The Mood: Town & Country

Gardencore, farmer's market outfits, and a playlist for those upstate vibes.

“The time has come,' the Walrus said, To talk of many things…” Underwater Weaving Studio onion basket / Willy Guhl spindle planter (comp) / La Laboreur French Moleskine work short / Gardenheir Japanese typewriter cotton gardening chemise / Alice Waters’ The Art of Simple Food / Niwaki Sakagen flower scissors / Haws England metal pitcher / Gucci Off the Grid / Nutscene Botanical gardening twine / seed starter pots / Terrain Monarch Milkweed seed scatter garden / Gardenheir nail brush / Gardenheir Italian garden clogs

If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen photos and videos of my little urban garden coming along. It’s a project I’ve been lovingly tending to since Spring’s first buds. I love playing in the dirt. The Union Square Greenmarket is just a few blocks from my house, so I walk over a few times a week, and along with my veggies and eggs always lug home a plant or two.

Right now, I’m sticking with all things edible: basil, thyme, rosemary, and even a citrus tree. I love popping out to clip some herbs to cook with and having dinner al fresco. My friends and I have gathered for casual weeknight hangs and full-on parties replete with oyster shucking and champagne shots.

My secret garden is in progress! Photo: Ash Bean.

Gardening is sweaty, dirty work, and I wanted some reasonably-priced clothes that I could wipe my hands on but still answer the door in. This is what led me to Gardenheir, Alan Calpe and Christopher Crawford’s chic shop upstate in Windham, New York.

Both are native Floridians (I love finding fellow Floridians) who have lived and worked in New York City for over twenty years in the visual arts, arts education, fashion design, and retailing space. Their great taste and knack for merchandising are on full display in their charming space, which also has a thorough online presence.

Noah x Nikwaki garden tote / Astier de Villate flower vase / John Derian melamine plate / Billy Reid x Williams Sonoma oyster knife / Topologie phone strap / Le Chameau rubber wellies / Slop magazine / Kindred Black rose perfume oil / Flamingo Estate’s Fridays From the Garden

I’ve never really written in-depth about this (editors, I’m looking for the right outlet to tell this story, because it’s a whopper), but I used to work on an oyster farm in Charleston. There was a nursery, which was essentially a huge series of tanks, microscopes, and Petri dishes where we’d tend to spat (teeny baby oyster seeds) until they were big enough for cages in the open water.

---

---

Every morning around 5 am, we’d ride out on the boat to flip cages and pull whatever was ready for harvest. We would take those big, heavy baskets and haul them up onto the dock, where we’d spray them down one by one to knock off the sea grime. After, we’d strip off our wet clothes and bundle up in dry ones to spend the whole afternoon inside a walk-in freezer. There, we’d use the back part of our oyster knives to whack off barnacles and clean them up for the market. They were sorted by size, washed down again, and then bagged up by hand. A few hours later, a freezer truck would back in, and we’d load them up for somewhere like Whole Foods. It was a long, demanding, physically grueling process.

That experience gave me many things, chief among them a deep appreciation for where our food comes from and the hard work of farmers. I went from wincing at a three-dollar oyster on the menu to wondering why it didn’t cost more. I feel the same way about growing my own food and shopping the markets where I know I’m supporting the people who grew that food directly. Shopping and cooking seasonally inspire me and give me a lot of joy. This is why I never shut up about my trips to the farmer’s market and probably never will.

David Coggins’ The Believer / Doen cotton poplin dress / @noorarajbrown / The Walrus and the Carpenter pop-up book / @shayinjune / Gardener’s Edge Lever hat / Amundsen field shorts / Steele Canvas garden tote / @erinjennie / A.Emery Elliot sandals / Nette Laide Tomate candle / @clothesarefriends / Drake’s field jacket

A while back, I asked you to send me photos of what you wear to the farmer’s market, and I got a great response. I love the idea of making it something to dress for. (You can still have fun with clothes, even when they’re your grubbies, just ask Gardenheir.) To me, it gives reverence to the process but also punctuates the whole trip with a bit more meaning.

I’ll leave you with a playlist named after one of my favorite poems about oysters. It captures the folksy vibe of summer harvest and a season spent outdoors.

The Walrus and The Carpenter

by Lewis Carrol

"The sun was shining on the sea,

      Shining with all his might:

He did his very best to make

      The billows smooth and bright —

And this was odd, because it was

      The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,

      Because she thought the sun

Had got no business to be there

      After the day was done —

"It's very rude of him," she said,

      "To come and spoil the fun."

The sea was wet as wet could be,

      The sands were dry as dry.

You could not see a cloud, because

      No cloud was in the sky:

No birds were flying overhead —

      There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter

      Were walking close at hand;

They wept like anything to see

      Such quantities of sand:

If this were only cleared away,'

      They said, it would be grand!'

If seven maids with seven mops

      Swept it for half a year,

Do you suppose,' the Walrus said,

      That they could get it clear?'

I doubt it,' said the Carpenter,

      And shed a bitter tear.

O Oysters, come and walk with us!'

      The Walrus did beseech.

A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,

      Along the briny beach:

We cannot do with more than four,

      To give a hand to each.'

The eldest Oyster looked at him,

      But never a word he said:

The eldest Oyster winked his eye,

      And shook his heavy head —

Meaning to say he did not choose

      To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,

      All eager for the treat:

Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,

      Their shoes were clean and neat —

And this was odd, because, you know,

      They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,

      And yet another four;

And thick and fast they came at last,

      And more, and more, and more —

All hopping through the frothy waves,

      And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter

      Walked on a mile or so,

And then they rested on a rock

      Conveniently low:

And all the little Oysters stood

      And waited in a row.

The time has come,' the Walrus said,

      To talk of many things:

Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —

      Of cabbages — and kings —

And why the sea is boiling hot —

      And whether pigs have wings.'

But wait a bit,' the Oysters cried,

      Before we have our chat;

For some of us are out of breath,

      And all of us are fat!'

No hurry!' said the Carpenter.

      They thanked him much for that.

A loaf of bread,' the Walrus said,

      Is what we chiefly need:

Pepper and vinegar besides

      Are very good indeed —

Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,

      We can begin to feed.'

But not on us!' the Oysters cried,

      Turning a little blue.

After such kindness, that would be

      A dismal thing to do!'

The night is fine,' the Walrus said.

      Do you admire the view?

It was so kind of you to come!

      And you are very nice!'

The Carpenter said nothing but

      Cut us another slice:

I wish you were not quite so deaf —

      I've had to ask you twice!'

It seems a shame,' the Walrus said,

      To play them such a trick,

After we've brought them out so far,

      And made them trot so quick!'

The Carpenter said nothing but

      The butter's spread too thick!'

I weep for you,' the Walrus said:

      I deeply sympathize.'

With sobs and tears he sorted out

      Those of the largest size,

Holding his pocket-handkerchief

      Before his streaming eyes.

O Oysters,' said the Carpenter,

      You've had a pleasant run!

Shall we be trotting home again?'

      But answer came there none —

And this was scarcely odd, because

      They'd eaten every one."