J'Adore: An Elegant Picnic in Lower Manhattan

The simplest pleasures are often free and right before our eyes.

In Carversville, I enjoy dining outside in good weather or enjoying a cup of French Roast in the early morning. But a picnic? I can’t tell you the last time I enjoyed an old-fashioned picnic. A few years ago, I gave a dear friend one of those extravagant picnic baskets as a wedding present. She’s a Brit living in Ohio, and I thought the picnic basket would remind her of home.

As for me … I simply don’t know when I last had a picnic. Walking along the Battery Park waterfront last weekend, on my way to visit Ellis Island for the first time, I noticed sun worshippers camped out near Gigino’s Restaurant and the Holocaust Museum. “What a perfect place for a picnic!” I marvelled.

Anne is an execution-oriented woman. Once I get an idea in my head … well that’s it. When a friend emailed me: “OK, my Firefly, what are we doing Thurs. night?”, I replied: “We’re going on a picnic.”

Up to my eyeballs in financial planning for a new business, there was no possibillity of cooking. I would make the culinary compromise, picking up food from my local gourmet, but the presentation had to be lovely. No, I didn’t call Maison Connoisseur, asking them to fly over a picnic basket. I had to setlle for the less than elegant Century 21, a few blocks away.

Blanket, plastic dishes — not paper — because I was already planning more picnics, before enjoying the first one.  I ran around my neighborhood telling just about anyone who would listen to me: “I’m going on a picnic.” They smiled, as if remembering their own lost but precious picnic days: “Really … how wonderful … I haven’t done that in years. In fact, I can’t remember when I last did it … perhaps 30 years ago.”

Thursday night was a glorious night for a picnic. The 95-degree temperature broke on Wed., along with the humidity. Walking along the waterfront, my friend was amazed at how beautiful my Manhattan neighborhood has become over the years. It’s so lush and beautiful. Surely, I’ve told you that it reminds me of walking along the Hong Kong waterfront, Kowloon side.

We had a marvelous time, shoes off … me in bare feet always … stretched out on our blanket. When the park security approached us, he actually smiled when telling us to hide our wine botte.

“So sorry,” I smiled with regrets. “We didn’t know.”

“Not a problem,” he smiled back. You see. Even reprimands can be civilized, if we wish.

Earlier in the day, I had some legal papers signed, regarding my father’s estate. The law office wrote Iowa on my consent form. Sitting with the notary, as he scratched out Iowa and wrote New York, I said: “You would think a law office would get it right.”

Unlike our reputation for being terse, demanding creatures, he just smiled, saying “Even lawyers are human … we all make mistakes.”

Picnic in the Sky 

I remembered the time I took over dinner duties, flying home from Paris to Columbus, on the Victoria’s Secret jet.  I ran around the Left Bank that day, from flower markets to food stalls, and yes — the Point a la Ligne candle shop. Lighting my small candles 30,000 feet over the Atlantic, our President told me: “That will last about 30 seconds.”

“Why?” I protested.

Sure enough, our co-pilot appeared like the park attendent, to set me straight. “Not even on our plane?” I whined.

“Sorry, Anne (Linda), only artificial lights at your little dinner party. Candles out now.”

More Picnics Ahead 

My friend is much better than I at enjoying the natural pleasures of life. He climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro last year, on one of many global adventures.  I don’t know about mountain climbing, but picnics are now on my To Enjoy list. They are old-fashioned and a totally tecnology-free event … just what I need at this time in my life.

Looking for picnic photos on Flickr, I found this lovely image of a young girl’s picnic.  Her mother shares delightful, charming photos that feel as if they came from another era. If this gem doesn’t bring a smile to your face and a swelling in your heart … well then you had better pack your own picnic basket.

You are sensually-deprived, and a simple outing is just what this spirit doctor recommens.

Please explore Kat&Kat’s photo stream. Her mummy is so talented and has created a gorgeous combo of photos to feed our sensory imaginations.  

A Kim Novak Throwback 

Stopping by YouTube, searching for perfect picnic videos, I stumbled into a different memory, one much better suited to the beauty of my Manhattan evening and  nostalgic reveries. This would be Kim Novak and William Holden in “Picnic”.

Watching the film as a little girl left me all dreamy to experience the life ahead of me. I wrote you about my Loretta Young moment, but this is surely another image that burrowed deeply into my young, unconscious mine.

Picnics are about pausing, and I am so glad that I did the other evening. Perhaps you will join me one balmy summer evening … an international community of us, stopping to enjoy the beauty of a simple, noncommercial moment. We will actually look at the stars, experience the setting sun.

Picnic in Lawrenceville 

Didn’t D.H. Lawrence write about a picnic or two? I seem to recall things got a bit scandalous on at least one simple feast, what with wine, wicker and moonlight all playing on the senses. That picnic may not belong on Anne of Carversville, especially next to photos of teddy bears.

Here’s one Internet-produced, potluck D.H. Lawrence picnic from “Twighlight in Italy”. Let’s see where it takes us (I don’t know; I only read the first six paragraphs to be sure Kat wouldn’t be mad at me for messing up in teddy bear territory): 

The first time I saw Il Duro was on a sunny day when there came up a party of pleasure-makers to San Gaudenzio. They were three women and three men. The women were in cotton frocks, one a large, dark, florid woman in pink, the other two rather insignificant. The men I scarcely noticed at first, except that two were young and one elderly.

They were a queer party, even on a feast day, coming up purely for pleasure, in the morning, strange, and slightly uncertain, advancing between the vines. They greeted Maria and Paolo in loud, coarse voices. There was something blowsy and uncertain and hesitating about the women in particular, which made one at once notice them.

I Must Get Cruising 

This instant, the Norwegian Spirit is gliding by my window … one group ending their adventure in New York and another crowd of eager hearts ready for their escape.

I must run to Carversville in two hours. All I know is that I’m travelling in a two-seater. I hope the top isn’t down, or I will have to don that head scarf, and something tells me I won’t look like Kim Novak in “Picnic”.

What the heck. I’ll just let my blond locks whip around in the wind and deal with the strewn mess that is me and my crazy life upon arrival. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone.

Love,
Anne