I haven't yet come up with a proper way to describe this weekend, during which we paid tribute to Dorothy L. Sayers, Jane Austen, and the great Harriet Walter. HEY, HARRIET WALTER! Who has become both adjective and verb, both exclamation and censure. Not only my favorite thing about the summer but quite possibly the year—it amazes me to trace back the tally of riches that blossomed from one play, and one actress, and one book, and one author, which led to another and another and another and grows still, in twenty directions at once, with dear good friends to share them, and in one fell swoop renewing my faith in lucky stars.
Our weekend? Part pilgrimage, part reading group, part movie marathon, part food fest, part cocktail hour, part slumber party, and all decidedly, deliciously, wickedly gaudy. And now we have the book bags to prove it.