What a lovely alternative to petals and rice, to throw olive leaves at the bride and groom. These little baskets filled with dried leaves are so charming. Have a look at the flower girl’s head garlands, also lovely.

I remember my 30-something-year-old Mum skipping off to the opera in a pink satin moiré frock and black velvet pumps. I remember my friend, Polly wearing beautiful vintage lace to see Circque du Soleil at The Royal Albert Hall in the mid-90s. No doubt, I wore patent shoes and a velvet bow to my first theatre, and to this day, I love the idea of dressing up for such occasions. “The  audience was as much a part of the experience as the performers,” my friend, Rikki said today, as we lamented that people no longer get dressed up for the theatre. “The intermission was always a highlight, because you got to people watch, take in the outfits. These days, a lot of shows don’t even have an intermission.” The first time I took Iole to see a show, an oddball magician at a small theatre in the west end, we both wore dresses. We were so out of place in a sea of denim. But I wanted to instill in her this idea of dressing for occasions, putting your glad rags on to see someone perform. Today, it’s a struggle to get her to wear anything but leggings, but my hope is that she too will one day dress the part.

(Opera-goer during the break in the corridors of the Vienesse State Opera.)

There was a time when a shindig wasn’t a shindig if the guests didn’t dance. I don’t know what your plans are this weekend, but between our seders and egg hunts, let’s try and fit in a foxtrot or two.  Happy Easter! Happy Pesach!

One of the many very wonderful things that has come out of pottery, is the community of people its connected me to. When I meet a fellow potter, there’s an instant draw. Just like when I hear a British accent on the streetcar. Through clay, I’ve met such beautiful, daring, determined and persistent women. It’s thrilling to be inspired, and to feel that I inspire others. This is community. But it’s not just my fellow makers. The supporters, the champions of handmade, some friends, some strangers, are such an important part of this community. They invest in our work, and thus acknowledge the time and thought and joy and frustration that goes into each piece. “This will be perfect for all the Middle Eastern food we’ve been cooking,” one lovely buyer said at a sale yesterday with my platter in hand. “I love that this bowl is a little unstable,” said another buyer of a wobbly castoff. “And I love that you appreciate that imperfection,” I responded. One couple snapped up five pieces. Likely two weeks of work. “I love your ceramics,” she beamed, while throwing her arms around me. These moments are a thrill, for us both. “Buy from humans,” my friend, Katherine Holland says. It’s such a different pleasure to spoon up ice cream from a wonky, handmade bowl or plonk daffodils into a vase that shows the markings of its maker. I am so grateful to all the people who motivate me to make, who celebrate the mistakes, are inspired by them, even, and who choose to bring my heartfelt creations into their homes.

I love this shot of Jackie Kennedy and Marella Agnelli being photographed by paparazzi while vacationing in Ravello in 1962. Jackie is sporting “futuristic” Renauld of France sunglasses and quoted as saying, “that’s why I always wear my dark glasses. It may be that they’re the public looking at me, but none of them can ever tell which ones I’m looking back at. That way I can have fun with it!” The red dress is fabulous!