Yes, Halloween is around the corner; and no, that’s not why I like these plates. I’ll use them in April, August, and January, just to remind my dinner guests of their own mortality.
Isn’t that creepy enough?
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So unabashedly swank: if you were ever to serve brunch to stuffy future in-laws or your elegant boss, this mid-century toast rack salvaged from the London Ritz would be your table’s coup de grace.
When Mr. Misosouper and I married seven years ago, we didn’t register for any “fine” china; I zapped a set of Fiestaware with my gun, and figured that someday, when we had a dining room (at that point, we didn’t even own a kitchen table) and a fully-funded 401k, we’d buy something we really loved, price be damned. (Sidenote: I understand that some wedding guests like to purchase expensive gifts. But asking Cousin Tillie for a $278 pie server? Really?)
That day of reckoning, the day of dedicated dining areas and vested retirement plans, has arrived. I want this set of gloriously bird-flecked china, deep down in my soul. Is it too late to register? Never mind. I suppose we’re on our own for that $1450 gilded teapot.
As my best friend explains here, finding sustainable solutions for household goods often proves to be a, um, shattering proposition. (Long story short: she substituted their disposable paper to-go cups with glass versions, then her husband drove off with the new cup on top of the car. It broke.)
Here’s her replacement: a porcelain take on the landfill-clogging coffee cup, complete with soft silicone lid. Completely reusable, insulated, witty, and not made in China. (Well, Taiwan. But still not China.) And with the coupon code 40SAVE, a really good deal.
