours and many, many gin and tonics over brunch. My client’s organization was a less visible version of this group with pretty much the same reason for being. They wear something red, but not fire engine red, and no purple is paired with it. They fancy themselves closer to Indiana Jones than Patti La Belle, favoring the kind of the upscale safari look – silk blend olive drab cargo pants and fishing vests that Banana Republic used to be about in the “80’s. (Also when Abercrombie and Fitch was where golfers shopped!) She said they do more than celebrate themselves and are currently sponsoring an endangered frog in Madagascar. Got to like that!

The group wanted jackets and loved almost everything about the Red House Pima Interlock Jacket (RH08). Especially that it was lightweight, very soft and featured slimming princess lines. And Ruby was just the right, subtle shade of red for them. My client asked for no embroidered crest or logo. Instead, she had commissioned her own zipper pulls, that she presented to me – little silver monkeys, which she said suggested both whimsy and unpredictability. I told her we could replace our embossed leather zipper pulls with them, no problem. (Red House’s first improvisation involving monkeys!) Squinting very closely at the monkey face I saw a look of utter seriousness; I should have taken that to heart.

What the ladies did not like about the Pima Jacket was that it had full-length sleeves. It needed to have bracelet length sleeves to afford a few inches of forearm freedom, as they were always on the go. Besides, they wear watches and compasses and like to show off bracelets they purchase at craft fairs and souks around the world. (Really, they go to souks?!) Well, the whole purpose of a jacket, it seems to me, and which I mentioned, is to cover up for the purposes of warmth or modesty. She would not budge. I suggested they roll up the sleeves, á la Rosie The Riveter. She didn’t like the analogy, and mentioned that she was still in grammar school during Rosie’s WWII welding reign. (Oops!) We had reached an impasse and it took me slightly longer than it should have to say, “We can make those shorter sleeves a reality for you.” I was protectively clinging to the idea of Red House designs as my babies, and the client was right to ask for what she needed. And you know what? I liked the abbreviated look. Who knows - Red House may consider a line of bracelet length jackets, shirts and sweaters.

Get this, a couple weeks later I got a postcard… from Madagascar! My client and several from their group went to see how their frog was faring! In an effort to ensure I will be that adventurous in my 70’s, I tried on my own Red House pima jacket in Ruby with a purple T-shirt underneath, but nah, the look was not for me. I don’t do monkeys either.

Shock in Charlotte.

2009-02-27T15:53:00.000-08:00

I found myself unable to concentrate on anything while I was waiting for Michael to get the reaction of the Big Bank to the unusual “Napa lifestyle preservation” request. (I prefer DEMAND to request, but I’m not there.) He said he’d call me right away, but hours went by without a call. Kerin and I actually had a great brainstorming session on creative and cost-effective ways to keep clients happy and thinking about us. We came up with lots of new ideas to remind them of our commitment to quality and service. I might send individual postcards from my next trip to China, like, “Wish you were here – to see the fabulous silk piqué I just found!” And how about wine tasting or blending parties? Maybe have a local chef come and teach us to prepare a famous dish. Again, we will be doing follow up calls to see how well received our product was. And we are going to try to get clients to send us group shots of their employees, fellow committee members and families wearing their Red House shirts, sweaters, etc. Or, we’d volunteer to take pictures ourselves, for an album in our reception room. Testimonials would be nice to have also. And after last year’s harried but successful delivery of shirts with changed cork-like buttons (plus a light breakfast to each wine grower-recipient’s hotel room!) we want to do more along the lines of memorable deliveries. (But maybe less stressful than that night’s efforts!) We also talked strategy for seeking new business. We can always do more of that. Wine country events, country clubs, organizations – there’s lots of untapped work out there for Red House. Too bad Michael wasn’t there to participate in our meeting!

Finally, my cell phone buzzed with news from Charlotte. Apparently, he shocked the bank, which had no idea that Michael had any intention of less than a fulltime-and-forever commitment. As Michael is not big on expressing conflict, it does not surprise me that they had no clue. In fact, they had just presented him with a big envelope of relocation info, including real estate listings and glossy private school brochures when he brought up the caveats. So now, Human Resources needs to have a sit-down with the captains and figure out how (or if) they can utilize Michael in their organization. I have to hand it to him though, he had completely thought through his negotiation strategy before meeting with them today. (And I thought he was lame with details!) He specified a three-day workweek, flying east every Sunday and back to Napa Wednesday nights. It may not have been what I had wanted him to counter with, but it could work. And he made sure that what he could do for them, even with less of a time commitment, was emphasized very carefully. We await their next move. Me, from the edge of my seat on needles and pins. Michael, from his perpetual state of calm. Where does that come from?! Sigh.

A Dose of D&D

2009-02-24T10:38:00.000-08:00

There’s another tasting room you must have on your list – Eric Ross Winery on the Sonoma side in Glen Ellen. Check it out: www.ericross.com. Michael and I discovered it one sunny Sunday when we were just tourists and we’ve been going back for the wine – and the conversation - ever since.

The winery was started by John Ross Storey and Eric Luse, two San Francisco newspaper photographers who probably met while jockeying for position to get the best shot of something interesting. (And believe me, there’s always something interesting in SF!) Or maybe love of wine brought them together, I’ll have to find out. Either way, they became successful winemakers, and that does not usually happen for a couple of regular folks. Curiously, the winery website offers sparse details about the two. Sounds kind of like they found themselves on a hill overlooking scenic vineyards and declared themselves winemakers. They combined their names and rest is awards history. As a business owner I’d say there’s more to the story, and I wish Red House had had such an easy birth. There’s a photo of the smiling pair on the website, and all that’s missing are Red House shirts. (Well, I had to say that!)

Dennis and Diane are the tasting room managers. They are the real deal. They know their wines and each other. How do they survive working together like that?! I mean, I work with my husband too - but not THAT close. And even though Michael and I are usually in agreement on business decisions, there are times the travel aspect of my job is a welcome escape. (Sorry for wanting to throttle you sometimes, Michael.) Let’s just say that like all couples, we prefer to handle life’s little details in vastly different ways.

And so do D&D, as they call themselves. They’ve been married a lonnnng time, and fortunately, each copes with the other's quirks with humor - at least while we’ve been watching (!!) I wonder how they’d handle the arrival of a limousine full of tipsy tourists right at closing time after a busy summer day… Would one of them run to the back room and hide? That’s what I’d do! (And this is why D&D haven’t asked Michael and me to fill in so they could have a weekend away.)

Our favorite Eric Ross wine is the Poulet D’Or Pinot Noir. The Russian River Valley pinots are something Michael and I do agree on, and the photographers know how to make this wine. Do a side-by-side comparison of the Eric Ross pinots from the different vineyards – see if you can taste the influences of the soil and climate. Another delight is the Marsane-Rousanne, a lovely summer-drinking white wine with a minerality that reminds me of France. I also enjoy their 2007 viognier. I’d compare it the 2006 and 2007, if only I had saved any. Sigh. Even if you don’t live nearby, their wine club is a good one - offering 20% off, and as Rooster Club members we also get to attend winery events pairing the wines we love with foods we wish we could make. D&D have a knack for the complex recipes, but so far, they’ve not attempted anything with rooster meat.

Out of gas and out of mind.

2009-02-20T18:12:00.000-08:00

Michael. Wonderful husband and father, Type B banking guy, good with numbers except ZERO, as in no gas, no fumes, no luck - start walking! That was my man last week. And why?! I’ve been thinking about this for days. A fluke? A brain focused on the Charlotte job? Must be that, as the gauge works fine and it had been pointing to “E” for a while.

We were on our way to the San Francisco Symphony (www.sfsymphony.org) for an evening that promised to take us away from thoughts of a fragmented life in Charlotte. Plus, it’s winter, even here, and as mild as it is I’m ready for spring - and music is nothing if not transcendental. We dressed up, as about half the people do at the symphony. The other half, well…anything goes in SF. At one chamber music concert there was a guy in a delicate ladies’ slip accessorized with rustic (!) turquoise jewelry.... (???!)Anyway, we had reservations at Farallon (farallonrestaurant.com), one of my favorite seafood restaurants and with décor inspired by Nautilus himself. This was going to be an incredible evening!

Except for a pesky gap between expectation and reality. We were maybe five miles from the house. I was using my BlackBerry to email myself reminders for the next day when the car suddenly sputtered and died. There wasn’t a warning, a few coasting miles of realization that the end was near, it simply was. I may have used some colorful language as we slowed to a dead stop, however unusual that might be for me. Now what? It was dark, and we were obviously not anywhere near a gas station. We were in my car so I knew there was a gas can in back, but no, not any more, it turns out, Michael had removed it to get gas for the lawn mower months ago and did not replace it – ahhhh! Just like my toolbox, good scissors and my dental floss! I was madder than ever and stepped out of the car to think, and as I did, my feet made a thwook sound – I realized to my horror that I had stepped into about 6” of mud in my Jimmy Choo pumps! Yes, I got them on sale, but Jimmy Choos!!! At this point I yelped (or screamed, according to Michael). He got out to help me and the submerged shoes back into the car. I had adopted a childish “don’t touch me” posture and I’m sure my face was a rictus of fury. He retrieved the roll of paper towels I keep in the back seat. Funny, he hadn’t removed that also. As I was occupied, angrily cleaning off the muddy suede, Michael wisely decided to seek help for our predicament and/or seek safe distance from Mad Maddie.

One thing about Michael that has always irked me is his luck. He just has this ability to turn lemons into lemonade. (I hate that expression.) And so, not ten minutes later he was back, smiling. He had flagged down a truck of farm workers, and without speaking a word of Spanish he managed to communicate his dilemma and gave them money for a can of gas. I knew he believed we’d be off in a few minutes. Sure enough, the Saviors of Chevron returned with fuel, and Michael gave them a nice tip. But we weren’t off in a few minutes, as it proved nearly impossible to open the new can’s nozzle. Michael wrestled with it, using some colorful language of his own, even (gross!) attempting to bite off the cap, then digging at it with the corkscrew from the glove box. (Had we had a flashlight he would have seen the “squeeze and turn” instructions I noticed the next day.) He finally succeeded and we were off. No time for dinner, but drinks were what mattered at that point – after a stop at Saks for shoes. (I walked in wearing the damaged shoes, not trusting Michael to choose a replacement pair for me.)

The concert was great, a real treat. And afterward, we shared a late-night seafood platter at Farallon’s stylish bar. What I’ll remember most about this evening though was the aftermath of hanging up 22 button-down shirts, after midnight, in various spots in and outside the house to air out noxious gas fumes. (The neighbors must have thought I was nuts, but it wouldn’t be the first time.) The shirts had been in the trunk that evening because they were ready to be delivered to a client. The gas can, thanks to an abused nozzle, had leaked its last pungent drops into the trunk. (Grrrr, Michael!)

What fun to clean up.

2009-02-19T14:44:00.000-08:00

Ugh. I have taken the opportunity of a few rainy days with not too much going on at work to try to get both workspace and home organized. There are few chores I despise more as it pains me to get rid of things. Any things. But when I lived in New York, hoarding wasn’t an option; there simply wasn’t space to stash 12 extra rolls of paper towels or a cool table spotted at the Chelsea flea market. Ski gear? We always rented. Here, I am ashamed to admit, it didn’t take long to change entirely. We even rented a small storage unit to hold holiday décor and some of the overflow, which is to say I’m no longer saying no to great flea market finds, two chandeliers (so far!) that I might use one day and classic books I might read. Furnishings for the Red House boutique taking shape in my imagination are also accumulating. I know it’s wrong. And I can’t seem to say goodbye to any samples I’ve collected at work. Whether it’s a zipper style, fabric, thread color or button size not currently in use, it MAY be ideal next year or ten years from now and I’ll be glad I saved it, right? And what about Andrew and Delia’s artistic endeavors – can I really throw out their heartfelt smears of poster paint on kraft paper?! Not yet, I’m afraid.

So what did I accomplish? Well, a couple of things. After reading Getting Organized (another airport find!) I began to take action on each piece of paper as soon as I got it so the paperwork wouldn’t accumulate. School schedules, invitations – all get entered in my master calendar hasta pronto. And I made a visible dent in clutter by going room to room with an eye on elimination. Not the clean sweep the experts advised, but hey, it was a three-day effort when three weeks might have been warranted. I do feel good about donating some winter clothes I was hanging onto. Who knows, some local family might move some place where down coats are actually necessary. By giving them up I feel even more a part of life in Napa. Like when I gave up Andrew’s high chair, I knew I was done with babies. And with all the travel I do for Red House I’ve accumulated quite the stash of tiny toiletries. From now on these are going to a shelter for women and children, who could use a little luxury in their lives. In the kitchen I asked myself, “How many spatulas is enough?” Turns out to be three: one in each size. Now the drawer closes much easier. These are only baby steps towards an organized life yet I feel better. But don’t ask why I’m collecting corks, as I don’t have a good answer. How about – I’m going to build a raft someday and sail to Tahiti? Ok, not likely.

Charlotte drives a wedge.

2009-02-13T14:44:00.000-08:00

He got it!……! The news I’ve been waiting for and the answer I had hoped would not come: The bank in Charlotte, North Carolina has just offered Michael the prestigious job he just can’t refuse. Now it’s his turn to say, “Thanks, I‘ll take it, I can’t wait to start my job on a provisional basis and lead your company into glorious hegemony before lesser banking giants in the grand New South, but my wife and two children will come only if California falls into the sea, and by the way, I am co-owner and Chief Financial Officer of a dynamic and growing clothing company located in said state and have no intention of making a clean break from hearth, home or preexisting employment.” I was hoping he could just memorize that line and repeat it verbatim when he meets with his Human Resources representative today. And I reminded him of this a few times on the way to the airport. He said he’d take it under advisement. I’m not sure, but I think he might have been snickering a little bit when he was pretending to clear his throat. Ok Michael, go ahead and mock Maddie, but just wait until you catch the look on their faces when you tell them you’re thinking part-time and three time zones away for your new career.

I could spend more time worrying about his day in Charlotte and replaying in my mind what I what him to say, that he attach so many conditions that their heads start to spin, but I know he’s got to do it his own way and there may be some concessions that I’m not going to be comfortable with. BUT MOVING TO CHARLOTTE IS NOT AN OPTION! NEVER! EVER! (I just won’t go.)

I decided that I wouldn’t wait any longer to let Kerin know what’s going on, that Michael doesn’t have a sick aunt (or was it uncle? Cousin?) he’s been flying back and forth to visit. I was going to shock her with the Charlotte news while at the same time giving her a much-deserved promotion, but I do need to work on a few more details with Michael before making that part official.

I decided to tell Kerin of Michael’s plans over lunch at Santé, the restaurant at the Fairmont Mission Inn Sonoma (www.fairmont.com/sonoma) and said we’d finish with a manicure at the beautiful spa. Well, we were barely seated before Kerin told me that she knew that things have been strained between Michael and me, and that if we were getting a divorce (!!) we didn’t have to worry about her – she was loyal to both of us and wouldn’t choose sides. She said she believes in Red House and wants to stay on - regardless of our marital status. Whoa! She seemed relieved, but also a bit embarrassed when I told her what was really going on, like she should no longer trust her perceptions. I disagreed; she’s spot-on except for this instance. And anyway, I can imagine how the Charlotte trips must appear to the only other person in the office. Kerin hopes the bank job does work out for Michael. I tried to agree. Meanwhile, we enjoyed our lunch and subsequent paraffin dips. We both chose vibrant shades of red for our fingernails, as if to signal that we too are changing things up.

Science Fiction?

2009-02-10T11:08:00.000-08:00

I want to make perfume! My hero of lifestyle design, Ralph Lauren, has multiple, successful lines. Every celeb of the moment has his/her 15 minutes of fragrance fame, so why shouldn’t Red House have a scent that reflects the good life in Napa? This is a thought I’ve had for months and want to explore further – starting in my garage. Stranger things have happened, right? The problem is that while I have the right instincts and artistic flair, I have no skills in hard science whatsoever. I know that an acid differs from a base and that’s about it. And despite a love of wine and its components, I haven’t had the best of luck at wine blending parties, tending to go through the motions and deferring to whoever knows what they are doing. If I am going to create a scent that represents the wine country elegance of Red House and not the contents of a backyard compost I need to gather a team of biophysicists and chemical engineers to carefully consider every detail, and to make sure that I don’t give in to my inclinations and make the dominant note Cabernet (!). But now is not the time for assembling a research laboratory full of experts so I’ll start with a little low budget experimentation and at least learn what I like.

This much I know. Napa is a place of many inspirations, a multi-sensorial experience. The food and wine come to mind first of course, the enjoyment enhanced by a mis-en-scène of glorious vineyards, mountains and valleys. The textures and colors combine with climate of abundant sunlight and cool nights to create the terroir. All I have to do is distill this down (!). Oh, but I won’t be done yet - I must then add a bit of European attitude – the casual but refined approach to life that led to the creation of Red House itself. What IS this attitude? A whiff of champagne and suntan lotion? Sea spray and citrus? As soon as I figure that out I’ll have my scent. Then I guess it’s sourcing, production, packaging and marketing. An army of lawyers to add to the scientists – yikes! I have no idea what I’m doing! At least I’m not wasting money. Yet.

My exploration has already started with hunting and gathering of essences. Rose is one of the most predominant and intensely scented flowers here and I know I want to include it. I’ve got dried petals and oils of multiple varieties, most of which smell exactly the same to my under-trained nose. My other must-include element is the woodsy and aromatic eucalyptus. I’ve collected bags of bark and leaves. It’s heavenly – I should make it into a mattress! Lavender has to be involved. Bay leaf, maybe? And mustard is beautiful in the spring – a sea of yellow everywhere. To me it represents the ” joie de vivre” of Red House, though I’m not sure any form of mustard belongs in cologne. I’ll need something earthy for the terroir – maybe some wild mushroom? Right now, my collection is piling up on Michael’s workbench. Soon, I’ll zip myself into an asbestos suit, gloves and goggles with my tongs and beakers and hot plates and start cooking! How can fine art fail to follow?

Free Samples!

2009-02-04T09:03:00.000-08:00

Let me tell you a little tale about Oakland, a city I tend to avoid after dark. That said, a potential client, a referral, had called to schedule an evening appointment to see everything Red House had to offer. I was trying to find a daytime appointment that would work and wasn’t getting anywhere. This guy was even busier than I! We settled on an evening when I was sure Michael would be available to ride shotgun. (Well, that’s not quite the right image, particularly for Oakland.) Unfortunately, at the last minute he came down with the flu. That’s what happens when you fly a lot – first, you get run down from the hassle of coming and going. It’s the reality of ultra-stressed air travel today. Then, in a weakened state, you provide the perfect milieu for incubating your fellow-travelers germs, each of which has been constantly recirculated throughout the plane for five-plus hours at a time. Yuck. Nice wife that I am, I left him some chicken soup from Dean & DeLuca. This stuff is so good; it almost makes it worthwhile to be sick.

So it would be Kerin and I going to meet with the owner of a bike messenger agency. We discussed our presentation on the way. It seemed pretty straightforward. He’d probably want polo shirts that would give his fleet a consistent look, refined enough for the genteel office environments where the mysterious pouches of divorce papers, liens and private investigators’ photos would be signed for. Kerin had a good point though, these kamikaze bikers had such an alternative mien about them with their multiple facial piercings and Technicolor spiked hair that the shirts would not be what people noticed. Their jobs are dangerous and they like to look the part. In addition, they often entered elevators sweaty and out of breath, noses running… (We won’t recommend a long sleeve style lest it stand in for a Kleenex!) And were any of our colors going to be visible enough to keep the riders seen as they darted between lanes and parked cars?

We parked on the street, as close as possible to the building where we’d be meeting. There was one homeless guy pushing a cart full of what appeared to be recyclables - good for him. No sounds of gunfire or shady characters hanging out - a good sign. We lugged the sample cases, which were plenty heavy - especially by the end of the block. As I was about to press the intercom button to get us in, I couldn’t remember if I locked the car. Locking the car is important, that I knew. I didn’t want one of us to go alone to check and we sure were not going to drag the cases back to the car, so we stashed them in the alley around the corner and together walked back to the car, which did turn out to be locked. (Note to myself: try to use memory more effectively.) We walked back to the building, turned into the alley and…a sense of panic hit us. Where were the cases?! They were GONE! It only took five minutes for an opportunist to strike. I was furious! Now what? I called the client, who buzzed us in. I explained the situation and he tried to make me feel better by telling me of things he’s found at the entrance to the building. It didn’t help. I called to make a police report and was told I would need to come in, which added to my anger and frustration. Kerin and I did our best to present our “samples” via laptop, but the color registration is never ideal and I was so distracted anyway. And, found myself angry at Michael for no reason at all. Kerin kept her calm and did most of the talking. In the end, she convinced the client that the Double-Mercerized Polo (RH04) in Turquoise was the right choice for his crew.

We returned to the car, which was fortunately still where I parked it (and with all its wheels!) and headed over to the P.D. for paperwork. (Not a place I’d want to linger…) We returned home not expecting to hear anything. I was able to replace all my samples within days so no real hardship. Then, a few weeks later came the call - from the ALAMEDA COUNTY BOMB SQUAD!! I gasped audibly. They were going through some stolen property records and the matter of my two purloined cases had caught their eye in an “uh-oh moment.” It was they who had been alerted to the cases in the alley, by a homeless man who keeps an eye on things. They were a suspicious sight, partially hidden in the alley next to a building containing a law firm that has recently represented some ecoterrorism suspects. The unit had quietly removed the cases and EXPLODED THEM (!!!) at an undisclosed location with their handy robotic remote control vehicle. Apparently, things don’t need to tick to be trouble. And this sort of event is not as uncommon as I might have thought. I pictured colorful fragments of silk herringbone and pinpoint cotton raining down over the city. Well, I guess Red House has made its own small contribution to the war on terror. Whoa.

Skip the boardwalk.

2009-02-02T10:08:00.000-08:00

Early this morning, Michael and I headed back to Napa by ourselves. Monique and John kindly offered to keep the kids for more Monterey exploring and a bit of beach and boardwalk time in Santa Cruz, blustery though it was. Natalie would come back with them too. I appreciated the time alone, as we needed to have some time to talk. We started our itinerary with the dazzlingly beautiful 17 Mile Drive through Pebble Beach. Oh, I could live here! Golf has never looked better.

We stopped for breakfast at the Stillwater Bar & Grill in The Lodge at Pebble Beach (www.pebblebeach.com). First though, we walked around the resort. It felt very gentrified, not at all like golf courses in Napa, but then this is one of the most amazing looking courses on earth. Good thing we were wearing resort-appropriate Red House pieces, the ivory cardigan for me (RH17) and black Silk Cavalry Twill Jacket for Michael (RH28) - instead of our new Monterey Bay Aquarium sweatshirts! Starchy though the atmosphere might be, you sure can’t beat the setting. This morning was foggy and serenely magical. I could spend all day on the terrace here sipping Bloody Marys and gazing out at Carmel Bay.

We didn’t talk as much about the job in Charlotte as I thought we would. The jist is that Michael wants the job and they want him – or they want the other candidate. He learned when he got there that there is another person they are also closely considering, but not to worry: the other’s qualifications are very different. That’s all they wanted to tell him. Hmmm…. And did Michael mention his geographical, family and preexisting career and transitional conditions? No. He reminded me that the right time to negotiate is when the offer is on the table. Sigh. So not only is he still in the running but I have to wait even longer to FIND OUT. I hate that.

The rest of the family got in pretty late. Apparently, the junk food and rides (bad combination!) of the Santa Cruz boardwalk were a real hit with the kids, especially the old wooden coaster. Monique said it was old and rickety and she ended up with a few bruises after multiple jerky rides. She was surprised it hasn’t been scrapped in favor of one of those smooth magnetic coasters as used by Disneyworld. (Thanks for taking a few hits for the team, sister! So sorry I missed it!) She said Santa Cruz reminded her of our childhood trips to Coney Island. Ah yes, the sad and creepy carnival atmosphere. And at dusk the Santa Cruz gangs sort of drift in and take over the boardwalk so Monique and Jon decided they’d leave rather abruptly. This didn’t go over well with Andrew, who, unbeknownst to them, stormed off onto the beach. For about eight scary minutes (that seemed much longer), Monique, Natalie, Jon and Delia looked for him, finally finding him pouting and kicking sand. This was probably due as much to a saltwater taffy and churros-meltdown than unhappiness to be leaving the unsavory boardwalk. Anyway, she didn’t want to call and scare us while they were looking. Yikes.

The one thing Michael and I agreed on today was to promise ourselves that no matter what, we’d be back to Pebble Beach next summer to see more of this incredible place. It would be The Concours d’Elegance for him, with its sparkling fleet of classic luxury and racing cars, and the Lodge spa and galleries in Carmel for me. We both want to see the Mission Carmel, built in 1771. And how about wineries?! We missed them all! Oh, happy thoughts, please supplant those I don’t want to think about!

Sardine City

2009-01-29T12:13:00.000-08:00

Stefan had to stay home and study, so it was just family going to Monterey. And it made sense for us to stay overnight as it was a 3+ hour drive each way. Monique and Jon were still tired from their flight from Newark. Michael had just returned from Charlotte and his trip was even longer thanks to a connection in Chicago. (What, the reality of the commute doesn’t seem like so much fun after all?)

The drive down was long but lovely. As in the redwoods, I really got the sense of California as a vast and complex place. Truly inspiring – I’m so glad we chose this state to start Red House. It’s differently beautiful everywhere I have been. This trip, we saw farmlands showcasing the agricultural richness that makes this state’s economy more like a country’s. There’s Gilroy and its garlic. Watsonville produces most of America’s strawberries. And Salinas, the birthplace of John Steinbeck, is known as the Salad Bowl of America. Everywhere you look there’s spinach, cabbage, carrots, broccoli and artichokes. I just wanted to run out into the fields with a fork! They even grow watermelons here. Another treat was the incredibly fragrant eucalyptus trees lining the highway. They are so dramatic looking, with the wind whistling through their branches and papery bark. Also, apparently they can be a real fire hazard. When they burn they burn long and hard. Even so, I’ve got to have a small one for the yard.

I had been excited about seeing Steinbeck’s Cannery Row in downtown Monterey, but it was barely remembered, glimpsed behind endless tourist-y candy and souvenir shops. Still, seeing the wobbly shacks gave me a sense of what the life of a cannery worker must have been like here in Steinbeck’s day. A variety of the world’s people, lived like sardines and worked really awful hours canning actual sardines in cold, wet and stinky conditions. Makes my worst design jobs seem absolutely luxurious.

But here’s why we came - The Monterey Bay Aquarium. It has to be the best of its kind anywhere. (See www.mbayaq.org) We loved every exhibit - from the history of the fished-out Bay and how the canneries worked, to the dappled sunlight shining down on the towering Pacific kelp forest. It’s like the redwoods, only underwater! And, the aquarium provides little cards to keep in your wallet that tell you what fish you can eat without feeling guilty or filling up on mercury. Got to like that.

And speaking of food, only severe hunger made it possible to drag Andrew, Delia and Natalie from the aquarium. All of the adults were pretty worn out after a few hours dodging strollers and crowds. We had the family birthday feast at the Sardine Factory restaurant (www.sardinefactory.com.) Apparently, there are a few sardines left – or did we eat the last?! They were smoked and quite good. We loved the abalone chowder too, a favorite of President Reagan. And yes, it’s on the sustainable seafood list. Natalie had chosen the restaurant and there was a special cake for the birthday girl. Happy 20th, Natalie! You know what made us all happy? During dinner, Nat talked excitedly about the aquarium and nothing else. I wonder if there’s a spark of career interest… Could my niece be a future marine biologist?! I am going to encourage her!

We’re at the Hyatt, which has a nice lobby but felt dated everywhere else. I’ve seen this before – be wary of nice lobbies as the shag carpeting lurks just around the corner! Good night!

The sisters’ sit-down.

2009-01-27T09:24:00.000-08:00

Of course there is no shortage of exciting and scenic things to do in the Bay Area, but Natalie surprised me by suggesting we all go to the Monterey Bay Aquarium for her birthday weekend. Andrew and Delia squealed in delight at the prospect. We had talked about going, but it’s a long trip down there – and back. Nat also wanted to see Santa Cruz, which has a beach with volleyball-playing hippies, a boardwalk and pier with tourists, surfers of all ages and an old wooden roller coaster, among other amusements. We’ll need to stay overnight Saturday, and Michael will balk as he’ll just be back from Charlotte but we’ll have fun.

Meanwhile, Monique and Jon are here. I’m swamped at work, and making sure the kids get baths, food, and to and from school - especially with Michael gone. Today though, I took my sister to one of my favorite restaurants in Sonoma, The Girl and The Fig. (www.thegirlandthefig.com - just look at the menu and see if it doesn’t ALL look delectable!) This is like nothing she has back in Saddlebrook, NJ so I knew she’d be impressed. We talked a lot about Natalie and what might be ahead for her. We both hope her great adventures will be mainly in the areas of employment and education. Nat does like it out here, and is having fun with Stefan - we know that much, but there’s not a lot of goal setting. Having lunch with Monique reminded me that she was the same way, and actually still is. Not that there’s anything wrong with planning life around charity auctions, tennis and spa appointments – nice work if you can get it, right? But it’s a bit…passive, and Natalie needs a female role model who is balancing more of life’s roles. That is, after all, why she was sent out to me. Not that I’ve had the influence I was hoping for, like encouraging her to develop interest in business. Her Red House internship was a disaster. Maybe it’ll take more time for Nat to develop the maturity to figure out how to go about getting what she wants.

This was just lunch - we couldn’t resolve all of Nat’s issues. (Or ours either!) We did agree to communicate more about what’s going on. (Until now, I hadn’t told Monique about the arrest, the “NaSte” tattoo - and even now couldn’t bring myself to mention the dynamite as the other info caused her to squirm quite a bit. So much for me thinking she’s blasé!) I was glad we were able to talk. Monique agreed to participate more in her daughter’s life. She needs to have an opinion, and I could do with fewer (!), but we both want the best for our Natalie.

I wrote up a list of fabulous wineries for Monique and Jon to visit. Plus, they’ll be doing a bit of used car shopping with their daughter. And I went back to the office to resolve issues that Kerin then called clients about. She is really taking control of every project I throw at her, I’m so glad that she’s here!

The Natalie Plan.

2009-01-22T10:09:00.000-08:00

There’s always another shoe to drop, isn’t there? On my way to the meeting, Michael calls me with information that probably spiked my blood pressure enough to blow the sunroof right off of my car. At the same time my sister and her husband will be flying west, my husband will be flying east for another round of interviews in Charlotte, banking capital of the New South. He tells me to relax (I hate that), that it’s just the next two days and he’ll be back for the party and related Bay Area excursions. Not much I can do so I allow the anger to boil even though I know I shouldn’t. I rant loudly about the logo problem, the messy house, the gum, the early-arriving guests and the EIGHT STICKS OF DYNAMITE IN THE GARAGE! I just hate how low-key he can be about something Homeland Security would be all over, but he said to get the facts from Natalie before I react. He’s right (and that is what I’m doing) but I’m mad so I don’t care.

Yet, just as the suffocating weight of all I have to do and resolve threatens my already tenuous mood, one answer comes that takes some of the pressure. Natalie responded to my terse text message, in which I used as many exclamation points as I did letters: “Not a terrorist. Trust me.” Ok…. But what then? I can’t respond with questions while driving. It would have to wait.

The realtors were not as unreasonable as expected. Each thought a heart should be incorporated, but one wanted a pair of work gloves with a heart, another wanted a watering can sprinkling hearts, and another liked the original heart surrounding the house, only wanted the house replaced by the National Association of Realtors logo. These were all good and feasible-to-create images – I hadn’t expected that degree of clarity in their thinking. (I guess that in their line of work they have to be as good with details as I am.) I told them I would do some thumbnails of these three new potential logos and the project would be on hold until they had voted on their favorite.

I tried texting Nat again right after the meeting and no response, but she was at the house when I got there. Did my eyes deceive me? She was vacuuming! I hated to stop her but it was time for a long talk. She was really sorry about the dynamite – and had almost forgotten about it. (How could you forget about explosives under your bed?!) Her reason for having it was not as sinister as I had feared, though it wasn’t very smart. She and Stefan were going to try to blast a wine cave out of a hill at his parents’ winery as a gift for their 25th wedding anniversary! Thoughtful, but ill conceived. Now, I’m no engineer, but I don’t think it’s that easy to create a cave. For one thing, there are geological concerns, possibly utility lines - not to mention the likelihood of collateral damage, death and dismemberment. Natalie knew it was probably illegal to possess dynamite as they had tried a hardware store and even a gun shop (!) first with no success. (This isn’t Deadwood, S.D. – or 1857!) She and Stefan eventually bought their cache from some bikers who had bought it from someone on an Indian reservation. I told her she had to get the box out of the garage, though I lacked advice for what she should do with it after that. (Soak the sticks in a bucket of water?) Sigh. Nat was pretty contrite about what amounted to encouraging Andrew to shed his clothes in kindergarten too. And I learned her summer interest in concert promotion had been thwarted by the fact that Lynyrd Skynyrd was not interested in playing any vineyards – they were booked solid in venues of more reliable attendance (i.e. former Confederate states). I let her get back to cleaning. Later, the five of us sat down to a happy dinner to plan the weekend fun. I think we all need a little of that!

Under Siege

2009-01-19T10:42:00.000-08:00

I COULD NOT believe what I was seeing- there had to be some explanation. “Dynamite” and “keep dry” were handwritten on the rather ordinary-looking cardboard box. I carefully pulled it out from under the bed and opened it - it wasn’t even taped. Sure enough, eight sticks in bubble wrap. Why would Natalie have these?! She works in a winery, not a mine! I had to find out what she was up to. Should I call the police? F.B.I.? The Bureau of Land Management? I decided not to get the government involved just yet, but I did move the box to the garage, placed it in the corner farthest from the house and put a bag of potting soil on top. (As if that would absorb the explosion!)

Just as I was about to text Natalie (which, I have learned, is the quickest way to get her to respond) her mother (my sister) called. The Tata Nano car they wanted to get for Natalie isn’t available yet so they are going to get her something here in California. And, since they now are not driving west they wanted to come to the birthday celebration five days early – tomorrow (!) and was that ok…? AAHH! What could I say? I had no real party plans in place yet, and a box of explosives in the garage, but sure, Monique! I gritted my teeth and told her it would be great to see her and Jon TOMORROW. (Hopefully, I said it without a shred of sarcasm.) Now what?!

I rushed to meet with the group of realtors who were suddenly not in agreement about the house encircled by a heart as the logo for their red polo shirts. Apparently, the do-gooding agents are not all with the same firm and petty disagreements had already arisen concerning the colors of flowers chosen to brighten up yards, and even which brand of window cleaner they should be using. (Sale price won out over green formula.) Ordinarily, this sort of issue would not be a problem for me: I’d hear all opinions and carefully consider and offer my own - except for the fact that the order was in and embroidery was already scheduled. I had to jump on this now if the logo was not to end up being a house broken in pieces. (Interesting that that image came to mind just after I stashed dynamite in my garage!)

The Trouble with 20.

2009-01-16T10:01:00.000-08:00

I could coast a long time on the good feelings associated with generating new business. It’s no coincidence of course, but my enthusiasm is carrying over into a new love for football. I am actually watching the playoffs on TV. This also helps distract me from thinking about Michael’s potential job in Charlotte. I have another distraction: Natalie’s impending birthday. She’s about to turn 20, and as she lives with us (some of the time anyway) I feel that we should have a party for her. This task is way more difficult than the cupcakes and party favors of a Delia or Andrew party. I don’t know most of Nat’s friends, wouldn’t want to, and doubt she wants to mix them with family anyway. I compromised by inviting my sister and her husband out for a weekend visit. They haven’t seen their errant teen since last Christmas and now she’s about to be an ex-teen. I too, have been less than involved with Natalie lately as she’s been working at Stefan’s parents’ winery and living with their son in a tree house anyway, and well, we’ve had some drama of our own at this house... I realize that I never asked Nat what became of the idea for the “Skynyrd in the Vineyard” concert. Nor had I had that talk with her yet about her having told my son “clothing is optional”. She at least needs to know her philosophy does not extend to kindergarten circle time… I had really hoped that her time here (almost a year so far!) would lead to something other than various legal and professional mishaps, tattoos and a high school boyfriend. But Red House’s first and ex-intern has other plans, I just hope she knows what they might be.

My sister and her husband will be coming out and staying in our Natalie-occupied guest room, so I’ll need to move Nat into Delia’s tiny room, and plan the birthday dinner and one or two outings for the seven of us – eight if Stefan’s interested. I learned that Nat’s parents are surprising her with a car for her milestone birthday, an Indian Tata Nano that they are driving out from New Jersey themselves. (Why didn’t they just start from India? That would be fun!) They chose white –check it out at tatanano.com – looks like a golf ball, but what’s not to like about a $2,500 car?! And, as the insurance will be carried by someone other than myself I think this is a great idea!

I had asked Natalie several times to come help clean up the house for her parents’ arrival, but as she and her boyfriend have weatherproofed their tree house platform she’s over here pretty much only when Stefan has to study. I know I shouldn’t let her slide, but it is her birthday so I decided to just get the work done myself - starting with her room. I learned early on to insist that she keep the door closed but I was unprepared for the wasteland before me. Even with rubber gloves the task was daunting: dirty clothes covering every inch of floor, and underneath? Lots of science fair-worthy surprises - apple cores that had to date back to her arrival last winter, half-eaten containers of yogurt, and bottles of nail polish, with one missing its top! I got flat on the floor next to the bed and slowly lifted the dust ruffle - fearing vermin. And what did I see? A long line of used gum affixed to the bedrail! The globs were equidistant, suggesting purpose. How appalling! And what I saw next made me gasp - the most science fair-worthy surprise of all – a box labeled DYNAMITE!

Bow Down to the Silver and Black! Part III

2009-01-14T12:47:00.000-08:00

Back in the “loge of luxury”, I tried to watch the game, but because of the curve of the stadium I could see that the suite next to ours was actually a command center for Oakland P.D. and various affiliated crime fighters. Now that was interesting! They had computers and miles of cables to stay in touch with areas of potential trouble and presumably, their munitions warehouse. I found it irresistible to watch guys in commando gear and aviator glasses with walkie-talkies and binoculars trained on the stands below. What were they pointing at? I had to find out! Knocking on their door probably wasn’t a good idea. An opportunity presented itself when one of the agents stepped out in the hallway to make a personal call, where I was doing the same thing. I waited until she was done and said hello. We got to talking, and she said there’s more trouble with fans when Oakland is winning, but that doesn’t happen all that much. (Ouch!) I told her about my job at Red House, and would you believe I found my business opportunity outside the box, literally – in the hallway?! This officer is part of a speaking group that has been looking into shirts for a group of officers culled from all over the Bay Area who speak in schools. Something less intimidating than their uniforms, but also not undercutting their authority as law enforcement officers. Definitely a button-down! The embroidered logo will be tricky, as it has to be general enough to please several different agencies. I said Red House could get what they needed with the budget they had. We scheduled a meeting for next week. I couldn’t wait to tell Michael that while he was watching guys falling on the grass I was expanding Red House’s client base! Touchdown!

Oh, while talking in the hallway, I saw that Natalie had responded to the photo I sent her – which turned out to be rapper/actor/sometimes-inmate SNOOP DOGG! I showed the officer the picture and she laughed and said he’s almost always at the games and no, has never gotten in trouble here. (Not that she knows of!)

Back in the box and back to work – would you believe I was not done yet?! I mentioned my potential deal with the police (during a timeout of course) and one of the guests mentioned that he’s part of a group of realtors who spruce up foreclosed homes, and that they too need a tasteful shirt that promotes their efforts. What a great idea! (The sprucing and the shirts!) The realtors perform a great service and self-promote at the same time. (And the fact is, they have some extra spare time at the present.) They aren’t wielding nail guns and replacing windows, but they clean them - and do yard work and plant flowers at unoccupied homes, preserving the property values of their neighbors. And who will the neighbors call when they want to buy or sell? Now that’s great P.R.! He will check his schedule and call me next week. Wow! Is football a great game or what?!

Bow Down to the Silver and Black! Part II

2009-01-12T11:43:00.000-08:00

Once inside the stadium, Michael had to pull me through the sardine-can crowd to the suite elevators. A small but thuggy-looking guy in a coat many times larger than he was waiting in front of the doors. He was flanked by two massive men who were half-swatting away a pack of cell phone photographers. The guy was known! But who was he? I bet Natalie would know – I took a photo and sent it. The elevator was small so one of the bodyguards had to ride alone, which struck me as funny. I wished I could identify the celeb, oh well. He couldn’t be a football player, that’s for sure.

I saw a service cart go by, laden with champagne bottles –yes! Could the caviar and blini be far behind? Maybe not, but I soon learned none of it was destined for our suite. Instead, our host opted for a “different” catering package: light beer and margaritas made with what appeared to be a fluorescent green food coloring - like the stuff in The Incredible Hulk movie. Yuck. And nachos. After introductions it was time to turn around and brave the crowds again to go down to the field, where we would get to see the players warming up. This was a big honor, I was told, though I’d rather be gauging fellow guests’ business interest in Red House.

On the field, the players stretched and jogged. Most entertaining were the ultra-devoted fans assembled in the end zone. They never missed a home game. They believed. Their motto: “Real Men Wear Black” is not taken figuratively. The designer in me appreciated the efforts of so many to create such outrageously elaborate costumes. If the goal is to strike fear in the hearts of their competitors then they could not fail. The skull and crossbones are a motif. Bones of all kinds were strung as necklaces, bracelet and anklets. There were skulls on staffs to pound down during a touchdown, or impale opponents. There were silver wigs of massive proportions. I saw witch doctors, pirates, demons - all variations on the theme with faces painted in black and silver. I’m not sure who wore the most makeup, the fans or the Raiderettes. The field experience was surreal!

After the players were introduced they ran into their locker room, and as they did, they were touched by a phalanx of fans, who roared, chanted, screamed and otherwise blessed them with good juju and a little paint transfer – whatever it takes to win!

It was our turn to exit the field and get back to our tepid nachos. We too received the fans’ mojo as we left. I braced myself for the rain of hands and it wasn’t so bad. Dusting off some glitter from my charcoal gray pashmina (RH29) I could feel the instincts of a fan. I was a part of something big, and it was exciting! GO RAIDERS!

Bow down to the Silver and Black! Part 1

2009-01-08T12:35:00.001-08:00

I’m not a football fan. I am though, always interested in anything my clients feel passionate about. In this case, the wild and wonderful Oakland Raiders. Last month, a client invited Michael and I to join him for a home game that he assured me would be quite memorable. The client had booked a luxury suite for the event and he is a restaurant owner so I knew the food would be good. How could we say no? Michael was thrilled to be going. Not only does he actually love football, but the game would allow him to avoid another episode of the dreaded Madeleine Inquisition with regards to his Charlotte job interview. Fortunately for our client, the Raiders were not playing the Carolina Panthers, as Michael’s loyalties are currently questionable at best.

My client said attending a Raiders home game is one of those things to do before you die, like climbing Mt. Everest. I had already decided against any bucket list items that might actually bring on death, but a sporting event sounded harmless enough.

Game day was awesome, sun shining in down on the valley – and then we got down to Oakland, where the skies looked more like… primer. We arrived three hours early to take advantage of the pregame festivities and yes, a little business too. I fully expected to be able to introduce the Red House brand to someone in the suite by first down and have their business by the end of the game.

We sure didn’t expect that parking was going to be a challenge this early, but we had arrived at the world’s largest parking lot. Fans had been situated so long it appeared they had set up camp. Turns out they actually had - the tailgate party is an Oakland institution. I saw the most elaborate barbecue set-ups, with tables and chairs sheltered by black and silver striped awnings, and even a smattering of actual recliners. And beer. Lots and lots of beer. The recycle bins were overflowing and it was 10:00 a.m.! There were trailers festooned in silver and black fringe, hawkers with Raider merchandise of all kinds – including shot glasses. Fans wouldn’t want to be short of those! (I bought a small, tasteful pin for my pashmina.) Many fans utilized the stereos in their cars to maximum effect, and he who has the biggest speakers wins! The vibration of the cacophony wars threatened to loosen a few of my fillings.

As we walked the mile or four (!) to the stadium, the volume increased. There was some friendly trash talking between the tailgate crowd and the few who dared file past them wearing the colors of the opposing team. But no one threw a rib or beer can. There were few children around – probably for good reason. A man staggered past me, placed one steadying hand on the side of the Porta-Potty while the other unzipped his fly and he relieved himself against the side of the structure. Oh. My. God. “Michael!” But again, my husband missed seeing what for some reason I always do. He was ten paces ahead admiring a classic Dodge Charger painted half silver and half black with a life-size (real?!) skull mounted on the hood. It too was memorable, but I wished he had seen the guy who couldn’t be bothered to STEP INTO the Porta-Potty!

Business and Grits.

2009-01-05T13:05:00.000-08:00

My worst fears are realized: Michael loves Charlotte! But does Charlotte love him? Apparently, she, it - the world of megabanking does. He’s back for a second set of interviews and had meetings from early morning throughout the day, a regular whirlwind of fun. He was gushing with enthusiasm when he called after a dinner meeting follow-up with some of the execs he met with earlier. He said they were impressed with his education and career path, especially his role as co-owner of Red House. They like his brand of entrepreneurial spirit there, and his initial vibe was that he feels he’s what they are looking for. (OH NO!)

The city has it all, he says. Most of all, big plans for the future. Yeah, and big plates of grits and pork parts! I did a little research of my own – the city will soon have a NASCAR Hall of Fame, which means lots of Hooter’s restaurants sprouting up all around. Eeew. Michael said that what I consider “real” culture is coming too, museums of a nonautomotive nature, restaurants with chefs who know what escarole is and how to use it, and who don’t have packs of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeves of their grease-stained T-shirts. But it’s the South! Michael corrected me – the New South. Oh. He said that bankers wouldn’t be flocking to Charlotte if the city lacked the cultural amenities they’ve come to enjoy, like ten-page wine lists. I peppered him with more queries. No, he had not seen a single Confederate flag flying. Yes, there were grits at breakfast but only one VP in the conference room ate them. Michael himself had a blueberry scone. Where did they eat tonight? Savannah Red, a local denizen of southern food with fresh inspiration, oh, and a wine bar too. What about barbecue shacks? He did see one of these enroute from the airport. It featured a giant plastic pig on the roof with X’s where its eyes should have been. Uh-huh, exactly!

Much to my dismay, Michael did not mention his part-time and commuting requirements at any time during today’s interviews, and that his wife would leave Napa only if California fell into the sea. That discussion would happen later – once they offered him the job. (If, Michael!) He reminded me of one of his favorite aphorisms, “Always negotiate from a position of strength.” (I hope he feels faint the day he has to negotiate.)

He has a brief meeting in the morning with Human Resources to discuss the basic benefits, and he assured me he’d be home for “supper”. I think he was being facetious, but I’ll see if Dean & DeLuca has any pickled pig’s feet I can surprise him with.

Good night, ya’all!

2009! Bring it on!

2008-12-30T11:14:00.000-08:00

San Francisco, with its culture of food, wine and sophisticated fun, is a great New Year’s Eve kind of city. At least I’m pretty sure of it, as I haven’t actually done New Year’s in the city. And this is not the year for an extravagant evening of packing our drunken selves into cable cars for party hopping that ends with a night in the penthouse in the Fairmont. We’ll leave the decadence to the rock stars and heads of state. Instead, we’ll be ringing in the New Year in Napa, opting for a subtle, inexpensive, reasonably quiet but hopefully very fun gathering of friends, clients and even one vendor for a WHITE ELEPHANT PARTY!

Having just done one at the kids’ school that didn’t work all that well, I am determined to make this party memorable. Just like Michael and I used to do in New York!
So, if you like to wait until the very last minute to make New Year’s plans, or you’re in the mood to plan for next month, here’s my way of doing it.

A White Elephant party is simply a silly gift exchange, which, when done correctly, brings out the great humor and crafty strategy of your guests. However, every time I do one of these parties, otherwise intelligent people tend to get it wrong. Be very clear in your invite, State that guests are to bring one gift per person, not per couple. Gifts should be wrapped but not tagged, as no one knows who will be opening them. Tell them their gifts can be anything - except something bought for the event “that everyone would like”. A Red House cashmere scarf for example, would be an inappropriate White Elephant gift. But a sausage in the shape of a teddy bear has great potential. I always have a few extra wrapped gifts in case someone forgets theirs. (This always happens!) Guests should be advised that they will be expected to tell a brief story about their gift after someone opens it. Some guests find this cumbersome for some reason, so emphasize brief.

When guests arrive, they place their gifts under the tree and everyone carries on with drinks, dinner and catching up until it is time for the Real Party. Do not start the White Elephant too late though as it takes time, and those who leave before it’s over mess things up. Find out in advance if any guests need to leave early to relieve babysitters or walk dogs. Ideally, state a planned end time on the invite. For New Year’s, I’ve said 1:00 a.m. That gives us time for a “break” to toast 2009 and kiss.

When it’s time for the party to begin, pass around a bowl with numbers to draw corresponding to the number of people (and gifts.) The person who has “1” gets to choose first. Person #2 can choose any of the wrapped gifts or Person #1’s unwrapped item. The higher the number, the greater the options. As each gift is opened, the person who brought it expounds on its significance, provenance, or in my case reads as much as an entire typewritten page about the gift. (I like to tell a story!) This is maybe why others find the oratorical request daunting. But remember, public speaking is a valuable skill. And I think entertaining doesn’t get any better than this!

Two rounds of White Elephant are typically played. This gives Person #1 the opportunity to “steal” back his or her original gift or dispense with the clunker they have had since the beginning. The more bizarre gifts get traded a lot. And every once in a while there’s a clearly tacky gift that actually appeals to one guest. An example? A box of vanilla/nutmeg bath salts that was represented by the person who brought it as having the option of doubling as a pancake mix. The guest who took it home couldn’t wait to try it. Not sure whether it made it to the bath or kitchen!

That, my friends, is why you should plan to have or attend one of these parties soon. In uncertain times, laughter and good wine are the best medicine. Happy New Year, everyone!

On to the Ho Ho Ho!

2008-12-19T13:55:00.000-08:00

I am feeling much better about the holidays. Most work issues are tabled until January; trips, pageants and parties are for the most part done. And shopping has been easier as I have been out there less this year. The key to cutting back is making gifts meaningful, of course. Forget throwaway fashion – the refined classics of Red House will be under the trees of my friends and family this year, and enjoyed for years to come. We are all about quality that keeps its value. And, yes, I know, Ralph Lauren thought of it first. Though I have to say, when I had my nose pressed against the window of his San Francisco boutique last week, it was to admire something a bit more opulent. (Not, however, the $16,000 crocodile bowling bag – Horrors!) Let’s hope for a rebounding economy very soon. Meanwhile, a Christmas morning characterized by less frenzy and mountains of crumpled gift wrap means more time to enjoy each other. Sounds trite, but I’m thinking it will be a memorable holiday.

What really made my mood change for the better was participating in a “Dinner-and-a-Coat” benefit party at Delia and Andrew’s school for Napa Valley farm workers and their families. The students collected outgrown and “out of fashion” (i.e. not classic!) kids’ and adults’ coats. You might not think it gets cold here in Napa but we have our frosty winter days too, and a warm coat offers a lot of comfort. With the help of grown-ups, the coats were cleaned and displayed in the school gym on hangers that were wrapped in beautiful bows. Each was tagged with size and gender. After a healthy buffet dinner of locally grown food (that the farm workers probably participated in harvesting!), the party began. Each attendee pulled a number out of a fish bowl and Number 1 had first pick of coats. A White Elephant theme was meant to make the event more exciting, but some of the attendees were a bit confused at first - as were those of us organizing, as we all had different rules and needed to reach agreement. We did, finally, and tried to make it clear that Number 2 could pick a coat from the rack OR the coat Number 1 had chosen, and etc., etc… As the hours went by we realized White Elephant isn’t the best approach when there are hundreds of people and myriad sizes. Even so, everyone went home with a coat, a full stomach and muddled comprehension of a silly American party game. It felt good to help.

To my clients, vendors, friends, and the complete strangers who might be reading this, I wish you a warm and Happy Holiday, filled with the people you love, enhanced by good food – and good wine. Thank you for your continued business, and I hope you will choose Red House again in the year ahead. Here’s to a joyous 2009! CHEERS!!!

Shame and Suffering Under the Big Top.

2008-12-17T12:31:00.000-08:00

Party at Pier 29! In a tent! Dinner-and-a-circus! Every time I come to San Francisco I see the big white spiegeltent (German for “ancient Big Top”) of Teatro Zinzani and the tagline: “Love, Chaos & Dinner”. What’s not to love?! Check it out – www.love.zinzanni.org. It sounded like just the right place for the Red House Holiday Party. Extreme fun for all! The attendees were few in number but large in enthusiasm (or at least that’s what they told me). Just Kerin and her boyfriend Brian, Michael and myself. There were others we’d get to know by the night’s end, but not on purpose.

Anyway, the concept is a raucous, celebratory dinner party staffed by cabaret-loving carnival refugees and former gymnasts. Am I making sense? It is hard to explain. There are Elvis impersonators, actors, singers, comedians – any of whom could also be carnival refugees. The show is a series of breathtaking feats, vaudeville songs and comedy routines. I had heard that members of the audience are sometimes conscripted into roles designed to embarrass them thoroughly. I had also heard that we should dress wildly so I wore my red sequined cocktail dress with a turquoise feather boa and a vintage red velvet hat. Kerin opted for a “70’s glam rock look. I hadn’t seen anyone wear white satin since disco died! Blatantly ignoring my suggestion of festive dress, Brian and Michael wore Red House shirts. While I admire their good taste, they sure didn’t look like they belonged with us. They purposely did not want to attract attention. Instead, under cover of business-casual they hoped to observe others attracting attention.

One of the server/participants, a stunning supermodel-type, announced to our table with Nazi-like inflection that she was 6’4”. She then demanded that each of us indicate our height as she took copious notes. She cracked a whip and announced that she was from “East Germany”. With Teutonic efficiency, she adjusted the salt and peppershakers on our table repeatedly and seemed quite irritated - mumbling under her breath about the “lack of discipline”. At one point she even used a ruler to make sure the condiments were precisely placed. Then, before leaving to torment another table, she told me my dress was too sexy for me. (Ouch! But I got to thinking, maybe she’s right…!)

There was something going on in every part of the dining room the whole evening. Every course was a new adventure. A trapeze artist dangled over tables as our salad plates were delivered by a server who clambered effortlessly over the back of our booth and slid onto the seat. He arranged the plates for us and then slithered under the table and out – all without a word. Bizarre!

Other than the fact that little bits of my feather boa kept getting into my food, the cuisine was really quite good. Our focus though, was on the experience - while being careful to avoid eye contact with the staff. They appeared well trained to spot a victim. Poor Brian, he must have looked too normal in his Red House button-down shirt. He was targeted by a woman (well, not a real woman) who said he was her long–lost Todd! I know he’d be devastated if I told you the full extent of his humiliation, but what happened next was that “Miss Davina” took “Todd” by the hand to center stage. (She was strong!) There, she reenacted the circumstances of their erstwhile romance. They had been marooned together on a tiny tropical island, the only survivors after their cruise ship sank and sharks ate all of the other passengers. She demonstrated that since it was so hot on the island “Toddy” didn’t need his shirt, so the Red House button-down was tossed aside. And of course, she didn’t need her shirt either, so Brian had to fashion a coconut bra and fit her with it. (You can picture this pretty well, can’t you? Right down to his crimson-red face!) So frightened was Miss Davina in recalling this experience that she had to hold Toddy verrrry tightly, just as she had all those years before they were rescued. Now that she had found him again she vowed not to let go, literally. She ended the routine by crowding into our booth with one very large and hairy arm looped around her Toddy. I’m pretty sure it will be a long time before Toddy forgives me, but what a memorable holiday party for the rest of us!

Bah Humbug, for now.

2008-12-15T13:48:00.000-08:00

I wish I could be more cheerful about this “most wonderful time of the year”, but I’m feeling like the various Dickens Christmas Ghosts are going to show up at my bedside and tell me everything I’m doing wrong. They’d be right. Meanwhile, I’m sure not having a good time. Michael is scheduled for another trip back to Charlotte before Christmas and could possibly miss Andrew’s kindergarten Posada pageant. I am expected to create a burro costume for the lad and I can tell you right now it’s not going to happen. (The best I can do is to glue fake fur ears and a tail on his ninja Halloween costume.) I promised Delia we’d go see The Nutcracker ballet in San Francisco and finish with hot chocolate and a viewing of the gingerbread cathedrals and castles in the lobby of the Fairmont Hotel. Walking past cookies is as close as I’m going to get to baking them!

My shopping so far has been limited to gifts for clients, which I hope to personally deliver to them, or even better: present to them at the parties they’ve been kind enough to invite me to. I look forward to these episodes of merriment and the opportunity to wear my red sequined cocktail dress. (It’s perfect for keeping RED House on their minds as we start a new year!) But interfering with my fun is…everything else I have to get done!

I know I’ll have to get to the toy store as the kids already have several Red House cashmere scarves from last year and are hoping for something they can play with. Aside from shopping, the Red House holiday cards need to be sent (I’ll put Kerin on that!) and a bit more gluing of glitter to complete the handmade cards we do each year for family and friends. This is a tradition that I take seriously as a designer, but no one will see them if they remain in a stack on the coffee table.

Our Christmas goose, and whatever else we may eat Christmas week will be delivered - cooked, baked and basted - by Dean & DeLuca. I am secure in the knowledge that we have sparkling wine chilled and ready in sufficient quantity for anyone who may drop by this season. Now there’s some comfort and joy!

Next time I’ll tell you about our own Red House “company Christmas party” – it’s coming up! Meanwhile, check out this alternative I found to the traditional holiday fruitcake: www.inflatablefruitcake.com. It might just help you finish your own holiday shopping!

Tea but No Sympathy.

2008-12-11T07:29:00.000-08:00

I met Mom and Dad for lunch at the Lakehouse restaurant of Calistoga Ranch Resort (calistogaranch.com). It’s such a lovely, private setting, by its own peaceful little lake, with the Mayacamas Mountains in the distance. I could almost forget that I have a lot on my mind. But I skipped the wine pairing and went with the ice tea – a sure sign that I’m on edge. I told my parents about Michael’s bank-lust and mentioned every what-if I could think of. They offered the sort of response you’d expect to hear from retired people with few responsibilities, and who have been ultra-relaxed here at Calistoga Ranch for the past week. They told me not to worry, blah, blah, things have a way of working themselves out. Ugh! That is NOT what I wanted to hear! I wanted sympathy and concrete suggestions for talking Michael out of potentially commuting to Charlotte. They weren’t going there, probably the wisest choice they made that day other than choosing the oyster and sauvignon blanc pairing. I was on my own to sort this out. Oddly, my own parents remind me more of Michael than Michael’s parents do…

So, unable to engage Mom and Dad in my battle, we talked about the kids. Except for Andrew’s episode of dancing around naked at Circle Time - that required many apologetic phone calls - there were no problems, and the clothes stayed on the rest of the time. The kids loved the pool at Calistoga Ranch, despite the chilly weather, but spent most of the time in the hot tub at my parents’ guest lodge and insisted on using the outdoor shower every day (So would I!) They went on long walks, discovering an old orchard and an abandoned summer camp, and Delia even joined in a beading class with my mom.

I gathered the kids’ stuff and went to pick them up at school. They were surprised to see me a day early and were both joyful and sad, as they’d be leaving the life luxurious at Calistoga Lodge. Can’t blame them for that - they were facing a very simple dinner of tortellini and broccoli and most likely an earlier bedtime than they’d enjoyed with Mom and Dad.

Michael and I had a very long talk on the phone tonight. He should have been exhausted, but he sounded very energized and ready for his interviews tomorrow. Though it was already dark when he arrived in Charlotte he said the city looked vibrant. Dang. Napa is plenty vibrant in a different way. And New York is the MOST vibrant, and I am thrilled to be out of the rat race there. I thought Michael was too…

He did tell me that the interviews are preliminary and no decisions will be made for at least a month. Good news!

See ya, Michael.

2008-12-08T11:49:00.000-08:00

My brain is still buzzing. Charlotte, North Carolina! Unreal! I didn’t sleep well as I was thinking about his plans, my plans, our plans – everything.

On the way to the airport Michael did his best to calm me down. He said that his top priority is our family. If (and there are a few ifs) he takes this job it would be a gradual transition. He would be one of those commuter employees and only a part-time one at that, as he is committed to the smooth running of Red House. He would also be very involved in the choosing of his replacement. The business would not suffer – this he assured me of. The rest of it – how our ENTIRE LIVES would play out is another issue entirely. He asked that I not get ahead of myself on that one right now - too many unknowns. What is known is that I’m not known for my patience, but I will try. At least temporarily.

I dropped Michael off at SFO and went to pick up the kids, who were staying with my parents at Calistoga Ranch. Good thing I called first as it was morning and my mom reminded me that the kids were in school. Oh, right! She was surprised to hear from me a day early. (Not as surprised as I was to be here a day early.) I made plans to meet my parents for lunch and then surprise Delia and Andrew by picking them up at school.

Back to work and plenty of it. This trip was the first time Michael and I had been away from Red House for more than two days since we launched the business. I have to say, Kerin did very well while we were gone. Not that I expected disasters, but there were multiple orders coming in that she had to deal with in addition to her administrative responsibilities. I wasn’t sure how she’d do under pressure, and it was great to find out that she has the ability and motivation to effectively handle quality control and client contact too. I learned that she also fielded some new business inquiries with professionalism and flair. I see an evolving role for Kerin. She asked where Michael was and I thought about telling her, but we had stitching to check this morning on 78 shirts. I just said he had a family issue. The facts can wait for another day!

Road Trip Day Five: U-Turn

2008-11-24T15:35:00.000-08:00

Michael had told me he had a surprise planned for the last night of our trip. Was that why we had to leave quickly? He seemed rushed as he gathered up his things in the room. I asked again. He sat on the edge of the fussy lace bedspread and told me that we were going to go to Ashland, Oregon, to spend our last day touring Rogue River Valley wineries, and our last night seeing a play at the fabled Oregon Shakespeare Festival, but that’s all off now because he found out he had to get back today to catch a flight tomorrow to Charlotte, N.C. Why? FOR A JOB INTERVIEW! I was floored, and suddenly enraged. I wanted to grab something and throw it across the room. There was a china tea set handy but Michael gave me his “think first” look, as I was about to pitch the sugar bowl. What followed was an outburst - me raising my voice and giving the other guests (who were still down at breakfast at least, and not right next door) their own reason to dislike Bed & Breakfasts. Michael suggested I take my rants to an even smaller space – our car. And so I did. For 100’s of miles south it was mainly me talking, well, arguing, about whatever he said. I don’t remember any of the scenery going back, and then we were finally on a particularly bleak stretch of interstate anyway. I had a lot of questions and even more complaints.

Michael said he wasn’t looking for a job, but was approached by someone he knew from his business school network. The opportunity was awesome, and yes, it was in Charlotte, which he said had changed from a backwater to a banking hub. He admitted that with Red House poised to grow it would be difficult to turn the financial aspects of the company over to someone else, but he said he had thought it through and it was do-able. More so now than it would be later.

He had planned to tell me about the interview when we got back home, and that he was sorry that instead he had to cut short (and mess up) our trip, but all the people who wanted to interview him were all going to be in Charlotte at the same time so he had to fly out tomorrow. I ran the gamut of emotion – why did he even need a career outside of Red House? And what about US?! Delia and Andrew?! Life in Napa?! I knew the south could not come close in terms of appeal.

After what felt like forever on the road we were back in Napa. Near perfect Napa. It was late; I’d get the kids tomorrow after taking Michael to the airport. I sat on the deck for a while, just thinking – where would all of this lead…?

Road Trip Day Four, Continued: Eureka!

2008-11-20T10:18:00.000-08:00

Eureka means, “We found it!” and we did – before lunch. A quaint city of Victorian homes, it has seen better, noisier days as a shipping port for the many logs felled in Humboldt.

Though Michael knows I dislike Bed & Breakfasts and Victoriana, it was his idea to stay at an authentic Victorian B&B. He thought that the style elements might be a source of inspiration for my work at Red House. He also thought the experience of sharing a bathroom and breakfast with perfect strangers would help me in my quest to acquire patience. Well, it didn’t help that I started out tired, and that I had to stake out some space in the parlor to get some work done while Michael explored Old Town. I’m not used to dealing with distractions such as the public coming in off the street and inquiring about vacancies. And it was nearly impossible to get a wireless signal with all the heavy tapestries and stuffed animals clogging the air space. Being seated at the Victorian séance table was sort of unnerving too. Plus, the velvet chair I had to sit in was precisely a right angle. Better to conjure the undead from a position of excellent posture, I guess. And there was so much clutter in the room that I had trouble concentrating. Stuffed peacock! Antlers! Dolls with tiny teeth that looked like they were taken from real children! And the effect of fringed red silk lampshades is to draw all of the light from the room and reflect back onto me a devilish red pallor. I decided to have a glass of whatever was in the room’s decanter. Wow - one ghastly sip told me it was just for show. Eventually, I settled into a working mode, though when all was said and done Michael accomplished more than I – he found a real gem of a restaurant, Avalon. It’s got to be the only local recipient of the Wine Spectator Award of Excellence. (See it at avaloneureka.com) If you find yourself here you have to go for the pear, bacon and gorgonzola salad - and the smoked quail. Of course, the substantial wine list was a delight after my day in the parlor.

Back at the inn: The bathroom was down the hall and some dark and creaky stairs, but no one was in it when I got there – a plus. We tucked in to what was for us a tiny bed, but it was the rock-hard pillows that made it difficult to sleep. I must have managed though as I was awakened by the sound of talking in the hallway and doors opening and closing. It was 3:14! And again - more of the same at 4:30! Who stays out that late? See what I mean about B&Bs?! Naturally, Michael slept through the noise. I didn’t get back to sleep until it was about time to get up anyway. And I had spent hours thinking about whether to go find the parlor and drain the moonshine from the decanter, but figured I’d crash into one of the priceless antique gramophones en route.

Six normal looking people were seated in the dining room with fruit cups in front of them when Michael and I came down for breakfast. I expected at least two of them to be hung-over 20-somethings, but no. The innkeeper offered us coffee, which we enthusiastically accepted, and then Michael and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance – the coffee was barely tea colored and was flavored with vanilla – GAG! But we learned the story of the nocturnal noise – the poor couple! They came all the way from Alabama for a wedding in the redwoods and their rental car broke down as they were driving back to Eureka. They were by the side of the road for hours waiting for a tow truck. Dazed and confused, they left their cell phone in the truck when it dropped them at the B&B. They fell asleep only to be awakened an hour later by the innkeeper, who had to roust them to the phone in the parlor to take a call from their rental car company. Whoa.

The innkeeper seemed distressed that I hardly ate any of my breakfast, a huge platter of French toast encircled by a string of sausages. There was a good half-pound of powdered sugar there, plus islands of butter adrift on a sea of syrup! I was somewhat ashamed of myself and tried to divert the innkeeper’s attention to a portrait on the wall, which I commented on, saying it looked just like Joseph Stalin. The innkeeper looked as if she’d been kicked in the head, “That’s my great-great Grandfather.” (Ouch!) I wasn’t making any friends here. Michael saved the day by announcing that we had to go. (We did?!)

Road Trip Day Four: Checking Out!

2008-11-14T08:26:00.000-08:00

When we got back to the room I started throwing things into my bag. I wanted to leave that instant! Michael suggested I take a deep breath, gather my brain cells and reconsider. Where would we go this late? He had a point. My client was right (at least about one thing!) - it is secluded here. We agreed to stay, and be out before dawn so as not to risk her seeing us. She’s a good client and I plan to just pretend forever that I didn’t see her in a plum silk jacquard dress with a vine pattern lace overlay. (Lace is a major trend this year.) I’ll always remember the details: she had a small, beaded evening bag, and her “date” appeared to be wearing a Red House Textured Silk Polo (RH-10) in Steel Gray. They were laughing and sharing a bottle of Perrier Jouet champagne like they were the only people there. How really shocking! Michael suggested I spend some quality time with the laptop. Guess he wanted to get some rest for our early checkout, and he was probably exhausted listening to me speculate on why, who, blah, blah, blah. I couldn’t sleep of course, and so I typed for hours.

I was up first as it takes me longer to get ready. Michael will take 15 minutes top from leaving the bed to starting the car. And he’ll look great. How does he do it?! I gathered up everything I’d need in the bathroom so as not to wake Michael after my shower. I quietly closed the door, turned on the light, pulled back the shower curtain and after a half second of cognitive dissonance/predawn brain fog I screamed – “BAT!” I dropped my robe and about 30 different hair and makeup items onto the tile floor, ran out and slammed the door. Michael sat up in bed with a look of horror, and I don’t think it was because of the bat. He told me to calm down (grrr!) and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I heard quiet. Then… tooth brushing! I slowly opened the door and he gestured to the empty shower with its little window open, just like I left it last night before I knew about the bats. Mumbling, with toothpaste running down his chin, he said I had scared it good. I know, harmless. (But Michael never watched horror movies like I did…)

We checked out without incident. No client sightings and no citation for my disturbing the peace. There was even coffee in the lobby, for which I was extremely grateful.

It’s beautiful on the coast this early in the morning with dappled, though cool sunlight streaming through the clouds. We don’t have a long drive and will be spending the night in the Victorian Seaport town of Eureka. The coffee is wearing off though so I think I’ll sleep until it’s my turn to drive.

Road Trip Day Three, Continued: Checking In

2008-11-11T13:16:00.000-08:00

The desk clerk told me that Reggae on the River was held at Benbow Lake this year – a little too close to the Inn, she said, as they had to chase more than the usual number of squatters off their lawn, and in one case out of an attic. The people we had
seen were real hangers-on, as
the festival happened months ago.

The Benbow Inn was dreadlock-free when we checked in, and my only concern was the giant stuffed teddy bear “having tea” in the lobby, which reminded me of all the cluttered bed-and-breakfasts we’ve stayed in. I need not have worried - our room is tastefully furnished with antiques - no feared Victorian bric-a-brac. There’s even a small window in the shower – cute!

Almost time for dinner, but here’s what I’ve learned: the hotel is on the Register of National Historic Places, built in 1926 to provide distinctive lodging and recreational opportunities for travelers on the just-completed Redwood Highway. (Check it out: www.benbowinn.com.) Its architect was Albert Farr, known in my neck of the woods for The Wolf House, Jack London’s Glen Ellen home. Situated to enjoy views of the Eel River, the hotel was created in the English Tudor style with intricate wood and stonework. Several presidents have stayed here, though probably not Reagan or he’d have come to know some redwoods. Two of the on-holiday-from-Hollywood guests included Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy. Most notably, the restaurant is superb, the recipient of the Wine Spectator’s Award of Excellence for ten straight years. And if it wasn’t awesome there would be a problem as there doesn’t appear to be another place nearby for dinner. My client was right - this place is secluded!

We dined on the terrace with view of the romantic gardens. Though it was chilly, I was comfortable wrapped in my ever-present pashmina. We lingered over a molten chocolate cake baked just for us – heavenly indulgence! I heard a “swoosh” sound nearby and saw a shadow flitting by in the moonlight. Huh. And again. I looked over at a nearby table and asked the equally puzzled-looking woman seated there, “Was that a...bat?!” Sure enough, illuminated by the moonlight in a perfect Hitchcock-ian Halloween tableau, BATS!! Lots and lots of them streaming from the eaves and even some of the attic windows! Were they seeking insects? Chocolate cake? Or had they developed a taste for tourist blood?! Michael was nonchalant about the whole thing but not I; it was time to get indoors. I fled with the cake and stopped at the front desk to share my possible-near-death-by-exsanguination experience, but the night manager was not buying it. She said the bats were harmless and had been in residence for decades. In the 1960’s, sensing the discomfort of “certain guests” (she didn’t have to say it: the namby-pamby Maddies) the hotel owners paid some teenagers 5¢ per captured bat and they nearly went broke. (Eeeew - and what might they have done with all the bat bodies?!) She did offer us a complimentary sherry in the bar, you know, to steady our nerves. We liked that – and the polished wood was lovely, like an English gentlemen’s’ club. I could picture Ralph Lauren kicking back in his own cozy lair. We were trying to picture him swatting at bats with a vintage tennis racket in his signature classic whites when my eye caught something else that made me shiver. This time it was not a bat, but my client, the one who recommended this place to me. She was ensconced in a dark corner canoodling with a man I knew was NOT HER HUSBAND! Unbelievable! We had to get out of the bar – and the hotel – without her seeing us!

Road Trip Day Three, Continued: Naked up North

2008-11-06T14:00:00.000-08:00

The redwoods, wow! This is a whole new part of California for us. Does any other state have this much natural variety? I don’t think so. And I’m not sure if I believe President Reagan really said, “If you’ve seen one redwood you’ve seen them all.” At least when seen looking up from a hike they are quite varied in age and appearance. Driving along the “Avenue of Giants”, Michael and I were just in awe of these spectacular trees. There’s something so majestic about anything that can survive hundreds of years of earthquakes, fires, stormy winters, treehouse-building and SHARP AXES to grow to such towering heights – some are 360’! The younger ones really have it easy (like today’s kids!) as there are protections in place to ensure their future. I took a lot of pictures, again finding inspiration that I can draw on for Red House in the forest’s many shades of brown and the greens of the ferns, mosses and rolling farmlands. Grays too - the sky is different here. We are in Humboldt County, which, like Mendocino, is quiet enough to encourage agriculturally-minded counterculturalists to make this their dope growing destination. We didn’t see it but we did see some of them – naked!

Hiking led to hunger and we packed a picnic lunch to enjoy on the banks of the Humboldt River. Drifting down the river was a truck-size inner tube containing four young revelers who were enjoying golden-hued beverages from what appeared to be Mason jars. (Probably not vintage chardonnay.) They waved, and we could see clearly that they were naked! It wasn’t even warm out - at all! Astonishing! We waved back and shook our heads, feeling the fall chill and grateful for Gortex hiking gear and good wine.

Back on the road, and not too far up the highway, we saw what appeared to be some sort of a camp. And a colorful sign, “Reggae on The River”. Tents too, festooned with flags in the Rastafarian green, red and gold. And several more naked people dancing near a campfire! Unlike the inner-tubers, these folks could not be considered young by any stretch mark of the imagination. (So you know - that was Michael’s comment, not mine!) I was reminded of the guy whose robe fell open at the Sonoma spa last summer. Another image forever etched into my brain. Yuck. At least Michael saw this one, albeit from a distance that made the “details” fuzzy.

And sorry to disappoint you but no, Michael and I did not join the party and shed our inhibitions. We are staying, clothed, at The Benbow Inn in Garberville. This is another place you just can’t miss on your California adventuring. It was recommended by a client who said she comes up here all the time. She raved about the secluded setting.

Time to check in!

Road Trip Day Three: Mendocino and Meow

2008-10-29T13:08:00.000-07:00

We skipped out on what would have probably been an awesome breakfast, but after the lassitude that followed the waffles and massage of yesterday we decided to get an earlier start and check out Mendocino. It was kind of sleepy in the morning, enshrouded in a lovely Pacific mist. And what a hippie town! At 9:00 in the morning the marijuana smoke was wafting from several storefronts. (Ok, it was closer to 10:00.) At one such establishment I purchased a handbag-of-sorts for Natalie’s upcoming birthday. It was constructed of a recycled seat belt and tire. It’s actually quite useful and she’ll love it. The town also had a fair number of useless souvenir and candy shops, and plenty of tourists to patronize them. The heart of this community though, resides in the venerable Victorian homes, not all of them bed-and-breakfasts either. I loved walking past and looking at the lovingly tended English gardens. The Mendocino motto should be: “Yes, we have time for all of this – and you don’t!” The post office was from another era too. I mailed postcards to Delia and Andrew. (Stay dressed, young man!) We breakfasted on wheatgrass smoothies and some kind of dense brown muffin of twigs and underbrush (!?), and were also able to find satisfying lattes before resuming our adventure.

The staggering beauty of the Pacific Coast Highway makes for the ideal road trip, and led to our discovery of Pacific Star Winery (www.pacificstarwinery.com) north of Ft. Bragg. We had never heard of it, but there wasn’t a lot else going on, aside from the fabulous scenery, and after all - finding wineries is why we are here. And what a pleasant find! An old stone and redwood barn welcomed us to the cellar/tasting room. Here, we felt we were in the middle of it all – and we were. One worker was labeling bottles as we tasted. We met winemaker Sally Ottoson, who is rightly proud of the wines she has created. Some are not typical of what we’ve found in Napa and Sonoma and it’s worth the trip just to try them. Carignane (I love saying that!) is a product of old vines and history, and one of their most coveted wines. The Charbono is a rare find, the grape was nearly extinct due to the difficulty in growing it, but its popularity is definitely on the rebound now. And for everyday drinking, try Dad’s Daily Red. (What a great name! And Sally’s dad is still kicking – and sipping - at age 84.) Michael loves the Coro, a “Mendocino mélange” of zinfandel and nine other varietals. Sally’s viognier is a new favorite of mine, and I enjoyed seeing the tasting room staff patiently explain its pronunciation to some visitors from Utah who had never been to a winery before. (!)

I was very impressed with Sally and the winery she had created. Her attention to quality and detail reminded me of me. Fabrics, button plackets and grapes have more in common than I thought, and meeting Sally reaffirmed that I am on the right track with Red House.

It was time to go, but a cat in residence there decided to be my friend and would not leave me alone - even after I left the tasting room to feed handfuls of clover to some grateful sheep. No pampered indoor kitty, this was a Winery Cat. I’ve seen a few of these in my touring. So as not to have to survive on wine from the pour bucket, they lie in wait for assorted vermin and the occasional dish of proffered kibble. They sometimes show the scars of fights with other cats (or perhaps rats bigger than themselves) to retain the title of Winery Cat. Now and then, everyone just gets along, as you see multiple cats lolling around the grounds and the tasting rooms. This one may have wanted a vacation as he attempted to get in our car. I escaped his claws, but think I might have left with a few of his fleas. Not only that, my hands were gummy with the saliva of overzealous, clover-starved sheep. Yuck. I needed a shower, but it's back on the road with the magnificent redwoods ahead!

Road Trip Day Two, Continued: Dancing Naked

2008-10-27T16:27:00.000-07:00

Oh, after that last post I realize I may not have been clear: Andrew, and not the principal, was naked. Still, unbelievable! Turns out that Andrew found Circle Time boring and stripped down because his cousin Natalie had told him, “People should not wear clothing if they don’t want to.” The kids in the circle giggled. Andrew certainly did. Mrs. C did not. Perhaps his behavior was closer to the excesses of the ‘60’s than she’d like to recall. Not only did he strip down, he did a little dance and dashed away when Mrs. C and the assistant teacher attempted his apprehension. At various times this afternoon I talked with Andrew, the principal, my parents and Mrs. C. - and Kerin, who was feeling overwhelmed by the volume of orders coming in – all from the serene setting of our hotel deck. And I worked it all out, a flute of Roederer Brut Rosé in hand. Life is good – if complicated. I’m going to have a little talk with Natalie too, but that can wait…

I shouldn’t even talk about where I am! It’s such a little gem of a hotel, right on the Pacific coastline, but the secret is out, judging from the gushing praise in our room’s guestbook. But all right, I’ll tell you - Albion Inn. It’s in the tiny coastal town of Albion, just a few miles south of Mendocino. (Take a look at albionriverinn.com.) It’s a small and seriously romantic inn, and I was told that it’s usually foggy and cool. We lucked out, especially this time of year. I was entirely comfortable outdoors this afternoon, wrapped in my indispensable pashmina. (If you don’t have yours yet jot down RH-29.) From our deck in Room 19, we can see fishing boats, herons and the waves as they crash over the rocks. Wonderful! The gardens here are delightful, inspiring. The many shades of roses, dune grass, and the surprisingly blue sky could find their way into the color offerings of Red House. The inn’s small restaurant has the same incredible view that our room does, but framed by the gardens. And dinner tonight was truly romantic. If (when!) you come here, try to reserve the left corner table and eat early enough to watch the sunset. You will be enthralled. The inn does weddings, as you might guess, and we watched a sunset exchange of vows. Not that the truly inspired menu (especially the seafood) and extensive wine choices escaped our attention. This is not at all what you’d expect to find this far from SF. And what a coup for chef Stephen Smith to have escaped city life for a lovely setting like this one. I could spend weeks here! After that, I might find it a bit quiet and start to go insane. Napa offers more sun, a medium pace and of course, proximity to SF and the airport. But for a change (and we all need that) I will be back. (And returning guests get a 20% discount!)

Tomorrow – Mendocino and beyond!

Road Trip Day Two: Wild and Craggy Coast

2008-10-20T10:44:00.000-07:00

It was another late start for Maddie and Michael. We opted for the Couples Massage after a big plate of waffles and I fell asleep! Must have been good, right? Oh yeah. You really have to put the Farmhouse Inn on your list of must-see Wine Country destinations. There are so many great places here that you can go just about anywhere and say, “This is it, I’ve found my ideal _______ .” (Choose: winery, inn, restaurant, or vantage point from which to savor a glass of wine.) You can find yourself thinking you are in Tuscany, Alsace or Provence. Really, with the variety of climates and soils, and appreciation for the good life, Wine Country could be the culmination of all those places. And this trip has reminded me how lucky I am to be able to run Red House from the heart of it all.

Today we set out to explore more of the North Coast appellations. The Anderson Valley is absolutely stunning and so uncrowded. Here’s why: it’s not exactly commuting distance to SF. I love the windy roads and the openness that changes into serious forest that hugs the coast of Mendocino County. It feels secluded. I heard that lots of marijuana is grown here, but that’s not why we came. (!!) The one winery we had to see was Roederer Estate, maker of - you guessed it – sparkling wine! (www.roedererestate.com) The parent company, Roederer Champagne, has a long history making the real thing. Here, they found the right parcel of land with optimal growing conditions for making exceptional California sparkling wines. They carefully control the process, using only their own lots and even devising their own trellising system. My pick: the 2000 L’Ermitage Cuvée, their Tête de Cuvée. This is France in a flute! Ok, I’m oversimplifying, but the cuvée is a considered balancing of reserves. The best grapes are combined with a dosage of the best years’ wines. The result is more layers and textures on the palate. And the bubbles are miniscule - a sure sign that Roederer knows what they’re doing. This wine has garnered plenty of attention – look for it and taste for yourself. The Brut Rosé was delightful too, with a pale salmon color that would look wonderful against a starched white linen tablecloth celebrating a harvest dinner. Not a bad color for a Red House polo either!

What an impressive place Roederer is. There is an authentic feel to the winery and the valley itself. Maybe it’s the quieter days of fall, but I expected the tasting room to be packed with people and the roads overrun with traffic. We stayed for a couple of hours, tasting everything - but I also had to take an unexpected phone call…

I learned that there are MANY wineries and tasting rooms to visit up here. We will save them for later – and not much later, I hope. I had planned to talk about the incredible place we are staying tonight. Alas, I will have to get to that later as I have to call Andrew’s principal now. The call I got earlier was from my mother saying he stripped naked during Circle Time today!

Road Trip or No Trip?

2008-10-10T14:14:00.000-07:00

Mom and Dad just arrived in Napa! They want to experience every season here and we’ve just begun a new one. It’s also the nicest time of year to be in suburban New Jersey. Anyway, they are back at the elegantly appointed, faux-rustic Calistoga Ranch (calistogaranch.com) where they stayed when they came for Easter. Yes, I’m somewhat jealous of their outdoor living room, daily yoga and spa sessions, and of course the wine blending parties in the resort’s own cave. It’s a carefully cultivated sense of relaxation and it holds a lot of appeal for this business owner/mom.

I had a great idea. Why not leave Delia and Andrew with my parents to enjoy the lap of the Auberge Resort’s luxury - the pool, private lake, majestic hills and biking trails? Michael and I would hit the road in search of unexplored wineries, scenic coastline and rekindled romance, oh yeah…! But ---- No. That’s what the parents said at first. They sort of planned on the same sort of rekindling. I finally convinced them (using all of my best negotiating skills) that they could do THAT, with plenty of time for winery stops while the kids were in school. I asked for a week and got five days - deal!

Red House is doing great – double the business that we had a year ago! Several orders will come in next week, though. Kerin, for the first time, will be doing the initial quality control inspection. I’ve told her what to look for in my exacting detail. She also may have client contact beyond taking messages. This is also new for her, and I can only hope nothing major comes up that requires a quick decision. Good luck, Kerin!

But no guilt here. We need this little getaway and will return rested and ready for anything. We are quickly throwing some things in the car - not our best packing effort, but we want to GO!! It’s going to be a late start but we’re almost on our way west!

I never….

2008-09-29T13:54:00.000-07:00

Late summer is a great time of year almost anywhere, but even better in Napa, where the sunsets seem to intensify even as they’re disappearing more quickly every night. I had the best of intentions: four wine country couples ditching our kids and responsibilities for a summer night dining under the stars. One couple would leave before dessert.

With Andrew and Delia gone for sleepovers, Michael helped me string lanterns and lights. We set a long table with starched linens (still trying to recreate the French Laundry look) and decorated with lots of white candles and “only-in-Napa” details like a multiple sea salt tasting. I added bowls of olives, vases of peonies and goblets of water with mint from my own Mother’s Day garden. The table could not have looked more romantic.

“Nothing But Napa” was our theme. Each couple was assigned a course: salad, cheese or dessert using local, artisanal ingredients. They had to pair Napa (of course!) wine with whatever they created. As hosts, we prepared the main dish: grilled Niman Ranch pork kebabs with heirloom baby eggplant, chocolate bell pepper, red onion and golden tomatoes. We also did some easy appetizers including a mini Caprese salad of little mozzarella balls and green tomato on purple basil that I also grew – beautiful! Our wine was the perennial festive favorite, Frank Family Rouge. This really red sparkler stands up to barbecue, and just looking at it makes me happy.

With happy in mind, and plenty of good food and wine in circulation, I suggested we play a little game I’d heard about called “I never…” Apparently, I missed Michael’s look of panic. Here’s how it works: one person says something like, “I never… traveled to Spain.” The person who has been to Spain goes next. Or if there’s more than one Spanish traveler then it’s whoever’s seated closest. Then that person makes a true statement. Fun, right? For a while, you bet! Then it was “John Doe’s” turn. He said, rather blithely, “I’ve never…been happily married.” Ooooooh!!! There was a collective gasp, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the backyard. I shot him a glance with a puzzled smile - he was kidding, right? Mrs. Doe didn’t take the time to consider, she ran inside the house. John followed her in, muttering an apology. (To us or to her?) Then, CRASH! The sound of breaking crystal was followed by the silent realization that it was no accident. Some yelling ensued and then a second CRASH! Ok, that was IT! Risking injury or trying to stop it - I don’t know, I ran in like a firefighter. There were lots of little pieces. My infrequently used sherry glasses, I think. I’m no CSI, but it looked like they had been thrown at someone headed for the door. At least I wasn’t using our wedding crystal tonight. No blood, that was good. No bodies – both had apparently fled the scene. Together? Who knows? Michael was already inside sweeping, mindful that the dessert course was next.

Oh boy. All of us were a bit rattled, but with a really good conversation topic to pair with our blackberry clafoutis. Turns out that (and I didn’t know this) when John and Jane got married, Jane said, “I’m his fourth and last wife.” The consensus at our table was that she was probably incorrect, which led to another topic: how many marriages is enough? And, over coffee (which unfortunately had to be sourced outside Napa) we six decided that the magic number is three. If you can’t get it right by the third marriage then it’s time to opt out for the life monastic. Not that the Supreme Court is taking notes from our little dinner party, but resolution is good…

I made another decision over dessert: I never… will do this game again!

Today’s letter is K.

2008-09-22T12:01:00.000-07:00

Well, it’s happened. My final child has started kindergarten. Gone are the carefree days of gluing macaroni on cigar boxes, spray painting them gold and hoping they’d dry in time for Mother’s Tea Party Day. Actually, teas were more my own preschool experience than Andrew’s. He had field trips and cultural celebration days. I don’t know if they outfit California Kindergarteners with laptops yet, but I know they are expected to do more than glue and wield crayons. They are supposed to KNOW something, Delia told him so. We’ll see about that, Andrew likes his crayons.

His first day of kindergarten wasn’t like my first day, which involved a brand new back-to-school outfit, Sesame Street lunch box and photo opportunities by the bus. These kids come by parent-driven car, and they are still wearing shorts and flip-flops, as summer likes to linger a bit in Napa. I had to get the lunch box, though, never mind that he doesn’t stay for lunch - it’ll keep his crayons from melting all over my car!

Delia has been beside herself. The prospect of her little brother attending the very same school has just been unbearable, despite the fact that the small kids are pretty much segregated in the yard with razor wire from the “Gen Pop” of big bullies and The Too-Cool Faction. (All right, I admit to exaggerating a little due to watching too many “police procedurals” late at night.) But some things never change and it’s still tough to be the little guy in a vast new field.

I had heard the campfire stories about Andrew’s assigned teacher, Mrs. C, from Delia and friends at caffeine and sugar-fueled sleepovers. Various sources had her visiting from another planet, or a member of the Donner party cannibal family. (Not both? No. The girls seemed puzzled that I’d asked.) Another said Mrs. C is older than dirt, but used to surf (?!) One of the more interesting observations shared was that Mrs. C. wears yellow eye shadow. Really? Chrome Yellow or Pale Butter? (??) When I explained what I meant, using Andrew’s box of 64 crayons, they shouted in unison: “CHROME!” And not only that, but she apparently color-coordinates right down to the shoes, which might also be chrome, turquoise or lime green. This I had to see.

I walked Andrew to his classroom down The Green Mile (ok, I’ll stop), past endless group photos of his teacher with every class she had taught since the earth was formed - or 1977. (She’s been teaching since 1977?! I lost count.) In each shot, she had the same flip hairdo that Marlo Thomas wore in her That Girl TV series! It was no surprise to see the same ‘do now. Mrs. C. clearly favors re-living daily an era I don’t mind having missed out on: the early ‘60’s. Bobby Darin, Annette Funicello and Malibu Barbie must all be the deities in Mrs. C’s pantheon. And today is Nautical Day. She sported white clam-diggers (after Labor Day, even!), and a red, white and blue boat neck sweater. As expected, all accessories carried the theme. And yes, friends, there is such a thing as navy eye shadow! Mrs. C. seemed effervescently happy, and who wouldn’t be? - having chosen to live in a time warp of comfortable sameness and a strong economy. I sort of get it – let the kids enjoy the Disney-fied view of America just a little bit longer. Plenty of time for the unfortunate realities in first grade… Hey, it works for Mrs. C. Maybe the rest of us can learn to defer the hard truths.

I left a somewhat stunned but smiling Andrew to figure it all out while I went to meet with clients.

Hear me?

2008-09-04T15:18:00.000-07:00

A restaurant owner and repeat (i.e. favorite!) client invited Michael and me trackside to watch him race his fast and ancient Ferrari. I see him as the Ralph Lauren of restauranteurs, maybe because of his sports car collection or maybe because Ralph now has a restaurant also. Anyway, a day at Sonoma’s Infineon Raceway is not to be missed. (Check it out at infineonraceway.com.) Don’t like noise, dirt and fumes? Give it a shot anyway - think in terms of the list of things to do before you die. Mt. Everest is one, but that will always be last on my own list as it has little to do with the wine country lifestyle and a lot to do with overexertion and frostbite. But while auto racing is not necessarily my first choice for spending a weekend afternoon, it requires neither oxygen nor a sherpa. Well, perhaps oxygen, but let’s think positive scenarios.

Infineon, formerly called Sears Point (but not because of any commercial association with the retailer) is home to NASCAR events, NHRA drag racing and amateur racing, none of which hold any appeal for me. Infineon also has the Wine Country Classic, which interests me a lot. Like the Napa Wine Auction, it happens in late spring – my busiest time of year! Both offer opportunities for Red House that I want to pursue. The Classic includes every type of vintage car you can imagine, some with extensive racing pedigrees. Perhaps Red House should design a sleek drivers jacket – or at least a chamois towel to wipe the drool marks off the cars! Despite our being from New York, Michael has developed a case of California car fever and has decided he wants to drive down to Pebble Beach this summer for the annual Concours d’ Elegance. I think Ralph Lauren and his cars go to this event. If so, I’m going to be there too. I’d try to meet him, and after saying I love his cars, blah, blah, blah, I’d ask if he has any empire-building advice for me.

From the top of the spectator area we watched cars racing around the track as they negotiated harrowing turns and challenging elevation changes. The first few laps are interesting enough, but the mountains of Sonoma and vista of vineyards are even more so. Except to Michael. As my interest started to fade, I wandered down to the pavilion. This being Sonoma, I was able to get a glass of wine, and I also picked up a recipe for Lemon Risotto. Nice!

I put in my earplugs and ventured over to the track to take in the full multi-sensory experience, nothing like the acrid smell of burning rubber, gasoline and cigarette smoke (!). Seeing my client having a great time was worth the risk of conflagration. After he finished his race I ran over and asked him, “Can I sit in the car?” Over the din of engines he misunderstood and gave me a puzzled look, glancing around, and over a suddenly stilled track and with a somewhat disgusted expression he said, “Can we get to a bar?! Uh, no - I think my wife… has something planned.” Then he sort of backed away. I think I might have gasped. I’m sure there are many race groupies wanting to extend the fun off-track but I am not one of them. In fact, I’m not a race groupie at all! I mimed an emphatic “NO! NO!” but before I had to time to explain myself, the cars were on the track again and my client had disappeared into the pit area. I waved goodbye with a look of disappointment that could also have been misinterpreted (!) and went in search of Michael to confess. He hears these things all too often from me and will probably be the one explaining to the client. Sigh.

Greetings from dry ground

2008-08-28T15:01:00.000-07:00

It took a full four hours on dry ground to recover from sailing, and I still felt sort of… rubbery, as if the memory of that fateful trip is held fast in every muscle. And, to send my guts a-quiver again, The Natalie News: My niece and her boyfriend Stefan have been spending the summer working at his parents’ boutique winery. I had assumed they were kept busy – it is prime tourist season, after all - but apparently they’ve had enough time to plan the building of an arboreal room where they plan to stay “for a while”. Inspired by the woman who lived in a tree to protest logging, these two have no apparent agenda in playing tree house, other than (I’m guessing) to spy on tourists. They’ve chosen a majestic oak outside the tasting room and received permission from Stefan’s laissez-faire parents. Well, I hope they behave themselves and not turn it into a party platform. Poor tree!

Work at Red House continues to challenge and delight. It’s never boring, but I sometimes wish there was less of it to accomplish during a day. I’m still in partial panic stage, finishing up the last details on fall product lines. I wish that determining quantity was an exact science, and a particular zipper-pull order is currently keeping me awake. I often second-guess myself – did I choose the right shade of blue? Is the button placket long enough? Do I like the grosgrain trim? That’s the downside to being a perfectionist. I am so protective of my brand that I am hesitant to delegate more – and Kerin wants to do more! My clients know that I believe in what I sell. I am an evangelist for Red House and will do whatever I can to keep customers coming back for more. The brand is also deeply committed to the wine country lifestyle and I find myself thinking of ways to stay in that mindset while constantly flying all over the globe. Yet I see the light at the end of the tunnel of overwork and the possibility of a late summer getaway with Michael and the kids (anywhere but the usual NY and China!). Maybe even a Napa “staycation”. The last thing I feel like doing right now is drawing up another to-do list but if the list is all wineries, then I’m all over it!

Sea of Pain, Part III

2008-08-21T13:18:00.000-07:00

Once we were actually sailing, I started to feel even greener about the gills. The crew cheerfully mentioned that the currents in the bay are deceptively strong. You’d never know it looking at the surface of the water. I glanced over at Alcatraz, known as “The Rock.” I get it now - why wouldn’t all those escaping prisoners think they couldn’t swim for it? From their cells, they could smell the chocolate from the Ghirardelli Factory. How hard could it be to get there? Well, most of their bodies were never even found. I suppose some of the hardier inmates did eventually taste chocolate again. None of this mattered to me as I was thinking about it, because as much as I love the stuff myself, the thought of chocolate caused my stomach to lurch. Buck up, I told myself!

Was anyone else suffering? Not as far as I could see - everyone seemed to be laughing and drinking. And eating. Ugh, food – uh-oh!…….A moment of reckoning that would soon turn into retching! I knew it was time to act quickly to avoid humiliation. But where did the crew say the facilities were?! Why hadn’t I paid attention? Suddenly, I found myself puking the full 127’ length of the deck! (I had remembered the distance!) Gross! Near the bow, maybe, I just sort of sat myself down, and for a brief moment I thought I felt better. I looked up to see the underside of the Golden Gate Bridge. Cool! And then began heaving again. Michael finally came to my aid (he’d been chatting up a golf buddy) accompanied by the Second Mate. Presumably, the other hands on deck were pushing mops by now. They escorted me down to the bunks and made me eat Dramamine. Not soon enough, I fell asleep in a quasi-coma of shame, desperately hoping no one thought I over-drank and over-ate! And I was fearful that I might have caused the carefully applied varnish to disintegrate, thereby shortening the life of the historic ship. The Second Mate said not to worry. There was some consolation in hearing him say that I wasn’t the first to christen this ship with stomach contents. Some crew members (though not he) had suffered similarly. Some learned in this way that they weren’t cut out for seafaring. I can cross another career off my to-do list! So that was it. No rogue waves. No shark attacks. I was done in by a little pitching and a lot of puking. I missed out on awesome food, wine and potential business, but if the next event is on dry ground, look out!

Sea of Pain, Part II

2008-08-15T15:33:00.000-07:00

I decided to postpone my forays to the buffet and bar as there would be plenty of time for that later. I wanted to network with the attendees before I got too distracted by the views and picture-taking.

Soon, the other “sailors” had arrived and we left port. The skipper and mates introduced themselves and told us the history of the ship, which was built in Maine and launched in 1924 - that much I remember. Then the skipper started talking about riggings and using charts for navigation and learning to avoid hazards. Did he mean pirates? No, but he did mention that one of the tall ships was used as the HMS Interceptor in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Wow! The kids would love hearing that. He also said that pirates are still a threat (on the high seas – not San Francisco Bay) and that there was nothing in modern piracy that would in any way be reminiscent of the fun tricorn hats, Colonial apparel, parrots and peg legs of the Disney trilogy. So the movies were wrong!

Each of us was then assigned to a sailing station, from manning the helm (Michael) to hoisting the sail (me). Knowing a thing or two about fabric, I could see that this was some seriously heavy canvas. Hmmm. I guess the work had to be done, and it was a chance to further interact with fellow business owners. Ok, I was in. Would you believe it takes ten people to hoist the main sail? However, on this trip they had to make do with nine. That’s because I started to feel…funny. Sort of dizzy. I was sure it would pass - I just wasn’t used to hard labor. The Second Mate got me some water and I sat down and tried to enjoy watching the unfurling. It really was impressive. But my excitement about the trip was interrupted by the growing realization that all was not right in the vicinity of my stomach. I could handle this, of course. In no time I’d have my sea legs and be swilling fine wine and singing sea shanties. I would not only make important business contacts to benefit Red House in the years to come, but I would relive The Age of Sail!

Sea of Pain, Part I

2008-08-04T13:36:00.000-07:00

Presented with the opportunity to join a group of business owners for a meet-and-greet on a sailing ship in the San Francisco Bay, what could I say but YES!!! And this would be no basic boat that we’d be going on but a 53’ wooden schooner that has spent its long life working the west coast. I can’t remember the ship’s name, Fortune Teller? Soothsayer? Aquarius? It’s one of several remaining tall ships used for fishing until steel-hulled contraptions proved more efficient. The wooden ships would probably have ended up as firewood if not for the devoted efforts of preservationists. Now they have new lives as teaching vessels, wedding venues, and in my lucky case - a social excursion similar to what was referred to on my Caribbean honeymoon as “The Booze Cruise.“

Some shopping was in order, but the two things I knew we’d be taking were my Red House Cashmere Pashmina (RH29) and the Silk Twill Jacket (RH28) for Michael. Both in black, because San Francisco is not sunny like Napa, and black is the sophisticated choice for urban denizens year-round. And we sure didn’t want to dress nautical. Don’t you love seeing the returning vacationers in airports, sporting sunburns and crumpled white resort wear? I can’t blame them for trying to stay in vacation mode, but laughing makes my business travel more tolerable.

We arrived at the pier to see a ship even more glorious than I had pictured. This really was a work of living history - lacquered wood, gleaming brass and beautiful design. A relic of The Age of Sail that I hope will endure for future generations to experience. It is wood though, and sits in the water. I wonder how long it will last?

As an added bonus we had the perfect day for a sail – smooth water, and even a little bit of sun. I wondered if I’d have to wear a blaze-orange life jacket over my carefully selected outfit, but no one else seemed to be dressed for a watery rescue. Good sign. The crew was in well-starched sailing whites (not crumpled), and the attendees were all as elegantly appointed as the ship. Oh, and the food! A well-known Napa chef had been hired to create a sumptuous seafood buffet. And the featured wines were exceptional – I saw some that I had only had occasion to taste, and now would have the chance to enjoy by the glass. This was going to be great!

Looking for Annette

2008-07-25T16:34:00.000-07:00

Why does the Napa Valley Wine Auction have to take place during my busiest time of year?! I am kicking myself because I haven’t found my place in that tornado of fun and business opportunity. This is THE event of the year here, and it supports critical Napa Valley charities, including Clinic Ole´ (clinicole.org), which serves our latino and other farming families with free or reduced cost health and dental care. The need for this clinic cannot be underestimated. The wine auction has raised more than $78 million dollars to date for the clinic and other local charities, including $10.35 million this year alone. Bravo! Another great reason to love Napa!

I do have an ulterior motive for wanting to be involved of course, as there are many opportunities for Red House apparel to be worn by event staff and volunteers. Everyone from catering people to auction runners would look professional and stylish in Red House polos. I’m thinking the Pima Tonal Stripe Polo (RH07) in coral for the men and the Double-Mercerized Polo (RH05) in turquoise for the women. Auction runners in particular really need to stand out so the auctioneer doesn’t miss calling any bids. It would be such excellent publicity for us to see those shirts literally running around, as the event is attended by so many business owners, growers, local and even not-so-local dignitaries.

Oprah herself recently attended a dinner hosted by Rich Frank in the historic barrel room at Frank Family Vineyards after a cask auction event, which was part of the larger party. Hmmm… I don’t think my house could hold a dinner party large enough to consume an entire cask, but it would be fun to try! I read that the 2004 Frank Family Cabernet won Best Cab AND Best of Class at the Los Angeles International Wine & Spirits Competition. No surprise there. The awards keep coming in for that wine and their 2006 Napa chardonnay too. Oh, and Frank Family wines were served at a dinner held by The American Film Institute honoring Warren Beatty for his lifetime of achievements. I wasn’t invited, but I sure would like to meet Annette Bening.

I’ve mentioned that Frank Family Vineyards is one of my favorites, and now they’re even more beloved. Would you believe that their “Lot 14” brought in a mind-boggling $480,000?! Auction items I bid on tend to be picnic baskets with a bottle of wine and maybe a cheese board, the occasional spa package, and once, a kids’ birthday party with clowns. But Lot 14, my friends, included a private dinner to be created by Mario Batali, a luxurious wine-tasting trip to New Zealand, a walk-on role in Grey’s Anatomy, as well as tickets to the exclusive AFI dinner. All this, plus some Frank wines for the cellar. Had I been able to attend the auction (and had $480,000 in my beaded evening bag) I would’ve had the chance to meet Annette Bening!

Next year I’ll have it all figured out. And I’m starting a bidding fund. I mean, the kids won’t need college money for years!

The Open Robe

2008-07-14T11:04:00.000-07:00

The constant travel necessary to meet with vendors and manufacturers to finalize all the details for fall has made me TENSE. And not the kind of tense that goes away after a hot bath back home, even if “Towel Boy” Michael is there for…assistance. (!?) No, at this point I needed a real massage and for that, I learned I need Evelyn. And anyway, it was time for a spa retreat for the hardworking women of Red House. That would be Kerin and myself. So, with female bonding and off-site office problem-solving in mind we set off to try a new spa, Raindance, located at The Lodge at Sonoma, a Renaissance Resort about a mile from the square in Sonoma. It’s not over-the-top like the Fairmont or Auberge properties but it has a full-service menu and fluffy robes, so no complaint here. The first thing we noticed were the roses: they were everywhere on the hotel grounds. I hope I never get so jaded by life here that I fail to notice how much blooms here, and pretty much year-round.

We started the morning with a pedicure. A glass of wine was offered. Why not? It was 10:00! I thought about choosing one of the wilder nail colors. There was even black, which made me think of Natalie, who would be here if she were not the former first intern of Red House. Kerin chose a pale blue and I went with what appeared to be strawberry yogurt with a bit of sparkle to it. We then took a break (!) by the spa pools and used our cell phones to take and send pictures of our feet to our husband/boyfriend. We relaxed in the shade of a cabana. I had brought a small cooler, from which we mixed mimosas in pool-safe plastic flutes. And yes, I remember that alcohol is frowned upon as not conducive to the spa experience but we were not the only ones who brought in a cooler…

We spent a fun hour just talking and laughing - though not as loudly as the women in the adjacent cabana. I learned that Kerin has aspirations beyond answering the phones at Red House and checking dye lots. This is good to know, as there will be opportunity for her to expand. I’ve already started delegating more to her (a trick I learned from the How to Succeed…and Have a Life! book I told you about). We talked about her boyfriend and how Natalie’s amorous overtures nearly derailed their relationship. I had thought it was just the typical flirtation of a bored 19 year old but apparently it went quite a bit farther. Oh boy.

Next, we headed up to the aptly named Relaxation Room. This is where you wait in your fluffy robe to be called for your massage. There are health-related magazines, herb tea, aromatherapy candles and new age music. The recorded wind chimes can be annoying, and the sounds of waves lapping the shore were just phony. I mean, we are 40 miles from the beach! The lights were low but not low enough, however, to obscure some details now forever etched into my brainpan. A man awaiting his own massage was oblivious of others in the room. Well, I hope oblivious is the right word. Let’s just say he was sprawled on a settee with an unlit cigar in his mouth, and that that wasn’t the only visible accessory. Maybe he was so relaxed that his robe accidentally came undone, or he felt constrained by the robe and loosened it. OR, he liked the uncovered look and wanted to share his…enthusiasm!! Worst of all (in my way of thinking) Kerin missed it! Unlike me, she was not facing him and was intently reading an article on yoga. I tried to get her attention, but in doing so startled the man, causing him to shift position and cross his legs without some much as looking up from his Cigar Aficionado magazine. (The spa subscribes to that?) Why am I always the one to see…things?!

Evelyn called me in. She noticed that I was especially tense, but I mentioned only my horrendous travel schedule. And you know what? She was so good that after a few minutes I wasn’t even hearing the irritating wind chimes and waves anymore. By the time she was done I felt as if all my bones had dissolved. That is what a massage is all about. I’ll be back, but first I have to tell everyone I know about the man almost wearing the robe.

Bright Lights, Big City, Bigger Headache

2008-07-10T09:40:00.000-07:00

The city that never sleeps is also the city that never calms down. If I ever questioned my choice to leave behind the familiar and supercharged world of NY design, I got a good reminder this trip. I AM SO DONE WITH THIS! Some people here would not even get it if I explained how a viable clothing business could be launched from Napa. Others are seeking exit, or would be amenable to the right escape plan. I am already keeping an eye out for talented seekers-of-a-life-beyond-all-this as potential Red House employees, should we expand in the near future. Might as well multi-task as I suffer my relapse into the cutthroat world!

What really annoys me is that NY’ers make things harder than they need to be simply because that’s how business is done here. For example, thread. A simple item, but a necessary one in the clothing business. I met with several distributors this trip to compare product – the color options, sizes, finishes, general quality and tensile strength - and importantly, to find out for myself what the customer service philosophy was. And you know what? None of them were in any way helpful or friendly or interested in the end-use of their product at Red House. And just getting a commitment on shipping dates that would work with our manufacturing schedule involves hair-pulling. I got to the point that I was ready to stop with my hair and start on the locks of Ms. X and Mr. Y! Nice-for-the-sake-of-nice is a concept that has yet to be embraced here. Hey, I just got an idea for a side business to embark on in my spare time (!): Maddie’s Napa Valley Happy Weekends - Seminars for the Reeducation of Angry Urban Apparel Business Professionals. It would be one of those intense brainwashing events. No Blackberries. No cell phones. And I wouldn’t let them go to the restrooms until they said something kind or helpful, or at least held an elevator door for someone. My fantasy!

Drawn by nostalgia, and because I had very little time to spare, I made a lunch stop at Gray’s Papaya for a hot dog with kraut and a faux piña colada. It’s a grab-and-go spot that’s been popular forever, mainly because it’s cheap. But the people-watching is good too. Restaurant workers, club-hoppers, assorted bus terminal patrons and other sort-of scary NYC people are in and out all night long. As students, Michael and I had many dinner dates/lessons in sociology here. I’m not recommending it exactly, but it’s fast fuel, so store that info in a back corner of your brain for the next time you are in NY and can’t get reservations at Per Se.

I made a last stop – back to Coach, for a pair of orange thong sandals with a flower on top. These are not NY footwear and I’ll wear them all summer. And if I had to justify additional shopping I’d say I needed to be sure I wouldn’t have to resort to the mint slippers to get home – like if I ended up leaving my other sandals in the cab or something. That does that sound logical, doesn’t it Michael?

Shoeless at 32,000 feet

2008-07-09T14:23:00.000-07:00

The Natalie News: Well, she did it – got the tattoo! She and Stefan went into SF to meet with a concert promoter for their Skynyrd in the Vineyard idea, which surprised me, as it was their logical next step. There is apparently some interest and the pair was thrilled. They enjoyed testing the limits of the motorcycle’s brakes on the harrowing streets and bridges and finished out their day with pizza in the North Beach, and went from there to the establishment Nat heard about while on work detail. To show their great affection for each other, she and Stefan combined their names and now sport matching upper arm ornamentation: NASTE. Cute, huh? Do you think Michael and I should come up with something? Lots of possibilities with Mad, don’t you think? Uh, no.

This is the busiest time of year for me. I have a year’s worth of responsibilities to deal with right now. Quantities for next year - my toughest decisions! Colors, labels, buttons, taping and zipper pulls all have to be chosen and ordered too. And I’m happy to tell you I’ll be introducing two new styles this fall – more on that later!

The necessary travel is driving me nuts right now. Here’s a perfect example of a brain stretched too far. Last week I had to fly to New York. I was bleary that Tuesday morning, unprepared for consciousness, leaving the house before dark, laden with cases of stylebooks. I stepped out of the car at the short-term parking lot at SFO to find that I was still wearing my slippers! And not the kind of slippers that teen girls often wear to school and the mall. These were mint green scuffs, shearling-lined and with a dollop of dried pancake batter on the left instep. Yuck. The shoes I intended to wear had been smartly (ha) placed by the door to the garage. I couldn’t miss them, and yet I had. This was a 1.5-day trip and I hadn’t packed any other shoes. There are many shops at the airport, but none of them shoe shops. I would’ve settled for some touristy flip-flops adorned with little plastic sourdough baguettes. You can get the bread at the airport, but not the shoes. So it was off to NY, my city of origin, dressed in my sleek Jil Sander pantsuit and feet that said I’d just escaped from a hospital. One of the TSA staffers commented on how comfortable it must be to travel in slippers. (If she only knew my humiliation!) My only personal luggage was my never-leave-home-without-it Redhouse Microtwill/Leather tote (RH33), which held only my overnight essentials, my pashmina (RH29) and the qt.-size Ziploc of travel liquids. And snacks. There was still plenty of room in that bag for a pair of shoes, and I don’t think I’ll make that mistake again. I was pretty comfortable on the plane, though. Once in NY, I had the driver wait outside the Coach store on Madison Ave. while I dashed in for some appropriate footwear. If you consider 3” heel sandals with gold chains appropriate. I literally stepped into my New York persona. I was ready for business - with an edge, if necessary.

The Lunch of a Lifetime, Part Four

2008-06-26T15:18:00.000-07:00

The French Laundry really is a Fantasyland for foodies. Valhalla, without the bland Northern food. And yet it was quintessentially real. Too multi-sensorial to have been a dream. I WAS THERE! REALLY!

I said that Thomas Keller had devised some signature dishes with a sense of good old American fun. Would you believe Mac n’ Cheese? I can only imagine, as it wasn’t served the day we were there. There’s also Coffee & Doughnuts and one I’m very curious about: Yabba-Dabba-Doo. What?! I can’t wait for Gilligan’s Island. Ok, I’ve got one for them: Remember Ants on a Log? How about black truffle bits on fennel bulb purée in an endive log. Think they’d go for that? Maybe not, but I might – for a summer party. French Laundry also has an “amuse bouche” that was proffered with humor and seemed like it could possibly be recreated by ordinary mortals - an ice cream cone of salmon tartar and crème fraiche in a black sesame cone. Quirky yes, but it was delectable and fun! I don’t know about making the cone though.

I badly wanted to take pictures of everything to share with you, but I live in Napa and want to come back to the French Laundry. I couldn’t risk ending up blacklisted. I hope you understand. But I did pick up a few tidbits of gossip. The “Top Model” woman, Tyra Banks comes in several times a year. And a U.S. President has eaten there, but which one? I’m guessing it was Bill Clinton and that given his propensity for gastronomic excess he opted for both tasting menus concurrently. I also heard that FL keeps a big book of illustrious clients. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a peek at that? I knew better than to ask. I also learned that as I suspected, the wait staff are not regular humans. This is typical in California: “Hi, I’m Amber and I’ll be your server today, enjoy your meal!” And 20 minutes later, “Are you still working on that?” Ugh. Amber will not be found at the French Laundry. Service must be seamless, like a ballet. And in fact, servers are trained by a choreographer. Wow. And a great résumé won’t necessarily get you in. There’s a “je ne sais quoi” that Keller and company know when they see. So much for my chances. The chronically impatient need not apply.

The longest lunch I’ve ever had was over far too soon. Our server offered to take us through the kitchen, perhaps to make sure we would actually leave the premises. I had read that Chef Keller deemed his kitchen a “mistake-free zone”. And I have to say it did look flawless. You won’t see Anthony Bourdain whipping up a beurre blanc with cigarette in hand here. As the hour was pre-Saturday night dinner, the staff was enjoying their own repast, a beautiful paella that I’d be happy to eat every night of the week. They were relaxed and laughing, a truly convivial group, a family, even - content with having found their Nirvana in Napa. For a moment, I wished I had what it took to join them. At least long enough to read the client roster.

The Lunch of a Lifetime, Part Three

2008-06-18T15:00:00.000-07:00

Ok, I’ve told you about the staff, the flowers, the setting – all sublime, but just maybe you’d like me to get to the food and wine. Bear in mind though, the whole mis en scene they create at French Laundry unfolds slowly and deliberately, and one is meant to savor each aspect like, well, the French themselves do. All senses are engaged, and that includes the sense of patience - the lack of which for once did not get the better of me. F.L. is not the place if you have an hour to eat and get out.

Our server was (I kid you not) a dead ringer for actress Charlize Theron. Fresh-scrubbed and beautiful, with a psychology degree she “uses daily (!).” She welcomed us with champagne (the perfect start to any celebration!) and the menu. Choosing is pretty simple. The Chef’s Tasting Menu consists of nine courses, and there is a vegetable-only option. Michael and I both elected to do the carnivore tour, though everything on the vegetable tasting sounded divine too, even if I didn’t know what a “pickled ramp bulb” was. I was told that the menu changes daily, though certain signature dishes will reappear. (As if I needed a reason to return.)

The sommelier was summoned to advise us on wine choices. He was, let’s just say, devoutly French, brisk and professional. If I had briefly entertained the notion of looking into the possibility of Red House apparel for the staff I quickly changed my mind when I saw the sommelier, whose “costume” appeared to be couture. Perhaps hand-sewn by Karl Lagerfeld himself. Whoa. We also deferred to this elegant man’s vast and global knowledge of wines and selected the pairing menu. Interestingly, there was not a Napa wine amongst the nine featured, though there was representation from Sonoma, Santa Cruz and Santa Ynez - appellations I have almost no familiarity with. And this is good! The day was about stepping out of the box and giving ourselves over to people who can teach us something, while of course, enjoying the extraordinary outcome of their education.

Now you might think nine courses is a King Henry VIII kind of meal. You would be wrong. “Tasting,” means just that. And did we each drink nine different glasses of wine in the middle of the day? Mais non! More like 1/3 glass per course. Some were so delectable that more - a lot more - would have been nice to savor. Maybe out in the garden after lunch? Alas, they think three hours is plenty of “experience” and do not currently offer a “lingering lunch plan” for would-be hangers-on like me.

Now pay attention - if you read nothing else today, or maybe all week: here is a morsel of knowledge I found to be worth the price of admission: I now know a wine that can be successfully paired with asparagus! Until now, I thought this an impossibility, but the proof is in the pudding: Our Salad of White Asparagus and Brooks Cherries was expertly paired with an Austrian wine (write this down:) Schloss Gobelsburg, Gruner Veltliner, “Steinsetz,” Kamptal. I have already sourced this from a distributor, expecting it to cost a fortune, but was pleasantly surprised and so ordered a case for asparagus season. I plan to impress at dinner parties alllll summer. Not with that salad though.

Next time, I will conclude this very long and fabulous experience. Hint: we end up in the kitchen! Was the credit card refused? You’ll have to wait and see.

The Lunch of a Lifetime, Part Two

2008-06-16T08:47:00.000-07:00

From the moment you pass through the garden and enter the painted door of the French Laundry, there is a hush, as if you are in a very holy place. There is an expectation that a choir of angels might sing thee to thy table. But first comes the brief detainment in the anteroom, which feels vaguely like a funeral parlor. Perhaps it’s the presence of the biggest vase of flowers I have ever seen in my life. Easily half the size of the room. So I start to worry, am I worthy of this great opportunity? Or will I be given a plate of jalapeño poppers and shown the door? The grave Maitre d’/Funeral Director carefully researches what could be a tenuous claim to a reservation. He has seen the pretenders, “Are you sure you have no record of us?!,” they must plead. Maitre d’ and his assistants must sense my apprehension and deep-seated fear. Wait a minute - I’m from New York! – I can handle the pretentious staff member or two. Yet they are anything but surly. Just really, really smart. Rocket science-smart. And hip - seriously so. I am humbled. Strikingly good-looking and flawlessly attired, they are also warm, as if they are welcoming us to their home. I’m guessing this is home to them, their own Nirvana. A near-perfect world.

Michael convinced the Gatekeeper of Great Cuisine that he had made our anniversary reservation before we were even married (!) but these are not people you joke around with. Anyway, it’s an amazing 10 years today. THANK YOU, MICHAEL, for everything, especially putting up with my quirkiness. (How come you don’t have any quirks? I’m going to look into that…) But back to lunch. We are led to the dining rooms, which are anything but funereal. The bouquets are smaller, and the hush is gone – now that the guests have gotten this far there is great relief. The tables are beautifully set with carefully pressed and starched white linens. (The ghosts of the laundry at work?) There is even a wooden clothespin attached to the napkin. The French Laundry’s phone number is on it. I get the sense that now, right now, would be a good time to call to reserve next year’s anniversary lunch.

Next up: food and drink – bring it on!

The Lunch of a Lifetime, Part One

2008-06-12T16:00:00.000-07:00

No discussion of wine country is complete without mention of the French Laundry, the ne plus ultra of dining experiences created by exalted chef Thomas Keller. He is perhaps America’s best - and we’ve got him right here in Yountville. But just try getting into the place! It takes patience. Not to mention more money than should be spent outside of Harry Winston. Is it that good? One of those things you should have on your list of things to do before you die, like climbing Mt. Everest? I don’t like snow or altitude so there’s an easy answer: I’d cross everything else off the list to eat there once a week. It’s that good. And I’m going to tell you about it.

The French Laundry (www.frenchlaundry.com) really was at one time a French steam-washing establishment. This makes me think of expertise with red wine stain removal and the spritzing of fine linens with lavender water. It was also a brothel, not that these are mutually exclusive… Before it was either of those businesses it was a saloon in the 1880’s, which is why the structure looks like a set from Deadwood. Then, for about 20 years it operated as a restaurant. It was named, not surprisingly, The French Laundry, and I haven’t yet met a single person who ate there. In 1994, Thomas Keller raised the money to buy it, though this, his first restaurant had a bit of a rocky start. Ghosts of the brothel wreaking havoc, perhaps? Letting T.K. known they liked the previous owners? It got better, a lot better. That’s how it is with successful restaurants, and this one really pushes the boundaries of experiential dining into the spiritual dimension. It is unforgettable.

Thomas Keller is a son of California who lived and worked elsewhere. This is a good thing, as otherwise, the French Laundry might be just another of our ubiquitous wood-fired pizza emporia. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) Clearly, his geographic and culinary adventures were transcendent because he came to a very different place, philosophically. In an interview I read, he says that in buying this restaurant he just wanted to create good French Country cooking. Seriously good food, but also fun. Fun? Like balloons and streamers-fun? Waiters in clown suits-fun? Hmmm…What exactly does mean he mean by that? Check in soon to find out. Meanwhile, make your reservation.

Hot water

2008-06-09T09:31:00.000-07:00

The Natalie News. Get this – Nat and Stefan have this idea for a concert at his family’s winery. They think they are going to get Lynyrd Skynyrd to perform. They’re calling it Skynyrd in the Vineyard! Now, aside from the fact that I think this band of Southern rockers perished in a fiery plane crash decades ago, why, assuming they are living, would they want to come to Napa - is there a fan base here? Nat and Stefan are hardly concert promoters. There are marketing considerations, tickets to sell, security to hire, a hundred permits, miles of electrical cables and who knows what else. Oh, shirts. They’d like Red House polos for the staff. And they want to start working on the design for these NOW. Well, it will be interesting to see what comes of this. It would be a first for Red House, and not necessarily in a good way. Well, there’s always something interesting to talk about with my niece at the dinner table!

We did a little family outing last weekend to Calistoga. Call it “Yellowstone Light”. No grizzly bears, bison or wolves but there is The Old Faithful Geyser of California and it’s right off Highway 128. (www.oldfaithfulgeyser.com) Someone had told me that Sonoma County’s Geyserville has the largest geothermal area on earth and that seemed like something the kids should know about. You enter through a really tacky gift shop, a relic of the “70’s road trips I took with my parents. Once in the vicinity of the geyser it felt like we had stepped back even further in time, to when dinosaurs roamed the earth. As there are no dinosaurs available, there are instead pens of sheep and llamas to connect you with earlier epochs. (A reach.) Actually, I think the critters are there to entertain kids between blowings, as the geyser is not constantly spewing hot, putrid water. In fact, you wait about 35 minutes to see an eruption of 350-degree water shoot straight up maybe 60 feet for four or five minutes. This is preceded by some gurgling, bubbling up and steam, but it’s not something a five and eight year old want to stand around looking at. (Note to parents: bring quarters for the animal chow pellet dispenser.) We packed a picnic but ended up packing it out because while the setting was fun and educational, it smelled like a combination of petting zoo and the forgotten Easter egg I found just last week in the garage. With a last whiff of hydrogen sulfide and goat pen, we left to eat on the grounds of Cuvaison Winery (www.cuvaison. com). And taste: they just introduced the 2004 Brandlin Cabernet Sauvignon and its big, bold spice will make you think of winters by the fire. As it was over 100 degrees today I preferred the summery 2007 Sauvignon Blanc. Cheers!

The Truth About Teal

2008-06-03T05:27:00.000-07:00

I helped chaperone Delia’s class trip to a very special campus,Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael. (www.guidedogs.com) The kids, and lots of the adults too, were thrilled to see dozens of darling puppies. Though exceedingly soft, these are no ordinary dogs. Each is in training to become a lifelong assistance dog for a blind person. When they are ready, they are matched with the future owner, who stays at the school for hands-on learning. There’s no cost to the person receiving the dog, and the only requirement is that the recipient be able to take good care of the dog. We toured the dorm, a very pleasant place with vases of fragrant flowers and, we were told, excellent food. The designer in me wondered why the common areas were decorated in a 1980’s teal, so the never-shy Maddie decided to ask. Well, turns out that when a person is losing vision, teal is the last color they are able to see. Wow! I’ll always remember that. I learned some other things too. The dogs we saw were retrievers and golden or black labs, and a few German Shepards. Why no brown labs? They are goofy and untrainable! I can’t wait to tell our friends who just got a brown lab puppy. Good luck with that, James and Katherine! And, importantly, we learned to always ask permission before petting a guide dog. Even though they look like pets, they are on the job. I’ll definitely come back with Andrew when he’s old enough to visit.

Speaking of teal, or what I call “conflagrant turquoise,” I got a country club client to make a big change and by doing so, made many groundskeepers and restaurant staff very happy. It started with another golf event. (This one without a driving incident, thank you very much!) As I am easily distracted, my focus was impeded by spots of day-glo teal on the fairway, near the ponds, in the woods – everywhere! It was annoying, and I’m sure it was the reason for my poor score. Later, over lunch, more of the teal targets darted around the dining room. I couldn’t take it! I decided to gauge employee discontent by commenting to several of the staff on “how easy they were to see.” I learned that they hated the shirts as much as I did. The next day, I called and set up a meeting with the General Manager. It helped that I had just golfed there and had wonderful things to say about the course and the well-crafted Bloody Marys. I had samples, and I had the well being of his employees (in mind). The teal story came as no surprise. The company he had contracted with had wanted to move that color (which it had stocked since the “80’s?!) OUT, so the club got a deal they couldn’t refuse. I shared the Red House philosophy, and the G.M. agreed that a sophisticated elegance was the look the country club wanted to encourage. You should have seen the glee on the workers faces when I delivered the shirts – Double Mercerized Polos (RH04 – Men’s; and RH05 - Women’s.) The groundskeepers, kitchen and bar employees now wear universally flattering shades: Shell for the women, and Sand for the men. I gave the manager a follow-up call a few days later, and he said they were very happy with their Red House shirts, though a few members complained that it’s harder to identify the staff. Well, I can’t please everyone, but I did please many!

The Secret Garden

2008-05-29T15:05:00.000-07:00

After my idyllic Mother’s Day of inactivity, great food and wine - all enjoyed alfresco on the deck, I was given a lovely Mother’s Day gift, trumping every gilded macaroni cigar box ever. I was led, blindfolded, to my very own herb garden! How could I not have seen this?! Well, it is sort of secluded on the north side of the house and I tend to hang out on the sunny deck. Plus, I’ve been in China, and that’s when Michael and his ace landscaping team of Andrew and Delia put this all into place. Michael knows I’ve been stretching my culinary aspirations, from just admiring everything fresh and artisanal to being actually at the point of wanting to create some of these dazzling dishes. One of the distinguishing features of Napa’s cuisine is the use of the freshest, nearest-grown or sourced ingredients. This philosophy is increasingly popular in California and beyond – to the extent places can grow their own great food. There’ll probably never be a North Dakota artichoke that you’d want to eat, but I can go to Napa Farmers’ Market and choose from several exotic varieties. I love that!

Soon, I’ll be harvesting several types of basil, oregano, rosemary, sorrel, lavender, chervil, French tarragon, sage, lemon thyme and chives. It’s fair to say I’ll be limited to adding these herbs to potatoes and baked chicken until I become adept at more challenging applications. Michael and I joined a wine club that includes recipes with their quarterly shipments, and they have winemaker dinners to showcase the dish. One was a sauce for game hens – just fantastic! I decided to make it myself and quickly became exasperated as it took forevvvvvver! I can’t be the only wannabe dilettante chef with family and work responsibilities! My family and Red House must come first. And, after all, in NY, Michael and I lived on takeout before and after we were married, so it’s going to take some time, literally and figuratively, to channel my inner-chef. Here’s what I’m not going to do - follow the approach of a T.V. cooking show host whose initials are R.R. and buy a pre-sliced onion at the store. Not me! Somewhere between the 5-Can Casserole I grew up with and the 28-ingredient game hen sauce that threw me for a loop is where I’ll end up. I’ll let you know where (the spirit) takes me.

The Brunch-Free Mother’s Day

2008-05-22T10:08:00.000-07:00

I know there are many moms out there who look forward to spending their Mother’s Day in the vicinity of a buffet table, oohing and ahhing over the display of smoked trout and the ice sculptures and the vast array of colorful treats at the dessert table. Then there are the moms (and I know several of these at Andrew’s Montessori preschool) who enjoy a breakfast prepared entirely by children. They smile right through the crunchy bits in the waffle (is that baking soda?!) and strawberries dipped in what has to be melted “chocolate” crayon… I ate one of those – once.

Now, heavily influenced by the Napa lifestyle, I am more…relaxed. I don’t want to get dressed up just to have a mimosa on “my special day”. What makes it special is not having to do anything for most of the day. And that means not having to clean up the well-intentioned messes of loved ones.

Here’s how it went this year, my recipe for perfection: all day on the deck chair with the two books I’m reading: The Four Hour Workweek, by Timothy Ferriss. (A girl can dream, can’t she?!) And Mitten Strings for God: Reflections for Mothers in a Hurry by Katrina Kenison. (A sweet find at an SFX newsstand.) Both books are about finding balance in busy lives. Isn’t that appropriate for reflection on Mother’s Day? Michael brought me his own mimosa creation made with Cara Cara orange, grapefruit and Gloria Ferrer Sonoma Brut. He then took Delia and Andrew to The Model Bakery in St. Helena. (Look and drool!: themodelbakery.com.) They returned with my favorite Pain au Chocolat and raspberry croissants. And there I sat, with my handmade cards, my little vase of flowers/weeds, wonderful coffee and more mimosas. For fine dining, there was la Frittata Michael. This masterpiece of egg, shrimp, crab, spinach, artichoke, onions, hand-foraged mushrooms and Gruyere is reason enough to have married him. His coup de grace is topping it off with amazingly fresh salsa from the Napa Farmer’s Market. One of the joys of Napa and the rest of bountiful California, for that matter, is the influence of Mexican cooking on our fusions of Asian, French and Italian culinary traditions. Peppers find their way into just about everything and the kids are always happy with leftovers if they are wrapped in a tortilla. This is not how we ate in New York! And I didn’t need to leave my deck chair to dine this Mother’s Day. Plate on lap, I watched bees buzzing around the lavender in the garden. Let them work!

Later, I called the moms and made sure they got their packages of Red House goodies. I learned my lesson about getting them the same pashmina in the same color, so this time my mom received the Red House Fine Gauge Silk Sweater (RH16) in black, and Michael’s got the Red House Cashmere Cardigan (RH17) in pink. Both also received gifts of fine art: grandchild-painted canvas tote bags of their favorite flowers – Tea Rose for Michael’s mom and Calla Lily for mine. (This was Michael’s wonderful idea – xoxox!!!)

I hope all mothers had as nice a day!

Fashion Death in The Afternoon!

2008-05-19T14:37:00.000-07:00

The latest from Red House – but first, The Natalie News: My niece has come up with a new internship. Paid this time. (Hey, Red House is a young business, and our ex-intern still gets room and board.) Nat will be helping out at the boutique winery owned by Stefan’s parents, which is to say she’ll be mopping the tasting room, washing glasses and hosing out tanks. I think she’d do anything to spend more time with her boyfriend, who, it turns out, is still in high school (!) His grades have been suffering, as “he’s had to work too much.” I can think of other reasons (the Nat Factor!) that may have had an impact his grades, but his parents have the classic European attitude towards young male exuberance - very laissez faire. And after all, they gave him the motorcycle. Anyway, Nat will work mornings and afternoons. All day she can look forward to seeing Stefan when he gets home from school. That just might be incentive enough for her to show up. And although she didn’t come right out and say it, Kerin couldn’t be happier to have the Red House office devoid of drama and cigarette butts. Can’t say that I blame her.

That reminds me, I need to ask Kerin to return some zippers for the Red House Men’s Silk Twill Jacket (RH28). Would you believe our supplier sent 12” long zippers! Of course, they’d be fine if we were going to offer a cropped style, or maybe something in silk satin for a matador or jockey look, but I don’t think so - our signature style is a bit less radical. It was a customer who suggested the Red House Men’s Bolero, but I think she (and the general public!) would complain vociferously if they actually encountered men in mini jackets as the guys would probably skip the shirt during the summer, altering the trend but exposing midsections on the golf course and at winery picnics. (I’m trying not to picture this!) Maybe though, with an oversize version of the Red House Polo (RH04) underneath, we’d have something - no? No! My vision for Red House will continue to reflect the relaxed elegance of the wine country lifestyle rather than pioneering dynamic new traditions in menswear. And fortunately, problems like the mini-zipper don’t happen every day. They do keep me on my toes, though. And my clients keep me laughing.

Maddie’s antidote to it all

2008-05-13T15:45:00.000-07:00

What do you do when every bone in your body aches from a 5913-mile plane ride and you’re sure you’re going to be a victim of blood clots, unless the monkey meat you’ve eaten kills you first? Go to the spa! And that’s just what I did today. A little re-charging thanks to my favorite Fairmont Sonoma Mission Inn Spa. (Check it out: www.fairmont.com/sonoma/Recreation/SPA.)

A spa day is great for no reason at all but today I had my reasons, the 3 R’s of Recovery, Renewal and Relaxation. And what better way to start than a refreshing cocktail out by the pool? I saw another en-robed guest enjoying a mojito and I said, “I’ll have what she’s having.” One sip put me in a state of deep disappointment: I was having a cleansing detox drink of wheat grass and blue algae. I suppose this is the right elixir for a weary traveler who has eaten highly questionable cuisine in a communist country, but still! The drink wasn’t bad, but it would have been a lot better with some rum. The spa prohibits such poisons, as they are contrary to the whole purpose of “spa”. I get it, but this is wine country, so I at least ought be able to get a glass of THAT and enjoy the health benefits.

What’s so great about this particular spa is the legendary Roman Baths. Or maybe they’re Greek. The place really looks like something Indiana Jones might uncover, minus the dust and snakes. Once you get into your swimsuit (it is co-ed, folks!) you are handed a laminated bathing ritual card telling you what to do and in what order. Do the wet sauna, then you rest, then dry sauna, exfoliating shower, rest some more, cool off shower, colder shower, rinse, rest again, etc. Forget all that! Here’s the good stuff: the thermal mineral baths. They are fed by their own source, the Boyes Hot Springs right beneath the resort. There are two temperatures to choose from. The tepid one does nothing for me, so I soaked in a sea of nearly hot mineral-rich water for about an hour. Then I went for my treatment. I chose the Chardonnay Olive Oil Sugar Scrub, thinking a glass of wine must be a part of that. Again, my hopes were dashed but my skin felt radiant (or maybe just raw.)

Afterwards, I headed over to the spa pool for a few hours of “reflection”, i.e. reclining and reading. My feet were oiled up so much my spa slippers were flying across the deck! I was pretty relaxed after my massage and it was hard to find the strength to hold up my book, and I was hardly sustained by a meager spa lunch of a watercress and papaya sandwich served with another anti-mojito. Still, I loved not hearing the phone or anyone yelling, “Maddie!” Yeah, I could get used to that…

Though my visit was to enhance harmony and affirm chakra balance, and all the other spa-isms bandied about, I also started formulating a plan to introduce a line of Red House spa-wear for staff and guests alike. And it became clear I’d need to spent a lot of time at this and other spas to do “research” on what to offer in my future line (!!) Next time here, I’ll sign up for some of the other offerings, like yoga, and even a tarot card reading - to find out what’s ahead for Red House, of course. And I’ll remember to sneak a thermos in too.

Monkey on the menu!

2008-05-09T09:46:00.000-07:00

I am typing from 32,000 feet on Cathay Airlines. No Napa wines here, but I had a decent New Zealand pinot with my rather unexotic eggs, rice and toast. Let me tell you about my dinner in Beijing.

The dinner banquet that followed my day at the factory was not a typical Chinese approach blending old and new. None of the pan-Asian California fusion I’ve come to love a whole lot. We’re taking tradition, and this scared me. Of course I’d been to China before, which made the dinner that much more frightening. I knew there would be at least eight courses and that I’d be able to identify a food item in maybe one of them. This is a good thing as it’s sometimes better not to know. I dreaded dinner. I also knew it would be impolite to refuse at least a small bite of monkey meat if that was what was served. I was fixated on the possibility. Monkey on a bed of rice? Monkey brain ceviche? That, and the potential for inclusion of various insects, beaks, feet, snakes and…dogs (!!) Such tales (no pun intended) comprise the horrific lore of business travelers to China. And how stupid must we look, choking down mystery bits? Are they laughing back in the kitchen? Silly American intractability?! I am reminded of a commonly used family cookbook in our household, One Bite Won’t Kill You. And I do hope that it won’t.

The banquet was both sumptuous and mysterious. Thankfully, they served several wines from Napa in my honor. I drank as much as I dared, in hopes that the medicinal properties would kick in if needed. I was actually hungry, which also helped. And I can’t say anything tasted bad, dangerous or truly deadly. Unusual comes to mind… I choose to believe that what tasted like roast duck may well have been roast duck. But if monkey was served, so be it, the adventure brings me closer to knowing the Chinese. And in fact, I stayed a second day. Not to work, nor to dine adventurously, but to see the Chinese Art Museum. So much of what I saw there would not have been permitted a few years ago. The rain had cleared too. This city was no less urban, but instead of choking dust and pollution I saw the promise of greater things for this country. My first trip to Beijing ten years ago stands in sharp contrast – everyone in dark Mao suits and baggy pants. No more! Color is what has changed the most. Red signifies happiness in China and on this trip I saw a lot of red. And speaking of happiness, I’m just about two hours from returning to RED House!

Factory Girl

2008-05-06T14:40:00.000-07:00

Ugh. Here I am. Disoriented. Should I sleep or type? Drink tea or wine? (I am alternating to see which has the most effect on my mood.) Wait - no more wine! I just got a call telling me the car from the factory is coming in 40 minutes. How is that possible? Seems like I got to my room from the Beijing airport just a few hours ago. But the clock says it’s been eight! I’ve been listening to pneumatic drills and jackhammers because I thought I might sleep through my appointment if I used my earplugs. And will I be able to tell the silk from the worms? Silk is in bolts. Hope I remember that. I’ll finish this later.

Ok. I am now writing before dinner though I feel like it’s some point during the night (??):

The driver was just insane. Must have learned from Natalie. He had awesome reflexes though, as he maneuvered the crowded streets deftly. There are still more bikes than cars in the city and amazingly, he hit not one of them. My adrenalin was more effective than caffeine today - I felt almost energized! Oh, and weather added to the fun - rain was coming down in sheets and the city still managed to look dusty. Everything appeared to be “construction gray”, a shade I will not be introducing at Red House. It’s hard to believe they’ll be ready for the Olympics in three months, but the same was said about Athens and that worked out. So why am I here? Earlier today I needed to remind myself as I met with a silk factory representative to inspect quality and color of that most coveted luxury fiber for Red House’s new collection.

The factory, like the rest of Beijing, is a very busy place. The pace feels about as far from Napa as I could get – even more frenzied than NYC. Mr. Han was my contact. His English is about as limited as my Mandarin so we were joined by an interpreter. The silk was lovely. I looked at strength, softness and dye lot and liked what I saw. Mr. Han is proud of their attention to detail and told me about techniques they use in the factory. They are working on a stain-resistant silk. He wouldn’t give me any details but I told him that Red House would be very interested in seeing that. (Wow – take note, red wine drinkers of the world!) Like most of what I’ve discovered in China, the way things are done is a marriage of old and new. And it works.

Got to get ready for my business banquet, which is also known as truly dreaded dining for a palate resistant to culinary intrigue of the international variety. Pray for me! If I survive, you’ll hear about it later.

Beijing Bound

2008-05-02T11:44:00.000-07:00

Got to pack, but first off - The Natalie News. Apparently the orange jumpsuit brigade of the CDC Silverado Trail clean up detail was a success, the highway looks great. Nat said that they found some interesting discards, including a half-smoked cigar (Cuban!), some rental car keys and a woman’s sunhat. I’ve lost one of those myself – a drawback of wine touring in a convertible on a gusty day. Asked if the experience of community service had an effect on her outlook, Natalie said that it had. Picking up trash wasn’t fun, especially the disdainful looks from passersby. She did, however, learn from a fellow crewmember of the best place to get a tattoo in San Francisco. So it’s come to this. Well, she came west with the piercings and it was only a matter of time until she started thinking ink. Meanwhile (and to Kerin’s dismay) she’s back in the office helping out as we can stand it (!) She’s researching thread colors for me and making coffee. So far, so good.

I’m off to China to source some silk. You might think I’m really looking forward to it: Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, cruise down the Yangtze River. Actually, no. It’s a long trip, a short meeting and then a long trip back. And then it’ll take me a week to recover enough to be an effective wife, mother and clothing executive. That’s assuming I don’t get sick. Others in the business (who are not as hands-on as this Red House exec) are avoiding Beijing right now as the city is going full-bore on construction for the Olympics. It’s a loud city anyway, and the traffic horrendous, so I can only imagine what it will be like in hyperdrive. Besides that, I just want to stay home – especially now that home is Napa. When I was younger, I always approached these trips with excitement. Maybe it was relief getting out of NY. Or maybe I was just younger and less encumbered. Now I’ve got to worry that Michael will be burdened with any Red House client issues that might come up, plus running a household with two small children and one errant niece. I shouldn’t complain, but I DON’T WANT TO GO!

Driving FORE Disaster

2008-04-25T09:21:00.000-07:00

Guess what? I’m learning to golf! Skills, though, could take years to develop. And it’s not like I don’t already have enough to do. Plus, I’ve been lamenting that I haven’t gotten back into tennis. That was the game of my suburban youth. I miss it enough that when Michael and I go on vacation I choose rooms near the courts so I can hear the pong---pong of the ball. But in Napa, people seem to love golf. A lot. And the weather supports this hobby. For years I have heard how golf is a great business tool, and it does seem easier to make a deal on a nice quiet course than between grunts and volleys on the tennis court. So there you have it, I WILL golf!

I just did my first charity tournament, yet it was no problem for this untrained contender. Each foursome had beginners paired with advanced players. I sort of got roped into participating after a client’s referral resulted in Red House providing the shirts for the event. My fellow golfers were local business leaders, minor politicians, celebrities – and winemakers from all those categories. We wore Red House Honeycomb Performance Pique Polos (RH02) in Everglades green. (Closest to the color of the Master green jackets, but fresher – we are in California after all!)

I was doing pretty well out there, maybe daydreaming a little bit about the party later at the venerable and also beautifully remodeled Sonoma Golf Club (sonomagolfclub.com). One reason I pretty confidant was that I was using one of those “cheat stick” clubs (weighted differently to compensate for the slow swing speed of novices like me). Go ahead and laugh, but I can whack that ball waaaaay down the fairway!

One of the foursome was taking his time setting up a shot, but that was ok. He was our best chance for successful finish. Not only is he a good golfer, but he owns a restaurant that I would love to have as Red House’s newest client. I thought maybe I’d approach him at the dinner afterwards… Anyway, I was admiring the solidity of my 9-iron while sitting in my cart. Yes, biometric designs, polymers and alloys will be key to my mastery of golf. I was thinking about that, and the business I’d get, and maybe the lobster salad and -- BANG! Seems I got lost in the moment and hit the gas, knocking my future client’s Callaways to the ground! Oh, and I messed up his putt too. My face was so red it was on fire. Everyone came running - Was I ok? No, I’m pretty sure I’ve embarrassed myself to DEATH! I apologized profusely, as you might imagine, quickly picking up the clubs and brushing the grass off the bag - which looked to be alligator. I checked for bent shafts but it didn’t appear I’d destroyed any clubs. The rest of the tournament was a bit quiet. We ended up placing 6th – not too bad. I wanted to skip the dinner later but Michael insisted we go. He’s no golfer either, but his foursome placed third. (Must have been a PGA player in that group…)

At the banquet, bottles of wine were awarded for various feats of distance, skill, fundraising acumen, and the donation of stylish tournament shirts. (Yay, Red House!) Suddenly, my former future client/former foursome partner bounded onto the stage with a “Special Award”. Uh-oh. My heart dropped into my stomach atop the lobster salad that wasn’t sitting well anyway. Sure enough, the awardee was I. I was presented with a radio-controlled golf cart to practice with before my next experience driving a cart. There was applause but it was all in good fun. I learned later that a few of these folks had themselves plowed into trees and ponds – and golf bags. I won’t make that mistake again. Meanwhile, I think the kids and I are going to have fun with our new toy. We’ll see if it can carry a cup of coffee to Michael in bed tomorrow morning…

Maddie’s Top 10 for tasting

2008-04-23T09:45:00.000-07:00

Last weekend was so incredible! We had the kind of weather that makes people from say, Cleveland give it all up and start a new life in Napa. It was that good here. Now it’s raining. Grapes need rain, and the folks from Cleveland need to get back home.

A friend from New York who follows my business (and my blog!) was inspired by my perpetual gushing to start planning a four-day wine tasting weekend with her husband. This is a woman who used to be part of our dinner club in NY during the carefree years before we had children. Once, she brought a wine from Missouri, though I can’t remember why. Another member of our club, from France, pronounced it “Misery” and I think that pretty much summed it up. Most states make wine. Some should not bother. In fairness, I’m sure others from Missouri are easier to swallow.

But we are a bit jaded here. Napa is the tops. the ne plus ultra of the 12 California wine regions. Sonoma, you could characterize as the Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella. (Ugh – Delia has me watching too many Disney classics!) Sonoma has a reputation as a more low-key, less-intimidating wine-tasting destination, but Napa should not rest on is lovely laurels. Sonoma wines are superb. And they actually have far more climactic diversity over there. My friend wanted my recommendation for ten wineries to tour in Napa and ten in Sonoma. That’s 20 wineries in four days. Okaaaay… I look forward to hearing how far they get. Wisely, they’ve opted to leave their children with family for this speed-touring trip.

So here’s my list, and a caveat: some wineries are listed for the wines alone and some for the experience, the setting or the gardens. So if they don’t like the wines I’ll bet they (and you!) will remember the roses:

Napa:

Schramsberg, Calistoga (schramsberg.com)
Frank Family Vineyards, Calistoga (frankfamilyvineyards.com)
Rombauer Vineyards, St. Helena (rombauer.com)
Silver Oak, Oakville (silveroak.com)
Far Niente, Oakville (farniente.com)
Nickel & Nickel, Oakville (nickelandnickel.com)
Opus One Winery, Oakville (opusonewinery.com)
Clos du Val, Napa (closduval.com)
Trefethen Family Vineyards, Napa (trefethenfamilyvineyards.com)
Darioush, Napa (darioush.com)
Pine Ridge, Napa (pineridgewinery.com)
Grgich Estate, Rutherford (grgich.com)
Hall, St. Helena and Rutherford (hallwineries.com)
St. Supéry, Rutherford (stsupery.com)

(Oops – is that 14? I could go on and on!)

Sonoma:

Ledson Winery, Kenwood (ledson.com)
Landmark, Kenwood (landmarkwine.com)
Mayo Family, Kenwood (mayofamilywinery.com)
Gloria Ferrer Champagne Caves, Sonoma (gloriaferrer.com)
Tantalus, Sonoma (tantaluswinery.com)
Cline, Sonoma (clinecellars.com)
Eric Ross, Glen Ellen (ericross.com)
Benziger Family Winery, Glen Ellen (benziger.com)
B.R. Cohn, Glen Ellen (brcohn.com)
Arrowood, Glen Ellen (arrowoodvineyard.com)

The wineries I’ve listed are grouped roughly in geographic proximity. Most have regular tasting room hours and are open to the public. Schramsberg, Far Niente and Nickel & Nickel are by appointment, only. Do call ahead and you might be able to arrange a special tour or tasting. Stay tuned - my favorites in Healdsburg, Alexander and Russian River Valleys are yet to come!

Corked!

2008-04-21T08:42:00.000-07:00

I DID IT! Not alone, mind you. A huge thanks you to Natalie, and Andrew and Delia’s sitter Melinda and her four friends. They are true Jr. Seamstresses of America – though I doubt they’ll ever want to pick up a needle and thread again. Together we made sure those winegrowers had buttons, their buttons, on time.

Let me back up - I rushed out yesterday without explaining exactly what the problem was - the customer wanted cork buttons! REAL cork. And get this – he sourced them himself! A small business in the valley creates buttons from used wine corks. When I went to meet with my customer yesterday he had a shopping bag filled with these buttons on his desk. He’d have helped with the sewing too, though he claimed not to know how (ha ha). That’s when I called Melinda for help. (Michael was relieved that he wouldn’t be recruited for a second night of sweatshop duty, especially now that the good wine was gone!) The girls enjoyed helping me assemble and deliver the gift bags at the hotel too. We added an orange and a croissant as a perfect, portable wine country breakfast.

The moral of this story is that the customer is right. I mean that too. After seeing how the shirts looked with the new buttons I agree that ours didn’t say “wine growers” quite so…literally. Ideally though, the request for new buttons would have been agreed on well before the event (!) Red House does custom work all the time – changing details, colors, thread, even adding a pocket now and then. But we out-source and carefully monitor the process. This takes time – which we did not have in this instance. I guess you could say I did this due to an adrenalin rush, temporary insanity or both. And believe me, once was quite enough. Live, learn and drink wine! Speaking of that, I’ve got to go – eyes are glazing over. I wish I had saved the Opus One for tonight – I want to celebrate!

Yes, we have no buttons

2008-04-18T09:38:00.001-07:00

You would not believe my day – or my last night - and it’s not over yet. I literally have a sandwich on top of the computer as I have about ten minutes before I need to get out the door and into the car again. My mission: to please a customer with a very unusual request. “Meet me at my office at 1:30” was the message he left when he called this morning, “I have what you need.” Note to myself: PLEASE LET ME BE ABLE TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM!

43 interlock cotton polo shirts hang in the balance. Without buttons. Why no buttons? All polo shirts have buttons. My 43 Red House Double-Mercerized Cotton polo shirts (RH04) in classic red that were destined for the annual meeting of some single -vineyard winegrowers did. The shirts, by the way, looked great. Never one to wait until the last minute for quality control. I made sure every shirt was checked and perfect last week. Embroidered logo where it should be? Check. Colors consistent? Check. Loose threads? None. Buttons evenly placed and well anchored? Of course! There’s just one thing…during the meeting yesterday when I was to place the 43 in gift bags for their recipients, I got the news - the stuff of nightmares, or at least really bad headaches. My customer wanted different buttons. Now the buttons are gone. 3 buttons x 43 = you do the math. Michael and I did the removing - during several hours we might have otherwise enjoyed sleeping. Instead, I opened a bottle of Opus One I that was saving for a special occasion. Oh, this was special! The winegrowers’ meeting is TOMORROW and the shirts will be delivered to 43 different hotel rooms at some point during the night tonight. With buttons. Somehow it’s going to happen. I think…

Maddie’s Tips for Tasting

2008-04-14T11:15:00.000-07:00

I just had to devote a blog entry to the little things I’ve learned that might make your visit to our bountiful valley even better. The first thing you need to know is: Take your time! When we first got to Napa, I mapped out a touring plan that would’ve made General Patton proud. What can I say - I was fresh out of NYC and knew how to move quickly. And after all, with 100’s of wineries I needed to see as many as possible as quickly as possible, right? No! Attempting to visit 12 wineries in a day was just ridiculous. Now, Michael and I have adapted to a pace that allows us to savor the wine, the beautiful settings – the experience!

My advice to wine tourists is to allow about an hour per winery and 10-30 minutes for travel between wineries. If you have a few must-visit wineries, try to see others in that same area to minimize driving time. Save the scenic drives for sunset as most wineries close at 4:00 or 5:00 p.m. And do stop for lunch. It may seem you are wasting valuable touring time, but trust me: you will need a little break and some non-liquid (!) sustenance. A picnic is quickest. Stop at Dean & DeLuca in St. Helena (deananddeluca.com) for delightful provisions. Lunchtime is also a good opportunity to visit restaurants that are booked months in advance for dinner. If you can, make your lunch reservations in advance too. We usually picnic, but when I have a little more time I adore the very French Bistro Jeanty (bistrojeanty.com) in Yountville. Mais oui!

If you are new to wine, don’t feel like you are alone. Napa is The Big League. Some of the best wines in the world are made here. The loftiness can be intimidating to novices, but not to worry. Your first stop should be one of the big wineries like Mondavi (robertmondaviwinery.com). Stroll the beautiful grounds and get a feel for the place – it’s really something. Then, go ahead and taste! They’ll have some of your favorites but be sure to try something new. Not mad for Malbec? Neither am I, but at least now I can distinguish it from Marsanne – and you will too.

On occasion you may encounter a surly tasting room employee who tells you are holding your glass wrong or corrects your pronunciation. As we say in NY – fuggetabout it! Maybe they are having a bad day and wish they were out wine tasting like you. Just don’t be like the character in the movie Sideways who comes into the tasting room chomping gum, that would make me cringe too. Keep palate-cleansing plain crackers and water with you while touring. And save the Reserve wines for your “sophomore” trip.

Wineries ship to most states, which Michael’s and my parents are grateful for. If you are buying wines to take with you, do kept them in a cooler or insulated wine carrier if you’ll be leaving them in a car for any period of time. It can get HOT very fast and heat destroys wine.

So, open your mind and the palate will follow. As trite as it sounds, do sniff the flowers. And talk to the staff and winemakers you might encounter. It’s the most enjoyable education I’ve ever had and I hope you’ll agree. Cheers!

The orange jumpsuit or piqué polo, hmmm….?

2008-04-10T09:35:00.000-07:00

First, The Natalie News: Now we know my niece’s fate for the Reckless Driving conviction: she will be spending two weeks picking up trash along the Silverado Trail. Time for her to put on the distinctive CDC-emblazoned (California Dept. of Corrections) orange jumpsuit and experience a world I hope she will not revisit. She has been very apologetic, after taking her time as far as realizing the gravity of the situation. I forget that she’s young. She forgets that she’s old enough to know better. We all hope she will put trouble behind and find her own passion, whether it’s school or work, or, I guess, Stefan, who she is still seeing. She relies on him (and his motorcycle) for rides though she is also getting around by bike. The spring weather makes it nicer, and I don’t think she’d dare ask to borrow one of our cars again.

My new car is pretty much the same as my totaled BMW, and with the added advantage of that new car smell and fewer Cheerios lodged between the seats. (No, I’m not blaming Natalie for those!)

Now, I want to get back to one of my favorite topics lately - wines and wineries. Now that spring has sprung I feel even more excited about living in Napa. And of course talking about it! For most of you, visiting our impossibly picturesque valley will have to do. So make your plans! You’re probably wondering what to wear and I’m not shy about offering my opinion on this. First of all: go for layers. Your grandmother may have mentioned this to you, and without even knowing about the microclimates we “enjoy” here. The temperature and humidity can vary wildly in short distances. While this is great for creating variation in types of wine grapes grown, it makes it harder to choose what to wear while wine touring. If you start out in the mornings (and you should – a winery that opens at 10:00 am will be a peaceful place to experience) take Grandma’s advice and opt for a cashmere sweater and a light jacket. I wear my own Red House Pure Cashmere Cardigan (RH17) and Pima Interlock Knit Jacket (RH08). By sunny afternoons I’m down to my Silk Baby Piqué Polo (RH14) and have stowed the sweater and jacket in my Micro Twill/Leather Tote (RH33). This is what I call my touring tote as it holds my layers and a few bottles of wine, water and sunscreen – a must for those exploring via convertible. Michael’s wine touring apparel is simple and sophisticated: The Red House Textured Silk Polo (RH10) and 100% Silk Twill Jacket (RH128). Once in uniform, we are ready for new discoveries in wine knowing that we look put-together and feel relaxed and comfortable. Another plus: won’t need to change clothes if we end the day with Northern Italian cuisine at St. Helena’s delightful Tra Vigne! (Check out the menu: travignerestaurant.com)

We see a variety of people on our explorations – tourists off the bus (often seen at the bigger wineries) sometimes sporting T-shirts advertising their favorite malt-based beverages. Then there are the sometimes-sweaty bikers clad in day-glo spandex. Oh, and the occasional over-the-top Versace-clad pair that you’d think just flew in from Vegas (And maybe they did – flush with winnings at least they’ll be spending them on good wine!) People watching is part of the fun when exploring Napa wineries. Smaller wineries provide a more intimate experience and often better education, but don’t fear the tour buses: the big wineries provide historical context and often some incredible gardens and structures. And yes, you might find a wine or two there that you really like. Enjoy!

The Pink Airplane

2008-04-08T09:51:00.000-07:00

First, The Natalie News: Never let it be said Maddie gives up on her niece. I met with a customer in San Francisco yesterday and Michael came in to join me for dinner in the city, which is always a treat. Natalie babysat for the first time since the crash and I expected no problems. However, we arrived home to find no Natalie, Delia or Andrew. Instead, there was a note from the neighbors saying the kids were with them (!!) Natalie had left them “briefly” to go on a motorcycle ride with Stefan. Can you believe it – leaving an eight and five year old alone?! She thought they’d be fine! And they were, until the popcorn was gone and they realized they were missing two things: adults and dinner. That’s when Delia took her brother by the hand and asked the neighbors if they could come in! Fortunately, the neighbors had a sense of humor about the whole thing, and I’m hoping they don’t think Michael and I are the worst parents in Napa County. Natalie seems genuinely sorry and promises better judgment. (And I think next time I’ll hire a sitter for all three of them!)

This “Home Alone” incident made me vow to make it up to the kids by being there for them as much as possible. But there is a little problem: a truly irritating mom at Andrew’s preschool who I’m constantly running into at pick-up, drop-off, school teas and mommy & me craft days. She rapid-fires questions at me, pretending to be interested in the answers, only to set me up for an insult or an undermining. (New Yorkers have nothing on Madame X!) She constantly asks me about Red House. How did I get there? What if I fail? (!) Curiosity is one thing, but a vein of insincerity is just below the surface. What was she getting at?! Finally she told me – she was introducing her own line of wine country-inspired clothing and starting a retail store in St. Helena. Weeks ago I had mentioned (foolishly) that a store was in my own five year plan for Red House! Ordinarily, I welcome the competition, as I know no one can touch us on the stellar combination of quality and customer service. And knowing there’s someone nipping at my heels keeps me on my toes, but please let it not be this woman! Red House is the culmination of dreams - my carefully considered passion. Mme. X thinks what I do is easy, a hobby! And get this – she’s calling her shop the Pink Airplane. Red House, Pink Airplane. Coincidence? You tell me.

I had to know more so I called my new friend Denise (from the nutritional business seminar), herself a boutique owner in St. Helena. She had heard of Mme. X and her retail intentions but laughed when I said “Pink Airplane”. That, she said, was a joke on me. The shop’s name will translate as “L’Avion Rose”, also a play on mournful songstress Edith Piaf’s La Vie en Rose, and get this – she is not competing with Red House at all – hers will be a “French-inspired travel accessories shop”. Will be?Apparently Mme. X’s retail venture is at least a year away from taking off, and Denise says she’s scouting for Francophile backers. Bonne chance, madame! I no longer dread our encounters. Maybe her brashness is just insecurity and we’ll even find some common ground while gluing macaroni to cigar boxes!

P.S. Thank you, guardian angels of Red House for protecting the integrity of our brand, and for making me laugh at myself for taking it all too seriously. I will light a candle in your honor and listen to as much of an Edith Piaf record as I can without getting depressed.

The Secret on Larkmead Lane

2008-04-01T13:27:00.000-07:00

I want to tell you about a winery that is not to be missed on your Napa explorations: Fabulous Frank Family Winery. Actually, I added the Fabulous. Go there and you’ll see what I mean. You’ve probably never heard of Frank, and that’s because they sell much of what they produce right at the winery. Wow, does Frank have some terrific wines! And you can almost walk there from Calistoga Ranch. That was my plan on Easter weekend when Michael’s and my parents were out, though I’m glad we ended up renting bikes with baskets for bringing home the bubbly, as it would have been quite the hike otherwise.

I’m letting out a little secret here: Frank is one of the few Napa wineries that don’t charge for tasting. And, I think the only producer of sparkling wines that doesn’t. They offer four sparklers. Delightfully unusual is the garnet-hued Rouge. Last year, I found a recipe in Sunset magazine pairing it with grilled burgers. Now that’s my kind of summer dinner! I seriously doubt they could make a wine I wouldn’t like. Their chardonnay is simply lovely, oaked but not intensely so. Their zinfandel is so popular (and its higher alcohol level packs such a punch) that there’s a little acronym they’ve come up with to describe its effect. THAT, you will not hear from me, but the slightly randy and highly knowledgeable gentlemen behind the counter will be only too happy to tell you and watch your face turn crimson. These guys are real characters. Though I’d like to see them in Red House polos, it’s hard to imagine them wearing anything other than Hawaiian shirts. Do not for a minute think their casual demeanor means they are not serious about wine. They know what they pour. And wait until you try the exquisitely complex Winston Hill cabernet!

The co-owner, Rick Frank, had a quite a storied career as a TV and film exec with Disney so you’ll see some memorabilia on the walls of the tasting room, which they could just have just papered with all their wine awards. Frank’s passion for Napa led him to his additional career. Would I ever do the same? While it sounds romantic, one of the first things I heard when I moved here was that buying a winery is the quickest way to turn a large fortune into a small one (!) So no, I’ll stick to outfitting the wine country lifestyle (And anyway, Napa has no shortage of wineries. Check this one out: www.frankfamilyvineyards.com.)

While we were at the winery, I overheard a heated argument between between two business associates. I had to wonder what was so important that they’d mar a beautiful day of wine tasting with such negativity. Well, it ‘s a small tasting room so I found out. One had lost an account and the other had lost his cool trying to get it back. Ah yes, the backbiting, the fear, and the confidence-crushing intensity I remember from my New York life in design. The tone (and the accent!) almost shattered my idyll and yet hey, I’m out of there – the city and the state of mind! They’re on vacation and yet are missing out because they’ve brought their problems to Napa. I don’t mean to sound smug, but I’m grateful. I get to live in this lovely place, got to enjoy our family for Easter, and I constantly reflect on my happy turn of events since Michael and I started Red House. Thanks to SanMar, our customers (and of course Michael!) for taking a chance on something new. We won’t disappoint!

Mothers Mad at Maddie

2008-03-27T19:53:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-24T21:08:00.001-07:00

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

2008-03-13T15:30:00.001-07:00

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

2008-03-12T10:33:00.001-07:00

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

2008-03-06T16:22:00.000-08:00

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!

2008-03-04T15:26:00.000-08:00

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.)

Arsenic and Braised Skate

2008-02-29T06:55:00.000-08:00

Well… turns out that once again I was anticipating trouble where none. Today Michael convinced that red-headed Our Lady of Eternal Perfection that I was the one with the vision and that it would be creatively advantageous for her to work with me. In fact, it seems that she is willing to forego her “fling” to preserve her best interests. Hmmm. Not only that, she seems sorry for the misunderstanding. She said that when I come out to NY to meet with her next week she’s going to have a special wood-fired Napa pizza made for me with figs, goat cheese, arugula - and braised skate! And speaking of food, I’m already thinking of the mustard fields of Sonoma as color inspiration for the shirts. Of course, I’ll keep my guard up in case she offers me a side salad of arsenic. Until then, I think I should trust more – at least trust Michael. (Sorry Michael!!) I still wonder what she looks like…

Michaels’ Flaming-Haired Old Flame

2008-02-27T09:24:00.000-08:00

New business = New opportunity for trouble. There’s this woman Michael dated once or twice back in Manhattan, before we met. She was a model then. Just stunning, with gorgeous, naturally red hair. The whole idea is soooo unfair. Now she’s a restaurateur. Very successful too. In fact, she’s got six bistros on the east coast as stylish as she is. Everything she could want but a husband. So she’s probably thinking, why not borrow…Maddie’s?(!) She’s been emailing Michael and sending flowery little notes asking him to come meet with her, that she’s interested in having Red House provide her staff with uniforms. I have to say, it would be a coup for us. This would be a great chance to send the wine country ambience east. And the ex-model’s “rustic French” restaurants have an elegant yet casual approach to what they do – just like Red House. Here’s the thing: she wants to deal with Michael directly “because she knows him”. Hmmm, I’ll bet! I’m the one who goes out after new business while Michael crunches numbers and makes sure the place runs smoothly. I don’t want to sound threatened, but I bet this woman hasn’t aged since college! Michael may not be immune to such supernatural charms. What if their former flames rekindle over dinner in the bistro.? I picture champagne, monkfish ratatouille with the faux ingénue looking even younger by candlelight… Ok, I’m over-reacting. And I DO WANT that account! So, I decided it’s ok to for him to woo her in a business manner… and hope that she doesn’t want more than Red House pinpoint oxford shirts! But I wonder, how far will I (um, Michael) go to get the business?

The Natalie update:
Natalie continues to challenge us with her wandering. We have had her comparing dye lots and doing some basic filing. But when Kerin leaves for lunch, Natalie checks out for the day. Kerin and I came back from a client meeting today to find the reception area sofa pillows in disarray, and recently extinguished cigarette butts underneath – black lipstick on half of them. In the distance, the sound of a motorcycle speeding off. Stefan again! It looks like Natalie is not likely to become the Red House employee of the month any time soon.

The Ovens of Opportunity

2008-02-21T15:19:00.000-08:00

I’m taking a chance, a BIG chance: Natalie is now an intern at Red House. It was that or she’d continue to sleep all day. And really, I’m trying to reduce the amount of time she’s spending with Stefan, her vaguely European friend with the motorcycle. He’s maybe 17 tops! Yet I trust my instincts and think Nat just needs a little guidance. At 19 though, she’s a quasi-adult and there’s only so much I can say. Natalie’s duties will depend on what Michael, Kerin and I come up with. I started her out with a mini trade show experience featuring businesswomen of the Napa Valley. It was sort of a big deal to be invited to participate along with vintners and growers, chefs, artists and other clothing entrepreneurs. I wanted Nat to meet women who have made their mark. The fact that these achievers have their success and the most beautiful setting in which to work is just the icing on the cake. But more on baked goods later.

When I opened my packet of registration materials the day before the event I nearly fell over. Red House was listed as BREAD HOUSE! I couldn’t believe it, a total disaster for a new company - they thought we were a BAKERY!? Kerin thought we should pull out of the exhibition, but Natalie suggested we bake some bread and BE a bakery for a day as a public relations stunt. I liked her thinking! There must be a genetic thread of pro activity between us after all. We might even get more attention for Red House by showing we could weather a setback of erroneous printing. We’d have a table set up like a wine country picnic and hand out samples. The only problem was that baking takes time that I didn’t have. Miracle #2 – Natalie said she could bake bread! Did my ears deceive me?! She let slip that she learned to bake while on Work Release! (I didn’t pry, but I’m going to later.) Nat even offered bake at Stefan’s house so she wouldn’t be keeping us awake all night. Meanwhile, Kerin and I made a sign for the booth that said, Redhouse creates clothing for wine country, and when necessary, bakes for it.

Well, I’ve got to hand it to her - Nat came through with the bread. It was a big hit, and the women in wine who were exhibiting sent people over to our booth with glasses in hand. They lingered to hear about our printing disaster and our line of corporate clothing. Some of them looked askance at Nat with her skull earrings and black eye shadow, but she was friendly enough. Perhaps too friendly - as she wandered off to the wine tasting area to flirt with most of the men who showed up – especially those pouring wine! Sigh. One day at a time, Maddie!

ITS SPRING!

2008-02-20T07:00:00.000-08:00

Don’t tell anyone, well, not too many people, but this is the time of year to let the sleeping beauty that is Napa awaken your senses. And I don’t just mean the senses that deconstruct wine (wildly important though they are). Come look around - our little secret is that it’s already spring here. The grapevines are starting to show green and the entire valley waking to the excitement of what’s to come. Maybe bracing is the right word, as what’s to come includes tourists - lots of them. (Michael and I were two once, though we’ve forgotten all about that!) Now though, while there’s no guarantee of sunshine you still have a chance to enjoy less traffic on the roads and fewer patrons jockeying for space in the tasting rooms. It’s an excellent time to tour! Take your wine journal and jot a few notes along the way. You can always order a case later. Don’t forget lunch between tastings. Some of the restaurants that you have to book months in advance for dinner are easier to get into for lunch. Especially weekdays. Happy Tasting!

Here are a few favorites I’d like to share:
Cars and Cabs: Far Niente is known for elegant Cabernets. The tour lets you check out some classic cars too.
Taste the Terroir – Single vineyard production at Nickel & Nickel are de riguer
Best Faux Chateau – Ledson Winery. Looks like France, with better weather!
Friendliest Winery Dog – “Moose” at R.H. Cohn Kid-Friendliest Tour – Get on the tractor at Benziger Winery.

On another note, an old friend of mine (from my GOAT DIPPING DAYS) sent me this today! Isn’t it funny, I just wrote about that strange (and color-changing) experience.

Wine lovers! Did you hear that they’re turning the infamous Judgment of Paris wine competition- where Napa beat France!- into a movie?! It’s called Bottle Shock and it just screened at Sundance. I found this trailer yesterday and just had to share.

Caught up in the romance

2008-02-15T13:57:00.001-08:00

I admit it. There IS something truly enchanting about Napa on Valentine’s Day. First, the land is so lush and green and fragrant with the coming of spring. Not like NYC where the spring fragrance is... well, unmentionable. Here, everywhere you look there’s something that catches my heart (can you believe that's a REAL leaf?!) – like the way the golden mustard blooms weave across the land. In fact, there’s an entire Mustard Festival dedicated to this splendor.

Even Michael was caught up in the romance. He surprised me with reservations at the very romantic Martini House (check it out!) in St. Helena. First, we drove against a spectacular sunset. Then, once we were settled in at the restaurant we were like teenagers in love as we drank the perfectly pink Schramsberg Brut Rose (from Napa, of course) and shared a plate of the indescribably delicious wild mushrooms. It was truly divine.

The Natalie update:
After an initial (stifled) gasp from Michael we are settling in with niece Natalie. The kids have seen people with even more piercings, and Nat doesn’t even have tattoos (that I know about.) If she’s surly, she’s saving it. Though she has slept most of the time since her arrival… And yes, I have locked the wine refrigerator and hidden the matches. She was nice enough to babysit for us so we could go out for our special Valentine evening. Thank you Natalie!

SFO – uh-oh

2008-02-12T12:47:00.000-08:00

I messed up yesterday. I had to get an order of pashminas delivered to an embroiderer in Oakland and was late picking my niece Natalie up at the airport. Baaaaad move! I could have had Kerin deliver the pashminas or had Michael go to SFO, but these were two tasks I felt I had to do myself.

The 100 pashminas are to be gifts for the members of a nonprofit women’s garden group at their annual retreat. The director, a tad eccentric even by California standards, chose camel, my closest shade to earth itself, and a very loopy (extinct) flower design to be embroidered in more colors than I usually recommend. The director has an eye for luxury as well as blooms, which is why she chose the Red House pashmina – twill weave, two-ply, 100% cashmere.

All these years in design taught me to plan ahead and so I made sure I had the embroiderers booked early with a week to spare. But yesterday, the director called me and asked if we could please have these done 3 weeks early–in time for the ladies to wear them to the SF Flower and Garden Show on March 12. (!!!) Apparently this is a see-and-be-seen event for the horticultural elite. I said I would try, not knowing that every California spring sports league had booked the embroiderers solid for the next month. So I begged, and brought orchids for the staff when I came to discuss the project yesterday.

And it all worked out with plenty of time to get to the airport. Except for one thing: the worst traffic ever. I may as well have walked! When I did finally arrive, park, and run to the terminal (why did I have to wear spike heels that day?!) I had some trouble locating Natalie. I thought she might be browsing the gift shops. Instead, I found her having a drink in an airport bar! Can you believe it?! She’s 19! And speaking of being thrown for a loop, she had three nose rings, plus a belly ring with a dangling charm that appeared to be an angel and devil locked in battle, possibly for her soul. And if you recall how Jodie Foster dressed in Taxi Driver I won’t need to describe the skirt she was “almost wearing”. I hope my shock registered as indignation over the hellish traffic, which I nervously ranted about while trying not to stare. The good news was that she didn’t seem upset that I was late. The bad news is that I was about to take her home to Napa… THIS was going to be interesting!

My niece Natalie

2008-02-07T06:48:00.000-08:00

I’m SO excited – we’re adding a family member! NO – not what you’re thinking! I am done with that, Red House is my baby now. And at the “demanding” stage. We are going to have an addition to our household though – my niece Natalie. She’s my sister’s only child, 19 years old, from suburban Saddlebrook, NJ. I haven’t seen her in years but I remember a sunny little kid - very eager to please.

When my sister first called about our taking Natalie she said Nat was somewhat withdrawn and unmotivated, the only one in her class who hasn’t gone on to college. She figured that a few weeks with us in Napa and seeing me adeptly manage my life and work (ha - depends what day she sees me!) would be just what Natalie needs to jump start her own life plan. I said sure, wonderful! She called back a few days later and said she thought a few months might be better. Ok… And she mentioned that Nat hadn’t “actually graduated” - something about a “suspicious fire” (!?) that she was seen running from. Well… I am nothing if not determined to have an impact in this life so I said bring her on! (I decided not to mention the new details to Michael right away.) I will inspire this girl! I will have her painting vineyards and collapsing barns in no time! I also hope Natalie can be of help with Andrew and Delia. Who knows, maybe Michael and I can get away for a weekend ALONE! That would be fantastic! And we’ll see what her interest level is, but I even had a thought that Natalie might want to be Red House’s (first!) intern. I’m going to talk to Keren, my assistant, to see if there are some tasks she can help with. Meanwhile, she arrives next week! The kids are excited and Michael is too – with a little apprehension thrown in, but I think it’s going to be great for all of us! Ok – work is calling – must get back to it!

The pitch and the pain

2008-02-06T06:41:00.000-08:00

I’ve wanted to kick a vendor to the curb the past few weeks. His name is “Jim Flimsy” and he would just not quit. I could feel the New Yorker in me fighting to get out and tell him to SHUT UP ALREADY! I even had to step out for air, but it was hard to watch the hawks circling overhead without picturing one swooping down on Jim and ripping out his jugular vein. (Did I really say that?!)

I have to say I was intrigued the first time Jim called about his “wonderful” interlock fabric, so I asked to see his samples. He proffered some very sad swatches of inexpensive cotton/poly interlock. It was sure to pill up after a few washes and too thin to hold up to embroidery. Kind of shiny too, made me think of bowling. I told him Red House would consider only long staple combed Pima cotton. No blends. No deal. I was adamant but polite. Yet, HE DID NOT GIVE UP! Days later he called AGAIN with a value-added feature - he named his colors to reflect the majesty of wine country living. Unreal! As if “Pinot Plum” and “Malbec Mauve” would change my mind about polyester.

Mr. Flimsy also had my business card from the trade show and was calling me on my cell. Couldn’t we compromise? NO! And last Saturday, Michael and I ran into him at the Ledson Winery tasting room. He mentioned how much he wanted to work with me and how offering a lower-cost (aka lower-quality) polo shirt would open new doors for Red House. I obliged him briefly, though quietly seething with annoyance, and leaving Michael to make conversation with his wife.

There was a happy, nonviolent ending. I sent Jim to another provider of corporate clothing who I thought would be receptive to his low prices and shameless self-promotion. She in turn, sent a vendor of a premium organic interlock my way. One hand washes the other, as they say, and no hand goes for the jugular, as I say.

Cashmere in the Mud

2008-02-01T07:40:00.000-08:00

During the NY design days of my youth I did what I had to do to not get fired. Once, I was a Goat Dipper. Someone had the bright idea of using actual dyed cashmere goats in a photo shoot for the sweaters we were producing. The idea was to show how well cashmere takes to dye. Yet no one thought to ask if this were true when the cashmere is still attached to the goats, who would also be wearing a fair amount of barnyard grime. At Red House, we source our cashmere from the mountains of Tibet, Mongolia and China because I know that the higher the altitude the better the quality. The NY “design house” (and I use that term loosely) got their cheap and scratchy cashmere from the lowlands of rural Canada.

The shoot was in May, in what must have been a banner year for mud. It was a slogging plague of biblical proportions. The kind of mud that sucks the boots off your feet and sets them next to the gates of hell. The crew lost – literally lost- some of the camera equipment. Satan himself may be using it now. I herded a small army of pygmy-size goats through the muck and dipped them in tubs of an eco-friendly dye solution, thinking they would enjoy the warm bath. Uh, no. Can you tell I’m from New York? Hello! They shook. They kicked. And guess who ended up wearing the most dye? On the plane trip home I looked like I’d gone a few rounds with the Teletubbies. This was when Michael and I were dating and I actually hid out in my apartment for days after I got home – scrubbing. If he had seen me he would have bolted. But I’d still have this story to entertain me in my solitude. Maddie, The Goat Whisperer.

History has taught me that a great product doesn’t need a lot of gimmicks to promote it. Our lavish quality Red House cashmere is woven to exacting standards, and each sweater, pashima or scarf is piece-dyed (not goat-dyed!) for truest colors.

Vegas. What was I thinking?!

2008-01-29T06:57:00.000-08:00

I just attended the PPAI Expo at Mandalay Bay Convention Center - right in the middle of the glitzy wildness Las Vegas is known for. There were thousands of exhibitors but I was the best dressed(!) in my Red House blue stripe button down shirt and Insignia Blue fine gauge silk sweater. You didn’t expect me to wear sequins and feathers, did you? Well I would if Red House outfitted showgirls – but don’t get any ideas! For me, “What happens in Vegas…” started with handing out postcards and encouraging attendees to check out my blog. Not what comes to mind when you’re thinking “…stays in Vegas”. To those of you who missed me there, thanks for coming and seeing what Red House is all about. I’m proud of the level of quality and luxury my collection offers. Some of the other exhibitors had some imprintable items of a “different quality”. Like light-up sunglasses – for those dark winter days? And get this – the Candom! It’s well, like a glove to keep beer protected from unwanted temperature changes(!!!) Check it out: www.candom.com.

So here’s where the trip went awry. I figured since it “stays in Vegas” why not kick up my Jimmy Choos and try livin’ la vida Vegas? I expected to see the worst - a passed-out Grammy-winner in a tux or a celebutante who gambled away her fortune and fights me for my Red House pashima, but the only sordid incident was of my own doing. Caught up in the craziness, I had three martinis in an hour and insisted on wrapping my arms around Elvis. Oh, not just any Elvis, this Elvis was evolved! Better than the original in his prime - both flawlessly handsome and minimally-sequined. Inexplicably...tasteful! I discovered the urbane Elvis! And I could not resist – mind controlled by martinis I had to run across the casino and GRAB HIM! Imagine his surprise. Imagine his wife’s surprise. And his kids’. He had just finished his act and was leaving with his family when he was nearly molested by a loaded Maddie. He was a good sport about it, even when I grabbed the camera out of my bag, spilling $25 chips all over the floor. But when I put on his silk scarf I got the attention of the floor bosses who looked like they usually handled this sort of thing by breaking bones. Next PPAI I better skip that casino and stick to wine spritzers. Was the picture worth it all? I’ll never know - the floor bosses deleted it!

Outfitting the Last Hurrah...

2008-01-21T17:59:00.000-08:00

Are you sitting down? I’m not. Well, I am but just barely – I’m so excited! I am going to be creating the groomsmen gifts for what can only be described as a high profile pre-wedding retreat. There will be golf. Wine. Cigars. A half day zooming around in classic cars at Infineon Raceway. And a spa day with grapeseed exfoliation scrubs. (Ok, I’m guessing about that last part.) Of course you would just love it if I dropped the name of this Most Eligible Bachelor/Winery Heir-Apparent to The Throne who will be getting married very soon in a most ostentatious occasion right here in Napa. No can do. All right – here’s a hint: he’s not that young. (Ouch!) Ok – THAT IS ENOUGH!

I just realized I’ve been spending a little too much time thinking about Mr. Groom this morning (only in a professional sense, Michael, really!) and I almost forgot what I was going to say about the groomsmen’s gifts. They are matching, v-neck fine-gauge sweaters in Azure, When Mr. Groom approached me about having Red House create this memorable gift for the guys I thought he’d maybe want tasteful embroidery of his and the bride’s initials. Or perhaps, “Last Retreat”. No. Get this: he simply wanted the date of the wedding. Uh, ok…. The customer is always right, but I was thinking it would look like an epitaph! And then it occurred to me that this event may well be an epitaph of sorts, because Mr. Groom’s life and times will never again be chronicled in the same way in the pages of Town & Country. (Another disclaimer: marriage is the best way to go through life, at least for Michael and I, but it’s a different kind of fun than racing around in classic cars. Quieter, anyway.) One more thing, I saw the embroidered sample today and it’s actually quite intriguing - certainly a conversation starter. I like it!

I will tell you more about this very interesting wedding-to-be in a future post. There’s more I’m not telling and some things I’m in the process of finding out – so don’t stray too far from your screen!

Good bye NYC... Hello Napa!

2008-01-14T08:53:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone!
You found me! Today is my first time doing this, truly the first chance in over a year that I’ve had to catch my breath and express some thoughts. Some of you reading this know me well and others don’t. If not, you will soon enough as this rambling blog thing feels good after a year of insanely hard work. That’s what starting a new business takes, but it’s all good and I ended up in the perfect place. Follow me on this journey of reflection and fun, you’ll never know what I’m going to say - I sure don’t(!) This is where I should make a disclaimer. Just presume innocence when I infer otherwise, especially if your name comes up!

My 2007 was all about starting Red House. Some of you don’t know what a monumental decision Michael and I made a year ago. After much trepidation and lost sleep we decided to start our own clothing business. So it was good bye New York and hello Napa! You’re probably thinking that I could’ve done this in NY, and of course you’re right. However, there was an opportunity - and a climate - I couldn’t refuse. Never let it be said I missed an opportunity due to feet of clay (or snowboots!).

Michael, it turns out, needed no prodding. Was it the thought of watching the sun set every night with a different wine in hand? As a matter of fact - yes. What’s not to love?! He gets a job out of it too. He needed a career change, though I think he’d prefer I didn’t mention that. I needed to feel that my designs could be carried out with a strong commitment to service and using sumptuous materials. In NY, the pace was just too frenetic for the customer contact I wanted to build upon, and I also wanted to be able to negotiate with smaller vendors for the best quality fabrics. That’s just not how it’s done in NY.

A little more about why we escaped from NY - I worried that the kids were growing up...indoors. Despite the hassles of moving a family across the country, they love the sunshine and critters and everything being new.

To those of you who feel like they recently attended my baby showers (I hope I sent thank yous!) Delia (8) and Andrew (5) are growing like crazy and can’t believe their good fortune being able to wear shorts to school. Business-wise, it’s looking very good even with the crazy-busy aspects of getting Red House running. Michael is enormously helpful. I could in NO WAY do without his partnership at work and home. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Michael! I will share my thoughts (and maybe his - right now he says no) whenever I am able to break free for a few minutes.

I’m not even sure where to begin. There is just so much to share. So, here are a few things you can expect to read, soon (really).

Why I love my customers
I know my customers are going to read this first. You know who you are! Stay tuned!

What I learned about business
…would surprise my colleagues back in New York.