Why I Should’ve Taken Grandma Up on Knitting Lessons

by Cristina Mueller (Berkeley)

Not your average steely bike rack: I spotted this newly knit guy just a few blocks from my house.

If you’ve started to notice that your neighborhood fixtures are suddenly changing colors, you’re not alone. The first time I stumbled upon that prettily knit bike rack above, I couldn’t help but smile—what a funny and wonderful idea. And then I immediately had to find out more. After a bit of Googling, I discovered one of the most amazing public art initiatives I’ve ever heard of.

Knitta Please, an international knit-graffiti movement, was started by ingenious textile artist Magda Sayeg in 2005 and has since taken off like wildfire. So much so that there’s actually a holiday (unofficial, of course) called International Yarn Bombing Day on June 12th. But I wouldn’t wait till next summer—if you’re a pro with a pair of knitting needles, get in on the action immediately! (Nonknitters like me will be content to sit back and admire.)

P.S. Want to see her in action? You’re in luck—here’s an amazing video of Magda yarn bombing Madewell Soho back in the day. Check out how she gives our store (and our jeans!) the knit treatment.

The Spa That Time Forgot: Dr. Wilkinson’s Hot Springs

by Cristina Mueller (S.F.) & Heather Summerville (Brooklyn)

Blast from the past: Palm trees and ’50s fonts greet you at the entrance of Dr. Wilkinson’s resort.

Way back when, we were roommates, fresh out of college, living in a closet-size apartment in New York. (Let’s just say you get to be pretty close friends after three years of splitting 500 square feet between you.) Now that the majority of the continental U.S. separates us, we’ve instituted a “friendcation” clause in our relationship, which dictates a mandatory trip together at least once a year. So this past weekend, the two of us met in Napa Valley, California to visit the charmingly retro Dr. Wilkinson’s Hot Springs in the tiny town of Calistoga. The motel and spa—opened in 1952 by this venerable doctor—is renowned for its mineral-rich, skin- and health-restoring mud baths. So we figured, when in Calistoga…

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Signed, Sealed, Delivered: Or How I Became Obsessed with Stamps

by Cristina Mueller (Berkeley)

A totally unhinged moment in 2009, about five hours into making personalized stamped envelopes for all 200+ guests I invited to my wedding.

A couple years ago, while preparing to send out wedding invitations, I came across an eBay site, SeaJay Stamp and Coin, that sold unused vintage stamps (which, in case you were wondering, can always be used on letters no matter how old they are—you just need way, way more to get to 44 cents). I honestly didn’t think I was one for philately (the study of stamps), but I fell hard for this store. You want a seven-cent 1959 airmail stamp in honor of Hawaii’s statehood? Done. An Ansel Adams–reminiscent Yosemite stamp from 1934 (which, incidentally, was before stamp perforation and adhesive even existed)? Right here. If you have a grandfather who went to West Point, there’s a 1937 stamp for him too. Or, you know, there’s the 1948 centennial stamp commemorating the American poultry industry. Trust me: They have everything.

But then, about a year ago, the store completely vanished and had some sad little announcement saying it would return in three months—then six months—then nine. I sent plaintive emails, but to no avail—until now! That’s right, it’s back. But hurry over and get obsessed before it mysteriously disappears again!

My burgeoning collection

My Most Triumphant Vintage Find

by Cristina Mueller (Berkeley)

Here it is: a perfectly soft, worn-in, army green short-sleeve button-down shirt I found lurking on a rack of men’s sweaters the other day. It is to my unending delight an old Boy Scout shirt—I’m guessing from the 50s or 60s. (He must have been a very big Boy Scout, the original owner, and a not very good one at that—the shirt’s slouchy and super-roomy, and there’s nary a patch or a badge to be found.)

It’s the sort of score that’s so exactly what you always wanted that (if you are anything like me) you instantly begin mourning the day—3, 5, 10 years down the road—when you inevitably leave the shirt somewhere, your friend borrows it and then “loses” it or it becomes stained beyond belief. Suffice it to say, I am presently guarding it VERY jealously.

Meet the bloggers

Well, first off, there’s us. We’re an ever-changing group working on all sorts of creative things at Madewell. Designers, media mavens, tastemakers, industrious interns—the gang’s all here.

We’re really excited to share all the stuff—big or small, far and wide–that constantly inspires us. Hop over here and you’ll get the story on each of us.

But wait, there’s more…

We cast a net from coast to coast, sweeping up some of our favorite writerly women who we think are just so Madewell. (We have a hunch you’ll think so too.) Read up on the group, whose musings you’ll find mixed in with our own.