Things and anthropologie

This time last year I was in the extraordinary New York City. Today, a year ago, I was making chocolate souffles at the Institute of Culinary Education, perfecting my beating and work with chocolate, then tasting other groups’ apple and calvados variations, wondering how cointreau would go in mine.. Cooking magical things in the snowy city, crunching ice under long boots back to my wood-floored and high-ceilinged room in mid town, pulling my hat down low and my scarf over my cheeks as I leaned into blusters and swung open the doors to gilded department stores. And then I discovered Anthropologie. Oh bliss. And the elaborate window displays are just the beginning. I sit here now with an Anthropologie cup filled with camomile tea next to me. I washed the dishes tonight and dried the plates with anthropologie towels. I wrapped a pretty floral apron around my waist as I pan fried a thick-cut sirloin, I timed the potatoes in the oven with a turquoise clicking binging timer on my fridge. A mass consumer I am not, but things remind us of where we have been, and where we must return.

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