Wading into 2023 with non-British royal scandals, velvety lips and Roman horizons

Welcome to A Few Good Mentions, a weekly (or so) toss-up of five random, share-worthy things I might come across, see, read, do, or eat in a given week. You can find me on Instagram, and my website, which I try my best to update with latest published works. Ok, let’s go!

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1.

The other royal debacle: When I heard an ad for the new podcast Corinna and the King, an “unbelievable true story of a love affair that brought the Spanish royal family to its knees,” I assumed this scandal had occurred centuries ago. NOPE! It hasn’t even been a decade! I’m honestly gobsmacked that I can’t recall having heard anything about this crazy romance between Corinna zu Sayn-Wittengenstein and King Juan Carlos I of Spain in this time of social media and hot gossip outlets, especially with all its components for a good crime drama: corruption, espionage, greed, conspiracies, royals! But now we have a podcast series (which I finished in two days).

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2.

When my sister told me she didn’t have a true red lipstick—like, an iconic, glam red—I did what any invested big sister would do, and scoured every makeup drawer, cosmetic bag, and purse pocket, rounding up all the tubes I owned. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder inside my parents’ downstairs powder room last week, we both went to town: apply, smack, smile, pout, wipe and repeat. Again and again. It was sweet, sisterly fun. Standing up against so many other brands and shades, the one I ended up coming back to—this was a mission on behalf of my sister, but I guess it also became a small, victorious confirmation for myself—was Lisa Eldridge’s Velvet Ribbon. It was the lipstick I wore as New Year’s Eve segued into New Year’s Day, and it was the lipstick I wore the rest of that evening upstate with family, lasting through many glasses of wine, delicious forkfuls of food, and kisses on kids’ cheeks. And it’s the lipstick I absolutely refuse to part with—not even for siblings.

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3.

Joyce made this cozy, zesty fish stew two weeks ago, and insisted I have a bowl while I was over for a late-night catch-up sesh (nevermind that I’d already eaten dinner and half a bucket of popcorn). And then I inevitably insisted on the recipe—which often happens when Joyce cooks up something delicious.

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4.

I never read Elizabeth Strout’s My Name is Lucy Barton, which thankfully isn’t requisite for diving into her latest novel featuring the same title heroine, Lucy By The Sea. The narrative follows Lucy in the early days of the pandemic (yes, OUR PANDEMIC), as she and her ex-husband William decamp Manhattan for a remote seaside town in Maine. What Lucy assumes will just be a week or two quickly (and also slowly—remember that feeling of time being so elastic?) turns into several months. And therein nestles the magic of Strout’s writing: Lucy’s candor and relatable observations in those everyday moments, during a time that would otherwise seem unreal if we hadn’t all experienced it ourselves. I didn’t think I was ready for any pandemic-set novels—too soon, too triggering—and yet this one, in which Covid drives the entire plot, feels familiar in a surprisingly gratifying way.

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5.

And finally, Rome’s beloved Roscioli is opening a New York City outpost, its first location outside the Eternal City. Trust me: as much as NYC is a hot destination for just about any restaurant or brand landing on its streets—and the arrival of LA’s Gjelina is currently holding onto the trophy for the hottest lunch in town—this Roman import is not a debut to take lightly. (IYKYK.)

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