quarantine, part two

Upon arrival in Latvia, we had to quarantine for 14 days. This is the 11th day of what feels to us like quarantine, part two. Honestly, I’m dying to take my face mask off. I’ve acquired a sort of acne on my chin from five months of wearing a face mask in New York.

I’m getting “smile lines” around my eyes from trying to “smize” all the time. 

I do not whine though, K. and I are lucky, and Latvia has been lucky, and wise. The government did a good job from the start, the infection and death rates from COVID-19, have been very low. We have come to a place where, for the time being at least, a reasonable, hands-on, let’s all do the right thing kind of sanity prevails. 

We moved from our first abode, a large sort of James Bond themed hotel room, with wonderful light fixtures and wallpaper that looked like a wall of dark, milk, and white chocolate streaming down the walls.

It had good, but fake Dupioni silk curtains at the immensely tall windows.

That was good, but this is better. We are now in a medieval hideout, where I imagine Jamie Lannister biding his time during a “plague,” a  “pox,”  or a rare period of sexual abstinence.

The wrought iron window guards, not here to keep us in, but put here by the owner of our cozy, little, beloved, well tended, wonderful opportunity, for the time being, living space. They were installed before Rīga became, once again, a place where all kinds of people wanted to come and stay, when the old city wasn’t at all welcoming, when people might have broken through your windows to steal, what, they may not even have had any idea themselves.

When I hung my clothes in one of the two enormous armoirs (like in most European countries, especially, of course, in old buildings, there are no closets), these were the first two things I hung up. Both long dresses are made of linen, the black one in Latvia from Pixie Won’t Play, and the white one from Arielle in New York City.

Linen is my summer, fiber of choice.

I like to think we have a lot in common, linen is: natural, difficult to process, elegant, and ages well.

Then of course there are the wrinkles, I love them but others can’t abide by them. I say learn, and furthermore, different types, weights, and grades of linen wrinkle to different degrees. But as with all things fashion, and not, quality is everything. 

If you’d like to delve into more about linen, and specifically its “sustainability rating,” here are two good articles from two reputable sources. The first is from Good on You, the second from Eco Cult

Although I haven’t yet purchased anything from Seaside Tones, a Polish brand, created by Anna Rutkowska, I know I soon will because I always linger over their Instagram pictures.

Their dresses, dusters, and jump suits, in both rich, saturated colors and pale pinks and greys that make “pastels” look like the sad washouts they are, say “holiday” to me, but could be worn anytime and anywhere. And the prices and world-wide shipping makes Seaside Tones a nice introduction for those who have not yet experienced the pleasures of wearing linen.  

And we haven’t even talked about linen sheets…


“And still she slept an azure-lidded
sleep, in blanched linen, smooth
and lavender’d.”

—John Keats



1 Comment

  • Leslie Coff says:

    “I like to think we have a lot in common, linen is: natural, difficult to process, elegant, and ages well.

    Then of course there are the wrinkles….”


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