Went to Lovejoy’s Attic in idle search of a teapot, having broken the one Christine and Adam gave me. The store is tiny but charming, like Tinkerbell, and smells of citrus tea and the faint disapproving mustiness of doilies. The best part is, you can go in the shop’s second room, out of sight of everyone, and try on white kid gloves and examine tea sets for little girls and read a book about Waldorf salads without feeling at all self-conscious.
Trying and failing to imagine a life for myself where I would regularly need placecard holders shaped like tiny silver teapots or heavy crowns. Granted, I am still not sure what my life is going to be about, but I doubt placecards will play a significant role.