We’ve got some photos from the Skillshare NOLA Launch Party this week.

Waiting for the talks to start:

Sarah and Molly introduce the concept behind Skillshare and welcome us all:

We’re treated to two five-minute presentations. Interests are piqued around personal health and film-making alike:

Everyone signs up to hear more:

Until next time,

Aurora

I’ve always found, and it is widely agreed upon (Oprah! She agrees.), that you become like the people who fill your days. With that in mind, I try as much as possible to surround myself with creative people who are driven to do more and who are optimistic, who believe in a big future, and that their actions can see results.

This weekend, my friend and jewelry designer Lyndsay Skeegan and I met up with a few such folks, for a tasty brunch and discussion about design and working in creative fields. I always love a networking group, once I get past the awkwardness of making first introductions. This was especially great though, because it was self-formed and intimate, so everyone let their guard down. We quickly discovered that some of us have similar passions and interests in growing our careers, and not one of us is alone in any of our frustrations that we’ve encountered through the years in doing so. It was a perfect way to feel connected, to feel encouraged and inspired, and to spark some ideas for future meet-ups and projects. It was also a great way to have a mimosa and sit around with some cool ladies for an afternoon.

I highly recommend putting one of these together if you’re feeling the need for a little boost or to get your creative juices flowing – reach out to even one person you know who you find interesting and it’s bound to grow from there. Hopefully we’ll continue these and I’ll have something more to report next time – news of some fantastic collaboration from this joining of forces. Even photographs as evidence would have been good, if I’d brought my camera.

A side note, but an important one: We actually carry Lyndsay’s beautiful, modern pearl jewelry in our New Orleans location. If you’re needing some new baubles, stop in and take a look at these beauties. I would really dig having the double strand freshwater pearl necklace below. Something about the black silk knotting really gets me.

Until next time,

Aurora

I really love food. It goes beyond satisfying cravings, and beyond favorite foods or restaurants I can’t stop raving about. To me, it takes on this role in life that is much bigger than any one sublime succotash or totally tubular teriyaki could encompass alone. Food is social – it brings people to gather around a table where they can spend time talking. Families are encouraged to make a habit of it; celebrations often revolve around such meetings of the mouth and fork. Food, the preparation of it, the consumption of it, the politics behind it – it ignites passion in many, myself included.

So when my friends asked if I wanted to join them on a trip to Smorgasburg, in Williamsburg, on this hot Saturday, I said an emphatic yes. Well, emphatic after I decided that I could shirk responsibility long enough to go. It’s a food-centric outpost of the popular Brooklyn Flea, which I’ve enjoyed a time or two before. Somehow I imagined going and being overwhelmed by learning opportunities everywhere – food activists and revolutionaries showing us the way of food future; interaction; new ingredients to take home; and tips and tricks to use on our own stovetops. It was less that and more simple good eating in the form of bits and pieces of different flavors from all over the map. And sweating, there was lots of sweating.

Do hearing the specifics of my lunch bore you? Then close your eyes for a moment: The highlight for me was a sandwich from I8NY formed on perfect bread, with ricotta, grilled summer squash, purselain, mint and pickled onions. Just the right combination of strange flavors to make me go back just to tell them it was amazing.

The ideal way to end such a day, sun-dazed and worried we’d burned to a crisp? At D.B.A., a New Orleans/New York crossover, enjoying a cold beer and playing a 2002 edition of Trivial Pursuit, of course. Lots of questions about The Rock in there.

Until next time,

Aurora

I’ve been riding a bicycle to and from work these days down Esplanade Avenue, and then all over the place when this or that brings me here and there. I’m pretty sure everyone on the road, other riders, drivers, and even pedestrians, are bothered by my presence. My eye-sight is not so great, and I get all caught up looking at the architecture that I often lose focus on the road.

Once upon a time, I was pretty awesome on my bicycle. I lived in one of those neighborhoods in Tampa that had different subdivisions with names like Nottingham and Tremont and Westover, and was yet to be fully developed. There were animals everywhere, snakes, wild boars, turkeys, and alligators. One alligator in particular ate my dog. I still haven’t fully recovered from the incident and hesitate to delve much deeper into the matter for fear of becoming hysterical. However, I am pretty sure it was the fault of whomever left open the garage door. And that was NOT me.

Anyway, my friend Fernando and I used to make bike ramps out of the wood and nails we found inside our neighboring home construction sites and then do rad tricks landing onto dirt piles. Truth be told, he was probably much more awesome than me, but I was definitely second place. Maybe third. And then one day, for whatever reason, we decided it wasn’t cool anymore.

After that, I used duct tape to attach a cassette player to my sister’s ten-speed, and would speed around going nowhere blasting Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock. Because that, obviously, was cool. It had “It Takes Two” on one side and on the other “Joy and Pain.”

If you think about it, those are about the only two songs you really need to blast when riding around on a Schwinn in a Tampa subdivision in 1993. I know I know I know. “That song came out in 1988, Anthony,” you say. I still loved it 5 years later, and for that matter still love it today.

It is a very therapeutic song and if you feel like standing up and dancing, I say, “Go for it!” Especially if you are having a case of the Wednesday mean reds, or were having a wonderful day until out of nowhere you became suddenly overwhelmingly depressed about the disappearance of your dog that was most likely your sister’s (Melissa!) fault for leaving the garage door open, and also maybe it wasn’t an alligator at all and that is just what your parents told you to cover up for the fact that they had it put to sleep while you were at basketball practice, or maybe the alligator was an excuse so as not to form a search party. Or none of the above and that it is the not knowing that is the most painful. I knew I shouldn’t have brought this up. Poor Tiffers! Lost to the wild. Or maybe not.

Happy Cycling,

Anthony

ps. If anyone finds a 28 year old shih tzu in the Greater Tampa area, please email thegoat(at)fairfolksandagoat.com. Lifetime subscription as reward.

I’m going to the wedding of a dear friend this weekend. I am so excited – I’ve been to many weddings, really, but this time it’s a friend whom I’ve known long enough to justify sitting around exclaiming over how very old it makes us feel (we’re not, we know, old at all) and how we remember when we were all ‘this’ tall, and to poke fun at our high-school fantasies of the future and what was in store for each of us.

What to wear as a guest at a wedding can be daunting. I always think I have it figured out, until a few days before when I realize… I don’t like what I’ve set aside to wear, or I don’t have the right accoutrements to make it complete, or I just crave something new to properly celebrate the occasion.

Well, currently I’m up North and officially committed to trying to make my chosen dress work, but if I were closer to New Orleans today, I would certainly avail myself of one of the beauties we’re carrying from Caycee Black. Maybe something like this:

Or this:

Oh, or this! Is a jumpsuit inappropriate for a wedding?

If you love Caycee Black like I love Caycee Black, go check out our selection in the Marigny and tell me what you take home. Make me jealous.

My lukewarm feelings about my own outfit aside: to my buddy, and to her man, I wish you guys so many years of romance and milestones and adventures together. So happy! A big cheers, to love and friendship and summer celebrations,

Aurora

I’m not one to tell people what to do, but I must say, if you are ever given the opportunity to take a last-minute road trip, try your hardest not to pass it by. And, if your impromptu journey just so leads you somewhere along the left bank of the Michigan “glove” during the summer, you’re in even better shape! Although I vowed not to return to Michigan until I must for my final year of grad school (I am still a tad bitter over the way harsh winters), when my cousin invited me to join him on a 4th of July/birthday surprise excursion for his mom and my aunt, I couldn’t refuse.

You see, my Auntie lives in a gem of a neighborhood, nestled in a wooded “development” outside of Holland, Michigan called Castle Park. I knew this place had all the makings of a perfect getaway from previous visits, but I had yet to experience its summer. First, think:  rustic cabins situated on winding hills with dirt paths as roads, all under a canopy of trees. The central area of the village hosts a castle (hence the name) open green space, various recreational spaces, and this is all just on the walk to the prime destination – the beach.

Yes, the beach.

Born and raised in the Southeast, the beach meant one thing and I assumed that that was all it could ever mean. But, I now stand corrected. Just over the dunes from the luscious wooded campground laps the waves of the seemingly never-ending Lake Michigan. With miles of sand, rolling waves and an horizon that could keep you in trance for hours, this was definitely a beach (with the exception of salt and sharks – which this fin-fearing lady can handle).

Given our surroundings and company, I believe we quickly forgot the 13 hour drive and took full advantage.

To keep us occupied, we:

had a lot of “beach” time, and I got a “tan” and

went sailing and

ate a lot of food…outdoors…off the grille… with lots of citronella candles, bottles of wine and

took dogs on hikes to work off the aforementioned and

watched sunsets and enjoyed the daylight until 10 oclock.

Moral of the story: if you can, whenever you can, get a spontaneous dose of a different environment. It may just be the trick you need to clear your head or refresh your mind and body and indulge in the simpler things for a change.

Again soon,

Jordan

We serve coffee in our New Orleans location on a regular basis. When we’re open our cafe is open. We grew to bring coffee into the fold of our space, and it’s been a fabulous education in a whole new facet of business. Coffee is fascinating and nuanced; it’s something that has long been a part of so many cultures, and is easily romanticized. I think it’s something to do with the ceremony involved in the act of preparing coffee, drinking coffee, whether it be personal ceremony or one that is created by a purveyor of coffee. Not only is there a deep sense of ceremony involved in every cup of joe served and consumed, but there’s a sense of ritual and regularity – whether it’s full on caffeine addiction or the occasional way to push through a sleepy day, kickstart a groggy morning, it’s an elegant part of everyday life for more people than not.

As we’ve become more and more familiar with all things coffee, we’ve had wonderful Katie Murphy on our team to help lead the way. I asked her to wax philosophic about her relationship with coffee:

Thank you Katie, for indulging us! I’m craving one of those amazing iced coffees right about now. If you go by our New Orleans space to give our Fair Folks Roast a taste, say “hey!” to Katie, and consider joining our subscription program. Just trying to make a simple pleasure even more tempting!

Until next time,

Aurora

Michael says:

“Growing up, going to the beach was a week-long family adventure: pack it all in the car, hit the road, and shack up at a hotel on the boardwalk for a week of family fun (or angsty terror by time I was a teenager). The beach here, near New Orleans, is a different breed. Hop onto the I-10 East and head toward Alabama and get off the Dauphin Island exit; you’ll notice it’s pretty rural and you’re driving through the seemingly infinite Southern landscape when suddenly the beach appears unselfconsciously, not beckoning for your arrival, instead waiting patiently. Just being in a setting that is not inundated with pavement is jarring to the city senses, let alone that over the dunes lays the expansive Gulf of Mexico. The sand is white and the Gulf is blue-green, clear enough but not idyllic, which is fine because by time you’re out there it’s just nice to be near the water. There are no amusements at this beach —no boardwalk or hot dogs—just sand; you’re expected to be or bring your own amusement. The beach here isn’t so much a destination, a ‘week-long family adventure’; it’s a day trip with a friend or a simple moment of solitude. Getting out of the city for an afternoon is healing, even if momentary, and even if you didn’t realize you needed it. New Orleans is great, we can all agree on that, and the mighty river is a reminder of nature in a pinch. But sometimes it’s necessary to leave Orleans Parish. If traveling to more temperate climes is not in the books come Summer, then at the very least, lets go to the beach.”

I am not always a runner. I am a person blessed with a decent metabolism and the occasional drive to ‘get in shape.’ When I decide to take myself for a run, it is just as often about getting away from the computer, getting outside for a little while, having time to quiet my mind, and getting some endorphins pumping, as it is about fighting the flab. My good intentions will turn into the glimmer of a habit from time to time, and you’ll find me running multiple days a week. Then I quit for a bit, and it’s always painful to start up again but ‘worth it’ and an ‘exercise in self-discipline’ and I start daydreaming about growing up a bit more, getting up early to take myself for a run and then tackle the day, fists pumping.

This morning in New York City it poured; this afternoon in New York City there was a parting of the clouds, a bit of sunlight shone through and suddenly we had this crisp, cool, freshly rained on city. The sidewalks were sparkling and the grass in Central Park was green in a way that couldn’t have been real. I decided it was as good a time as any to begin the pain of my unhabit-forming once more (it’s been a month, two, since my last run).

I always think that I’ll do my best if I simply give myself a goal, and try over and over again to near it or reach it or surpass it. Living beside the Reservoir, it’s easy to say that one lap around equals a job well done, and when I get to the point where I can go around twice, I’m twice as good. It’s a rookie mistake, and you can tell for two reasons. One is that I’m only running around the Reservoir one measly time, only 1.6 miles, and it’s not easy for me folks. Two is that the whole joy of running outside, as I discovered today (finally!) is that you’re not on a gosh darn treadmill, treading along wearily, counting your steps and praying you finish before too long. Instead, it’s an adventure, a trek, with characters along the way and sights to be seen.

My trek today took me through the streets, past the butcher shop and the laundromat – 25% off all dry cleaning this week! It took me past jovial moving men who wanted to know how far I can run (I was honest with him, not far), past trundling old ladies walking their trundling old dogs, and into that park which nearly knocked me over with its fresh scent and stillness.

I’d gone uptown today, into less familiar parts of the park, and wouldn’t you know it it was a magical wilderness of natural beauty. We’re just preparing for a house guest for the next few weeks, and I took a mental note to be sure to tell her to venture a bit up that way if she was so inspired. Soon after, I retracted that mental note, as I realized that I – a woman who has lived in New York for 15 years – was lost. When I finally found my way out of the park, I was 20 blocks uptown from where I’d started, on Central Park West, when I’d been sure I was walking downtown and approaching the East side of the park.

My return home took me past that old faithful, the Reservoir. Did you know, when it was built as a temporary water supply for NYC in 1860, it was intended to last us four days, when today they guess the now defunct reservoir would last a mere four hours?

Moral of the story: Maybe I shouldn’t write such revealing blog posts. Embarrassing! No New Yorker worth her salt should let that happen.

Until next time,

Aurora