Noah: You want me to give advice to your readers that are much older than me?
Uncle Al: Exactly. Hit it.
Noah: Stay consistent in what you do, you know? I don’t really know what it’s like to be an adult. Find something you like doing and stick with it. Umm, be humble.
Uncle Al: This is very general, very vague. What specifically have you learned in your own life?
Noah: You know what I think? Don’t be jealous of other people cause I feel like people my age are jealous. I look up to myself, I don’t look up to other people.
Uncle Al: That is very wise. Anything else to add before I close out this post?
Noah: Umm… what do you mean?
Uncle Al: I mean, what would you like to say to someone who’s been reading my blog for years?
Noah: Thank you for all the support. Glad they enjoy the writing. Have a good day.
After being chewed down to their very roots, these marigolds are a portrait in resilience and courage, coming back from their rodent-inflicted wounds to begin blooming this late in the season. Any new color is appreciated at this point in the garden’s year. Marigolds signify the height of summer – all happiness and bright bonhomie.
I thought I was ready to welcome fall, but if summer wants to linger, who am I to rush her out the door?
“Be silent and listen: have you recognized your madness and do you admit it? Have you noticed that all your foundations are completely mired in madness? Do you not want to recognize your madness and welcome it in a friendly manner? You wanted to accept everything. So accept madness too. Let the light of your madness shine, and it will suddenly dawn on you. Madness is not to be despised and not to be feared, but instead you should give it life…If you want to find paths, you should also not spurn madness, since it makes up such a great part of your nature…Be glad that you can recognize it, for you will thus avoid becoming its victim. Madness is a special form of the spirit and clings to all teachings and philosophies, but even more to daily life, since life itself is full of craziness and at bottom utterly illogical. Man strives toward reason only so that he can make rules for himself. Life itself has no rules. That is its mystery and its unknown law. What you call knowledge is an attempt to impose something comprehensible on life.” ~ Carl Jung
“The first half of life is devoted to forming a healthy ego, the second half is going inward and letting go of it.” ~ Carl Jung
“It is often tragic to see how blatantly a man bungles his own life and the lives of others yet remains totally incapable of seeing how much the whole tragedy originates in himself, and how he continually feeds it and keeps it going.” ~Carl Jung
“In the artist, the strongest force in his make-up, that is, his creativeness, will seize and all but monopolize this energy, leaving so little over that thing of value can come of it. The creative impulse can drain him of his humanity to such a degree that the personal ego can exist only on a primitive or inferior level and is driven to develop all sorts of defects: ruthlessness, selfishness, (“autoeroticism”), vanity, and other infantile traits.”~ Carl Jung
“As a child I felt myself to be alone, and I am still, because I know things and must hint at things which others apparently know nothing of, and for the most part do not want to know.” ~Carl Jung
“People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” ~ Carl Jung
A time capsule within a time capsule: this entry is from 2005’s Divine Diva Tour, but this song jumps back another decade to 1996, when Suzie and I (and our Moms) found ourselves at the celebrated Broadway revival of ‘Chicago’ featuring Ann Reinking and Bebe Neuwirth. I wore a shirt of silver thread in a leopard pattern, with a long-tailed black tuxedo jacket; Suzie was probably in cargo pants. We took in the phenomenon of classic theatrical showbiz pizzazz, and escaped our college-age concerns with a bit of the old razzle dazzle…
About a decade later, this song formed the backdrop to the photos seen here from The Divine Diva Tour Book: A Fairy’s Tale. A bad wig can work wonders when placed atrociously and artfully enough – in disarray it tells even more sordid tales of debauchery and treachery…
Give ’em the old razzle dazzle Razzle dazzle ’em Give ’em an act with lots of flash in it And the reaction will be passionate Give ’em the old hocus pocus Bead and feather ’em How can they see with sequins in their eyes? What if your hinges all are rusting? What if, in fact, you’re just disgusting? Razzle dazzle ’em And they’ll never catch wise!
Give ’em the old razzle dazzle Razzle dazzle ’em Give ’em a show that’s so splendiferous Row after row will crow vociferous Give ’em the old flim flam flummox Fool and fracture ’em How can they hear the truth above the roar? Throw ’em a fake and a finagle They’ll never know you’re just a bagel Razzle dazzle ’em And they’ll beg you for more!
Having taken the darkened turn and downward spiral into the last act of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale, we re-enter a sweetly and dangerously delusional moment of dazzling escapism, winding ourselves irrevocably in the inevitable destruction of this character’s world. First conjured twenty years ago, in so many ways the disturbing aspects hinted at then have come to fruition in the wider world since – a sad testament to the timelessness of sorrow and darkness, cloaked in colorful bombast and shiny go-go pants.
Bands of black lace cut the thigh, a fishnet harlequin shades the legs, and a bed of feather boas gives false comfort and deceitful glamour. How can they see with sequins in their eyes?
Rudbeckia keeps putting on its summer-long show – one of the few garden plants that will run for most of the summer, and continue throwing out flowers until the first hard frost ends it for good. There was a time when I’d grow tired of this show, pining for the short blooming periods of poppies or iris, but in my older age I appreciate the consistency and reliability of such strong color for such a long time.
These particular blooms are from a wild patch of space behind my therapist’s office. I arrived early yesterday morning and caught these images, fresh with dew still dangling from dawn.
If there’s one thing we love here, it’s a Renaissance artist keenly invested in reinvention and self-evolution. Enter Erin Harkes and her impressive array of talents and testaments, including today’s Dazzler of the Day crowning. It wasn’t enough for her to conquer the worlds of music, comedy, and performing arts – she had to add publication-savior to that storied resume as well.
Resurrecting the beloved ‘Metroland!’ was a bold and some might claim foolish move, but for those of us who loved and missed an independent alternative focused on the arts and entertainment, it was the act of a savior. Harkes made that bodacious decision to bring ‘Metroland Now’ to the Albany fold, and for those of us who used to eagerly await each new issue this rekindles happy memories of a perhaps-happier time.
Harkes has been at the helm of the revitalized publication since April 2024 (which is the last time she claims to have slept) and the effort she’s put into its relaunch is apparent. With a renewed focus on the music scene of Albany, ‘Metroland Now’ feels reinvigorated and reborn, reconnecting with its original roots; brash, irreverent, and slightly messy, it’s the very thing for this moment of social media mediocrity, and mainstream media’s reluctance to take a stance on anything.
My hat goes off to anyone brave enough to wade into any aspect of publishing these days; my greater admiration is reserved for those who go after a dream and a noble vision with an idea and element of bettering the community around them. That’s the true talent of this Dazzler of the Day.
Harkes is currently setting up to compete in ‘Dancing with the Capitol Region Stars: Battle of the Beats’ to do some fundraising for ‘Metroland Now’ – scheduled for November 1, 2025. Check out her enchanting website here for all the details.
My friend Betsy gave me a box of Lucky Charms – Marshmallows only! – as part of my birthday gifts this year and it turned out to be one of the more pleasant surprises of the season. I haven’t had Lucky Charms in years – they were a mainstay of my early breakfasts at Brandeis, when I mustered up the strength and energy to make the trek to Sherman Dining Hall. (In later years I would simply grab a bite at Usdan Center instead of walking across campus for hot food.) Every once in a while I’ll pick up a box for nostalgia’s sake.
This gimmicky version was all marshmallows – which made for a cloying bowl of sweetness – proof that too much of a good thing is sometimes too much. While the marshmallows are indeed the best part of a traditional Lucky Charms bowl, having them alone proved an embarrassment of riches. It also turned out that all the milk in the house was bad, so Andy suggested I just use Half & Half in them, which didn’t really tone down the richness much.
Anyway, your kids will love this if you can find it, and it made for a sweet treat at the end of a trying day.
Sumptuously ensconced in an Emerald Suite at Raffles Boston, the view of the former John Hancock Tower (and I won’t learn its not-so-new name anytime soon) was new to me from this vantage point – one of those moments where a city I’ve known and loved for forty years takes on a new aspect, opening up in thrilling fashion. Rather than plan anything elaborate or fanciful for this day, I’d decided to make the most of our stay, padding about our rooms and perusing the spa while Andy took a nap.
Sometimes, such as on one’s 50th birthday, it’s best to simply be – to exist in the moment at hand, to breathe slowly and deliberately, to find the quiet and to make the space for being wholly present to whatever is at hand. Surrounded by such luxury and comforts, it is simple to be mindful in the midst of beauty, comfort and ease.
Down in the spa, I indulged in all their Eau Imperiale bath products, testing out the sauna, steam room, and ice showers – then trying out the fragrances at the Guerlain perfume bar, where the ‘Herbs Troublantes’ spoke volumes to me and a trio of Oud offerings hinted at future fall scents. The last thing I need is another perfume house obsession, so I merely perused casually, not on the hunt for anything particular, and the lightness and ease of the moment went well with the intentions of the day.
Back in the suite, Andy was still asleep, so I sat in the living room area and watched as the sun began to lower itself over the Charles River.
We had dinner reservations at La Pedrona, which is in the same building as Raffles, which means I could wear this lounge-like ensemble and pop in straight from our room. My definition of luxury.
My birthday dinner was a much-welcomed exercise in hilarity, as our server was straight out of a Kristen Wiig SNL sketch, only she was entirely earnest about it. I thought it might just be me and my silliness, but when she did the same thing with the table across from us, and they seemed as flummoxed as we were, I knew she was an experience unto herself. Even Andy almost lost it when I had to put my head down and stop making eye contact with her for fear of busting out laughing. It was a fun dinner, just me and my husband, in my favorite city. We didn’t need anything else.
The next morning came too soon, and with it another beautiful day. On the 17th floor of Raffles, we got a seat on the outside balcony, and life as a 50-year-old began in quiet earnest – brilliantly, beautifully, contentedly.
Inspired by Boston’s own Emerald Necklace, Raffles Boston stakes its claim as the epitome of elevated elegance, rising like a sparkling jewel in the Back Bay, offering exemplary luxury and exceptional service. A botanical theme runs throughout the establishment, from the stunning display of orchids, glorious lilies, calla lilies, protea, and foxtail lilies of the Sky Lobby to the elegant rugs and wallpaper with floral accents. Every point of contact with Raffles staff is luminous, designed to make one feel not only welcome, but entirely celebrated. Ideal for the 50th birthday I was quietly celebrating on the night we stayed.
Our Emerald Suite came with a living room, a bedroom, a wet bar, and two bathrooms. Botanical flourishes backed by deep green walls and lit by large windows letting in the Boston sky created a calm and tranquil environment. Lighting, temperature, and window treatments were all controlled by touchpads, and the Emerald Suite also included a Butler Service, which connects you to a staff member who responds to direct texts during your stay.
The bathrooms – ah the bathrooms – were magnificent works of art – the main bathroom featuring a spacious layout with a full shower and full bathtub.
The bathroom was a spa in and of itself (more on the real spa in a moment) and I fell instantly in love with the Guerlain soap and lotion on hand (more on that as well).
The wet bar offered an assortment of goodies, and an excellent space for hosting should one want to welcome guests. It was just Andy and me, which was all we needed.
The second bathroom was near the entryway, and just as elegant as the main one – this time with marble and magnolias – and the kind of lighting that is ideal for selfies (see future posts for those).
It also features Guerlain soap – which brings us to the spa. I wasn’t convinced that anything could approach the amazing spa experience I’d had at the Mandarin Oriental, but we finally have a contender – and it might even surpass that glorious space. With a pool and hot tub, his and hers saunas, steam rooms and ice showers, there is enough to make luxurious wellness a priority – and a destination unto itself.
There is also a Guerlain fragrance bar, which now has me obsessed with that historical perfume house, and dreaming of that Eau Imperiale body wash and lotion.
There are several restaurants and bars on site, including the amazing Amar, where we once enjoyed an anniversary dinner. With so many entertaining options at hand, there’s no need to even step outside of the premises – and given how much I love Boston, that is saying a lot. Happily, the care and consideration the Raffles group has put into their Boston location is apparent at every beautiful turn. Even more impressive than the exquisite design, is the personal service for which Raffles is so rightly renowned. That service is what is so astoundingly good – not overbearing – never overbearing, just exactly what you want, precisely when you want it – and that is what sets this gorgeous place apart from every other space in Boston.
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…
