Thirty thousand visitors came in the Mount's first full season of operation as a historic house, and although the upper floors remained unfurnished--Edith Wharton's bedroom contained no more than a bed frame--the gardens had been restored, at a cost of $2.7 million. (Efforts were made to acquire all twenty-three varieties of phlox that Wharton's gardeners had planted.) Copeland, responding to diminished fund-raising opportunities after September 11th, had decided that the grand public rooms on the first floor would not be faithful reproductions of Wharton's domicile, as planned; instead, the rooms would be interpreted by contemporary designers, in accordance with the principles expressed in "The Decoration of Houses." Libby Cameron installed a leopard-print carpet on the staircase, and Thomas Jayne equipped the den of Wharton's husband with a laptop computer. "I asked Libby why she selected the spotted rug, and did she do it because the spots mirrored the circles in the wrought iron of the bannister," Copeland recalled. "And she said, 'I did it because thousands of people will be going up and down these stairs, and you want to be able to disguise the fact.' And that is Wharton's theory of practicality!" One room that was not updated was the library, whose shelves Copeland filled by issuing an appeal for donors to scour their own libraries for appropriately aged-looking volumes.

Basically, for those of you who aren't going to read the article, no one wanted to go to the Mount, so to increase historical cache they purchased Wharton's original library for several million dollars, which no one at the time understood was a loan, and now they can't pay it back, which is sort of perfect when one considers the current foreclosure spree.

Anyway. Stephanie Copeland, the focus of the article, is no doubt a very intelligent woman, well-trained to do any number of things. Unfortunately, running a historical estate/museum is not one of them, and therein lies one of my biggest problems with the state of historical societies and smallish museums right now. Places like the Mount get shafted because of the assumption that they're the domain of wealthy white women, many of whom haven't a clue about how to actually navigate the often incredibly thorny path between maintaining a sense of historical integrity and creating an economically sustainable business.

Labels: alas

Surrogacy itself seems to have come out of the mommy closet, to judge from recent media coverage. The New York Times and the Boston Globe have both reported on the practice of outsourcing wombs to poor Indian women. On a recent cover of Newsweek, the abdomen of a pregnant woman appeared with the words "Womb for Rent" emblazoned upon it. The issue's lead story, "The Curious Lives of Surrogates," ignited a small media frenzy with its sensationalistic revelations about military wives cashing in as surrogates -- in part by bilking their government-provided health plans.

The attention has rekindled the debate over the morality of renting wombs. While most people are reluctant to stand in the way of women who want to use modern medicine to help them conceive, others are more wary. Jennifer Lahl, the director of the California-based Center for Bioethics and Culture says "The surrogate isn't seen or treated as the patient. She's the cow, the womb."

Labels: shameless self-promotion, third-party repro

In a way, said Julie Gilhart, the fashion director of Barneys New York, "the dress is like the ultimate piece of clothing," to suit the velocity of contemporary life. While she was once a person who approached her closet the way a D.J. might, Ms. Gilhart said, she now "throws on a dress, and when I go traveling I put in five dresses, a long cardigan and a coat."

Certainly it's much more efficient. "Instead of spending days thinking about your wardrobe," she said, "you can concentrate on who you're voting for for president."

Labels: girly stuff

Outside design circles, not many people know that Edith Wharton's first publication was a decorating manual. It's a perplexing fact. Our own American grande dame, author of more than 40 books, friend of Henry James and Theodore Roosevelt... bothered herself with wallpaper and sconces? (Actually, she loathed wallpaper.) But after the initial shock, perhaps you'll remember reading The Age of Innocence or seeing Martin Scorsese's film adaptation of it and realize that Wharton is fused in your mind with masterfully described interiors -- at which point, your confusion will click into a satisfied "Huh!" If so, you might be moved, as I was, to rent a car and go visit the Mount, the only one of Wharton's many residences remaining. But act fast: If the Mount doesn't somehow acquire $3 million by April 24, the bank is going to shut it down.

Labels: gender wars

As it has for people suffering from cancer or other illnesses, the blogosphere offers the infertile a place to chronicle their personal stories, create community, seek support, and raise awareness about their condition. "One of the great things about technology today is its democratization," blogger "Bea," of "Infertile Fantasies," says. "You don't have to be a professional writer or film school graduate to tell your story online—anyone can do it, and even if it's of interest to only a small percentage of people in the world, they can find you." (Throughout this essay, bloggers will be identified by their noms de blog -- whether their real names or pseudonyms.) These blogs offer a unique perspective on the lives of infertile men and women, revealing the many ways the infertile are tackling the tricky questions reproductive technology poses: What does it mean to be infertile? If treatment succeeds, what, if anything, do you tell your family, your friends, and the children you have conceived? When, if ever, should one give up on fertility treatment? And, perhaps most importantly, how do these technologies transform our understanding of what it means to be a family?

Labels: Doublethink, food blogging

• Just got back from Denver and I must say: Men! I take back all the bad things I've said about you recently. You are all so pleasant and nice, putting my heavy carry-on in the overhead bin. I promise to give you the benefit of the doubt from now on (yes, even FLG, though he doesn't read this blog anymore).
  

• This is my new favorite blog. For those who question my love of shoes, I direct you here. I also have much love for her post on dinner at Per Se: "Once all this was through we transitioned to dessert via the cheese course -- Brillat Savarin (a soft cows-milk cheese vaguely reminiscent of brie, named after the late eighteenth/early nineteenth-century gastronome whose biography I started to tell at the table and then I checked myself because honestly, Helen, shut up."

• I am finally reading Middlemarch, formerly the book I was most ashamed to have never read. I can't say why it has taken me so long to get to it. For one thing, it has just the kind of heroine I like: insufferable and priggish. (Oh, how I love you, Mansfield Park!) Secondly (and most important), I love Edith Wharton; Edith Wharton loves George Eliot; hence, I will love George Eliot. The only obstacle was Adam Bede, which I read in college and detested. So far Middlemarch is much better, but I'm only a hundred pages in. There are 800 more pages for it to go downhill.

• Lastly, I am making this pasta for a girl's night in this evening. After, we will watch Breakfast at Tiffany's and eat cookies. What a wonderful world.
  

Labels: I heart EW, lit crit, the arts, travels