"Every gift from a friend is a wish for your happiness."-Richard Bach

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If I were rich I would totally pull a Candy Spelling and build a giftwrapping room in my mansion. Except unlike Candy Spelling, my house would have some class and it would be in the south of France. It would be an understatement if I were to say that I love giftwrapping more than life itself. I love everything about it… The wrapping paper, the ribbon, the tape, the tissue, the gift cards everything! If I do say so myself I am a giftwrapping expert. My very first real job in the entire world when I was 18 years old was at Ralph Lauren Beverly Hills. My job? Gift wrapper! So obviously, I was trained by the very best. :-)

 

 

Grace and I have been known to during the holidays to watch giftwrapping competitions. Swear. She would obviously never do this with me now. She would rather die. We did this when invisible tape first came out and it was all the rage. At my antique shop, Circa, we were dedicated to giftwrapping. Our signature giftwrapping was black lacquered paper, a fig green and black striped ribbon and a wax seal. For the holidays I would add a sublime black “Joyeux Noël” ribbon. Gorge. There is a shop in Santa Barbara called Upstairs at Pierre Lafond. Their giftwrap was fantastic. Kraft paper, colorful Santa Barbara colored ribbon and always five sprigs of dried lavender. Whenever we would be going to a party, I would make my husband go upstairs to the shop to buy a hostess gift. He would say, “What do you want me to buy?” I would say, “I don’t care, just get it gift wrapped!” My other favorite giftwrap is from Assouline Publishing. They use white glossy paper with an ox blood wax seal. Minimal and chic.

 

Giftwrap paper is almost becoming like wallpaper. There are so many choices, nowadays. Super clever choices. My favorite companies right now for giftwrapping paper are Rifle Paper Co., John Derian, Norman’s Printery and Mr Boddington's Studio. Look look look…
 

There is a great video on the Quintessence blog with SusannaSalk interviewing John Derian about all of his fabulous giftwrapping papers! Watch it HERE.

 Ribbon, ribbon, ribbon! The icing on the cake. This is where you can get rather creative. The company I always turn to for ribbon is called Midori. Take a look at their ribbon and some other clever choices…

 

Wax seals can go both ways. You can do it by hand by melting the wax and using your own stamp. Nowadays you can use a hot glue gun with colored wax to speed up the process. That’s cool, but if you are doing a lot of gifts and you don’t have time to individually melt each seal by hand there is a solution! Custom-made wax seal stickers! They are exactly like the real thing. We used these for our store and I thought they were genius. The company is called Waxseals.com

 

Do you remember when all we had was ugly visible scotch tape to tape up the packages? So 1970s! Well thank God for modern-day technology because life is better now. Now we have invisible tape, Japanese Washi tape and printed tape. A great company for this is called Cute Tape. Take a look.

 

The best advice I can give for giftwrapping is to get organized. Get all your papers together, use the proper scissors, have lots of tape handy etc. Supplies are everything. Check out this Martha Stewart giftwrapping hutch from Home Depot. Not bad. I like the green color that it comes in. I would buy this only if I couldn’t afford my custom giftwrapping room of course.

 

 

 

 

I definitely recommend checking out my Have Some Decorum Giftwrapping Pinterest board HERE and also my Have Some Decorum Wrapping Paper And Supplies Pinterest board HERE. There are some great ideas and great sources to get ready for the upcoming holidays! In the spirit of my new Parisian life, I think this year for Christmas, I will do an artist/painter theme for all of the gifts. Look look look.

 

So that’s it for The Art of Entertaining for now. Let’s get back to interior decorating and then let’s focus on the fall season and the holidays.

*Something you don’t know about me? I have never done drugs. Never even experimented. Not once. Not ever. Not in high school, not in college, not at any reggae concert, never ever ever. I think I deserve a medal for this because I grew up in Malibu for God’s sake! I could legally get a prescription for marijuana but I refuse to because I’m scared of marijuana. I’m scared of all drugs. Including my own medication, NyQuil, aspirin, anything over-the-counter and all prescriptions. My husband tricks me/drugs me without my knowledge to get me to take my medicine. I will say to him, “Why does this yogurt taste funny?” He always feigns innocence but I know. I know the truth. My father always accuses me of doing drugs. Swear to God. We were in Hawaii a few years ago after I was diagnosed with ALS and at the serene oceanfront lunch table he says to me, “Ellie, are you still doing drugs?”

A toute!

I Can’t Bake.

It’s true, my personality does not allow me to bake. I am a fly by the seat of my pants type of girl and this is not conducive to baking. All of that measuring and precision is not for me. However, I do recognize a good cake when I see one. My cousin is a great baker, a temperamental baker, but a baker nonetheless. She usually makes all of Gracie’s birthday cakes and they are always amazingly clever. But what you have to go through while she is baking the cake makes it almost not worth it. Almost. Why are bakers always like that? They are probably just frustrated with all that measuring and precision but just won’t admit it, so it just festers inside of them and they take it out on unsuspecting cake eaters. But we still eat the cake so we are the enablers. I learned all of this from my friend Tom; he’s a therapist. We literally speak for hours a day about everything and nothing and solve all the world’s problems and wonder why everyone isn’t perfect like us. But anyway, back to cake and The Art of Entertaining.

To finish off a party, bringing out a cake, is just glorious. Just glorious! I prefer a homemade cake with homemade icing. It’s always a good idea to add a little “pièce de résistance” to your cake. Flowers, fruit or a supercool cake topper. Yes, I said it… Cake topper. There are some chic cake toppers believe it or not. Look look look…

 

And don’t forget the cake plate! Look look look…

 

 

 

If you want to see more fabulous cakes, cake toppers and cake plates, check out my Have Some Decorum Cake Pinterest board HERE

So on Saturday, we went to that fancy antique show I told you about. I have been to about, without exaggeration, 4 to 5 billion antique shows in my lifetime. This was one of the best. It even smelled good.

My husband and I got into a bit of a tiff/argument/discussion because I told him that I had heard that the antique show had so many valuables that it was insured for $50 billion. He disagreed and said, “Not 50 billion. Maybe 50 million.” My friend Tom, the therapist, always says to me, “Ellie, do you want to be right or do you want to be happy.” I want to be right so I said to my husband, “No, it’s 50 billion, douche bag.” When we got to the antique show, we went through the Graf jewelry booth and saw numerous flawless 50 carat diamond rings, in addition to Picassos, Mirós, 17^th century boiserie, Boulle furniture and Roman statues. My husband looked at me regretfully and said, “You were right. It’s probably $50 billion.” It’s so good to be right AND happy.

Here are a few photos.

 

 

On Sunday, we went to the “other flea market.” It was way out in the 14^th arrondissement so we took an Uber taxi. As soon as we got there I felt like “something was not quite right.” I couldn’t breathe very well so then, of course, I started to have a panic attack. When this is happening, I usually try to distract myself and I tried, I really tried to let the flea market be my distraction. Did not work. There were too many people, too much junk, the smell of french fries in the morning, and cigarette smoke mixed with sweaty French people. This has happened to me before. One year in Mallorca Spain, Diandra roused all of us at an alarming hour to go to the local farmers market. Within 30 minutes of us getting there, I was sitting on the curb, clammy, head hung low, sipping a Spanish version of Sprite and having a nervous breakdown. Why? Because Diandra bought Spanish ham at one stall and then a live bird at the next stall and then some cheese at the next stall. It was about 300°, we were hung over and the last thing you want to see is salami and animals co-mingling in repressive heat. I thought I was going to die. I should have known better yesterday. My husband tried to calm me down yesterday by trying to buy me something. This trick usually works but I didn’t even want anything. Except, now looking back, I really wish I would’ve had my wits about me because I really wish I would’ve bought these gorgeous yellow dishes. Now I’m going to spend a lifetime looking for their replacement. I did catch a glimpse of the stamp of the bottom. Martres France. There was also a little painting I should have bought but I didn’t have the energy to even take a picture of it. I just wanted to get the f*ck out of there. We summoned the Uber taxi. Nothing available. Apparently, Uber didn’t want to come to this flea market either. So we just started walking. My husband even admitted that he did not feel right at the flea market. We both decided that this flea market had bad mojo. We walked all the way home. From the 14^th arrondissement to the 1^st arrondissement! The only good thing about the day was that I saw these beautiful abandoned train tracks on our walk home. But besides that, the whole day was  hell. Note to self: stay in your comfort zone.

 

Stay tuned for the final installment (for now) of The Art of Entertaining. Hint: invisible tape.

*Thank you so much to everyone for their comments on something that we don’t know about each other! It’s fun getting to know everyone. What I really mean is that I’m glad we all hate the same things. Here’s something you don’t know about me. I never ever ever allowed Gracie to lick the cake batter because I was afraid of the raw eggs. Gracie learned the words “salmonella poisoning” before she could walk. She still hates me for that. My response: “Well guess what Gracie? Thanks to me you’re still alive.”