For the real Mississippi Mavens.

photo from here

The name of this blog is misleading. Or at least it is now. Maybe it always was.

For starters, I'm not from Mississippi. Sure, I lived there for six years during college, did a lot of growing up there, did a lot of growing down there. But when I first arrived I was an outsider from another planet. Close encounters of the California kind. I didn't know what half the food was (turnip greens, pardonez-moi?), I didn't know the basic rules of civilized society. Who would have thought leaving the house with wet hair was the worst offense a girl could commit? Other than drinking a beer straight from the bottle or smoking a cigarette (gasp!) standing up. It wasn't the smoking that could kill you, it was doing it without sitting in a chair with your legs crossed. 

Before I found my way, I was caught somewhere between trying to blend in and trying to stand out. I had left the comfort of my all-girls boarding school full of progressive Catholics (I promise that's a thing, maybe only in California) and had been dropped in this big new place, full of the most beautiful co-eds on the planet. I'm telling you, the girls at Ole Miss don't sweat. You can walk around the Grove in 100-degree heat at 80% humidity and these Mississippi queens are still perfectly poised, crisper than a saltine on the side of a delta tamale. They're God-fearing, power-walking, gracious women who let me into their world.

And what a world it is. The town of Oxford has become an icon in the last few years, popping up in stories from The New York Times, McSweeney's and the like. It personifies the southern idyll: rich with history, charming residents, Fried Fridays  and Faulkner. A very small town, especially in the summer, you'd think Oxford would be one-dimensional. Ole Miss, the square -- cut and dry. And you'd be wrong. This little place is dripping with culture, full of artists, musicians, chefs, athletes, intellectuals, stoners and fire-and-brimstoners. A town so rich in history that is worthy of all the stories written for it.

This small town's got style, too. In spades. Head upstairs to the City Grocery bar on any given night and you'll see the Mississippi Mavens in all their glory, right at home with a sazerac in hand and Lamar Sorrento on the walls. I set out to shine a light on these cool, coifed beauties with this blog. It veered away from its original purpose as I veered away from Oxford, becoming more of a spot to share inspiration and a passion for interiors, all with a dash of style that I soaked up in my Ole Miss years.

I'm back in California, and it looks like I'll be here for a while -- so it's time to say farewell to this here blog. I plan on starting something related to my hometown in the blogosphere soon enough, but felt like I needed to write one final love letter to the place that inspired me, this little speck of internet, and so many others who are lucky enough to visit. 

So thank you for reading over the years. Even though I was never a true Mississippi Maven, I sure did love being in their orbit for a little while.

1 comment:

El Jefe said...

What a beautiful sign-off! You have a gift. I want to go to Oxford and smoke cigarettes in that beautiful place (it ain't no Honky-Tonk!). I can't wait for the Cali Maven to start her new blog...


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