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I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I came out of my mother’s womb with my fist propped up beneath my chin, causing her to let out a blood-curdling scream. Not much has changed since then. I still pretend that neuroticism is an art.
I’ve learned that awkwardness on the carpet is a particular innate skill that cannot be taught.
@lolohoovs and I did a thing! That “thing” was a years-in-the-making proof-of-concept short film. There were tears, laughter, buckets of sweat, a few new gray hairs (which we promptly yanked out), and maybe one existential crisis—just for flair. But the real MVPs? The brilliant team and all of you who cheered us on from the sidelines.
Thank you for the support, the patience, and for not calling me out when I tripped on the carpet.
I’ve learned that awkwardness on the carpet is a particular innate skill that cannot be taught.
@lolohoovs and I did a thing! That “thing” was a years-in-the-making proof-of-concept short film. There were tears, laughter, buckets of sweat, a few new gray hairs (which we promptly yanked out), and maybe one existential crisis—just for flair. But the real MVPs? The brilliant team and all of you who cheered us on from the sidelines.
Thank you for the support, the patience, and for not calling me out when I tripped on the carpet.
Brooklyn flats, a Puerto Rican dad and a Norwegian mom. You buried your childhood in the words of others; On a fire escape, drowning out the noise of two opposite countries at war. And through the violence of it all, you found love. How lucky I am to be born to a human like that, who in spite of it all, saw wonder in the mundane. My story started with yours. And in the quiet shadows of mind, I can still hear you whispering the name you gave to me “wonder boon.” I miss you infinitely. Wherever I go, there you are. My mother, my soft. Happy birthday.
Brooklyn flats, a Puerto Rican dad and a Norwegian mom. You buried your childhood in the words of others; On a fire escape, drowning out the noise of two opposite countries at war. And through the violence of it all, you found love. How lucky I am to be born to a human like that, who in spite of it all, saw wonder in the mundane. My story started with yours. And in the quiet shadows of mind, I can still hear you whispering the name you gave to me “wonder boon.” I miss you infinitely. Wherever I go, there you are. My mother, my soft. Happy birthday.
Brooklyn flats, a Puerto Rican dad and a Norwegian mom. You buried your childhood in the words of others; On a fire escape, drowning out the noise of two opposite countries at war. And through the violence of it all, you found love. How lucky I am to be born to a human like that, who in spite of it all, saw wonder in the mundane. My story started with yours. And in the quiet shadows of mind, I can still hear you whispering the name you gave to me “wonder boon.” I miss you infinitely. Wherever I go, there you are. My mother, my soft. Happy birthday.
Brooklyn flats, a Puerto Rican dad and a Norwegian mom. You buried your childhood in the words of others; On a fire escape, drowning out the noise of two opposite countries at war. And through the violence of it all, you found love. How lucky I am to be born to a human like that, who in spite of it all, saw wonder in the mundane. My story started with yours. And in the quiet shadows of mind, I can still hear you whispering the name you gave to me “wonder boon.” I miss you infinitely. Wherever I go, there you are. My mother, my soft. Happy birthday.
Brooklyn flats, a Puerto Rican dad and a Norwegian mom. You buried your childhood in the words of others; On a fire escape, drowning out the noise of two opposite countries at war. And through the violence of it all, you found love. How lucky I am to be born to a human like that, who in spite of it all, saw wonder in the mundane. My story started with yours. And in the quiet shadows of mind, I can still hear you whispering the name you gave to me “wonder boon.” I miss you infinitely. Wherever I go, there you are. My mother, my soft. Happy birthday.
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
What a fabulous life to know and behold. Harriett Schutz Miller, 101 years old. A New Yorker through and through, a mother, a reporter, a fashion editor, a singer, a laugher. A woman who introduced me to the wonders of pancakes for breakfast, peanut butter and apples, morning sunlight, and how to dress. The epitome of class with a little dash of — zest. The first song she ever taught me was a drunken sailor song that involved women and beer…at 4 years old. The first words out of her mouth whenever I visited would be a pinch to the breast and an exclamation; “you gruesome! (Grew some).” She dressed impeccably. An epic piano player, host, care taker, lover of opera and all things beauty. She was old school, the kind you miss. She taught me table manners; where forks, elbows, and eyes should and shouldn’t go, a disapproving look to flash a waiter so as not to be rude but to show disappointment, she could love you with a breath and kill you with a glance. She introduced me to food, carvel ice cream and profiteroles, Chilean sea bass, oysters, burgers on Tuesdays and last but not least, CHOCOLATE. Her motto was moderation. She lived life and let life live through her. Kind, funny, entertaining and a subtle force. She will be missed but she will live on in every diddy sung from the hearts of drunk college students and impeccable opera singers around the world. What a spectacle to behold, to witness this phenomenal human who I had the absolute privilege of calling my grandmother. Thank you for letting me love you and letting me be loved by you. ❤️
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
Beyond grateful for the faces in front and behind the camera (so many more not pictured) who made dreams come true. Heart-swollen to the brim with gratitude.@lolohoovs and I couldn’t have done any of it without all of you. They say it takes a village, they are not wrong. Photos by the incredible bts photographer and all around talent: @vova.goroshnikov
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