“Children playing with cat,” 1957, Concord, New Hampshire, USA — Ladies Home Journal Magazine — Image by © Genevieve Naylor/CORBIS

From a set on If Charlie Parker… called Shutterbug Friday #11, Genevieve Naylor (Act Two: Wee Folk in the Eisenhower Era). Genevieve Naylor was a fashion photographer and photojournalist whose work appeared in all the best magazines in the 1940s, 50s, and 60s.

Today, I brought the cats to the new apartment for the first time. 

Have you ever transported cats in cat carriers by car? I’m sure some cats are cool with it, but mine are not that kind of cat. Mine are the kind of cat that cry for the whole trip. It’s as if you had children in the car seat saying “Are we there yet?” for the entire hour’s drive — except instead of saying that, they were screaming “HELP!!!” And instead of screaming, they were meowing in the loudest, most helpless way. I feel sure that drivers passing me on the highway wondered where the sirens were coming from.

I thought once we got to the apartment and they could smell things they were familiar with — bed, rug, cat tree — they would settle down. This hasn’t quite been the case.

They have stopped meowing, but they are clearly outside their little kitty comfort zones. They have mostly spent the evening hiding in the closet, which is both the most protected spot and the place that has the most smells they know, shoes and clothes and so on. I coaxed Max out to look out the window for a while, but then he crept into the base of the cat tree and has stayed there since.

They’ll be more relaxed tomorrow, I expect, once the horror of the car ride is forgotten and they see that there’s no one coming to hunt them. 

I feel bad for having taken them from their known environment. And yet, I’m also glad to have them here. It may not feel like home to them yet, and truth be told it doesn’t quite feel like home to me either. But having them here with me is a step in that direction.

Yes, it’s a famous Pittsburgh-area foodie destination; yes, they have all kinds of delicious things like amazing cheese and orgeat syrup and amazing olive oil and real Italian imported everything. It is indeed hard to fathom that one might not want to go there.

Here’s the thing: I really don’t like crowds. And the other thing I know about Penn Mac is that, on a Saturday, the crowd there is fierce.

But now, living mere blocks away, I can easily shop there on a Thursday afternoon, when it’s not crowded at all. I can stand in front of a tall shelf filled with a dozen kinds of anchovies and take my time deciding which to buy. (I bought two kinds.) I can wander through and pick up just a few things, whatever I want to fix for dinner. I can check right out — no waiting for a cashier. It’s a very civilized grocery experience, mid-week.

One prize I acquired in this maiden shopping voyage was a bottle of orange olive oil from Sicily: “fresh olives and oranges are crushed together.” I served it as a simple dipping oil with cubes of fresh bread. So, so very delicious.

I still didn’t go to the cheese counter though. One step at a time.

So, I’ve had this apartment for over a week and haven’t been in it for more than a few hours at a time. Why? Because while there was furniture and various amenities, there was no Internet. I need my Internet.

Today, after an exorbitant installation charge and a little futzing with devices and cables and whatnot, there is Internet, so I can be here for days at a time. I brought along with me this time more things that are “essential,” and somehow there are still things that I need and don’t have. Like a liner for the shower curtain, and rings for the liner and curtain. And tin foil. And light bulbs for the new floor lamp. 

Light is in fact the main thing the new place lacks. The apartment is bright and cheery on a sunny day, but at night it darkens right up. So, this next photo doesn’t do justice to its subject: super-easy and very delicious flatbread.

This is from a flatbread recipe I found at Smitten Kitchen, who found it in a 2008 issue of Gourmet magazine. You should go to Smitten Kitchen to see the photos there, which do justice to the resulting crackers. Very easy, very tasty, and therefore the perfect thing to make when one suddenly, spontaneously decides that even though the apartment is not really unpacked and there’s not enough light, one would like to invite friends over for cocktails.

My friends Vanessa and Derrick saw my tweeted invitation and came over, and we enjoyed the crackers and hummus and cheese and drinks, and of course conversation. It was just the kind of evening I envisioned when I started thinking about getting an apartment in the city, and all the better for having come together on a whim.

My cats will be spending time in Pittsburgh with me, so I took their lovely cat tree down to the loft. The cat tree is a nice piece of furniture: It’s made of hardwood, finished with an espresso stain, with segments of carpet on the surfaces for the cats to sit on and scratch.

Here are Max and Sammie on the tree, before we moved it.

The cats are up here in Butler with me this weekend, and they have mostly adjusted to having their world turned topsy-turvy, all the places that they normally sit having been moved or removed.

But Max is little lost without his tree. He keeps looking to where it should be, as though it might reappear any moment. 

Think how excited he will be to reunite with the tree in the new place!

It used to be that Banana Republic was more of a catalog experience, where the catalogs were printed on cream colored, heavy stock paper. The items were not photographed but illustrated, and they were described in expansive, worldly prose. The vibe was Continental Explorer — as if you were planning a trip abroad, maybe in deepest Africa, maybe in the sultry streets of Cairo, maybe wandering along the streets of Paris. More likely, you just needed clothes for wandering around your American town or suburb, but you wanted it to feel like an adventure, or like you might need to jet away on a transcontinental flight at any moment.

Banana Republic is nothing like this now, as we know. Now, it’s more like eternal casual Friday at a law firm. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; as I say, I’ve shopped there a lot, at least when I am size 12 and under (they seem not to choose to clothe the full-figured folk). But back in the day, it was a store for the wanna-be adventurer.

Fortunately, we can return to those glory days easily, thanks to Abandoned Republic, a website that seeks out catalogs and clothing from old school Banana Republic.

This weekend, the site featured a catalog from 1986, and in it was a dress that I coveted for a long time, then bought and wore with great joy for years. The Weekend Dress.

I got this in black. I think I bought it at the Banana Republic store in Faneuil Hall, which had an old Jeep built into the store wall, half in the store and half outside. The pockets seemed like they’re be useful, but they threw off the line of the dress and made one look lumpy, so mostly they added unfortunate weight. I also bought the Collar Stud Belt advertised on the same page of the catalog and the Brass Knob Belt on page 57, but I didn’t end up wearing them with the dress — never liked how the dress bunched up with a belt.

The Weekend Dress was much-admired by my female friends in college, but not so much by my boyfriend. Looking back, I see it was really pretty frumpy, particularly on my figure, and it was kind of like wearing a sack.

But I loved it so, in no small part because I loved how it had been described in the catalog: a versatile, ready-for-anything piece that would adapt to any situation. Really, what I wanted was to be versatile, ready-for-anything, able to adapt to any situation, and I didn’t feel that I was. I hoped buying the right piece of clothing would cover for what I didn’t think I had. It took me a long time to understand that clothes don’t make the woman — the woman makes herself. But I do appreciate that that dress helped fill in for a short time.

Age of Steam Night at Pittsburgh Public Theater. Friday, April 27. Before the 8 pm performance of AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS. The first 20 patrons who arrive decked in steampunk attire or accessories will receive a complimentary DVD of the movie HUGO. The DVDs will be available in The Pub, on the O’Reilly Theater’s second floor, beginning at 7 pm. Tickets: 412.316.1600 or ppt.org. (DVDs limited to the first 20 patrons deemed appropriately dressed by The Public Theater staff.)

I don’t have any steampunk clothing, but I’m a fan of the look — any outfit that includes a frock coat or peplum is grand in my eyes.

The play looks to be quite a charmer as well. Extravagant and clever, with witty sets and props and a stellar cast. 

Around the World in 80 Days runs through May 13. Find out more and buy tickets at the Pittsburgh Public Theater website.