The weekend out on Long Island was kind of a mixed bag, full of glum, gray skies, serious family meetings about the ongoing care of a very old house with a mind of its own; adorable but manic children with the volume turned up to 11; and police helicopters hovering over the neighborhood for a good 30 minutes late Saturday night. There are some things that are infinitely scarier in the country than they are in the city, and police helicopters shining searchlights directly over your home definitely ranks among them. By Sunday morning I was ready to get out of Dodge.
In my rush to go, I left behind a couple of important items, and yesterday afternoon headed down to lower Lafayette Street to retrieve them from my dear sister-in-law, Shirim, who’d brought them in with her after I called in a panic. And, with that errand accomplished, I found myself so close to No. 6 on that it would have been crazy not to pop in.
And here is where I must ask: How can I be expected to stop buying dresses when the universe keeps churning out such pretty ones? If Christian Wijnants had not designed this little frock, it might have come to me in a dream, so perfectly does it fit all of my specs. Excellent cut, brilliant print, exact-right, grown-up length. My mom both reads this blog and thinks I spend too much money, but I can not lie, even in the face of her disapproval. Reader, I bought this perfect Christian Wijnants dress. And Mom: you can not deny that it’s way, way up my alley.
No. 6 is one of those stores where the longer you look, the more you find to love, so after paying, I beat a hasty retreat. Heading up toward home would usually mean a meander through Soho, but August is high tourist season, and the Soho’s sidewalks are all but unnavigable. So instead I headed up Crosby, a less-trafficked street just below Broadway that’s neither Soho nor Nolita. Jewelry designer Jill Platner has her beautiful store there, but I walked on by. Nothing good could come of a visit.
I did, however, venture inside MiN New York, and that proved to be the day’s big new exciting discovery. It’s a rustic, cave-like fragrance and beauty emporium, full of some familiar luxury brands but a lot of lesser-known European ones, the likes of which I’ve only seen at places like Bigelow or Aedes de Venustas. Of course I went nuts for their deep selection of Fornasetti candles and incense boxes, and there were many, many fancy perfumes in very pretty bottles, which I can appreciate even though perfume is not so much my thing.
The items that stirred my quotidian soul the most were in the apothecary section. This bath and shower gel from Spanish company Alvarez Gomez has a nice light, slightly astringent lemony scent. Perfect for scrubbing awful August sidewalk ick from your feet at the end of a long day.
There are people who swear by Japanese charcoal soap for clear skin. I just think this looks really cool.
And doesn’t this just look like it would work? I really could have stayed in MiN forever: There were exotic mouthwashes and dandelion syrup, said to help liver function, both made by Benedictine monks in Italy; heavenly-smelling deodorants, and an ostrich feather “skin relaxer” because I don’t even know why. It was altogether too much, and I will so totally be back.