Photographed by Michael Weschler for the March-April 2003 issue of Southern Accents

It’s amazing to me how an elegant object can elevate something from mundane to marvelous. Take, for instance, L.A. design guru Suzanne Rheinstein who uses a crystal decanter to hold mouthwash and American fashion designer Peter Som who uses emptied diptyque candleholders to hold pencils.

I asked some colleagues for examples of how they make some of their home accents multitask, while simultaneously upping the style ante for life’s little necessities. Here are my favorites: The children’s toothbrushes and toothpaste look sweet in their silver baby cups or mint julep cups, vintage tin tea canisters or wine glasses make great vases for impromptu arrangements, and iconic orange and brown Hermes boxes serve as storage for family photos waiting to be placed in an album.

Then a colleague reminded me how interior designer Elaine Griffin, like many space-deprived New Yorkers, uses her oven to hold her shoes. Some might argue this doesn’t count, but I say flick on the oven light and tell me your shoes don’t look good enough to eat!

Seriously though, how do you elevate the mundane in your home?

I love finding old etiquette books in antique bookstores. It's fascinating to me to see what has remained a constant in the world of manners (putting other people at ease) and what has become irrelevant, whether due to technology or changes in society. Obviously decades ago we couldn't have envisioned that we would need to point out that checking a Blackberry during a dinner party was a big no-no. But apparently reminding gentleman not to put their cigarettes out on the living room carpet had to be said.

I recently found a book called Don'ts for Husbands, which was originally published in 1913 and was reissued last year in a pocket-sized edition. As the book came out around the time that my house was built, I like to wonder if its original occupants considered it the "Rules" of the day. 

Here are a few gems from the book:

"Don't drop cigarette ash all over the drawing-room carpet. Some people will tell you that it improves the colours, but your wife won't care to try that recipe."

"Don't take the attitude that wives, like children, should be seen and not heard. No doubt you are a very clever fellow, and it is an education for her to listen to you, but she also may have some views worth mentioning."

"Don't object to a servant on the score of her looks. Your wife will take care not to engage a pretty maid if she suspects you of undue interest in her appearance."

"Don't run away with the idea that there is nothing to do in a house, and that your wife should therefore never be busy or tired. You work for a few hours at the office, and come right away from it until the next day; but a woman's work is never done until bedtime, and then she lies awake and thinks of something she has left undone."

"Don't stubbornly refuse to put on your overcoat on a threatening morning and then when, after getting wet through on the way to the station and sitting in your wet clothes, you develop a bad cold, take it out on your wife by being crochety and irritable."

"Don't argue that a new hat isn't necessary because there is nothing visibly wrong with the one she is wearing. You have probably forgotten that this is its third season, but she hasn't."

"Don't come in at any odd time, and expect to find your dinner done to a turn. If it was ready at the time you said you were coming, it can't be quite as nice an hour or two later. Your home is neither a club nor an hotel."   (Yes, it's true. Some things never change....)

There is also a companion edition, Don'ts for Wives, which I'm anxiously awaiting from Amazon. Will keep you posted!

The March-April issue just landed on our desks. For those who haven't gotten their copies yet, I'll share the photo that makes me long for the arrival of spring: 

Photograph: William Waldron  

A number of people I grew up with have since moved out of the South. With few exceptions, these friends, while they may not miss it enough to move back, remind me often of the things they miss about the part of the country I call home. Most recently, a friend mentioned that one of the things she misses most is the sound of a screen door slamming. I hadn’t thought of it as a uniquely Southern phenomenon; in fact, I hadn’t really thought of it at all. But she’s right. It brings back memories of spring nights sitting on a porch swing listening to the buzz of crickets and cicadas, summer days eating PB&J off paper plates at a picnic table, being barefoot, going in and out of the house trying not to let the mosquitoes in. 

Photograph: Van Chaplin

Others have mentioned the smell of gardenias, the abundance of trees, barbecue and coleslaw, sweet tea, our four distinct seasons, and even the humidity. One of our interns from New York was most impressed by the friendliness of everyone, down to the cashiers at the grocery store. And in our 30th anniversary issue, architect Russell Versaci cited expansive front porches as proof of the value that Southerners place on hospitality and welcoming guests in a big way. 

Having never lived outside the South, I often take these things for granted. When I travel, I always long to be back home, though I can’t always pinpoint why, other than that it’s always been home. It’s nice to be reminded of the little things, tangible and intangible, that make the South the South and the innumerable reasons I’ll probably never move away, at least not for long.

floral design by DeJuan Stroud, January-February 2009

The chanteuse Edith Piaf was never a contender for the title of Miss Gracious Living, but I adore the movie La Vie en Rose and couldn't resist mentioning it in honor of Valentine's Day. And though a rose clipped from a vine is always a treat, this seemed a good opportunity to explore some rose-themed gift ideas for those who wish to give a less ephemeral token.

It doesn't get any better for some old-fashioned romantics than a rose that boasts ideal beauty and everlasting constancy—a rare antique botanical print or a charming yet affordable book.

image from Lyons Limited Antique prints

Whether outfitted with the best blossoms around or simply given with a promise of roses yet to come, a timeless vase or bowl would surely get pulses racing.

image from William Yeoward Crystal

The gardeners out there might appreciate a plant that that is tailored to their zone. Shown below is 'Valentine' from the Antique Rose Emporium in Brenham, Texas. 

image from The Antique Rose Emporium

For deep pockets and a gift of a lifetime, an antique portrait miniature speaks to the timelessness of love. (Were it not for the blossom in her hair, maybe I could have resisted including this photo from a story several years ago...) Incredibly romantic and artful, these beauties were designed to fit lovingly in the palm of one's hand and were often commissioned during engagements. 

image from Elle Shushan Fine Portrait Miniatures

Whether your love is constant and pure or dramatic and fiery like Miss Piaf's, roses in their many forms can be sweet reminders of our sentiments. Or maybe you wish to tap into your saintlier aspects this Valentine's Day and make a donation to a rose garden, a highly charitable gesture and no small token during this cold economic climate. Whatever your passion, we wish you love, happiness, and, in the spirit of the beloved Miss Piaf, a life of roses on this Valentine's Day.

Recently, when selecting images for upcoming stories, we came across a photo of a living room featuring a grouping of butterfly collages (like those shown in the Jackye Lanham–designed room above) . While it was amazing to see, we wondered about the humaneness of butterfly art, not wanting to encourage unnecessary harvesting of these beautiful creatures. Afterward, I began to notice more butterfly motifs, including preserved-insect collages. If preserved insect art is experiencing a surge in popularity, I wanted to know more about it—specifically, where do the butterflies come from, and should I be protesting this art?

So I did some research. It turns out butterfly harvesting is not only a sustainable practice, but it also provides income for developing countries, such as Papua New Guinea and Madagascar, that rely on rain forests for their livelihood—while allowing the rain forest itself to remain intact. InsectFrames.com explains that most of the butterflies they use are farmed specfically for framing and die naturally (adult butterflies live only a few weeks). Phyllidae.com, which sells butterflies framed with sustainable wood veneer mats (below), also uses sustainably harvested insects; the site adds that, though you might think that these exotic-looking creatures are rare, they are actually common in their native countries.

After learning all this, I feel much better about admiring butterfly collages. If you’re in the market, be sure your butterflies are harvested responsibly; ask if the seller’s insects have been inspected and cleared by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. If you still can’t bear to display the real thing on your walls, check out Catherine Swan’s paper butterfly collages (below).

When describing the homes in our pages, we often mention a “dose” or “splash” of color that a bright pillow or rug might add to a room. This morning at breakfast I noticed a few doses that my husband and I have incorporated into our dining room. And even though I’ve been tempted, it’s not that we’ve painted a wall with the Benjamin Moore Bird’s Egg blue that I discovered when helping put together an upcoming issue.

Instead, a sterling bowl/centerpiece that usually holds napkin rings, serving utensils, or the occasional flower arrangement is currently the home of a Mickey Mouse rattle, a teething ring, and some multicolored toy trucks. Once the subject of a photo shoot for a home renovations magazine, our dining room has welcomed another guest to the table—our 7-month old, Max. And you might say that he brought a subtle redesign along with him.

We at Southern Accents love beautiful interiors, but we also love the life that goes on in them—friends, children, dogs, even the occasional cat. To me, the “Gracious Living” tagline on our cover can mean the clink of crystal and starched linen napkins, but it doesn’t leave behind the people we do the living with.

I still think my carefully arranged china and glassware lend a certain elegance to our dining room. But I would happily trade them for the intangibles that have accompanied those trucks and rattles. They mean “gracious living” too. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Gracious living reigned in our May/June 2007 issue. These are two of my favorite photos. Photographed by Pieter Estersohn  

(Natalie Wood looking over her ensemble before the Academy Awards Ceremony in 1962. Photographed by Allan Grant/LIFE photo archive)

As a young girl, I longed for a cheval mirror to compliment my twin bed with the ivory eyelet canopy. To me, the swivel mirror on four legs was the ultimate coming of age accent for a girl’s bedroom–next to the jewelry box, of course.

My style has changed over the years, but the young girl who loved to play dress-up is still here…and she still wants the perfect full-length dressing mirror. There’s something quite romantic and feminine about a full-length mirror, I think. Checking your look from coif to kitten heel before dashing off to work, a date, or the occasional ball. Sadly, I usually find myself waiting until I get inside the mirrored elevator at the office to do a full wardrobe check.

I’ve been inspired by Julia Reed and her timeless recipes. When I read her essays for this magazine in our Entertaining section, I  feel like we’re having a conversation, and she’s sharing the secret to a good meal she prepared the night before, or giving me no-fail suggestions for a dinner party, based on one she did herself or her mother did 30 years ago.

So I picked up my mother’s 1964 copy of The Joy of Cooking, all worn edges, spattered pages, and magazine recipes tucked within. And I was fascinated, because in addition to really good recipes that are doable and delicious, there is a guide to entertaining and formal dinner parties at the beginning--the choreography of the event instead of the recipes for it.

The section includes suggestions for a seafood course, followed by a soup, plated meat and vegetable, fruit course, salad, dessert, and so on--even cigarettes with matches and ash tray. You'll  of course read about serving from the left and removing from the right. But it gets more complex. Authors Irma Rombauer and Marion Becker let us know what to do with relishes (arrange them at strategic places on the table, but you must take them out when the soup is served), crescent-shaped plates (serve a fruit compote during the meat course),  “denuded" tables, once courses have been removed (wait for the dessert setting), and finger bowls and doilies (float a scented flower or lemon slice in the finger bowl; place the doily beneath it).

I’d share more of the suggestions, but they are so complicated I envision creating a menu, hosting a party, and reading from the text simultaneously, just to get it all right. So I won't be doing that. It's striking how significantly our entertaining habits have changed over the last few decades. I certainly invite friends, new and old, to my house, but I'm more apt to make the process of cooking and dining a less formal affair (out of sheer necessity), even if there's a white tablecloth and fine china on the table.  Dining with family or family and friends is a joy. The acrobatics of setting and serving the table are meant to make things easy and clear, and give us a gratifying creative outlet.  So while I value the suggestions presented, I’ll save the minute intricacies of the table for my next inaugural dinner.

Photographed by Ann Stratton for our September/ October 2006 issue.

It’s rare for me to get out for lunch, so when a friend I haven’t seen in a while invited me, I jumped at the chance. Sure, we keep up via e-mail, but it’s just not the same as quality face-time. Plus after eating lunch at my desk more than I care to admit this month, the idea of being waited on while we caught up seemed positively divine. As soon as we sat down, her phone started ringing. Here’s the conversation I overheard: “Oh, nothing really, just having lunch. Yes, I remembered Aunt Betty’s birthday…blah, blah, blah. Okay, I can forgive one quick conversation. Then it happened again, and again, and again. By the time our check came, she had talked with her mother (twice), her husband, a neighbor, wrong number, and her sister. I thought about whipping my phone out and calling her myself, just to get a word in! I too have become dependant on my cell, but I also can remember life without it. Call me a rebel, but I don’t like the idea of being available 24/7 and have become an adept screener (Sorry, mom! I’ll call you back tonight when I have a chance to talk).

Miss Gracious Living recently received this email:

Dear Miss Gracious Living,

I've recently joined Facebook. I've been enjoying connecting with people, both close pals and those I haven't seen in years. I recently received a "Friend" request from someone I had a falling out with many years ago.  We haven't spoken in almost 20 years! We live in the same city, so we could have easily patched this up long ago if we'd really wanted to. But now she wants to be my "Friend." What do I do?

Signed, Clueless

MGL admits that social networking on the Internet is way out of her area of expertise. She generally prefers to correspond with friends the old-fashioned way, with good Crane stationery and a quill pen.  Do any of you have advice for Clueless?

While fishing for my wallet in the depths of my oversized handbag, a couple of tea bags toppled out at the checkout line. As I embarrassingly scooped them up, I realized that I had become my grandmother, the one who carries sugar, and who knows what other condiments, with her at all times. As I held up the line, I also came to the conclusion that I must really love tea.

In fact, I’m a chain tea drinker, filling and refilling a rounded, ivory-colored teacup (my favorite wedding favor to date) throughout the day. Although the aroma of hazelnut brews coming from the office coffeepot are pretty intoxicating, coffee simply doesn’t do it for me. On a chilly morning or in a nippy office, there’s nothing like a warm cup of hot tea.