Vivienne was designing clothing, I was transferred into the communications / store operations area after having managed one of their NYC stores. I had worked in fashion in the US since I was a teenager. Before moving to the states, Vivienne had already established her own clubwear collections in the UK. Her designs sold internationally through the late 80’s and early 90’s and were featured in magazines like i-D and British Elle. When she first arrived in the states, her US career began in Miami, working for a private investor. She then had moved to NYC and designed for Seventh Avenue fashion companies. We were living similar, but different fashion and creative lives in NYC at the same time before even meeting. We both moved from the Big Apple at the same time and were navigating our new home town of Philadelphia. We had never met before and became fast friends. She was British, wore leather and could perfectly do a wing style liner of her eyes with the liquid eyeliner. I created collage style memos that got sent out to stores to get them to understand the madness of the company we were all wrapped up in.

Vivienne went on and has had a wide ranging career in fashion, designing across the US and the UK. Alongside her own independent fashion collections, she was teaching the next generation of fashion designers at the Royal College of Art, Winchester School of Art, and the American College in London in the 80’s and 90’s. Later she designed swimwear for the iconic Liberty London in 2005 while larger companies including Marks & Spencer and Biba also came calling.

Our friendship has stood the test of time and we love to reminisce about our misadventures. One specifically involving being flashed by a very well endowed man in Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia on a spring day in 1996. We took our roller blades, knee pads and wrist pads and shocked selves and got out of there, pronto. Yuck. The cops didn’t seem too concerned and we laugh about it now as I mistook the flasher’s fleshy package for a very large fanny pack or bum bag as the Brits would prefer to say, lol.

Back to the present day… we were relaxing after a full on day of hitting the pavement at our new favorite locale - St. Leonard’s-On-Sea in the UK. An easy hour and a half train ride from London, it even reminds me of the up & coming neighborhoods we would haunt and enjoy back in 90’s. Back then we loved exploring the creative businesses and boutiques on the Lower East Side in NYC.

This past week, we weren’t partying, though. We had been on a mission for the short mid week stay. The goal? Find Vivienne a new place to live. After years of living in London, she is ready for a different rhythm of life. A place where she can call home, but also make and create. A community that supports that lifestyle. New horizons are calling. I’m here for it!

I played wing woman, took photos of the apartments being looked at, and mused about doing the same thing myself during the course of my own apartment moves back in the day. I’ll save those stories for another day. Let’s just say that online app apartment searching is the new Craig’s List and Village Voice listing. Thank goodness for modern technology that has made this painful apartment shopping process a bit less cumbersome. It is way easier nowadays to use an app to filter things like price and apartment amenities. It sure beats pouncing on getting a copy of the Philadelphia Weekly or New York Times real estate section straight off the press and then dialing away to get a viewing. Fingers crossed along the way that you’re not too late.

The full circle moments came not once but TWICE during the apartment hunt.

First, we walked into Bus Shop Studios in St. Leonard’s, a brilliant independent shop. It’s a combination of art supply and stationary shop, classroom, and gallery. I needed to buy some glue sticks and embroidery thread and could have spent all day looking around. Art books, a packed calendar of creative classes on offer, haberdashery, and plenty of art supplies, this place was a gem. I ended up also getting a couple of watercolor kits for my mom as well. She loves it when I show up with art supplies. Same, Mom, same!

As we were browsing, Vivienne was recognized by Chris Martin, an international male runway and magazine model. They knew each other in the early 90’s and he remembered her from a designer collective that she had been a part of. It was called Fusion - a fashion, food and fine art emporium set up by Fiona Ronaldson, formerly of Harvey Nichols.

Second was when she met a woman who (spoiler alert!) would become her landlady. She mentioned that her sister was a fashion editor for British Elle in the 90’s, around the exact same time that Vivienne’s metal corsetry work was featured in the magazine. More than 30 years later, another connection back to the 90’s. This one felt almost too perfect to ignore. Another sign that she had found the right place, a new home in St. Leonards. A place to begin her next creative chapter.

At the end of a day of hitting letting agencies (that’s an apartment rental agency for my US friends) and hearing the clickety clack of one particular young “jobs worth” agent as she typed details onto the computer, we were definitely done for the day. To celebrate our achievement, we cracked open our late afternoon drinks and hung out in Vivienne’s hotel room.

To unwind, each opened up a coloring book that Vivienne recently designed. Her latest design venture? Books!

I had packed a bunch of felt tip colour markers that my daughter no longer wanted. More art supplies than clothing is my motto when I travel, lol. As we colored away, we sipped our drinks and chatted. The coloring continued into the next day as well.

I found myself immediately relaxing just by putting pen to paper. I started with a color and tested a swatch on a piece of scrap paper. Once I found a hue I liked, I filled in some sections. Then I dug through the zip pouch, searching for another color. I instinctively let the next color come to me by doing a quick color swatch on a separate piece of paper, then coloring in the page. I used a total of 5 or 6 colors, often going outside of the lines and trying to stay loose.

Sitting outside at the cutest cafe and coloring outside of the lines...

My designer friend also worked on her own coloring book, excited to see how her customers will receive her latest creation. This time her designer mindset was in control. Before starting to color, she chose the markers and the color palette, the best ones for the page. Perfection, it had to be right. Kind of like planning a fashion collection or an editorial fashion shoot.

As she started to color, Vivienne wasn’t relaxing, but worrying about the outcome. After years of designing, perfection, and the expectation of creating a viable, profitable fashion product, this was her go to way of creating.

I countered: Why does it have to be perfect? What if you intuitively started with one color, then moved to the next? Embrace the playfulness of the whole thing. No stress.

We had a good laugh about it for sure.

But it made me realize that anytime I have my head on the intended outcome, I inevitably get tense and any creative freshness gets stilted by me being in my head. I can feel my chest tightening up and my chest and breathing closing up. My work isn’t good. For others, planning is essential. .

My loose, imperfect way of working serves me well when I create floral mono prints. I mix colors as I go, have an idea of what flowers I’m doing and often the background colour, but I actually want the imperfections to happen. That’s where the beauty lies.

In contrast, Vivienne’s work has moved across a range of materials and genres.

From swimwear and fashion to sculptural leather, shoes, and a now a range of interactive books she designs under the name Scarlet Destiny Publishing. And that metal corset that wowed us on the pages of British Elle? Well… there’s not a lot of room for error or looseness when you’re designing a metal corset to fit someone’s body perfectly.

For many creative endeavors, planning is necessary. Can you imagine winging it as an architect? A made-to-measure tailor, fashion designer or a bespoke picture framer? This would be problematic, for sure.

I guess the bigger question is this: When is it ok to stay loose and wing it in life or a creative project? When to go about a goal (a place to live, a relationship, career, etc.) with rigid specifications and when to let happenstance lead the way? When is it better to tighten up the parameters and plan things out? And most importantly, do full circle life moments happen when everything is planned out or not at all? You tell me. I’m genuinely interested.

Shop my art here…

Shop Scarlet Destiny books here

XO,
M.E.

p.s. - Vivienne found the perfect apartment and moves in soon. I can’t wait to visit again and to see what creativity comes from this next chapter. The image below from one of her collections feels like a superstar moment. Time to celebrate!

Our entire family trekked to Stratford to get UK citizenship details uploaded into the system. We’ve been here for almost 10 years and I would like our teen to have options for life as they get older. Us too. Thank goodness my husband Dave likes details. The bureaucratic officials (very nice I have to say) start asking for forms and signatures and God knows what else. My mind feels like it’s scrambling and I’m ready to leave already. Oh yeah - they also want additional fees to scan our forms. Easy come money, easy go. That’s what I muttered as I paid the equivalent of $200 for the admin fee. Funny how I calculate how much time that would be on the flower stand for that money. I can’t help it.

After our no nonsense appointment, we wandered to the old Stratford mall in east London. This is the lower end mall compared to the swanky Westfield Mall just across the walkway. I loved it. Fruit and veg vendors inside, cheap luggage, and a Poundland. I asked my husband and daughter if they needed anything at the UK equivalent of a dollar store. I can’t resist, they’re not as enthused. Naaaah, they said. Famous last words. So I dragged them in. By the time we left, they were piling into the basket dog toys and treats and hand soap and heating pads and cheap peanut brittle and Diet 7-up at less than half the price I pay when I pop into a local Sainsburys market. I love a good bargain. The new dog, Dolly appreciated the squeaky rubber chicken that we named “Fernando.” Poor guy, he didn’t stand a chance with the big underbite and playful nature of our rescue gal. She was so happy. He was headless and lost his squeak within 15 minutes. It was only a pound and very well worth it.

Lunch was a food court that had local ethnic restaurants of all kinds. I’m talking sushi, Thai food, katsu curries, and more. So yummy and way more fun than the chain food offerings across at the swankier mall. Cheap sushi and Katsu curry never disappoint.

We came home for a power nap, then I dragged my 14 year old to see Tracey Emin at the Tate. This was one of the last days for us to see it as we are back in the states and seeing family soon. I was temped to skip the whole thing and keep napping. To push snooze on the alarm, but had only heard good things about the show and didn’t want to miss it. No coulda shoulda woulda.

For the record, Tracey Emin isn’t my favourite. I prefer colorful Matisse and Helen Frankenthal. Lee Krasner, and Helma af Klint. Heavy subjects don’t interest me. But like Tracey Emin’s art itself, I was drawn to see the show. So in we went. We felt like VIP’s when we skipped the line to go in. I’m a member of the Tate and it was a nice perk.

At the show, there was a lot to read. Hand written pages of diaries and plenty of musings but a lot of angst. It was so cool to see how she channels that energy into her paintings. There were hand stitched quilts that I really loved, incorporating fabric and writings and letters that formed powerful words and sayings. It was really great. Some work I couldn’t look at. Anything that involves medical procedures, too much blood, or unwanted sexual encounters is hard for me to view. I totally appreciate and respect what she shares, but my nervous system can’t handle it. I literally looked down and put my hand next to my face to shield from view a series of polaroids in a corridor that had graphic images of her body.

I started to think that bringing my 14 year old probably wasn’t the best idea, but Sunny was sitting in a larger room and had their sketchbook out.

I told my teen that maybe this was too much to see. Their response was exactly how I felt - I didn’t want to stay and keep looking at the art, but I didn’t want to go either. Profound for a 14 year old, I thought. Proud momma moment when I couldn’t express how I felt. I kept thinking of the phrase. Mixed emotions would definitely be it. I loved seeing the process and the channeling of hand writing and the physicality of the art. I loved seeing how a painting that wasn’t working would be covered over in white paint and the original image would come through. And the interconnection of writing and art really struck me. Us artists need to be fed and inspired. This was what I needed.

Later, the solar eclipse was slated to peak around 7:16 pm. So we went out to the river, People were lined up across the Thames river in Wapping and Canary Wharf to see the partial eclipse. It was a total happening! We initially started in our back yard, then moved to the river path in Rotherhithe. Without solstice glasses, it was tricky to see the eclipse itself. But then the light started shifting. The sky turned greyer and the energy shifted. We kept walking and I happened upon these dancing crescent moon shaped shadows on the river path. Pure magic.

Today was another day off and I wanted to keep the goodness going. A swim at the London Fields Lido was in order. I laugh as one guy was clearly faster than all of us and was practically mowing down the others in the fast lane. Every time he came by, I made sure to get out of his way. When the butterfly stroke started happening, I really started to think that he was an Olympian and we were in the kiddy pool, most definitely in his way. Mark Spitz in the flesh.

I brought this silly sentiment and others back to the art studio today, thinking about Tracey Emin’s way of working.

So I started to treat my canvases like my journals - writing down things that resonated from the past 24 hours. It was kindof fun.

I’m not sure what will stay, what will be covered over as I continue on these. The large scale canvases have been intimidating for me to work on. I feel out of my league and a bit like an imposter. I stayed in my regular non paint clothes when I showed up today. Then I changed into some denim shorts and dirty Vans sneakers… a mental message to myself that I was willing to get messy.

I often get in my own way. Who am I to want to create and show and hopefully sell these large pieces to collectors? I’ve struggled with this large scale canvas format for several years. But maybe, I think today was a bit of a breakthrough. Not Tate level solo show type of work, but inching towards feeling comfortable in this work. More lap swimming and more visits to art shows will be in order. Many more. I’ll keep on moving forward. One lap, one paint stroke, one random saying at a time.

Just a reminder that my summer studio sale is going on. If you’re compelled, I appreciate you sharing this work with a creative friend or collector.

XO, M.E.

As a lifetime creative person, art and making stuff has been part of my essence. It sounds a bit cliche, I know. But I used to look forward to art class as a kid. My first collection was called “I Love Flowers” and I still have the original works on paper to this day. Framed, even!

In these times, I try to count the good stuff - my blessings. Thank goodness I have been able to be creative throughout my life. Maybe not all of my career, but I have kept writing and art journals outside of corporate fashion life, and the buzz around the trendy fashion world of the 80’s through the 10’s was my focus for many, many years.

When I got off the fashion treadmill, I was a bit lost. So I worked in my art journals …oversized, overstuff books with ephemera and playful, rambling writings. I gave myself lots of freedom to try new art techniques and subject matters. I was on an art journey. The fields were fallow and I was looking for something new to grow.

My capitalistic mind had grander ideas than just art journal pages as I started to fine tune my art. Why not do this for a living, make some money? You can do it.

When my family moved to London at the end of 2016, I started working on larger canvases and a year later applied and got into an art fair for newer artists. I created a collection of mixed media collages, some larger scale paintings, and just kept going. I sold a single piece and a zine at that first art fair. No worries, though. I met a fantastic new friend and we became art besties.

Since that first fair, I evolved into doing floral mono prints - much more commercially viable and way more satisfying for me. The first time I tried one in the print studio, it felt like the whole studio was cheering me on. I sold my first floral mono prints in 2019, mostly from the Print Club London. I was thrilled that they even thought I was worthy of representing. Several years after closing my fashion boutique, I had found my creative / artistic stride. It felt good.

The first monoprint that I did.

Pulling the squeegee on my first monoprint

I’ve been riding the floral mono print train for 7 years now. I feel confident and at ease and love how my work still looks. But here’s the thing - I’ve done it. Or at least I’ve done it how I originally set out. The idea that I could even sell art was foreign to me a decade ago. And now I’m ready for something new.

What is this new art I will create? What do I want to make for my audience? And what do they want from me now? Do they really want the same thing I’ve been doing? The algorithm certainly isn’t answering these questions, lol.

I swear that Instagram has made it feel hard for multi hyphenate creatives to express themselves in the world. Let’s all fit into that grid system, come on now! Make your creativity cohesive, no confusing your audience. Ooops!

Most people know me for my floral monoprints as an artist. I made cashmere blankets and face masks during covid. I did simple words as screen prints when I started out, have hand stitched mini and large quilts, taught classes in art journaling and wreath making, too. I taught beginners how to monoprint at a high end art fair this past spring, that was super fun.

Raw, unedited video of a t-shirt quilt that I made for my daughter.

What else? I’m experimenting with large and small scale canvases that resemble my non sensical art journal pages. I tell myself that it should be easy to do these, but it feels daunting.

I want to do jeans and workwear jackets with slow stitching and paint. Hand stitch onto vintage sweat shirts. And I definitely want to slap stickers all over the city that say ‘SHITSHOW” - mini versions of the larger scale mono prints that have proved to be popular. Plus upcycle and embellish old black and white and family photos. Why not? I guess the real question - which ones do I do for fun, which ones do I produce in high gear for collectors and customers? And do I really have the energy to start a full scale creative business all over again? Inquiring minds want to know.

Long term I want to open up another in person shop. I say this like I’m in my early 30’s, ready to break free. It’s been a couple of decades since I first started my ME & Blue brand. But this shop would feature fresh flowers and art and fashion and be called something different. Workshops and guest designers and gallery shows will happen at this place that now exists pretty clearly in my head. Maybe a tiny coffee bar, too where I do fancy coffee foam art and make bespoke drinks for the patrons.

I want to keep writing this newsletter and also sell high end reproduction prints that are easy for most to afford. Funny thing is, I’ve already done a lot of this. Some I’ve done variations of, others I just haven’t gotten up on my website or told the world about. Like so many creatives, I’m a one woman show with full time work (I’m thankful for my work as a florist), a family, friends, and parents that I want to spend time with.

So, back to the “Seven Year Itch”. I don’t want to stop doing my floral monoprints. I love doing them, but I almost feel like I’ve perfected them. It reminds me of a conversation I heard Charlie XCX have the other day on The Music Fashion Film Interview podcast. She talked about how she had such a hit with her Brat album a couple of years ago. But people wanted her to keep doing the same thing. She is an Artist with a capital “A”. Naaaah. She’s trying new things. Love her for that. Even if it’s not as commercially viable. She needs to do something new for her own creativity. I related so much to this conversation. And like her even more now.

But trying new things can feel hard. I feel a bit lost as I experiment with new ways of working. And a lot of it isn’t that good. But I keep plugging on. I will get a new set of hits soon, I tell myself. I try to stay confident.

—

In other news, we adopted a 6 year old boxer last week. She had spent most of her life as a breeding gal, pumping out babies. Her name is Dolly (formerly Laly) and it’s been a week since she arrived at our home. She travelled from Alicante, Spain to the UK and even has a passport. Oooh la, la, Dolly!

It’s hard not to compare her to our last dog, Layla. They are the same breed, similar color, and a bit goofy. But that’s it. The first night Dolly wasn’t so sure about going up or down the stairs in our place. And the choice of a place to sleep? That would be the cold, hard bathroom floor. At 3 AM, I felt a breath on my face. She had come to sleep next to me. It was such a lovely moment. Since then she’s gotten used to everything from double decker buses, the London Overground, our local park, and even made a visit to my art studio yesterday.

It’s apparent that she has been loved - she can play catch and has a sweet disposition. She is bonding with my husband and teen and has frequent stare downs with our sweet cat. She’s a doll. In her past life as a breeding momma, she was a worker bee, pumping out litters of boxer babies and seemingly OK with laying on hard surfaces without complaining. Her boobs are long and they visibly shake when she does. It looks uncomfortable. I call them “Super Boobs.” We keep reminding her that her baby days are over. The rescue she came from took care of that. But she did get solicited by a good looking male (uncut) mastiff the other day on the streets of Dalston in London. We politely declined, but laughed. Girl still has got it!

That’s it for now, more to come. I’m part of a regular writing accountability group and I’m excited that writing can be another way for me to express my creativity. I’m scratching that creative itch. Thanks for reading!

Also - I’m doing a SUPER SUMMER STUDIO SALE and just updated my site where you can purchase select items at reduced prices, yippee!

Any comments, suggestions, items you want me to make and create … whatever are welcome!

XO, M.E.

p.s. I can proudly say that not a single lick of this blog was written by AI. So excuse the typos and grammatical errors. I have art to make and people to chat with in person, byyyyyye!

I loved this gal. Named Layla by the Boxer Rescue Los Angeles that I had adopted her from. I added “Rose” to her name, thus Layla-Rose. A nod to the street where my then clothing boutique was located - Rose Avenue in Venice, California.

In the past few months, I have been looking for another “perfect” dog. Not a puppy, not too aggressive, but just right for us - my husband, daughter, and cat. After being the loud “pick me” adopter at a boxer rescue based in Spain, we finally have a new gal coming. She’s 6, has been rescued from breeders, and is called Laly. We will soon be changing it up to Dolly. But for now, she will be called Laly Dolly. Fingers crossed!

People are asking me where we will meet her - and all I know is that I have to rent a car and meet at a roadside stop outside of London to pick her up. She will arrive on Thursday morning, 23 July am in a transport van from Spain amongst other doggies that are on their “freedom ride”. It feels like a scene from a movie that has yet to happen. Since Spain just won the World Cup, I am taking it upon this gal to bring all of the glory and excitement to our family that her country of origin is feeling. A breath of fresh air. I’m practicing how to say “Buena Chica” and all of the basic commands for the arrival of our spanish gal. Stay tuned!

In other news - I don’t have any tattoos. I always thought that I would get bored of them. But a day or two after our last doggie gal passed, I have contemplated one that simply says “Layla-Rose and the Rockstars” in my own scratchy handwriting. A tribute to our last dog and all the pets that came before her. I’m 58. This feels like a last minute attempt to be cool but is still on my mind several months later. I will wait til I have a window of time for it to heal - when I won’t be lap swimming or tempted to dip in the ocean this summer. Thoughts? Anyone a late adopter of tattoos?

Speaking of summer - the workaholic “go go go” in me is giving myself a bit of a break. I’m not sure what it is - but I really want to soak up the summer waaaaay more than I have for many years. I have a laundry list of things to do - update my website, created new art collections, paint walls in our place, clean out the refrigerator, organize and throw out endless plastic bins of paper ephemera, slow stitch my old sweaters, blah blah blah. What I really want to do is not a lot.

I spent several days earlier this month in a seaside town called St. Leonards, a pebble beach town an hour and a half train ride from London Bridge station. My friend Vivienne and I stayed in a cute AirBnB that was walking distance to the train station, up a hill to the top two floors of a cute Victorian flat that overlooked the pretty waters. We then walked into town, to the beach, and visited the towns on either side of this coastal gem. I love a good getaway. A place I’ve never been before, that honestly awakens the senses and doesn’t feel like a tourist trap. There were vintage clothing shops that I could afford, coffee shops with vinyl records, and not a chain store in sight. Love it.

I bought an original piece of art, a pre loved designer sequin skirt at the nicest vintage shop, and drank lots of fake beer at a world renowned beach bar. Nice! I found myself in that same sense of awe that I used to have when I opened up my clothing boutique in Philadelphia, and then later Los Angeles. That sense that things were possible, people loved to shop in person, and that local streets weren’t all swallowed up with letting agents and betting shops. Since I’ve been home, I find myself perusing the real estate listings and dreaming of buying a place to live there. Part-time, even. It’s good to dream.

There are several changes that feel like they’re brewing under the surface, and dreaming keeps me going. Our teen daughter switched recently from full time in person schooling to a hybrid model - 4 days online, 1 in person. We have flexibility. That and the company that my husband was working for announced that they are filing for administration, essentially bankruptcy. So there’s that. I’m hearing more and more of people losing jobs, the shifting economy meets Gen X who have been working for years. We are tired. We don’t have to prove anything anymore. And it’s nice. Let’s soak up the sun. Fall will be here before you know it!

Thanks for reading. You can view and purchase at all of my current art offerings here.

STAY FABULOUS monoprints right off the press at Print Club London.

Yeah, I know that year is over (yay) and this one feels similar so far and even harder. We’re slogging through some difficult times. Sigh. The collective vibe feels heavy and I’ve been dragging my feet on my every other week posts here on Substack. Honestly, I feel like posting feels like driving a luxury car on a Sunday for a leisurely ride while emergency vehicles are wizzing by. I don’t want to be in the way of the important stuff.

So I guess it’s just a short note today. I want to stay in the habit of writing and really like it over here on Substack. People feel less shouty. It’s calm and smart. Yes, please.

One thing I’ve realized is that keeping ourselves going (and in turn helping others in significant ways) requires boundaries and time to reset. A good nap, lap swimming, a nice mani/pedi, and a touch of glam are also ingredients for keeping that inner spark going. I think I’ll make that a post for another day. But today - I’ll talk about laughing at yourself.

Today I was out with my teen daughter. A sunny Wednesday morning on our way to an appointment. Let me preface that by saying I used to live in LA - I love a good celebrity sighting. When I had my boutique, I played it cool. Hello Alanis, Anjelica, and Pink. Now I’m name dropping, it’s a hard habit to break, lol.

Here in London, though, I don’t know who most celebrities are. Except Florence and P.J.. I play it cool when I spot those two icons, lol. I digress again. So today. TODAY! I spot a well dressed, handsome man in a suit across the street. I get excited. I KNOW it’s going to be a good day. A really, really good day. So I do the typical American thing - I wave and smile and shout - MAYOR! So not British. I’m now a loud American, I can’t help it. I am gleeful. Acting like a tourist in a city I’ve lived in for over 9 years. My teen wants to disappear. So, sooooo embarrassed. I cross the street, go up to him and say - “Love the bike lanes.” He smiles, gracious. Thank you, he replies.

Good thing I recorded the interaction.

Watch me make a fool of myself...

I feel all happy. I am in a different part of town, a bit more posh than normal south London where things are a bit gritty. I was wearing something other than overalls and comfy sneaker. It’s my day off. I’m with my daughter. Things are looking up! I’m all excited - I saw the Mayor of London. Star sighting.

Then I do the typical thing - I go to post it on Instagram, my stories. And I go to tag the Mayor. But - ooops. That’s not him. Hand over face emoji. Yikes. I send a video to my husband. Honey - I swear that was the Mayor of London. No, he replies. That’s the former Prime Minister. Ooops. I started laughing so hard that I was crying. Thank goodness he was so gracious to me as I gushed over him. In a room full of others waiting for our appointment, I am laughing at my faux pas. My teen is still with me, wanting to disappear under the seat next to me. So they did the next best thing - move over and distance themselves from me. I may have passed my “Life in the UK” test and feel very very up to date on US politics, but can’t recognize the old Prime Minister, mistaking him for the current Mayor. I still don’t understand snap elections and how this whole government works. I have much to learn. Sigh.

I talk to one of my besties in Philadelphia later that morning, telling her about my morning mishap. We chat regularly, I love it. So then I start reminiscing about the time that I saw the Mayor of Philly in Center City in the mid 90’s. Ed Rendell. I smiled and waved at him from my little car. I acted just like I did today. And he waved back, all gracious as well. Some habits keep going. And same thing - back then my friend next to me in the car had the same reaction, wanting to disappear under the dashboard as I gushed about my local celebrity sighting. In Philadelphia, the only celebrities we saw were local news reporter. Seeing the Mayor was a big deal.

Moral of today’s mishap? Hmmm. Stay laughing at yourself and hope the recipient of your encounter is gracious enough to give you a pass.

Seriously, though. Hope you’re doing ok. 2026 has been a lot so far. Stay fabulous, talk to your friends, and stay connected, even if you trip up along the way. Embarrassing yourself and maybe your companion during the journey.

You can find out more about me and check out (and purchase if you like) my art here. Better yet, if this post speaks to you, please share this with a friend and subscribe . That is if you’re into this rambling world of mine. Let’s see where things take us.

XO, M.E.

I’ve spent waaaaay too much time online since the new year rung in. You? Happy 2026 - “Stretch Yourself Daily” is my motto. Does that mean stretching my scroll time endlessly to see what breaking news is happening? I don’t think that was the intention, but here I am.

So I saw on Instagram that many people are posting photos of themselves and their lives from 2016. And it got me thinking. What happened that year and what did it lead to? The collective conscience must be yearning for a time when deciding what Instagram filter to use and what to add to the grid seemed like a serious issue. If only we could make social media less combative nowadays.

So here goes. I remember feeling a strong sense of disconnection in 2016 from my previous life in Los Angeles. I had moved to a small creative mountain town, Asheville in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. It felt like I had shed a skin, with hardly any remaining bits of my LA life remaining from the previous 10 years. I felt in disarray, almost questioning what I had accomplished the years prior because I wasn’t all fabulous on the ‘gram. So flipping stupid in hindsight, I know. It was the peak of perfection on the grid, and I felt like my life was unravelling.

As I look and post these photos, though, I realize that they are the highlights - they don’t show what was going on underneath the colourful, filtered facade.

I had closed my beloved clothing boutique in 2015 in Los Angeles (thanks landlord who tripled the rent in 6 years) and needed a rest and a change. My husband had been working in Asheville, North Carolina for a couple of years and we split our time between the two cities. It was a challenge with a young daughter and my boutique. I thought it was time for a pause, maybe a chance to start a new business in the small mountain town. I had done what I wanted in LA and nothing seemed to flow, leading me to a new location there. So I was hopeful and thought I would just close up shop and move on. Easy, right?!

Instead I got there and felt like a fish out of water. The energy felt off, I didn’t love the mountain hippy vibe and I realized maybe I had made a terrible mistake. It sounded all fab from the outside. We lived in a sweet bungalow across the street from a park, my daughter was almost 5, and I could take a rest. There was a great frozen yogurt shop down the street, I walked her to school on a scooter. In reality, though, I was lost. The thought of transitioning my business to an online clothing store bored me to tears. I didn’t have my flow of conversations with my regular customers that I loved experiencing in person at my boutique in Venice. I was not happy.

So I stopped trying and did something else. I was going to become an Artist, a daunting title. Talk about feeling like an imposter. Luckily, there were plenty of art opportunities in the creative town, so I took classes, went to the art supply shop, and started a daily art journal habit that I put up daily on Insta #ArtJournalDuJour … Somehow I started to felt a small sense of purpose with a small goal to accomplish something with my budding art interest each day. The entries into my art journal centered on techniques, monthly focuses, and simply trying out lots of new things. One month I focused on florals, another on birds. Sometimes it was song lyrics, or the writings of Rumi. Whatever. I played with salt on watercolours, gesso, collage, and stitching on paper. And I posted each of them daily. I kept thinking that my fashion customers probably thought that I had lost my mind. But staying in the familiar fashion zone wasn’t working. By moving across the country, I had lost my fabric sources, pattern maker, seamstress, production people, and most importantly - in person platform. I even tried to get a lease for a shop. Nope - denied. And a small space that I rented in an antique mall lost money each month. I felt like a failure.

Somehow art kept me going. My mental health wasn’t great as I kept thinking that everyone’s life was so much better. At least they appeared that way on the gram. After all, they hadn’t blown up their lives and were dealing with the consequences.

Hmmm. In hindsight, though, this 2016 rough patch moved me along. There weren’t many art gatekeepers in Asheville, so I could simply put my head down and make art. Anyone could make art. I took oil painting, portrait making, encaustic, natural dying, and hand stitching classes. I played, or tried to when I wasn’t in a funk.

Fortunately my husband agreed with me and also recognized that our mountain small town dreams weren’t meant for the long haul, and we moved to London by the end of 2016.

Ready to embrace a new country and give my creativity a spin, it’s been quite a ride. I now proudly call myself an “Artist” and have found a community of likeminded artists that I feel comfortable working alongside. I also am back to working with face to face connections as a florist on a popular village street in London. Same same but different. And I still post (and scroll) the gram. Hopefully showing imperfections and the reality of these wobbly times.

Which leads me to you - how are you navigating social media nowadays? More, less, or not at all?

You can find out more about me and check out (and purchase if you like) my art here. Better yet, if this post speaks to you, please share this with a friend and subscribe . That is if you’re into this rambling world of mine. Let’s see where things take us.

XO, M.E.

Yes, please. But here’s the thing. At least for me. Minimal living always tends to creep back to more - more options to get around, more stuff, and a return to what once was, kind of. City living and public transport weren’t enough anymore. I wanted to get back behind the wheel.

But let’s start from the beginning. Like many Florida teens, driver’s permits were issued young. I took a theory test then started to get behind the wheel (accompanied) and learned to drive at 15. The location of choice - the two lane(ish) dirt roads outside of Meeker, Colorado, where my family often spent summers at our cabin near the White River. A little VW Rabbit was the vehicle of choice - stick shift, small, and not so precious really. I called it the “Stressmobile” as it often shook, the result of a fender bender it had experienced before my time and the unfortunate mix of diesel fuel in a small car. Nevertheless, off we went . My mom and I on my first lessons. When I approached my first stop sign, I kept going and blew right threw it. My mom braced herself and asked me why I didn’t stop. My reply, “Ooops! I thought you only had to stop if other people were there.” Ha ha. First lesson learned. As the summer went on, I learned to confidently drive the stick shift, maneuver on dusty roads, and to back up as little as possible.

My other driving lessons I don’t remember as well. But I do remember the day before I turned 16. December 29, 1983. I was due to take my practical driving test at 7 AM on my birthday, the next day. The one thing I hadn’t learned yet was parallel parking. So we did what any “use what you got” kind of family would do. My mom and grandad placed a mannequin and a bike as my guides, and I learned to parallel park. Hours later, and a front yard with some tire marks, I felt confident. The next morning, I got my driver’s license. I was free!

I took that license and used it like any teen would - trips to the mall, drives to see my grandparents, cross country with my mom, and a scary 360 degree spin on an icy bridge several years later. That’s another story, for another day. Mostly I parallel parked like a pro, thanks to a tiny car and city living for many years. Then it all stopped.

Fast forward to 2021, a few years into living in London. I decided to learn to drive on the other side of the road. Scary for me. As a teen, I wasn’t scared. As a middle aged mom, everything seemed different. So many things… the other side of the road, different road signs, roundabouts, and electric bikes that whizzed by before I even knew that they were there.

My first lesson was with John, a funny British guy who was proud of his pro football daughter and drove a cute little Fiat. My first lesson I was a bundle of nerves. He made me stop the car and talked me off of the ledge. Mostly he told me to relax, he encouraged me. I did a handful of lessons, but stopped when I realized I needed to take (and pass) my written theory exam first.

And then I paused again. Life got complicated and things felt harder. My daughter was struggling post COVID, I had learned a new skill (floristry) to supplement my art earnings and peri menopause was gripping me. I couldn’t do anymore. But then I could. So a couple of years later, in 2023, I took my written theory driving exam and passed it. I was ready to get behind the wheel again. I found out the unfortunate news that my instructor, John, had since died. Sigh. So I took a bit of time and found a new driving instructor to help me finally get my license. Number two guy lacked a sense of humor and wasn’t super thrilled when I scraped the left side hubcaps of his instructor car. I apologized, offered to pay, but still no smile. When he berated me on a second lesson for my lack of knowing how to pull into a parking space, I was done. So I stopped again. Then I was ready. 2024. Instructor Number three - found through a local mom’s Facebook group - Hugo. Winner winner, chicken dinner. He reminded me that even though I had driven for years, I had to check the boxes of the UK standards. Way more regimented than any driving lessons I had before, I was determined to finally get my license. I learned new sayings to help me along. Mirror mirror signal. Tires and Tarmac. Peep and Creep. I even counted out loud at the roundabout to make sure that I knew where to exit. These were all new things, new expressions that I learned to help me get my license. And for goodness sake, always, always stop at a Zebra Crossing when somebody is getting close to it or about to cross. More lessons learned.

But I think the most important lesson that I learned was how to begin again. The humility of knowing how to do something, but then having to relearn it in a slightly different way. Not a week or two or months later. Decades later. Humbling, I tell ya. Kind of like knowing how to speak English, but then having to understand what Shakespeare is saying in his plays. It was hard. But I had visions of summer road trips with my family, my dog with her head out the window, a trip to the grocery store that didn’t involve an oversized Ikea bag being dragged onto a city bus. I was determined. Hugo didn’t want me to fail my test. I had already had my share of failures… after receiving my first theory test permit, it had lapsed after a couple of years and expired before I was ready to take my practical test. So I had to take it again and failed it. Then finally a pass. Regular reminders that even though we have aced something in the past, it’s not an automatic yes when trying again.

I’ve encountered this feeling with so much lately, especially as I age. Things that were easy and successful for me now often feel uncomfortable, and I often don’t reach the same heights. Should I keep climbing the same mountain, or move to an easier one? Maybe a valley instead?

I’ve definitely seen this with my career. I had no problem getting a job teaching at a fashion school in LA in the mid 00’s. This past year I was denied by multiple art teaching training programs in the UK. They didn’t care about my resume, I simply didn’t have the educational experience of first hand teaching to qualify. Sigh. Art that sold easily in the past few years now feels hard to sell and my energy to keep pushing it has gone away.

I realize, though, that it’s sometimes a signal to begin something new. Instead of pushing at what has worked in the past, let it pause for a bit. Be a beginner. So that’s what I have done. I began experimenting with stitching onto my existing art. I became a florist a few years ago. And my art… well, my first try at stitched pieces on paper got rejected from a gallery I’ve been successful with in the past. The little girl in me cried. The big girl inside of me gave her a moment, then said to keep going. Only when you begin and start again can you stay fresh. So I’ll keep going. One drive, one stitch, one day at a time.

Thanks for reading.

You can find out more about me and check out (and purchase if you like) my art here. Better yet, if this post speaks to you, please share this with a friend and subscribe . That is if you’re into this rambling world of mine. Let’s see where things take us.

XO, M.E.

... have you seen the banana taped to a wall that sells for millions? This isn't it! And way more affordable.

This current release of small Mini Blooms is a continuation of my goal as an artist to bring a sense of joy and an uplifting mood to your space. I call it "small works, BIG THOUGHTS." What if art can simply be a means to express the thoughts in their purest sense - color, movement, layers. Nuanced as opposed to never ending thoughts, allowing for open conversations regarding our lives and the world

....There are 17 fresh original works in this collection. Each unique and hand painted, 23 cm x 23 cm. The size of a 7" record I like to say! Affordable and collectible and ships worldwide...

SHOP the collection HERE…

Other things I'm loving..

I'm intentionally working on consuming different things besides political podcasts. You? Here are a few things I've been enjoying...

books:
EARTH TO MOON - the memoir by Moon Zappa. I knew her as the singer of the cult song "Valley Girl." Whew. What a book. I listened to it as an audio book, but I'm sure the book book is fabulous and apparently has lots of great visuals.

music:
RAHIM REDCAR. I have been a fan of Christine and the Queens for years. The creative force behind this band is now reinvented in a whole new way. I'm fascinated and intrigued and mezmerized by what I consider to be one of the best pop stars of my lifetime. The song "Deep Holes" is now on repeat.

art:
I've been delving into quilting lately and even attended a quilt guild meeting recently. I'm a big fan of the teachings of Sherri Lynn Wood who is all about creating patchwork pieces improvisationally and with a big "Whooppee" when a mistake is made. My kind of artist!

clothing: As a former fashionista, it takes a lot for me to get really excited about something. But I recently got excited for a cute pair of the softest, cutest pyjamas by Rooh London. The designer is based in South London and creates Indian block print sleepwear that makes me feel oh so chic after peeling off my workwear attire at the end of a long, grubby day in the art studio or on the florist stand. I love mine so much that I even gifted my parents some as an early gift for the holidays.

movies:
I came across this 1996 gem when I flew the other day from London to the US. Anyone remember the indie flick "The Daytrippers"? I saw it way back when and was excited to see it again. Whew. So good with just-about-to-hit-it-big actors Parker Posey, Liv Schrieber, Stanely Tucci & more. They travel from New Jersey to NYC in a single day in the family station wagon. Fun views of Soho before it got too commercial and a silly cameo by Marcia Gay Harden, too.

I encounter a lot of people at my florist job. At one of the locations, it's a busy railway station. I'm often bombarded with questions for directions. I help as much as I can, but sometimes it can be a bit much as I'm conditioning flowers and serving customers and often feel demanded upon. Especially when people have phones and can help themselves with their Googlemaps. I often joke that I feel like Lucille Ball and Ethel when they're at the candy factory and can't keep up with the conveyor belt of work that speeds down in front of them. Recently, though, I had a gentleman stop and ask for directions. No phone, no map. He had a suitcase and clearly had been in transit and I'm pretty sure he wasn't from the UK. His sheet of paper said "hot shower" and had an address. He clearly needed a hand. I pulled out my phone and did my best to give him directions. He thanked me and was on his way. This short encounter was a reminder that we can all do a small gesture each day to be a light to someone who is in their time of darkness. It doesn't have to be monetary. A smile to someone who is homeless, directions to someone who is clearly lost, a warm hello to the person you see regularly who may be going through a hard time. I would love to hear your thoughts and stories if you have a good story to share.

Wishing you a good Thanksgiving and early holiday greetings.

Thanks so much for checking out my semi-regular newsletter.

As always, I strive to share the best of my art, inspiration, works in progress and fresh ideas with you. If you're no longer interested, that's OK. Simply unsubscribe below. XO, M.E.

Closeup of this new concept…

Maybe it’s the entrepreneur in me that always needs to shift and turn and try something new. Weathering seasons of change and the economy and greedy landlords taught me how to keep moving when I had my boutique. Nowadays I’m juggling my creative life between full time work as a florist and continuing my art career alongside it. Throw in a pre-teen and aging parents back in the states and the juggle is real.

I feel like I’m a bit at a crossroads. The ground underneath me keeps shifting. Life isn’t feeling like a picnic lately and I’m in the Capricorn Gen X mindset that I can make things better, usually through my creativity. So I have been trying something new.

Some nine ago when I was in the midst of closing my boutique in Los Angeles, I had a random idea come to me - I thought that I could be an artist and do portraits. “Personality Portrait” is what I thought of. I envisioned hand painting people alongside snippets of their personality. Mind you, the only art I was doing was an occasional art journal page. I wasn’t close to this concept, but it stayed in the back of my mind.

Nowadays I know how to screenprint, so I thought it would be fun to finally try out this idea. Instead of painting people and faces I can screenprint them. And now that I have my monoprint skills, I can do floral monprints that interact and compliment the photo imagery as a viable work of art.

The silkscreen halftone burned and ready to give this idea a go…

But here’s the thing - like anything new, visions of what things will look like don’t often happen on the first try. Or second or third. I try to remember this when I decided to learn how to become a florist. I needed to learn how to create a spiral / hand tied bouquet. I learned using YouTube video tutorials and had to practice, practice. My bouquets are still a bit loose and offbeat, but they sell and people seem to like them. My floral skills have improved tremendously over the past couple of years. At this point, I’ve done probably 1000+ bouquets. It has to with all of that practice and repetition. Being OK with being bad. It’s humbling for sure.

Creating a hand done positive for the background using posca pens and india ink.

I try to keep that in mind as I have started testing out this new branch of my art offerings - portraits. I’ve played with creating a “halftone” of an existing photo, burning a silkscreen, and then seeing how it turns out. I’m good at monoprinting, but really haven’t mastered the fine art of printing small details. So my halftones are more Andy Warhol than Ansel Adams in detail. More pop art Roy Lichtenstein than photo realistic. And it will probably stay that way. So I proceed. I made the screen of Carter and Maisey and hand painted a positive for the background to test it out.

The background / monoprint portion of the screen all ready to be tested out.

So far, I’ve done my first batch of tests of this concept and I’ve been lucky that one of my best friends has let me use a photo of him and his dog as inspiration. Holler to my bestie Carter! The photo of him and his dog makes me smile, but I realized that I don’t want to try to copy it exactly. With this artistic endeavor, I’m trying to bring out that feeling of joy and happiness that is evident from the snapshot.

Halftone on top of an existing ghost print. I like seeing the faded flowers underneath the image.

Halftone with monoprint in the background. The screen was a bit too dry when I pulled the halftone portion of this print. So I did another pull and it got a bit dark. Hmmmm.

Halftone with monoprint in the background. The halftone looks pretty good. I’m not sure how it’s interacting with the monoprint in the background, though.

Testing out the halftone on a faded unused monoprint. I like the flowers coming up underneath the dog. She’s cute!

More random tests drying on the print rack.

I’ll keep going. There are things from each try that I like. Stay tuned. I’ll get there. Eventually.

XO, M.E.

No Coulda Shoulda Woulda with my gal in 2015 at the Long Beach Flea Market.

Ooooh, wheee! Time to jump at the perfect vintage opportunity.

No Coulda Shoulda Woulda when I bought this top at the Rose Bowl Flea Market.

Here’s the thing with regret, though. It can creep in. I try not to let it do so. But this week two things happened that got me thinking about that and how to get past it.

One of my favourite bands, Future Islands was in town to do a record release signing at Rough Trade records. I’ve seen them in concert, rewatched the viral David Letterman clip where they play Seasons (unreal) and am even part of a fan club on Facebook. I’ve bough original art from the bass player, listen to their offshoot albums, and have a poster of an earlier album by the Baltimore artist. I’m into them.

Seeing Future Islands in concert in 2022 with my husband, Dave.

Love this band! Future Islands. No Coulda Shoulda Woulda - I got the tickets and we went to see them live at Alexandra Palace in London. The only regret was that we were unmasked as Covid restrictions were winding down. We may or may not have gotten the virus that night.

The record release event was at Rough Trade records on a Sunday and I normally work on Sundays as a florist. When I found out about the tickets, I thought about it. I really wanted to go, but talked myself out of it. I didn’t want to take off or even ask for a few hours. So I put off buying the ticket, thinking I could get one if I changed my mind. We recently switched our daughter to private education last month and honestly lately feel like I’m running in place to keep up with the bills. It didn’t feel like a good idea. Just let it go, I told myself. Then a week or so before, I think - OK, just take the time off. This is a chance to meet these hard working, talented guys in person. You’ll make up the money with art that you sell, extra freelance hours, karma maybe. Come on… you love this band. Too late. The event was sold out. So I worked that day, even thinking as I wrapped up around 5:45 that I could catch an Uber and see if there was a chance of getting in. I’m feeling like a deflated, aging groupie at this point, tired, and in my end of day (read: dirty) florist workwear look. I was bummed out, so I went home. FOMO kicked in. I’m part of a Facebook group that is all about the band and people were chiming in about going to meet them. Sigh. The only thing that made me feel better was the fact that the band was sitting down at a table and people would stand behind them for a photo op. It all looked a little stiff. When I went to an album release party for Georgia, I got a good photo standing next to her and she had remembered meeting me randomly outside of the print studio. That was fun! But back to Future Islands and their new record. I did the next best thing - I bought a signed album directly from Banquet Records where they had done an album release gig a couple of days ago. That felt good.

Even more regret, though. This one regarding my neighbor and legendary photographer Brian Griffin. I met him 4 years ago at an art opening way outside of London. We realized that we were neighbors and since then I’ve seen him at the bus stop, walking in the park, and getting his groceries. We would stop and chat and he even came by an open garage studio event I had in the height of lockdown. I remember a chat in the local park where he mused about how beautiful the light in Iceland was. I agreed. Strong and bold, the perfect lighting for his aesthetic. He had a one night art opening last week and I did the quintessential “Interested” ping on Facebook, but didn’t go. Too dark, too cold, too blah blah blah to make it. I reasoned with myself that I had been to another one of his events a few years prior and could skip this one. Except this was the last time I could get to one of his events. He died a few days later. No more seeing my neighbor with his rock n roll sunglasses and bag of groceries, no more impromptu bus chats, no more gushing to him about how I loved how he kept going with his art. He was crowd funding his books and making things happen. My kind of creative soul. I would go on how I loved the Depeche Mode albums that he had photographed, or that one of Elvis Costello on a diving board in Los Angeles. He wasn’t resting on his laurels, he was moving along. Until he wasn’t.

2021 - At the show for Black Country Dada in Islington, London. I told Brian that I wanted to stand next to the Elvis Costello photo on the diving board, I love this photo. We were wearing masks indoors as it was during COVID.

We went outside and took off our masks. I love how he posed for the camera. So intense.

So I spent a day early this week back in the “Coulda Shoulda Woulda” mentality. This time I watched lots of video interviews of Brian talking about his photography and came across this gem where he does a spoken word 80’s vibe concert on late night TV. Now THAT’S a conversation I would want to have with him now. It felt good to see all of the tributes roll in on Facebook and Instagram about him. And I did one more thing to make me feel better - I ordered this DVD documentary about his work. There is still so much to learn. I moved my thinking from COULDA SHOULDA WOULDA to curiosity. How can I still learn more?

Bottom line with this whole COULDA SHOULDA WOULDA thing … get out to that event, start that conversation, make the time for the art and events and people that make your life better. And when that doesn’t happen, console yourself with the fruits of the labor of your artistic inspirational heroes. Dig in, find out more. The legacy of what they bring will live on beyond a singular (or many) encounters. The memories will come to you. They’re knocking at your conscience. Let them in.

XO, M.E.

Then the holidays came on hard. I’m also working as a full time freelance florist and we agreed that the travel wraps would most likely be made after Christmas and be shipped off after the holidays. I needed to work the flower (and Christmas tree) grind hard and wouldn’t have a minute to design them. I was right. The season proved to be short, but intense. Long, cold days and even a windstorm thrown in for good measure. After the Christmas rush (and catching up on my sleep), I was ready for a rest.

And rest, I did. The deadline was coming up - New Year’s was over, Birthday was done (Capricorn in the house!) and it was time to get to work. I had a hard deadline to get them to the states. In the meantime, we had decided to switch our daughter from her state (read public) school to a private one. She was just a term into year 7 (7th grade for my US friends) and the school wasn’t a good fit. I call it a SHITSHOW, but I don’t blame the school entirely. Well, the bullies who made my daughter feel awful I totally blame. But the system wasn’t set up for her. So we moved her. Same thing happened to me about this age, but that’s a Substack for another day.

So I’m now rested, the deadline to design and assemble and ship the cashmere blankets is looming, and we’re switching to a new school. New uniform, new bus route, new friends. You couldn’t pay me enough to be in my gal’s shoes. Life felt like it was going upside down in December when we made the decision to move her, but now it was happening.

So for a good 5 days, I worked during the day and put the travel wraps together at night - washing, drying, cutting, and designing them to be the perfect size, the perfect composition, the perfect heirloom. The vintage cashmere soothed my soul. Oh so cliche, I know. But it did. I felt calm and happy every time I cut the cashmere with the rotary blade, put it into the serger machine to join up with another square using neon pink thread, and kept going. I watched BASQUIAT (the fictionalized version) for the umpteenth time as I took each sweater that had been washed and dried, cutting them up into usable squares to assemble. I burned the midnight oil.

My daughter was having a terrible time as the week started, we navigated public transport to get her there and home safely, and I think I cried several times. I even did one of those primal screams when I got home. It was awful. It was cold and dark (still is). But the cashmere got me through. And then they were done - they were ready to travel to their new home. I did the final touches - lint roller, hand sewed my label, a quick photo shoot (hello blue skies for a minute), and off they went. I was happy to say goodbye, but even happier that they were going to a good home.

CUSTOM cashmere blankets and travel wraps from pre loved cashmere sweater

As an artist and designer, I love working with colour and composition, but mostly in creating something that uplifts the recipient. In this case, I received a lot of that goodness through making and creating these pieces before sending them off. For this I am thankful.

As I wrap up this post, I think of that word of the year that I think will guide me this year. Last week felt more like SHITSHOW as I was getting through it. But really, I’m going with GRACE for 2024. The grace to get things done, to take a deep breath, feel and create my way through tough times, and the grace to give myself a bit of time to feel all of it as it happens.

And if you’re wondering, things are feeling better - she’s settling in, still looking for a good friend (I tell her that will come), and taking a quiet ride to and from school. Whew.

And if you’re interested in a custom cashmere wrap, or original floral monoprint, or simply want to say hello, get in touch. I’d love to hear from you.

XO, M.E.

The end! I feel like Ferris Bueller. The blog post is over, thanks for watching! You can go home now. `

Happy birthday to me.  Today I turn 56.  I'm not even sure what that's supposed to feel like or be.  When I was a kid, I felt like I was the only one who had a birthday in this no man's land weird place between Christmas and the New Year.  But a funny thing happened to me this year.  I was twirling flowers and doing what I do best - talking away - when I met so many people buying birthday flowers for their loved ones.  Their mom, best friend, partner.  We talked about how this day needs to feel separate from all of the other hoopla going on right now.  I feel like it's this quiet club that's kindof used to celebrating at this time.  So cheers to all of you Capricorn babies, walking up that hill like a mountain goat according to astrology.  Figuring it out, being a bit obstinate (who me?!) and walking into a new birth and calendar year with hopefully a bit of whew - made it, good job, what's next - all wrapped into one.

_____

OK, so that’s it. My first Substack. My name is M.E. (say like Emmy) and I’m a London based artist and florist and mom and lots of other things. I’m still figuring out things and for this column - how often I’ll be posting. Probably every couple of weeks. Bringing you updates on what’s up in my world of art, being an American expat in London, life as a florist, contemplating life as a 50 something, and celebrating the imperfections of life. You can also find more about me here and here.

Thanks for reading and for this vague intro. I’ll figure it out as I go. I always do.

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