Normalcy is terribly overrated. Give me your quirky, your weird, your delightfully inquisitive, your left of center, your odd, your bizarre, your playful grin and your mischievous wink. Anyone can blend in — into a crowd or a social media feed — but tell me, where’s the fun in that?
As for this week's playlist? Let's have some fun, shall we? I'm sure I'm not alone here when I admit I've only really been listening to Beyoncé's Renaissance album on repeat lately. And I'll throw in Maggie Roger's new album for good measure — with some Olivia Newton-John to top it all off. Hope you enjoy!
I read a quote from the sculptor Isamu Noguchi the other day that read: “When an artist stops being a child, they stop being an artist.” And that stayed with me. Because here’s the thing: that child you used to be? The one you were so eager to leave behind in pursuit of adulthood? Of responsibility? Of accomplishment? Don’t be afraid to go back to them. Look with their eyes. Wonder with their heart. Seek answers and understanding with their curiosity. That child, in a beautifully ironic sense, actually knew more about living, truly living, than the years since have taught many of us. Hold onto them. Keep them close. And when you’re in doubt, I hope you can quiet the noise and listen to what they have to say.
Hope you enjoy this week's playlist — it's a catch-all for everything we listened to while traveling around Italy. Prepare to dance a little, cook a little and generally live la dolce vita while listening! Andiamo!
When I'm alone, my mind travels to a lot of places. Ones I've been to and ones I've only imagined from afar. Familiar faces and strangers meet me there, as well as my dreams, my hopes, my worries — the noise that keep me up at night. But without fail, when it's deeply quiet and I'm truly alone, my mind always finds its way to you. And I relish the company.
Hope you enjoy this week's playlist — no general theme this week. Just a collection of feel-good, I can almost taste spring songs that encourage you to open the windows while you're working and dance for a track (or two).
Even on the busiest of days, there's a calming stillness to a museum like The Met. If you listen closely, lean in perhaps, you'll hear it — the current of energy pulsing through the rooms, a low hum of the whispers, secrets and stories each masterpiece bears. We walk amongst it, sometimes unaware of it, but I like to think it's always there. A thin veil that only history and fantasy can shroud us in. Each piece stands frozen in time, their gaze fixed as if to stare right at us. Or perhaps, it's fair to say they're staring through us, as if we are the intruders in a scene created long ago.
I suppose that's why I'm always drawn to visiting museums either first thing in the morning or right before closing time. A witching hour, if you will, where the stillness is more palpable, the crowds are no where in sight and the gossamer curtain separating fact and fiction is momentarily pulled back. Did the eyes in that painting follow me? Did the snakes on Medusa's head coil and hiss? Do I hear the rustle of a gown in an otherwise empty gallery room? Is my imagination running wild? Or is it not running wild enough?
I snapped these photos with my dear Marcus Richardson in the European sculpture hall at The Metropolitan Museum of Art early in the morning before their doors officially opened for the day. For my bard fans, we were inspired by the final scene of Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale, where a statue of the late Queen Hermione comes to life to dance among the living again.
And this week's playlist is what I like to think Queen Hermione might have listened to once she was resurrected.
The moment you start seeing your life as art in all states — the mess, the masterpiece and everything in between — you start realizing how important the brushstrokes are. The details you could miss if you didn't come up close to admire. The symphony in nuances. The poetry in mistakes. The prose in confusion. The manifestos in the mundane. Don't overlook those. They're worthwhile, too. Usually even more so.
And since we're long overdue for a weekly playlist installment, I've put together an assortment of my favorite orchestral soundtrack numbers, perfect for writing to, workouts and running errands. Hope you enjoy!
For as new as New York feels to me — new construction, new skyline additions, new restaurants, new faces, new styles, new definitions of what it means to be “cool” — I’m always pleasantly surprised by the amount of old souls I tend to find in this city. People with a story about that corner or that now shuttered shop just a few blocks up, people who remember versions of New York I may never experience, but at least get to witness through them. They’re the ones who live for the ephemera unique to this city, because when things are constantly changing, there needs to be stewards of what once was. Those with a bittersweet affinity for the joy and sorrow of things in ever changing flux.
And while I adore New York for her vanguard of newness, it’s the old souls who bring it meaning for me, who bring it gravitas, who bring it depth. Perhaps they find me. Perhaps I find them. I’m not sure. Either way, I know I’m so happy when I can add one to my orbit and Naeem is one such old soul. I hope you enjoy what we captured the other day together while walking around Little Italy with his Rolleiflex camera from 1966.
Just because I'm soft, it doesn't mean I'm weak. Just because I'm quiet, it doesn't mean I don't have something to say. Just because I'm sensitive, it doesn't mean I won't stand up for myself. Just because I feel deeply, it doesn't mean I won't set boundaries. After all, you know what they say about assumptions...
I know it's been a minute since I've shared a weekly playlist. I've definitely missed curating them for you and I've missed learning about and discovering new artists from you, as well! Let's shake off the cobwebs shall we? Put this playlist on if you're in need of a January reboot.
Last night, I listened to five pianists play in Central Park. And it was the first time in a few weeks that I didn't feel overwhelmed by how much I miss my sweet pup, Elvis. While they didn't play a classical rendition of "Love Me Tender" or "It's Now or Never," (which honestly, if they had, I would have likely started crying uncontrollably) they did however, play quite a few of my favorites like Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" and Debussy's "Clair de Lune." In a lot of ways, as I sat there in the park, wrapped in the fall evening air, it was just the hug I didn't know I needed. Music is miraculous like that, isn't it? Always healing in ways we didn't think possible.
As for this week's playlist, I decided to put together an assortment of the previously mentioned five pianists — The 5 Browns — all siblings who attended Juilliard to study classical piano. I hope they sooth you in some way, as they've certainly soothed me.
And while we're on the subject of the healing power of music, I'll leave you with this excerpt from a welcome address at Boston Conservatory, given by Karl Paulnack, pianist and director of the music division at Boston Conservatory:
"If we were a medical school, and you were here as a med student practicing appendectomies, you’d take your work very seriously because you would imagine that some night at two AM someone is going to waltz into your emergency room and you’re going to have to save their life.
Well, my friends, someday at 8 PM someone is going to walk into your concert hall and bring you a mind that is confused, a heart that is overwhelmed, a soul that is weary. Whether they go out whole again will depend partly on how well you do your craft.”
Truth is, I don't currently feel nearly as carefree as I look in this photo. I probably won't tomorrow either. And that's OK. Like everything else in life, pain, grief and loss aren't very linear. They come in waves. Right now, in the aftermath of losing Elvis, I'm just trying to ride them as they come. For anyone else who needs to hear this today, I hope you can extend yourself the same grace and kindness you would show a friend. You most certainly deserve that
As for this week's playlist, it's a sentimental one. Lots of tracks that were actually curated on my Discover Weekly playlist the morning before Elvis passed away. Either my Spotify algorithm is getting scary accurate these days or the universe knew I needed to hear this assortment of songs to weather the week ahead — whatever the reason, I blasted a lot of these tracks at full volume while driving around Martha's Vineyard last week. In a lot of ways, I think Elvis was howling and barking along with me.
The other day, as I was walking along the stretch of 5th Avenue that hugs Central Park, the setting sun splashed through the trees and something struck me. A feeling of quasi déjà vu — a recognition of a moment that I hadn't exactly lived, because I recognized it from a daydream. A moment that I had pictured years before moving to New York, of seemingly normal walks back home, or to the train, or perhaps to meet friends at restaurants I didn't yet know — equal parts lost and belonging to the streets of the city I hoped to call home someday. A moment I had framed in my mind to capture how I thought I might go about living in New York — of summer nights walking alongside Central Park with nowhere to be, but absolutely everywhere to go at my fingertips. And there I was, on a seemingly perfect August evening, doing exactly what a younger Krystal had only dreamed about years earlier.
I suppose this is my way of reminding myself (and you all) to honor those moments — the moments you realize you are living exactly what you dreamed of only a few years before. Admittedly, they can be easy to miss in the shuffle of things (especially when new dreams float in) but if and when you sense them, try to walk with them for a bit. Recognize and appreciate where they carried you and, if you happen to be taking the long way home like I did the other day, whisper where you'd like them to carry you next...
And on that note, hit play on this week's playlist. I know it's been a minute since I've shared a weekly playlist around these parts (a styling project coming up in September is currently taking up a lot of my time) but given yesterday's news of Charlie Watts's passing, I figured a little Rolling Stones was just what the doctor ordered for everyone.
On my way to the train the other day for an early morning shoot, I passed a sidewalk note scrawled at my feet, one that I often find in different pockets all around the city — "Dream until it's your reality." I'm not sure who needs to hear this, but I hope this post and today's playlist serves as your reminder to do just that. Don’t stop dreaming until it's your reality.
And on that note, hit play on this week's playlist. I think there's a little bit of magic infused in this one — sure to make you stop and dream for bit. Enjoy!
Tibi slip dress (old, similar style here) // Shot on location in East Marion, Long Island
Yesterday we walked through a field of French lavender, just before a summer rainstorm. And I have to say, I don’t think I’ve encountered such an intoxicating scent before — heady and sweet, yet earthy and musky. An alchemy of seasonal magic coming together to do what nature does best — surprise and delight. Oh, how I wish I could bottle it somehow. A souvenir of a summer day that I could revisit in the cold of winter. For now, the lavender at my bedside will have to do.
In case you're yearning for the south of France right now (or in this case, East Marion out on Long Island!), I hope today's playlist transports you for a moment or two.
My apologies! I never intended to take a break from our weekly playlist installments — but a few out of town trips and elaborate photoshoots got the best of me, and well, here we are. Thankfully, now that we're in the thick of summer, music seems to ooze out of everyone's pores, mine included! Everywhere I turn in the neighborhood, music greets me. An open apartment window blasting Fleetwood Mac. The bar downstairs with their Prince cranked a bit louder than they should, but after the year we just had, who cares? Down the street, a convertible cruises to the beat of Frank Ocean's "Super Rich Kids" and it's officially stuck in my head for hours. And in the park, a quartet serenades families and lovers alike with their rendition of Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue." Yep. New York is an orchestra right now. And her melody is sweet, vibrant and ALIVE.
On that kick off note, I hope you enjoy this week's playlist. It's a bit random and all over the place — but much like New York, I prefer it that way.
It's Saturday. You're walking around the favorite parts of your neighborhood, partially running errands, partially looking for excuses to soak up the sunshine. A single alfresco table looks lonely at your go-to Friday night restaurant. You don't have a friend in tow. Or your partner. Or moreover, perhaps you're single. Whatever the scenario, you're alone and really craving a crisp glass of white wine to beat the heat and an indulgent meal. For just you. And you alone. So you flag down the maître d' with an effortless "Table for one, please" as you fish out your current book from your shopping tote before ultimately adjusting the chair for the best angle to people watch down the sidewalk.
You sigh contently. You order that glass of wine and burrata with pesto and press play. Nina Simon tells you how she's feeling good. Nancy Sinatra tells you how her boots are make for walking. And there's a Girl from Ipanema who seems to charm everyone in her path, much like you today.
You smile as you remind yourself, sometimes the best company, is your own.
During my many walks around the city over the course of lockdown, visiting The Plaza always felt particularly comforting to me. In the best of times, the hotel sits so proudly at the corner of bustling 5th Avenue traffic, a stoic guard watching over Central Park. And in the most quiet of times, like much of 2020, it felt like an old friend I needed to see every so often — a beacon of what makes New York so special; a magic that could never be extinguished. In those early months of quarantine, I’d pass those iconic gilded doors and think to myself, “I can’t wait for the day you’re open once again.” And I’d daydream about a return of parties and late night rendezvous that lead to midnight champagne and dancing until our feet hurt, dressed in our very finest. If the city is our oyster, the Plaza is most certainly the pearl. A testament to everything that heady, whirlwind New York romance is made of. And each time I’d walk past, I promised myself to savor the moment their doors were open once more — a moment, I’m so pleased to announce is finally upon us.
As of a few weeks ago, our dear Plaza, the stomping grounds of so many quintessential “only in New York” memories is re-opening and I, for one, may have teared up a bit when I breezed through their gold revolving doors for the first time in far too many months. My dear Plaza, it’s so lovely to see you again. I’ve missed you so.
And in case you want to get in the overly sentimental Plaza mood like me, look no further than today's playlist, which I think would be fitting for roaming the many grand hallways and ballrooms of my favorite New York institution. Heck, would be perfect for dancing down the hallway, too.
This week, between the news cycle and a handful of deadlines that crept up on me, I needed a seriously relaxed playlist. Something that might hit like a much needed cocktail at the end of the day. Since we haven't gravitated toward folk songs lately, I figured I would start with a few melodic favorites by The Staves, Nick Mulvey and Ray LaMontagne and see where it took me. Sometimes, I like to think these playlists of mine are extremely thematic and other times, I'm purely just looking for songs that pull me toward an emotion I've been mulling over lately. Perhaps it's the pandemic wearing on me more than I realized or the heaviness I'm feeling in general about the state of the world, but it's been nice taking more time to be quiet, reflect and truly feel what I've been feeling.
If you're in a similar boat this week, I hope this playlist lifts your spirits, or at the very least, cradles them. And, in case you happen to listen all the way through, you'll notice I just had to end on a little note of Dolly — the Queen of always making us feel better, am I right?
Do you have a favorite Beatles song? I know — it's nearly impossible to narrow down. And I have many top contenders, but I always revert back to my longtime favorite from the 1965 Help! album: "I've Just Seen a Face." Coincidentally enough, it fits perfectly with this week's obsession with meet cutes in film, TV and yes, real life. Here's a snippet of the lyrics to show you what I mean:
"I've just seen a face // I can't forget the time or place // Where we just met // She's just the girl for me // And I want all the world to see // We've met // Had it been another day // I might have looked the other way // And I'd have never been aware // But as it is I'll dream of her // Tonight"
And isn't that just the magic of serendipitous meetings? Mere chance and circumstance — a glance, a passing encounter, a happy accident causing the crossing of two paths?
With that spirit in mind, this week's playlist is dedicated to all the chance encounters — of friends and lovers in equal measure. Sometimes, all it takes is being open to the possibility of it (as opposed to looking for it specifically) that sets the right people in our path, exactly when we need them there.
My two cents? Listen to this playlist for your next neighborhood/park walk and don't look at your phone. Be present. Take in your surroundings. Be acutely aware of them. Appreciate them. And see who else might be doing the same. You might be pleasantly surprised by what (or who!) you find.
Sometimes, the best company you can ask for is your own. As an introvert myself, I realize that statement is likely biased, but I don’t think it’s any less true for my extroverts. There's lasting happiness in finding contentment when you're stripped of all activities, all events, all distractions. As a young girl, I favored time spent alone with my books and journals, usually opting for smaller friend group activities in lieu of large parties and it took me years to realize that wasn't something to be ashamed about. Now as an adult, some of my favorite weekends, despite how much I love my friends and of course my guy, involve a good amount of solo time. Reading on a park bench, strolling through a museum for the afternoon or even, when theaters were still open, catching a matinée at the Paris Theater — a courtship between me, myself and I. A chance to sit alone with my thoughts.
Of course, much of the past year has pushed us all to the limits of how much we can actually take of ourselves without the surface cracking a bit and trust me when I say, my surface has cracked, too. I miss my family. I miss my friends. And good God, I miss hopping on a plane! But yet, it's reaffirmed for me the things I really do relish in making time for — things that fuel me and me alone. So as we're sitting here on the precipice of normality on the horizon, and perhaps a wave of pressure to over commit to each and every social invite that comes our way once vaccinations start to fully roll out, I figured we could all use a gentle reminder that there's no need to rush out the gates to start "living publicly" again either. Because really, life was buzzing along this whole time, quietly and vastly differently of course with a lot more solo time than perhaps we're all used to, but buzzing just the same, whether we realized it or not. If you find yourself feeling burnt out or overcommitted in the weeks, months to come, I hope this post reminds you there's absolutely nothing stopping you from setting up time with the best company around — and that's you, and you alone.
As for this week's playlist? Well, let's just say it's not at all tainted by my bitterness at the reality I wasn't picked as an extra for the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel season 4, which is currently filming in NYC. No, I'm not upset in the slightest. I promise.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to don my 60s best and dance to these tracks until I feel better. (But again, my feelings aren't hurt. Truly.)
When I think about last spring, April of 2020, my mind flashes to a lot of places and just one place all once — and that's our apartment here in New York. I won't lie — it's hard to reflect back on and even the sound of a siren today, a seemingly normal occurrence in a city this size, makes me think about walking down 7th Avenue on what would by all accounts be a beautiful spring evening, to only find it deserted. Stores and restaurants shuttered, with nothing but a consistent ambulance wail piercing the 70 degree skies.
I know I'm not alone when I say that each day in 2020 brought a new sense of fear and anxiety, while we tried our best to remain hopeful that little by little, light would lead us out of such a dark time. Plans were canceled. Family visits were postponed indefinitely. Harrowing headlines punched us in the stomach. And we lost loved ones. Too many loved ones. The world of our making — of theater, of concerts, of crowded restaurants, stopped spinning. Practically overnight. Of course, the outside natural world didn't stop, as winter slowly loosened its grip, giving way to spring. I remember watching the tree in front of our window, my portal to the outside world as I thought of it then, admiring it as it stretched its limbs and flowered once more. Birds chirped, happily unaware — flitting from branch to branch, perhaps building a nest or two. It was a spring season none of us could touch. None of us could bask in. None of us could relish. How could we? The stakes were too high to do so.
I thought about all this last week, as I sat under the wide branches of a cherry blossom tree in Central Park. Petals seemed to float around me as the breeze kissed them, the early morning sun dappling through to warm my dawn chilled skin. If last spring was seemingly stolen, I thought to myself, I would try my hardest to steal it back this time around, in all the ways that I (safely) could. Starting first with this magnificent tree near the Strawberry Fields entrance — the perfect spot to sit alone with my thoughts, as the city I love slowly comes to life for the day. Now tell me, how are you relishing spring these days?
As for this week's playlist, I'll admit it's a bit of a mixed bag of artists and genres (which is exactly how I like it) but I promise there was an undercurrent of "feel good nostalgia" running through it, perhaps perfect for your next spring evening walk when you need to clear your head and lift your spirits. I know this week (and the past several weeks/months/past year) have been incredibly heavy so I wanted to put something together that could make you feel reassured, and songs from my youth always make me feel that way. And if all else fails, listen to Des'ree on repeat until further notice.
Raise your hand if you've also been binge watching Stanley Tucci's Searching for Italy on CNN. Last weekend, my boyfriend and I devoured the show. And I mean, we ate up every last, savory detail. What a beautiful, transportive program, made all the more poignant given that we're all home bound these days and can't jet off to Sicily or Capri or Rome (sigh). For the indoctrinated, Tucci (yes, that Tucci who I can't separate from The Devil Wears Prada) explores different regions of Italy, discussing culture, history, art and even some politics along the way all centered around one thing — why, food of course.
Naturally, Italy is the main character in this series and the cinematography is truly breathtaking — a visual feast for all the senses (confession: I might have started drooling during certain meals), but I think it's Tucci here who really emerges as an unsung hero himself. His wit, his charm, his ease in jumping back and forth between Italian and English and even his ability to broach certain subjects like immigration and refugees — make him my latest celebrity crush. Trust me, when you see him casually strolling down the streets of Rome in his perfectly cuffed linen trousers and unbuttoned, fitted shirt, you'll see what I mean.
So today, in honor of Tucci, Italy and all things wanderlust, today's playlist was curated with the idea of a big Italian road trip in mind. I hope it makes you twirl and dance around your apartment (or your neighborhood!) the same way it's done for me. Andiamo! (Fair warning though: you might crave copious amounts of Italian food while listening to this.)
When I was in elementary school, my mom insisted on picking us up from school most days, as opposed to letting us ride the bus home. While part of me, like any kid who feels deprived of "what the other kids are doing" felt like I'd rather be chatting with my friends and swapping leftover cookies we didn't eat at lunch on the bus, there was something undeniably nice about hopping in my mom's car at the end of the day. Like we had the rest of the day to get into trouble. And by getting into trouble, I mean heading over to Barnes and Noble where I might pick out a new book. Or perhaps to her favorite antique store, where I'd help her pick out silver pieces to add to her tea set.
She'd be sitting there, in her Toyota Landcruiser, sunglasses on, blasting her favorite radio station — Magic 95.5. I can still remember the station jingle and I bet if I heard some of the disc jockey voices, I'd be transported straight back, to the backseat with my sister, windows rolled down (the A/C didn't work well in her car), singing along to the likes of Fleetwood Mac, Annie Lennox and, of course, the inimitable Tina Turner. Strong front women, with grit, with style, with presence.
Last night, like some of you perhaps, we watched the Tina Turner documentary on HBO, and I was instantly reminded of these late afternoon drives with my mom. And it made me smile. So this week's playlist is a sweet homage to Tina, of course, and a few of the other leading ladies of that era who, without my 10-year old self realizing it, taught me something about love, heartache, owning your own power and, yes, throwing your hair around wildly while you dance, because why the hell not?
Over this past summer, I wrote a post all about romanticizing your life. A means of putting yourself and the details that inspire you on pedestals. A means of seeking out inspiration, no matter where you may be. A means of seeing yourself as the main character in a movie that you really want to see. A character you admire, one you root for. You can read the full post here.
Of course, I chuckled at the fact this past summer, Gen Z latched onto a similar idea — a phrase that aptly goes: "main character energy." And you know what every main character needs? An incredible soundtrack. One that narrates without narrating, cueing the quiet moments of introspection, the depths of melancholy and the swell of elation without uttering a word.
Oddly enough, just last week, Allie mentioned my other job really should be as a music supervisor for films and TV shows and before she could even finish her sentence, I yelled out, "I know! I would love that!" There's something about the subtlety to a beautiful musical score that conveys so much emotion and feeling for an audience — and I'm endlessly inspired by people who get to tell stories that way.
All of this is to say, this week's playlist is a sampling of some of my favorite (mainly orchestral) musical numbers from beloved movies and shows. I hope it reminds you, in some small way, that your scenes are always the most important ones.
This week's playlist started first with the Black Pumas song "Colors."
And it snowballed from there. I actually went for a long walk around the neighborhood last night with this as my soundtrack and it struck all the right notes for me. Introspective. Feel-good. Quiet at the right moments. Beat on your chest at others. Given how heavy the world feels, especially at this very moment, I wanted to create a playlist that helped clear your mind but also lift your heart.
Just a heads up: there's a cover of Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come" by Los Coast and Gary Clark, Jr. that will most definitely make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. In a good way. Hope you enjoy!
I’ll let you in on a daydream of mine. Someday, when I’m a little old lady, retired and happily set in my ways, I’ll walk into my garage at a summer home I bought in Tuscany and pick out a classic car to drive for the day. Perhaps it’ll be a 1962 hunter green Mercedes convertible with the most beautiful tan leather interior. Or maybe I’ll opt for something a bit more sporty, a two-seater MG from the 70s — candy apple red. And I’ll drive into town at a speed “too fast for my age” (a comment from locals that will only make me drive faster) and I’ll pick up my groceries for the week. I’ll apply my lipstick in the rear view mirror with the utmost dexterity thanks to years of muscle memory, fasten a silk scarf over my already wind tousled hair and I’ll smile and playfully wink at some of the tourists in town, as they wonder, “Now who could that be?”
Of course, until this day arrives, I’ll happily dream about it every time a classic car catches my eye, which thankfully in New York, happens quite often.
As for this week's playlist? It's very much inspired by this daydream of mine — a collection of swelling, feel-good, roll the windows down, step on the gas and drive kind of songs. And now with temperatures creeping into the mid-60s this week here in New York? Well, all the more reason to daydream about carefree spring days not too far off.
Hope you enjoy and if you have any mood/theme requests for these weekly playlists of mine — please do let me know!
2minute read2minute read A playlist perfect for your next wintertime soak. Slightly melancholy, overly romantic and just the right amount of ruminative, ideal for daydreaming.
