Salvaging Sunday

One recent Sunday morning, Piero, Luca and I were sitting around the breakfast table in a bit of a funk. It had been raining for days, the internet and cable TV were down and we were all feeling psychologically waterlogged. There didn't seem to be much in the way of enlivening conversation.

Luca: What are we doing today?

Me: Same as yesterday.

Luca: Yesterday was boring.

(Pause)

Piero: (to Luca) What do you want to do?

Luca: Have friends come over.

Me: Today's too busy.

Luca: What about tonight?

Me: Tonight? It's Sunday.

Piero: I have to work tomorrow.

Luca (to us) Now you're boring.

Talk about an instant game-changer. Piero and I looked at each other in horror. Had we become so stodgy and set in our ways that we couldn't make a last-minute plan to invite friends over for dinner?

Had the heady thrills of spontaneity vanished from our lives?

Were we fated to trudge forward into the future with some dreary prearranged itinerary clasped in our hands?

Umm, that would be no.

But it would have to be simple.

It would have to be fast.

And it would have to be fun.

Were we up to it?

Umm, that would be yes. Check out our night below:

Looking Bookish

Here's exactly how it all went down.

I was standing in front of my library shelves yesterday reminiscing about all the meaningful moments spent with their contents over the years. I found myself wishing I could carry the comforts of some of my favorite novels with me as a talismanic charm when venturing out into the world.

But what could I make that was soft and tactile and symbolized the transformative power of the written word? As I stood reading the titles of my little collection of Penguin Classics, a cold breeze swept in through the living room window and instantly I knew.

Q: What's even better than re-reading a favorite book?

A: Keeping it close to your heart.

I would knit a book scarf.

A Penguin Classics book scarf.

Having recently discovered a website that lets you print graph paper for knitting, I took a stab at translating the world's most iconic penguin into squares.

(Knitting paper available here)

Using size 7 needles, it took about 30 minutes to knit up my prototype. For the actual scarf, I'll adjust my gauge slightly to make him taller and slimmer, but I think he's pretty cute.

(Sample section of my Penguin book scarf)

As for the design of the rest of the scarf, I could go big and graphic and knit the whole thing as a single book, like this:

(Note: For the title, knit a plain white background and then embroider the letters over it in chainstitch.)

Or I could knit a row of books and just keep adding "shelves" until my scarf reached the desired length:

I mean, come on. Wouldn't it be amazing this winter to see people walking down the street wearing their favorite novel around their necks? Talk about a conversation opener.

(My inspiration board. That's Beatrix Potter in the hat.)

This wrapping paper is a great example of all the lovely colors that vintage Penguins used to come in.

(Penguin spines wrapping paper, available here)

If I make either scarf, I promise to photograph the results along with any pattern I create. I post my ideas/sketches here in the hope that they'll inspire some of you to use them as a jumping-off point. Let me know.

* * * * *

But I wasn't quite done. From vintage Penguins my memory veered to long-held images from some of my favorite books. The house in "Howards End", for instance, is a constant source of inspiration, fulfilling as it does every fantasy I have about English cottage life. Centuries-old brick covered in ivy and climbing vines...what could be cozier? If only there was a way to get inside those walls.

(Howards End house via here)

(via here)

(via here)

Below, I present to you my design for a "Howards End" sweater. The inspiration? A brick wall covered in ivy. I would construct it with a deep shawl-collar for some old school glamour and a knitted belt to keep it snug and sexy around the hips. The pieces of ivy would be sewn on afterwards and could be either knitted or made out of felt.

("Howards End" sweater)

Depending on the book in question, the variations are endless. For George Eliot's "Middlemarch", you could knit the same sweater in slate gray and appliqué with pink rose blossoms -- how else to symbolize Dorothea's passionate ideals amid the restrictive rules of village life? For Elizabeth Von Arnim's "Enchanted April", I would knit the body of the sweater in a muted gold (the color of a Tuscan villa at sunset) and attach wisteria flowers to it. You get the idea.

* * * * *

Is there any book that could inspire you to create an article of clothing? What colors and textures and patterns bubble up inside of you when you think of it?

Font-astic

The other day, my friend Teri asked me if I'd seen Pilot Pen's new program that lets you write emails in your own handwriting.

"Whaaaa?" I sputtered. "How did I not know about this?" I raced to the computer and nearly hyperventilated when I saw the website. It's that cool.

(Pilot Handwriting screen grab)

Like most of you, my penmanship rarely gets a workout anymore. Honestly, I do lament this, but what can one do? I have boxes of gorgeous Smythson stationery which are used mainly for thank you notes these days, because let's face it: email has increasingly become the 21st century way.

But wouldn't it be odd and delightful to use your computer keyboard to reacquaint yourself with your handwriting?

Pilot's website has a chic little video that shows you how to do everything and in about five minutes, I was indeed "writing by hand on the computer."

You just print out their template, fill it in...

...upload it via your scanner, webcam or digital camera...

...and presto! The computer instantly processes it into your own personal typefont.

Here's the template I wrote and scanned onto my computer...

...and here's a sample letter that I typed out for you all.

I still have to figure out how to get my lowercase letters to connect, but all in all, it's pretty darn cool. I'm looking forward to writing some chatty emails to long-distance friends and having them take on a whole new dose of personality.

* * * * *

Postscript: And now moving from bespoke handwriting fonts to bespoke Halloween costumes...

This is what happens when you let your son watch "Project Runway" with you.

("Percy Jackson" gladiator breastplate. Sewn by me.

Conceived, designed and superintended by my son.)

After avidly watching the last two seasons of the Bravo show with my husband and me, Luca was horrified when he caught me trying to slip a boy's gladiator costume into my Amazon shopping cart.

Luca: Mom, no! That's totally lame. We have to make it from scratch.

Me: We do?

Luca: Percy Jackson would not wear a costume from Amazon.

Me: He wouldn't?

Luca: No. And that guy...whatshisname?

Me: Tim Gunn?

Luca: He would say to "Make It Work."

Me: He would?

Luca: (exasperated) Fine, I'll design it and you just sew it up.

Me: Oh, really?

You get the idea.

It actually worked out fine -- that is, after our little contretemps over the faux leather vs. real leather at the fabric store. (At $19/yard vs. $85/yard, the faux leather won, although it's still a sore point with him.) A little stitching (by me), a lot of micromanaging (by him), and he's been wearing it ever since.

Happy Halloween!