Katy Niner
An independent arts writer and editor with 16 years of experience in content creation for varied outlets including newspapers, magazines and commercial websites. Holds a BA in English Literature/Creative Writing from Princeton University and a MA in Visual and Critical Studies from School of the Art Institute of Chicago. My current book project, an expansion of my master’s thesis, focuses on recon/figuring the essentialized biography of sculptor Marisol to include her experience of living and art-making with Alzheimer’s disease.
This mise-en-scène gives a whole new meaning to rolling out of bed. Rusty wheels, weathered wood, hand-dyed linens (the new Brooklyn Collection from The Oriole Mill) and a steel guitar waiting to be strummed. I can hear the bed creak and shift as I tip over to check the time on the vintage clock, or take a sip of the half full (or empty?) glass of water. Plenty of morning left to while away in this union suit, to unfold the paper at the foot of the bed and tuck back in.
Rolling the grill out of the garage yesterday fired me up for the charbroiled parade of summer. With meat on my mind, I sought out an exotic outlet for my carnivorous cravings and found this Arcadian jewel in the fishing village of Jose Ignacio, Uruguay – beloved by some jetsetters in the high season (December to February). Dubbed the best beachside restaurant on the planet by Bon Appetit in 2012, La Huella sits at the end of the six-by-seven street downtown, on the sandy doorstep of the Atlantic Ocean (Bon Appetit food editor Hunter Lewis described the scene as a “bohemian pirate ship run aground – a warren of dining rooms, decks, and open kitchens made of wood and canvas”). Against a soundtrack of Tropicalia music, chef Alejandro Morales has mastered the art of the asado – the South American tradition of cooking meat of an open fire – in addition to many other gourmet traditions from around the world. The menu is a palimpsest of influences: Morales learned to make paella in Spain and shellfish pastas in Italy; for his breads, he drew inspiration from Tartine Bakery in San Francisco, and Chez Panisse compelled him to forge connections with organic farms. Now (spring, their autumn) is the time to visit Jose Ignacio: the 300 year-round residents resume their small-town rhythms, and with a new international art fair set for next January, the village – and La Huella – will surely see a spike in appetites.
Daylife. Nightlife. Lifestyle. This is the triad encapsulated by Fuglen, a Tokyo outpost which takes the coffee it presses as seriously as the cocktails it shakes and the mid-century finds it sells. The immaculate mix that is Fuglen – “the bird” in Norwegian – began in a decades-old coffee shop in Oslo: a barista and a curator revived the place in 2008, and two years later, a bartender joined them, hence the trifold offerings. From the get go, the trio talked about translating their concept in their two favorite cities outside Norway – Tokyo and New York City. Luckily kismet smiled on the idea and the pieces started falling into place: in Spring 2012, they opened Fuglen in their friend’s grandfather’s house in the up-and-coming Shibuya neighborhood. Not ones to rest on their hybrid laurels, the trio recently teamed up with famed artist Takashi Murakami on Bar Zingaro, a blend of Murakami’s Japanese kitsch aesthetic with their Norwegian living room vibe. With Tokyo saturated, the group is turning to New York, paving the way for a US of A Fuglen through a May showcase of Norwegian designers. I’ll welcome them stateside in this equally inventive rubber skirt by emerging Norwegian designer Christina Ledang.
I was named after Katharine Hepburn, a fiery legacy I’ve gladly embraced my whole life. But today, I came across a quote that deepened my sense of the star, widely considered to be the greatest female actor in Hollywood history. In the quotation, Lauren Bacall paints a portrait of her friend layering vulnerability and devotion atop the headstrong hue so widely depicted.
“There was always vivid Kate carrying her broken full length mirror to the set every day in Africa – Kate in tears at the death of friend Fanny Brice – Kate eating peaches out of a can in Africa – cooking for Spence – sitting at his feet keeping his coffee hot while hanging on his every word – Kate holding a small bouquet of flowers my first day home from the hospital with her godson, Sam. Kate was a doer – a worker – a riser above all things – exasperating – intimidating – loyal – funny – loving – sentimental – proud – passionate in her likes and dislikes – a lover of beauty – nature – she was all those things and even more.”
So in honor of Hepburn, I present a vignette inspired by her transcendent spirit: daffodil yellow, menswear-inspired-but-oh-so-feminine crinkled crepe pants worn (in my imagination) inside Seven Park Place, a Michelin-starred restaurant by famed chef William Drabble within St. James’s, a former men’s club now boutique hotel in London. A historically exclusionary space reborn in style, fit for a sparkling feminist.
Saturday mornings usually find me lolling in bed with magazines, an indulgent routine that sometimes leaves me feeling lazy. Would a reading nook break the continuum between sleep and relaxation? It would certainly give me a reason to wear a plush cashmere robe. This spot seams ideal, sited somewhere near surf, bright with natural light, cushioned by overstuffed pillows. My imprint on this world would see some clutter and a cup of coffee, yet still serene.