My Summer Kickoff Goes Intercontinental
A wedding in India, a solstice dinner, and great haircare
Wow, y’all. It’s been five years since I first published on Substack! Most of those who read this are friends and family I know and love, but for those who come to read just a section—to snag a book rec, an itinerary add, a new album to put on rotation—or to leave a comment, I appreciate you and am so glad you found your way here to these monthly dispatches. Labor of love and whatnot, but cheers to another five and thank you for reading!
Heading to a South Asian continent can hardly be considered a jaunt and certainly warrants more than four days, but when you’re invited to an Indian wedding, and that’s all you can take off, you make it work.
Vijay, a great friend of mine from university and the various months he finds himself in New York, said that it would be “great content for the newsletter” when he invited me to attend his sister’s wedding, and, well, obviously he was exactly right. I had the time of my life.
The wedding festivities took place in South Bombay, with events at our hotel, Trident, and a bit north at the Jio. It is 100% true that traveling to India just for an event is not nearly enough time in the country, but I arrived a half-day early and while supplanting my sleep schedule with coffee (I needn’t have bothered; we stayed up so late that I was basically on US time), Vij drove us around and played tour guide.
The morning before everyone arrived, I also took a wander around to the Oval Maidan, a huge park where everyone plays cricket when it’s not a thousand degrees, and around the various side alleys and bustling roadways. Crossing the street was a challenge—lanes and traffic rules are more suggestions than law—but passing by the chai stands and smoking street food, aging Victorian Neo-Gothic buildings and simple gas stations nestled into banyans, was a feast.
The design in this country is splendid, somewhat thanks to lasting vestiges of colonialism and most of it a longstanding testament to Indian tradition. Striped awnings of cloth and wood (!) adorn all manner of buildings, carts, and storefronts. Perhaps my favorite thing of all is the hand-lettering. Stop! Go around. is painted on trucks in precise brushstrokes that taper to spiky points; business names slant across doorways, telephone numbers lettered in miniature print below.
I’m sure few people think twice about it, but it’s what I loved most. Quite regrettably, I don’t have any photos, but this designer does, and this vast signage archive is a venerable treasure trove.
People trickled in on Thursday before the first proper evening event, Mehndi, which was promised to be a “lighter night,” but was instead hours of dancing punctuated by routine visits to the buffets. Guests were draped in every hue imaginable, mingling before sitting to receive their henna in intricate designs. There’s a sweet tradition where the groom’s initials are hidden in the mehndi’s patterns on the bride, too.
The food at every single event was beyond incredible—I knew full well this was going to be the best Indian food I’d probably ever eat, so I tried everything and retained the name of nothing, from chutneys to potato dishes to a cold soup that was simply mangos pureed to perfection.
Friday morning we dragged ourselves out of bed for Haldi, a spectacularly colorful pre-wedding ritual where friends and family, decked out in yellows and oranges, take turns applying a turmeric paste to the bride and groom for prosperity. Everything there, from the flowers to the attire, is genuinely radiant; I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a muted tone at an Indian wedding and I absolutely love it.
Sangeet, on Friday evening, was the most outwardly celebratory event of the weekend, at least to me; music, dancing, light debauchery at the bar, et cetera. It was also the event in which we had to perform a dance, learned, oh, a day or two earlier, on a massive stage in front of eighteen hundred people. I will not be releasing video evidence at this time.
Family and relatives, friends of the couple, and Vijay’s friends (volun-told, I might add) all danced—we had practices; there were choreographers. It was kind of terrifying but we completely killed it.
The rest of the night was, of course, spent dancing, but thankfully not on stage in front of India’s venerable politicians who were in attendance. Shah Rukh Khan (a Bollywood actor who I understand to be their equivalent of Tom Cruise!) did groove his way onstage for a bit and we’ve been seeing Reels pop up with the video for weeks now.
Pri and Anika had the Bollywood hits down, and no matter whether it was a band or DJ, Gabriella had us holding down the dance floor, which is truly the only right way to do a wedding. We must have danced for six hours straight; by the time we took a car back to the hotel and cozied up for our routine debrief, the sun was coming up over Bombay.
The wedding ceremony and reception, final events, were held Saturday at the convention center on account of there being three thousand people in attendance. The scale of these events is truly mind-boggling; how Vijay’s sister handled everything with such grace (while looking absolutely stunning, I might add) is a genuine feat.
Politicians surrounded by security, women dripping in jewels, and even a dramatic escort by a pundit who possibly had a few too many kamikazes were just a sampling of the guests present. We moved around from the ceremonies to food to dancing and back again, people-watching the entire time.
Entryways and the main ceremony stage were ensconced in what must have been millions of tiny flowers; they use fragrant jasmine and pom-pom-like marigolds to create thousands of garlands, which hang from the ceiling and are draped across any available surface. It’s utterly glamorous.
Every coffee and chai I had in this country was stellar and I’m particularly charmed by their drinking vessels. Filter coffee is always served in a metal tumbler and a deep saucer, which you use to pour the coffee back and forth into and cool it down, conjuring a bit of froth in the process. And at the wedding ceremony, chai was served in unglazed clay cups. A lover of unique kitchenware, I found these particularly memorable.
The best part of this weekend was getting to see Vij’s home and hanging out with a crew of new friends, most of whom also went to St Andrews. Everyone was lovely beyond comparison, especially Anika, who generously let me borrow so many clothing items and answered about five million of my questions while also being the kindest and most fun roommate for the weekend.
Ever the magnanimous host, Vij made everything such a fantastic experience for the out-of-town (and country) -ers. If there’s one thing to say about my time in India, from the hotel to the wedding planners to his family and everyone in between, it’s that the hospitality was off the charts. Even down to helping me keep alive my longtime tradition of procuring pencils from every country I visit!!
While my flight home was twenty-one hours of the worst airtime in my life thus far, my flight over was just peachy, and during both I had a lot of free time to ponder my circumstances. As I was settling in for my long haul by doing my everything-but-the-bathroom-sink skincare, I could not help but think about all of the Into the Gloss articles I used to read about beauty founders abroad and writers buying moisturizer in far-flung places.
I had recently came back across a piece from 2014 or so by an editor who was traveling to Delhi for a wedding, and while reading, I thought about how fifteen-year-old me would be dying of coolness if she knew I was now that person with the privilege to travel to India for a wedding.
I am so lucky that St Andrews bestowed me with interesting and generous friends, and I’m supremely grateful that it continues to do so, as evidenced by all the wonderful people I got to know on this trip. Also, it felt so nice to take time off work for the first time since I started last year! I returned home tired, already missing the food, and with about a hundred stories to tell—all the signs of a great, great adventure.
Upon exhausting all of the books from my favorite authors published in the last five years, the backlist beckons. Richard Powers’s Orfeo isn’t old, but his more recent titles feel markedly more suited to popular consumption by comparison. That is to say, this book was dense, but there’s a certain payoff with a Powers novel. It’s not always a surprise twist, but there’s a brilliance that motivates me to muck through four hundred pages on topics I know absolutely nothing about—here, genetic biology and music composition.
During a recent wade through all of the Publisher’s Marketplace deal announcements, I finally found confirmation of a new Powers title on the horizon—Late Light, out in 2027. I am very, very jealous of everyone at Norton at this time and can’t wait to get my hands on this one.
I fell head over heels with Maggie Steifvater’s Raven Cycle series last year and knew I was in for a treat with her most recent novel, also her first foray into adult fiction. The Listeners is what Steifvater does best: Character work, magic, and exquisite atmosphere set in West Virginia. This is a book about service, a luxurious hotel, the onslaught of WWII, and a GM you will fall madly in love with. Only Steifvater can average three similes a page and keep me coming back for more.
Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Buried Giant was a deceptively simple fantasy novel that takes place in post-Arthurian England and follows a sort of quest by an elderly couple on their way to their son’s village. There are knights and fights and a dragon and a mysterious boatman all wrapped up in the overarching theme of memory. It’s a fine book, but the audio version is especially good.
My favorite thing I read this month was Cherry Bombe’s June issue, which feels like it was cooked up in a lab for me and me only. Courtney Storer, culinary producer for The Bear and possibly coolest woman alive, is a cover star. Apparently she has a cookbook out with Artisan in 2027. I will be preordering expeditiously.
Alex Beggs, one of my all-time favorite editors, penned the story on Caroline Chambers. Laila Gohar’s veggie carousel from Milan Design Week, which I mentioned in my last newsletter, is featured. There’s a piece on Davines, a rad Italian haircare brand I’ll mention again in MMM. The issue is good that it almost beats my beloved Martha Stewart cover issue from 2016, which my mom plucked off eBay for me one Christmas.
I was away on the summer solstice this year, so we held our garden dinner a week later for a joint celebration of my mom and dad’s anniversary (thirty years!!!). It rained us out for the starters—Erin French’s fresh scallop crudo with lemon, jalapeno, and ginger; crostini flights with ricotta and blueberries, and radish and goat cheese—so we huddled into the greenhouse to eat while the linens got drenched.
Then dad grilled up my pizzas: Potatoes and mozzarella with chive cream and sour cherry jam, just-dressed greens with garden peas, and plum with creme fraîche, serranos, and prosciutto. We poured a Frog’s Leap wine and there was, of course, a blueberry lavender ice cream for dessert.
If you’re in Princeton any time soon, Bent Spoon is still scooping their cassis vanilla flavor, and it’s one of the best flavors they’ve ever put out. It’s a dreamy periwinkle color and tastes like a magical late summer’s eve.
Sidebar, but I got weirdly into the upstate New York blackcurrant niche a few years ago after discovering C. Cassis, a company specializing in blackcurrant liqueur (your bar cart needs it) and these divine CC Spritz aperitifs. If you’re local, I believe the ever-perfect Stockton Market often carries them.
Listening to My 2010s: Blackbird Blackbird’s Strawberry Light from 2015, a great indie electronic B-side album with features from Bear Mountain, Tone of Arc, and DWNTWN.
Listening to Dial M for Mayer: John Mayer’s second studio album Heavier Things is so good, though I always forget that I prefer many of the album’s later live versions; “Daughters” is better live in Cleveland in ‘04, “Come Back to Bed” at Philadelphia ‘04, and the version of “Something’s Missing” in Chicago ‘05 is in my all-time list. Opening with “Clarity”! “Only Heart” and “Split Screen Sadness”—the best!
Listening to Bruuuuuuce: A perfect cocktail of Bruce Hornsby & The Range, John Mayer, and Foo Fighters’ lighter rock accompanied my drive upstate this week, and it was pure bliss.
A post-shower Davines lineup. I’ve been using Davines for many moons now and I am never looking back. My hair is generally insane and tricky to manage, especially when I don’t blow dry it in the summer, so any product that feels like I am both taming the mane and contributing to its health (and the earth’s; they’re big on sustainability) is a win. Their Sea Salt Spray is a summer staple, the Circle masks go a long way, and the Smoothing Perfector smells like your favorite salon.
Trader Joe’s Mango Passionfruit Creme Cups. These tiny dark chocolate cups are so good that my brother ate the rest of my bag while I was in India and had to go procure another so as not to incur my wrath. Dark chocolate is the only acceptable kind, and paired with a little tropical tang. . . my favorite TJ’s snack since Scandinavian Swimmers.
Skyn Iceland Cooling Eye Gels. It’s almost certain I have mentioned these in an older MMM, but they are the single product I can’t get on a plane without. Under-eye patches are one of beauty’s biggest scams—if you honestly have an eye cream/patch/moisturizer that works, I am all ears—but these are a holy grail product. The best part? They stick, and won’t slip and slide around your face. I love the microneedle ones for long hauls, too.
Once again late, I’m sending this out after a perfect Fourth of July weekend at my friend Elizabeth’s house in upstate New York, where we spent Saturday’s most recent hours dancing and slinging back oysters at a local fête. Thanks for reading, as always, and I hope y’all had a lovely long weekend that hopefully included seafood and merriment. Catch you next month and stay cool!
I sometimes post on Instagram @gracerobrts.
If you’d like to see the goodies in my MMM roundups and varying edits in one place, find me on Rec League.
My Goodreads is here and I am always looking for reading recommendations.
My Apple Music is @gracecroberts, where my playlists are regularly updated and cared for.
Just want to say hi? My email is gracecroberts@gmail.com.
See you next month!
Sincerely yours,
Grace
I guess I should apologize for distributing the video far and wide... :)
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