Good morning! Hello.

Joel and Molly here... We just wanted to formally welcome you to our new newsletter, the Leisure Letter. It's a weekly, rolling list of recommendations dedicated to (if it isn't obvious): leisure. Things that pique our interest and tickle our fancy. Stuff we like and think you might like, too. Stuff worth getting out of bed for (or things to surf through while you stay tucked in). Imagine the picks and reccs section of our Sunday Paper, but delivered to you weekly via our editor, Sam who we'll let take the reigns from here on in... 

New year, same you, BUT new newsletter.

(It's Sam now, by the way)

Hi! Lovely to meet you and Happy *touches wood!!* New Year. 

We're off to bit of a wonky start and I'm just leaning right into the chaos. My current aesthetic is kaleidoscopic. Think: colourful! Theatric! Zesty. Halfway down the rabbit-hole-but-not-quite-at-the-bottom. Like this striped pyjama set, (which makes me feel like I'm off to the fete / *am* the fete) and slippers with pineapples on them. In reality I am listening to this Sunday playlist (you should to!) and in my imagination I am snuggled beneath the cashmerical that is this saffron-hued blanket.And while I don’t know what I’d actually do with this baby-or-pet-sized banana blanket, I am thrilled that it exists.

I’m also having a bit of a candle moment. Never not having a candle moment, really - if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times, any old meal is a candlelit dinner if you light some. But right now I’m into fun candles.Think: sculptural! Alert! Bold colours and assertive, twisty shapes. A flammable carnival, if you will. I didn’t realize that I needed one shaped like a romanesco cabbage until I did. I didn’t realize that bins could be quite so jubilant either, but there you go. Because aspirational 2021 self is both festive and radically hydrated, I dream of drinking my eight a day from these exquisite glass tumblers which are so "Mad Hatters Tea Party" (in a good way) it isn’t funny.

And speaking of buying things we don’t need and gradually going insane, this article will never stop being funny for me. A warning though; if you’re feeling particularly spirally - like, if you’re at the stage of lockdown where you’re building forts out of your online shopping receipts, and performing small skits for your cat - it might be less "ha-ha-lol" and more "ha-ha-ha-ha-oh-god-no-what-have-I-become" *cries hysterically because it is a bit too relatable*. Who knows? Nobody knows. Read it and see. You’ve got to get your thrills from somewhere, no?

And what about something else to read?

WELL, if you do want to weep hysterically (in the upbeat, hearty way) then I cannot thrust this book into your arms ferociously enough. If you want to weep hysterically in the actual way, or are thinking of getting a dog, this book was remarkably tender. Apparently (according to said book) emotional tears do something (good!) for us that the reflexive just-got-jabbed-in-the-eye kind doesn't, which explains why all rom-coms have a tear-jerker bit.

Le Corbuffet is a splendid book, too. Especially if you, like me, assured yourself that you’d regularly visit art galleries this year (LOL @ making plans!), or if you, like me, are the aspiring owner of a lot of glitzy, swoopy, furniture designed by Italians, but are the actual owner of Not Much Money. It’s a bit ridiculous (as the best things always are); a cookbook, technically, but also a design book (and also an art book?). Recipes are named for architects, artists, designers (Mies van der Roe dip! Superstewdio! Frida Kale-O salad!). And the photography is so gorg that you’ll want to keep it on your coffee table as a bit of a flex. One nice thing about January is that you can just buy yourself things without having to think about whether or not it should be a gift for someone else.

But back to food, my current diet of pouring jam over everything is in full swing (Have you ever added a dollop of it over porridge? You should.) This jam in particular. I’m having a fennel pollen moment currently, does that sound pretentious? I hope so. A simple trick to seem fancier than all your friends is to tell them you’re into fennel pollen at the moment. They’ll ask you how you use it but who cares! Be vague. Tell them the Italian word for it translates roughly as fairy dust, which it does. 

Eggs, as always, mean a lot to me. And while an egg salad sandwich might seem a bit lunch-at-nan’s-house, that’s sort of my entire vibe, and I am forecasting (manifesting?) a bit of an egg-salad renaissance for 2021. Don’t believe me? Fair. But try this: take two to three hard-boiled eggs (I swear by the 10 minute method), toss in mayo (Kewpie), finely diced, celery, mustard, salt, pepper and scallions. If you zoned out after the boiling-eggs bit, then that's fine too. Opt for a soft boiled one, but eat it out of this tartan egg cup. 

Anyway, you've probably had enough of my rambling for now, but I'll catch you next week for another Leisure Letter, full of ways to make your (let's face it) ample 2021 leisure time a little more interesting.

Take care and until next time,

Sam x