We went out for a stroll yesterday, up Newbury Street and then to the Haymarket and the North End. The goal was a Regina's pizza. I took a few photos (not of the pizza; it didn't last long enough).
Possum didn't want us to leave. Tried to barricade the door.
First, we dropped off a giant bag of clothing and shoes for Boomerang's at Dependable Cleaners. They accept and even clean all donations (mine were already spotless) and we got a tax receipt. So much easier than getting in the car and driving out to JP or to the Salvation Army on Mass. Ave.
Newbury Street was crowded and festive. Lots of women were wearing long, pretty sundresses, which I think are flattering on everyone. I'm glad they are still trendy. Men were usually dressed in tacky baggy shorts, printed tees, and sneakers. We went into AllSaints Spitalfields because my husband wanted to shoot some photos of the sewing machines filling the windows. Some of them have wonderful 19th-century designs of sphinxes or lotus blossoms, like this one:
We didn't realize you weren't allowed to photograph inside the store. We were ordered to stop. I was spoken to as I was shooting this amazing dress, which was the only thing I wanted to shoot. But look at this design; it's fantastic! It's got a bustle in the front. I promise not to shoot it again....
AllSaints has interesting, edgy clothes that still seem wearable, especially if you're 25. I doubt I'll see many of these dresses heading out to dinner on Newbury Street but you never know.
The Haymarket looked wonderful yesterday. We bought mandarin oranges that tasted like honey and a perfect bunch of red grapes that should have been painted by Raphaelle Peale (sorry, I've been focused on American art history lately). Even the guy who sold them to us stopped to admire them. My hands were too full of oranges to get my camera, but we all stood respectfully for a moment as he displayed them over his head before he lowered them onto his scale. Then the Cheese Guy talked us into dill havarti and Muenster, even though we have pounds of cheese in the fridge already. I guess you can't have too much cheese; at least not according to the American Cheese Council. Or the Cheese Guy.
The pizza at Regina's was the best ever. As usual. Sometimes I wonder if it tastes so good because we've been standing in line, anticipating it, for 20 minutes. But there was no line yesterday and the pizza was still astonishingly perfect. So it's now empirically proven that its the pizza — not the long wait in the cold, rain, heat, wind, etc.
We stopped at Bova's for gingerbread men. Sometimes you just need to bite someone's head off. There were only two left, and we thanked them for saving them for us. I couldn't resist shooting the display case. I wish I could have brought home one of each.
Then we walked home with heavy bags, collapsed, and watched too much Boston sports. What a night. Sorry about the Phillies, dad, but I have to root for the home team now.