Missing Out On Modernism Week

Well helllllo there - long time no speak! I'm back (ish), though still on bed rest. Booooo. Not that I miss my two-hour daily commute or anything, but for someone who's always on the go, sitting still is, ahem, challenging. I'll tell you what else I'm missing...MODERNISM WEEK in good 'ole Palm Springs. Double booooo. Most of you have heard thousands of times that my grandfather, E. Stewart Williams, designed both the Edris House and Frank Sinatra's Twin Palms estate, but I bring it up again because they're both featured on tours this week. I have my own personal memories of both these pads, but what I'd love to know is whether or not any of YOU are currently checking them out. I want deets, people! I mean, I'm currently a shut-in after all, so if nothing else share out of pity will ya? Sheesh.

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More Stew?

Just came across a great set of pictures of the Edris house on Flickr taken by srk1941. In the video clip on marthastewart.com, they flashed this hilarious shot of Mrs. Edris at a costume party with my grandparents. (Nice hat, Nan.) Here are some before and after shots of the house, including the gorgeous pool and fabulous bar. Yep, that's where I mastered the art of the lemon twist.

In addition to the matchless view, I always loved the wooden ceilings and indoor planter and lights. My grandfather tried to bring the outdoors in whenever possible, and I swear it's one reason I feel so at home outside. Now seriously, let's talk about that hat...

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A Tale of Two Stewarts

(images via PS Modcom and Auction Central News)

During a recent lull at the office, I started Googling friends and family to see what new gems popped up. (You know you've done it.) Hmmm, an old press release, dated wedding registries, and wait, what's this, marthastewart.com??? Upon typing in my grandfather's name, I click on the link to discover that Martha visited Palm Springs last October to take in some modern architecture...including a house my grandfather, E. Stewart Williams, designed! Oh, the Edris house. Glorious abode among the boulders. Marge Edris was one of my grandmother's dearest friends and I spent many a day lounging by her pool, gabbing her ear off and learning to make a very dry martini. Mmmm, martinis. If I only knew then that the house would warrant miss Martha herself to stand where I once stood, I would’ve paid more attention to the architecture and décor and less to my tan. Sigh. Though, do you think this means Martha and I are somehow cosmically connected?? Good. Me too.

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Speaking of Glamorous...

Today's board got me thinking about all the glamorous people in my life, and I kept coming back to this particular photo. This is my favorite photograph of my grandparents; two people who truly embodied elegance. My Swedish grandmother was a presence, standing nearly six-feet tall with crystal blue eyes. She was a gourmet cook and possessed a talent for making her own clothes so ahead of their time, her style rivaled even Chanel. My grandfather, as I've mentioned before, became a well known mid-century modern architect designing such celebrated structures as the home of Frank Sinatra. That is how I knew them in their later years, but this is how I like to think of them.

They met by chance in Sweden, and knew each other just five days before being separated for four years by an ocean and a war. Letters were exchanged, money was saved, papers were filed, and still, my grandmother was dangerously close to missing her only chance to travel to the U.S. She made it, however, and I'm living proof. This photo was taken shortly after they reunited.

I've been contemplating writing a book about their lives because the details are so unbelievable, it almost seems an injustice to not tell their story. My question is, what do you think?

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Desert Digs

(Photos by Julius Shulman and David Glomb via psmodcom.com)

I didn’t realize my grandfather, E. Stewart Williams, was an amazing mid-century modern architect until later in life. All I knew growing up was that lemons for martinis were picked from the tree in the courtyard, pocket doors left fewer hiding places, the indoor/outdoor fireplace was not a playground, and the fort we built high-up in the Tamarisk trees was rad. These days, it’s better known for its architecture, but it will always be Poppy and Nanny’s Palm Springs Paradise to me.

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