From my now-somewhat-extensive experience with birthdays, I can say that most of them are disappointingly anti-climactic. In so many ways, they are just another day, unremarkable for the vast majority of the rest of the world. It’s supposed to be about you and only you, but it is really just a reminder of how insignificant it is to everyone else. That may be why I prefer to spend them quietly and out of town, or buffer them with vacations to Boston or New York or Rehoboth Beach. Anything to distract from their intrinsically non-momentous nature. Even one’s 50th birthday, which for me dawned on a beautiful Boston morning, felt more like a day off before a vacation than any holiday or occasion of itself. A number of Virgos have felt similarly about their birthdays, or so I’m told, being somewhat despondent on the day we are supposed to be celebrating.
Lowering expectations has been my typical mode of addressing the tendency to indulge in melancholy on this day. And so it was that after waking, I quietly padded out to the front room and looked over Braddock Park’s fountain before rousing Andy and heading to brunch at Aquitaine.
On the way back, we passed a few Nike hearts – and the one that called to me was this one, with its little feather in the lower right corner of the picture.
As Mom’s main gift, she had gifted us a night at Raffles in Boston, so we packed our overnight bags and wardrobe and I sprayed some of my latest fragrance.
After almost thirty years of owning the condo, there are always new establishments coming to Boston, which keeps the city thrilling.
The new Raffles knows how to welcome a birthday boy.
There would be no fireworks or explosive demarcation between the final night of my 40’s and the start of my 50’s, which is precisely how I wanted it. After we returned to the condo after dinner, I finished a couple of thank you letters I’d written for early birthday presents and told Andy I was going to mail them. I headed out into the night – the last night as a 49-year-old.
The short length of Braddock Park was finished too soon for my mind’s wandering. I pushed the letters into the mailbox at the end of the street, and continued on. I was not quite ready to end the evening, not quite ready to leave my 40’s. It was silly, but the heart sometimes overrules the mind, and the evening was so beautiful I kept walking.
At every happy crux in my life, I’ve found myself alone and in solitude for some small piece of time. It’s happened at various birthdays over the years, and most notably on my actual wedding day, when I found myself on my own in the Public Garden after everyone had gone to their hotels for a break before dinner. Andy was sleeping in our suite, and I stole off to the Garden to be with myself and mark the moment in my mind.
In some small way, I suppose I do that as a little reassurance and reminder that we are all, only and in the end, alone – even when we have loved ones near. It will one day be that way, hopefully nearer the end of my life, and I want to be ready and prepared for it.
On this night – the night before I turned 50 – I walked the streets of Boston – no longer haunted by my past, no longer haunted by my future. Beside me, I suddenly felt the unexpected yet reassuring presence of my father and uncle, as if they were walking me back home. Both had been with me at various times on Braddock Park, and both were with me now, as if they were telling me to carry the Ilagan name forward. I looked up to the glowing light from our window, where Andy was preparing for bed, and I let the last fifty years go.
The fragrance for the start of the day was a simple and deliciously peppery design by Jean Claude-Ellena, one of my favorite fragrance experts for the house of Frederic Malle – Angéliques Sous La Pluie. It’s informed a few Boston adventures over the years, and I welcomed the chance to make a new scent memory.
The Boston Public Garden felt fresh and vibrant, despite the late August hour – a testament to the mostly gentle summer we’ve had weather-wise. Flowers were still in bloom, and the colors were as bright as they were in June – a strange and happy circumstance.
We walked our usual path along the pond, along with others out for such a delightful day. The waterfowl were putting on a show for everyone – geese and ducks making their way in and out of the water. Squirrels playfully roamed the grassy expanses, disappearing into the trees then reappearing like little magicians.
A favorite vista.
At mid-day, the heat rose a few notches, so we made our way toward a cooling sweet treat, and the place I’d found an elusive peach ice cream last year.
Restored and rejuvenated by cream and sugar and peaches, we headed back the way we had come, but taking a different route through the Public Garden once we reached its iron-gated border.
One of the most recently renovated sections of the garden was open – this lovely fountain by the Arlington Street entrance – a restoration from the past, a step toward the future.
We walked along Newbury Street and had a couple of mocktails at the Lenox Hotel and the new Willow & Ivy restaurant there. A hotel bar provides delicious respite at the height of a summer afternoon. Andy walked to the condo while I made one more stop to procure a special gift.
Tom Ford’s ‘Oud Voyager’ – available a bit earlier than originally announced from my favorite TF contact – was my 50th birthday present to myself – because sometimes you have to be your own hero. This birthday weekend was seeding lessons I already knew but rarely employed. It was good that way, and it felt like the way things should go. When you follow the whispers of the universe, and you stop forcing things, the world shares its secrets with you – secrets of ease and comfort, secrets of calm and peace.
A sneak-sniff of this autumn’s theme, ‘Oud Voyager’ would be my fragrance for the last dinner of my 49th year. Andy ordered a fine vehicle to transport us to Prima in Charlestown, where we had secured a table in their gorgeous Rose Room. It was romantic in every sense – sumptuous and cozy, with hints of velvet opulence and lampshades whose light was softened with fringe – the ideal dining vision for the eve of 50.
Later that night, as I climbed into bed, Andy gave me his birthday present – a magnificent gold Bulova watch that I’d been eyeing for a while. It was a gift of time, and as we drove home in the night, I thought of the previous decades. My fiftieth year coincides with our twenty-fifth anniversary – meaning that I met Andy when I was only twenty-five. In all those years, the gift of time – of being together – is still the best gift.
Simplicity and solemnity were the orders for my 50th birthday weekend in Boston, and with just Andy and I in town for the festivities it was an order we happily carried out. This August’s weather has been good to us, and a sunny and comfortable few days without excessive heat or humidity kept that beauty going. We arrived early in the afternoon, dropped our things at the condo, then had a stroll through the Southwest Corridor Park, which was resplendent in bloom, starting with this vibrant zinnia.
Upon waking, the sun was slanting into the bedroom – a favorite moment of the day in a favorite room. The fragrance for the evening was Tom Ford’s ‘Fucking Fabulous’ – a gift from Andy a number of years ago – something light and sweet to christen our Boston weekend.
Decked out for dinner, Andy ordered a car to take us to the seaport, where some delicious sushi awaited us at LoLa 42. We walked along the harbor for a bit, then headed to the restaurant. Despite our cramped and noisy seats by the bar – both of us are way too old for that scene, our eyes and ears failing us in the dim light – the food was amazing, and Andy’s cocktail was divine.
The light was already changing, hinting at fall – the enchanting sort of transformation that is both sad and sweet at the same time.
August anemones danced in the sunlight, as if cheering on those lucky enough to pass their way.
A sign of impending fall, as much as they signified a summer that was not quite ready to yield…
The Japanese anemone is one of the garden plants that signifies the end of summer – but does so in a way that spectacularly celebrates the season, even as it nears its final days. The flowers seen here set the stage for our recap of my Boston birthday weekend, which begins on the blog tomorrow.
Flowers that come into bloom at this late stage of the year are especially precious. Most of us have given up on the gardens at this point – the ferns are largely browned and withered, the cup plant is leaning out of its roped support structure, and only the later hydrangeas and seven sons flower tree are still putting on a show. The Japanese anemone is an important part of keeping the garden going through to the fall.
This September is said to be a banner month for us Virgos, with a couple of eclipses and favorable moons, and whether or not I believe in such astrological magic, I’ll welcome whatever positive transformation this month has in store for me. The past few months have been rough and tumble here, and for the first time in a long while I was beginning to think that maybe I was the problem – and I’m perfectly willing to acknowledge my failings and shortcomings, but this summer I’m not taking any of the blame. Let the hits keep on coming, because we all know only the truth stands in the end. Virgos always have the receipts; contrary to popular belief, we don’t always like having to search them out and prove others wrong but when one is attacked, that sort of defense is sometimes necessary. Let’s have a song to clear the air and wash away any lingering doubt that hell hath no fury like a Virgo wronged.
You talk about life, you talk about death And everything in between Like it’s nothing and the words are easy
You talk about me, you talk about you And everything I do Like it’s somethin’ that needs repeating
I don’t need an alibi Or for you to realize The things we left unsaid Are only taking space up in our heads
Make it my fault, win the game Point the finger, place the blame And curse me up and down Doesn’t matter now
‘Cause I don’t care if I ever talk to you again This is not about emotion I don’t need a reason not to care What you say, or what happened in the end This is my interpretation And it don’t, don’t make sense
Fall is the time when I tend to clean up the messes that I let go in summer – and there are several family items that float to the top of that clean-up list, if only to let things go and truly move forward. That means a weighty therapy session this week which might result in additional therapy sessions, and that’s ok. Therapy has been one of the most helpful tools I’ve had in navigating this treacherous mid-life region. I recommend it to everyone.
The first two weeks turn into ten I hold my breath and wonder when it’ll happen It doesn’t really matter
If half of what you said is true And half of what I didn’t do could be different Would it make you better?
If we forget the things we know Would we have somewhere to go? The only way is down I can see that now
‘Cause I don’t care if I ever talk to you again This is not about emotion I don’t need a reason not to care What you say, or what happened in the end This is my interpretation And it don’t, don’t make sense
Fall will also likely be the time when things are brought into unflinching and unforgiving light – and it’s not going to be cruel or cutting, it’s not going to be hurtful or hateful – it’s going to be honest and true. Like the song says, this is not about emotion – and if there’s one thing I’ve learned being raised by two scientifically-minded medical people, it’s how to be cooly analytical when it comes to making your way through this mad world. My Virgo nature lapped that up, and for fifty years I’ve run with it.
It’s really not such a sacrifice
Perhaps those first fifty years were the practice run-through, and we are beginning all over again now – and now is when it counts. Now is when it matters. And if I don’t care…
If I ever talk to you again This is not about emotion I don’t need a reason not to care What you say, or what happened in the end This is my interpretation And it don’t, don’t make sense
And it don’t have to make no sense to you at all ‘Cause this is my interpretation.
One of the things that I’ve grown to semi-enjoy is a soccer game thanks mostly to my nephew’s participation in the game. He’s graduated to varsity this year, and the Amsterdam High School Boys Team is doing a fundraiser until September 26, 2025. If you’d like to help them out, here is the link to donate; every amount you might spare is appreciated.
We attended a scrimmage this past weekend, and on the big field it was a lot more exciting than the games we’ve been going to at Afrim’s (though that’s a lot closer than Amsterdam for us). It was a sunny late-summer day – the banks of fluffy clouds provided comfortable shade while the game was a good one ending 2-2 (I guess ties are allowed in soccer? I don’t know – after all these years I’m still learning the rules.) Once again, if you want to support the Amsterdam High School Boys Soccer team, please click here and put yourself on their scoreboard. Go Rams!
It may be time to start elongating my daily meditations – a habit I’ve employed previously, especially when the day’s light grows shorter. This seems like a good starting point for September, said to be a banner month for Virgos as we have a solar eclipse on September 21 – just in time for the new fall season. Let’s take a deep breath then, and take stock of this particular present moment.
I was supposed to be in Boston with the twins this weekend, but despite checking with them and confirming multiple times, they still ended up having to cancel due to sport practices or something. It’s been the way things have gone lately – they missed the last few holiday trips to Boston, this spring’s Take Your Kids to Work Day, and I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve invited them over in the last few months with no response. I’m assuming this is the way of teenagers, and nothing to take too personally.
I light a candle from which I will burn a stick of Palo Santo, and its reflection glows in the window looking out into the front yard – a visual trick that somehow still works in the middle of the day. There is magic everywhere when you pause to observe.
Starting September in thoughtful fashion feels like the right place to begin this month of transition. There is some soul-searching to be done – and September is the ideal month to recharge and reinvigorate such spaces. A Virgo leans into fall cleaning with gusto and verve. We love ridding ourselves of excess nonsense and creating a place of peace and calm, and we aren’t afraid to move forward in that pursuit.
Recapping the week I turned fifty seems an apt moment to celebrate the silver-haired circumstances that surround my aura-farming of late. It’s also a good time to pause for a Monday morning blog recap – just because it’s a holiday doesn’t mean the blogging stops here. If anything, we go harder, faster, better, brighter…
Most people prefer the rose in June – and most of me would agree – but one small and important part finds greater beauty in the August rose. They glow differently, because they know they are the last. They are sadder, and sweeter, for it.
Many garden perennials throw out a few blooms before fall arrives in earnest, and though they are usually smaller and less robust than their early summer counterparts, their colors feel richer and more vibrant. I’ve always felt for them a little more.
Take flight, my fine fairy friends, and let us again be carefree, without worry or concern, riding on the winds of fantasy and make-believe… Goodbye cruel world! Farewell wicked place!! Adieu, adieu… to you and you and you…
Rush me ghost you see Every centre my home Fever steam girl Throb the oceans Your candy perfume girl You’re a candy perfume girl You’re a candy perfume girl
From the same wondrous ‘Our Time in Eden’ album that brought us the glory of ‘These Days’ comes the other hit single from that collection, ‘Candy Everybody Wants’. It forms the penultimate entry of this section of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale, in which everything that seemed so sweet and lovely reveals a sickly, bloody underbelly. The scarlet lollipop melts into hemoglobin, the bracelets of candy bind your wrists together, and a necklace of Necco wafers works its ancient Latin language, choking you out with a death-clutch. And all the while, we eat it up. Try one, swallow some…
The music bounces along happily, the bursts of horns, the jangling guitars, the occasional ‘Hey!’s of Natalie Merchant – and it sounds for a moment like everything is gonna be all right. But it isn’t, is it? It will never be right again, and that’s one of the underlying themes of melancholy that pulls this song down from its lofty pop perch.
So their eyes are growing hazy Cos they wanna turn it on So their minds are soft and lazy, well Hey hey give ’em what they want
Ahh Candice… haven’t we all been you before? Most of us get it out of the way in our youth when we stand a chance of getting away with it. During the time of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale, I was well beyond my Candice era, but the scars were still with me, and the damages we inflict upon ourselves will never be topped by anyone else.
A deceptively sweet turn in The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale arrives in this delicious post, in which I implore you to try some… eat one… you know you want to lick it…
I know a guy who’s tough but sweet He’s so fine, he can’t be beat He’s got everything that I desire Sets the summer sun on fire I want candy… I want candy
Our tour book is about to take its irrevocable plummet, but the first part of the slide down is so sweet and sugary, you let it all happen because it tastes so good, even when you know it’s bad for you…
Go to see him when the sun goes down Ain’t no finer boy in town You’re my guy, you’re what the doctor ordered So sweet, you make my mouth water I want candy… I want candy… Yeah!
Candy on the beach, there’s nothing better But I like candy when it’s wrapped in a sweater Some day soon, I’ll make you mine Then I’ll have candy all the time I want candy I want candy I want candy…
