Tea and confessions: Open letter to Barbara Barry

I woke up this morning feeling the urge to write this letter, to you Barbara.

To  thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

Before I heard you speak I knew I was tired of hugging the walls of life, of crouching in the shadows.  I came to New York City to lose that last piece of fear.

From the moment you were introduced by Scott KravetJason Kontos, Editor of New York Spaces Magazine at Blogfest  2011– I was captured.

Drawn into your intoxicating share.   I adore an Show and tell and your generosity of spirit was abundant.  The warmth of the introduction was but a sliver of what was to come.

We captured a visceral sense of how you live your life purpose, as if each moment is a painting.

Some of the fabrics in Barbara Barry's new Indochine line

I think you touched many of the over 100 in the room with your message & your light. I know you touched me deeply. Tears were coursing down my face as I listened.

I don’t know why so much of society relegates interior design, creative souls or the rooms they live in to the dog box or the last resort. When it should be the first.

We all need spaces to be forged with grace. To enclose, support and connect us.

I don’t have to look beyond the Kravet family.  Your love for them was evident as their love for you.

And I know why.  You have an essence of child within you. How you embraced us all in your glow, and your curiosity.

We crowded around you as we walked to the elevator and down to the showroom.

All of us like bees to the honey, drinking in the nectar of your open heart.

Your rhinestone shoes made me smile. A queen can wear her crown on her heels, to dance at the ball that is life.

Barbara Barry and I posing as the line snakes round the corner

Your Tea Room had a regal feel, the mist of history settled in there like it had always been. Filled with jewels of your fabric line, Indochine echoing the musical patterns of earth.  I was charmed when you invited us to drop our purses on the couches and get comfortable. I was struck by how much ritual enhances ceremonial moments.  Your Japanese tea room that entrances you with its Vermeer like quality, from the movements of the staff to the dish that holds payment. Each piece is integral to the design of life. Connecting ancient memory to familiar exquisitry. Your willingness to patiently connect and be photographed with each of us as though we were honored guests.

The Citrine Tisane.

Celebrating each drop like a splash of tea.

I will never forget you, Barbara Barry.

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