Town & Country

Town & Country

November 2020

Town & Country features the latest in luxury, from beautiful homes, sumptuous dining to exotic locations. In 11 gorgeous annual issues, Town & Country covers the arts, fashion and culture, bringing the best of everything to America's trendsetters

United States
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R 116,68
R 333,69
10 Issues

in this issue

1 min.
1993 sister, sister

Many designers have walked the halls of Fendi, including Maria Grazia Chiuri, Virgil Abloh, and, of course, the late Karl Lagerfeld. But for decades Fendi was truly a family affair. At the time of this shoot the six Fendi daughters (clockwise from top left: Maria Teresa Venturini, Federica Formilli, Silvia Venturini, Simona Saracino, Maria Ilaria Venturini, and Alessia Caruso) all worked with their mothers, the five Fendi sisters: Carla, Franca, Anna, Paola, and Alda. Now, with Kim Jones of Dior replacing Lagerfeld as artistic director, one imagines that creative director Silvia Venturini—designer of the Baguette bag and the only Fendi still at the company—will remain a maternal guide, the keeper of the family flame. ANDREA BLANCH FROM THE MARCH 1993 ISSUE OF TOWN & COUNTRY…

2 min.
who wears the crown?

Soon after the period of collective grief, the texting of the Ruth Bader Ginsburg quotes began. “My mother told me to be a lady. And for her, that meant be your own person, be independent” was frequently cited. Several married fans of RBG sent this: “In every good marriage, it helps sometimes to be a little deaf,” advice she said she also followed “in every workplace, including the Supreme Court.” That weekend a post with the words “Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you” was probably the second-most popular image in my Instagram feed, after portraits of the justice herself. My personal favorite? “What’s the difference between a bookkeeper in the Garment District and a Supreme Court…

6 min.
the secret cocktail party in the cloud

Every Saturday, at 5 p.m. Pacific Time, the San Francisco philanthropist Felicia Horowitz throws a dinner party. Only it’s not a dinner party as you recall them, from before lockdown. There’s no RSVP, dress code, or polite chitchat before the entrée. There is no dinner, as a matter of fact, except the one you make yourself. That’s because this party doesn’t happen in person but in the palm of your hand, in an exclusive app that’s still in beta but is already valued at $100 million. The Clubhouse is Davos in your phone, a social audio app where movers and shakers from Silicon Valley, the media, and Hollywood can log in and mouth off. Those of us in their orbit can drive by, eavesdrop, clutch our pearls, have a laugh (Jared…

3 min.
time tough

When I was growing up, my father owned a Rolex that I half suspected would be my sole inheritance after he blew through everything else in a libertine blaze of glory. It was the Submariner my mother had given him when I was born (and they were still together)—the prototypical diver’s watch, with a black face and glow-in-the-dark tritium markings, the kind Sean Connery wears in the first four James Bond movies. On a road trip once, I remember staring at the Submariner, as he slid his ’69 Porsche 912 into fifth gear, and asking, “Dad, why do you wear your watch backward?” “So I can check the time when I’m driving,” he said. His hand rested on the top of the windshield as he pushed the car over 100 mph.…

3 min.
aloha state of mind

Of all the things that happened during my three-month sojourn on the island of Oahu, the two I’ll remember most fondly are sunset surfing on Waikiki (it’s as great as you’ve heard) and the day I got my Hawaiian name. A Hawaiian name has to be given by a Hawaiian. Mine was given to me by island culture queen Kumu Ipolani Vaughan (“kumu” means teacher) while she was educating me in the intricacies of the lauhala hat, Hawaii’s answer to the Panama. After a few hours Kumu couldn’t remember my Western name and christened me “KamaKana” (“the gift”), with a laugh that made the Tahitian pearls in her earlobes bounce. Getting a Hawaiian name is humbling, but as I reveled in my good fortune it was Kumu’s glistening yellow gold bangle emblazoned…

3 min.
how not to be a slouch

Growing up in the South, I was reminded by my mother not to hunch over my plate like an animal every night at dinner. When I entered junior cotillion as a preteen, I learned proper deportment along with table manners and ballroom dancing, although my training stopped short of having my shoulders tied to a chair or walking around with a book on my head. Maybe that’s why none of it stuck. Now, bent over my computer like a fairy-tale crone offering someone a poisoned apple, I’m finally understanding the importance of posture. My office desk and ergonomic chair have given way to a lumpy sofa, thanks to the work-from-home situation. I rarely sit on a dining chair, since I have no kitchen table in my tiny apartment. My back aches,…