Miss Edith: Out of Town, But Back Now, With a Remarkable Set of Pajamas...

Miss Edith apologizes profusely for not having posted anything in so long. It’s not, I realize, that this is unprecedented, but it is nonetheless frustrating for the few loyal readers among you (for whom I am grateful, by whom I am, I admit, a little mystified; haven’t you got anything better to do with your time?). But it is, honestly, the case that Miss Edith’s been spending an awful lot of time away from her computer and away from home. This puts a crimp in the writing schedule.

Last weekend, for example, Notarius and I went to Vermont again. He was determined to climb a mountain somewhere – he’s prone to these attacks of Virtue in this way; Outdoor Activity is not something from which Notarius shies away, unlike yours truly – and it was arranged that, similarly to the plan a couple weekends ago, we would go stay in Vermont while he and a pal hiked some mountain or other. This time, instead of camping out at a remote farm with nothing but spiders, chickens, and other assorted wildlife and books to keep me company, I was delivered unto the fine little city of Brattleboro.

It is easy to enjoy Brattleboro. The place is compact and friendly; there are a surprising number of stores where it is quite pleasant to dispose of one’s disposable income. There are several excellent bookstores, two nice cafes, and, considering the size of the place, a lot of very good dining options. I’m a fan of Brattleboro. So to be left there and told to spend the day occupying myself nicely was not a burden.

I arranged to meet an old college roommate for coffee. She is a tall blonde, an Amazon woman by my standards, who has damn near nothing in common with me. Upon first meeting her in 1992 or whatever year it was, I apparently terrorized her by letting her know in no uncertain terms that she should never touch any of my belongings. This is not, of course, an auspicious beginning, and I recognize that I was not being a friendly person, but the fact is that the Blonde* became one of my best friends very quickly, and we’ve stayed in touch all these years. How these friendships form, between unlikely pairs – it’s really strange. For example, I will never ever admit to having played volleyball. The Blonde not only admits it but has even told me that she thought it was fun.

Wonders never cease.

The Blonde is now an extremely put-together happily married mother of two living in New Hampshire. Being the organized person she is, she received my email saying "yo -- wanna get together?" and apparently dropped everything to come meet me in Brattleboro (her husband, wisely, encouraged this reunion; god help the man who tries to prevent college roommates from getting together to gossip). We met at Mocha Joe’s – a landmark, now, in Brattleboro, though when I was spending serious time up there it had only just opened – and after consuming a fair amount of caffeine we ambled around town and, most importantly, shopped.

I know it’s common to make fun of rich New Yorkers (Jerseyites; Connecticut matrons; whathaveyou) who go to Vermont and New Hampshire and Maine ostensibly for the clean fresh air and canoeing and so on. I am often prone to such snobbery myself. But here I will cheerfully admit that, should Brattleboro’s retail operations go into a tailspin in the year 2007, it will not be because I ignored their wares. I think I may have single-handedly revived the local economy this past weekend. It’s official: I am a Connecticut Matron. Little Miss Edith – who’d’ve thunk it?

I acquired many remarkable little items over the weekend, few of which can I seriously justify, all of which I intend to enjoy thoroughly. Books – I got books --; and tablecloths – oh, did Miss Edith acquire some delightful textiles! --; and, perhaps most stunningly, an item that I had never thought of before but when I saw it, I knew instantly that I must have it: flannel-lined silk pajamas.

These are, of course, to be worn when the weather turns cold.

These are black silk lined in true red flannel.

If L.L. Bean understood me better, they’d’ve been carrying these for years.

Oh, my.

From a manufacturer about whom I knew nothing when I bought the pajamas, but now see is rather trendy – Mary Green – who makes some really very, very, nice things. They’re not cheap and they may not be to everyone’s taste, but let me tell you: black silk flannel lined pajamas – particularly when they’re on sale, as these were… It’s things like this that make Miss Edith sigh with joy when it’s the end of the day and time for bed.

And – Blonde: if you’re reading this… I know you’re laughing, but I wanted to apologize to you: I bought the last pair of those pajamas. You’ll have to wait for next season’s stock to arrive before you can splurge on your own…

*(The Blonde may be offended by my calling her The Blonde, so if she wants to devise another nom de blog, she should speak up, because it’s early in the morning and I can’t come up with anything better yet; what’s more, as I’m thinking about it, I think the name has a sort of rakish, Lauren Bacall type quality that I kinda like… but, you know, let me know. Certainly no offense is intended.)