At the time I dreaded it. I had better things to do with my summers, like pump my best friend to the comic book shop, watch CHiPs, and build forts in the creek behind my backyard. It was the early 90s and my parents were very much into road trips. The more states the better.  The combination of economy travel for five, around-the-clock sightseeing, and an ‘87 Mercedes-Benz diesel wagon made it the sensible choice to satisfy what wanderlust my parents needed to pacify.

There is something very American about the road trip. Given our love affair with cars, it's no wonder. The 47,000+ miles of interstate highway, National Monuments, and roadside eats have made it about the journey, not simply the destination. Castleberry family road trips were no exception. Our destination was always home…with one caveat: never return the way you came. To drive in a huge loop was completely normal. In the summer of 1993 we circled the American Southwest...Sequoia National Park, the Grand Canyon, Delicate Arch in Utah—we hit it all in a week...

This weekend, The Pop Up Flea sprang up at 82 Mercer St and said welcomed over 14,000 people in a matter of three days. It was such an effective retail experience that we popped in (different friends in tow each time) on Saturday and Sunday. It was entirely too easy to spend money. Practically everything is made in the US, much of it by smaller outfits who are creating some really tasteful goods. Wooden Sleepers, Todd Snyder for Champion, Fine Light Trading (Fred’s favorite piece he picked up: a trench art skull ring for the pinky—not pictured here as it takes three weeks to hand-make an order), Topo Designs, and Billykirk deservingly received our attention and our money...

Los Angeles is a strange place. It has one season—sunny with a high of 75. I like my seasons, plural. Angelenos, well, they love their convertibles and graphic tees. To each his own I suppose. Last week I flew west for a little play and a ton of work. If I’m going to be locked in a steel tube for six hours, I’ll go willing with Virgin every time. Far and away my favorite airline. They just get it...

Maybe it's the therapeutic outdoor morning showers, or the privilege of getting the sunrise before anybody else on the east coast, or the simple fact that it is devoid of a tether to whatever "real world" you left behind at Hyannis. Nantucket is magical in the summer. Worry seems to roll off your shoulders, like beads of sweat erratically migrating down your cocktail...