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Follow the Honey // Cambridge
Let’s not bring up the shiver-inducing qualms about buying honey from generic brands. Where is this from? Who made it? What did the bees actually pollenate? Sure guys, we definitely believe you and your marketing department of plastic bears.
This is a timely topic in the season of colds too—the healing properties of raw honey. Thus I bring you: a brief tour of Follow the Honey in Harvard Square!
Every time I visit the shop there seems to be a new young maven of health behind the counter. Where does one find these women of honey passion? They look at you with wise eyes, nod eagerly at your questions, offer you samples of nearly everything you might want to try, and bring up tendrils of conversation you never would have thought of. Beeswax as ear plugs? Sure. Try some honey made from killer bees? Why not! Beeswax candles ionize your air? Sounds delicious.
Here’s another thing about a shop like this: when you mull over your options, read labels, flip through books written by the beekeepers, examine expensive choices and cheap ones—-when you are deep in the heart of Honey Temple, whatever you bring home, whatever it is, you will cherish it. Friends will come over and you will peer in your cupboards and say, “oh, would you like some honey?” or you might try to trick them into tea instead of coffee so you can plop some inside the mug. It will be that prize possession in your pantry.
My favorite thing is the Honey on Tap. I am one of those who dreams about small Italian villages where we bring our tins to be filled with olive oil from the local barrel, or we recycle our our wine carafes and refill them weekly. Thus, the idea of an enormous keg of honey, changing seasonally and always local, is perfect. The first time you buy a pound of honey from them, it is $18.60. Bring the jar back, it’s $16.50. Relishing in between? Priceless.
On your next visit to Harvard Square, stop in! And if your schedule is a bit footloose definitely sign up for their newsletter, they’re always hosting fun activities.
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Heirlooms in the closet
Last night we planned to go listen to the orchestra that plays outside. I roasted the chicken, spread bread with salty Irish butter, and went to Savenors to buy a packet of those crispy Tate’s cookies.
Then Lux’s mood seemed suspiciously explosive, like we might traipse over to the park put down our blankets settle in with our paper cups of wine and then she would start shouting and pointing with no reasoning whatsoever, just shouting and pointing.
So instead we invited our friend and her boston terrier over to have dinner at our house. We ate the chicken sandwiches at the table and poured the wine into real glasses and Lux tried to feed the dog, Murray, her spicy sesame noodles. After Lux was asleep we started talking about trends lately and the crafting trend of Brooklyn came up. You know, the one where studios have opened and beautiful watches are being made by hand, and crazy inventive sweaters are being knitted, and fine cloth is being tie-dyed in the best way possible. Whenever this comes up I begin reviewing my closet in my mind; wondering if I own anything of that caliber—that I would save for years to come—and more importantly: that would last for years to come.
I have a dress that I bought for my rehearsal dinner four years ago and I’ve since worn it to parties of all sorts, and some weddings, and just recently I wore it to the party we had in the park. The funny thing about this dress is that it’s from Anthropologie. In general I have a very difficult time shopping at Anthropologie. The trouble is that almost every item in that store is so heirloom. Usually there are two floors, both of them brimming with beautiful clothes, every single item could be that dress, or that sweater, or that jacket that you are known for, that embodies your style and makes you the richly dressed girl with lots of character.
I end up not shopping because I have this collision of “who am I?” thoughts: am I the bookish artist? am I the frivolous gardener? am I the spirited crafter? And I leave after admiring the lace bralette and examining the embroidery on the sweater and watching how the skirts’ soft cotton falls just so. And I also might have twinges of fear that say: that dress will try to make you, instead of you making it.
But nonetheless once I got my dress out of the store and into my closet, it became the clutch piece that I rely on and hope to wear for years to come. I’m grateful to Anthropologie for this lovely dress that was available to buy when I needed it and I’m especially grateful for how easygoing and accommodating it has turned out to be. Do you have these pieces like this in your closet? That despite the trend of $10 dresses from H&M or awfully sewn editions from Target, that you’ve managed to get home and love and make part of your life? Or are you considering investing in something truly made by hand?
The loveliest illustrations taken from Danielle Kroll’s blog.
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My favorite sandals, already!
Sharing a good sandal find among women is a sacred tradition. I picked these up at Steven Alan while I was in L.A. and have worn them around Boston for several straight days. No blisters and no tired feet! And I love the colors (I bought the hip orange ones, which are called “clay” for some awful reason). If you are loving the nude-on-nude shoe trend, they even have a color for that!
How much? Less than your grocery bill but more than your Comcast bill….$88. And they run small. I’m seriously considering ordering another pair, because I dread the sandal hunt each summer.
