Like a crisp white oxford or a little black dress, the long-sleeved striped boatneck tee is a timeless staple. Wear it under a blazer or on its own, with chinos, jeans or cropped black pants, and you can't go wrong.

Julia Leach, the former creative director of Kate Spade, has based her entire new line, Chance, on this one iconic piece. Her soft, lightweight cotton versions are simply irresistible.

            

 Chance, $60 each; ChanceCo.com.               

On I ran, headed for New Jersey. I ran past laughing people, walking home from work. I ran past couples eating ice cream in tubs, to enjoy it before it melted. I almost ran past my own husband, sitting on the steps of his office, having sent his employees home for the night.
 
I was panting. The dog was wheezing. I held up my backpack in triumph. We had peanut butter, pearls and a computer to live on!
 
My husband sighed. "At least we know what you'll take in case of a fire." He, of course, would have taken our social security cards and birth certificates and other practicalities such as his shoebox of high school cassette tapes for which we have no tape player.
 
It turns out that we are not that unique in our understanding of what's really important. The new site The Burning House documents what people worldwide would grab from their homes in case of a fire. The objects are arranged and photographed, creating surprisingly intimate portraits.

The loveliest are poetic mixes of antique keys and beloved books. But a shockingly huge amount of people included their Mac laptops, passports and pets. Other quirkier items include an antique British maritime crest, a volcanic rock from Mt. Kilimanjaro and a "coconut broke with my head." One practical guy included a cast-iron skillet (presumably to cook food?) and a bottle of musk (to disguise body odor)—apparently confusing running out of a burning house with running out of burning house into a survivalist world without showers or restaurants.
 
Kids, of course, understand what's really crucial. Six-year old Brody grabbed his Garfield cup, his Lego helicopter, a bumblebee Transformer and a yellow belt (via FlavorPill.com).

"I wanted to find a way to be more in the moment, to be more in every day, to understand my life more..." So if you're Jonathan Harris staring down a milestone birthday, your next project is to take a photo every day. Called Today, it's now a short film: one image per second, some supersaturated, some stark, all focus-grabbing. "No matter what you do in your life—what you create, what career you have, whether you have a family or kids—your greatest creation," says Harris, "is always going to be your life story." Listening to Harris as the images flip from one to the next, we're convinced: In this moment-to-moment world, what a person needs most is time to create stories that will help make sense of what exactly it is we're doing here (via ThoughtYouShouldSeeThis.com).

There are a lot of children's picture books out there that speak to grown-ups as well as kids. This is why 21-year college graduates often get a copy of The Lorax—and why I still get weepy over The Giving Tree by page three, embarrassing my children and staining the black-and-white drawings with tear blobs.

But what about children's picture books that aren't for kids? Two weeks ago, Go the F*** to Sleep hit the number one best-selling spot on Amazon.com, and the book isn't even slated to reach stores until June. Every parent in the world—and child-free friend of a parent—can relate to the message of this hysterical, brilliant, totally inappropriate, curse-filled nursery rhyme:

The eagles who soar through the sky are at rest / And the creatures who crawl, run and creep / I know you're not thirsty. That's bullshit. Stop lying / Lie the f*** down, my darling, and sleep.

Meanwhile, David Eggers (A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius) also has an adult-only children's book coming out the same month. When Marlana Pulled a Thread tells the story of a girl who finds a loose stitch in the world and yanks—undoing trees, palaces, towns, people—until all that's left is a black tangle. For a child, the idea that you can destroy things long past the point of any happy ending is a little overwhelming and scary. But for an adult, it's a much-needed reminder of the consequences of how we live our lives.

There's something kinder and easier to take, too, about being shown such a painfully true parable by comforting, retro line drawings. I am considering writing and illustrating such a book for my husband called Lawrence Takes Out the Trash.

The next time you go on a date, don't worry about whether your hair is perfectly combed or your palms are a little sweaty, or if you can possibly eat a taco at the restaurant without getting meat stuck in your teeth and guacamole all over your lap. What you say is what matters to the person across the table, at least when it comes to your "thes".

Last week, Scientific American published an article on social psychologist and author of the upcoming book, The Secret Life of Pronouns, James Pennebaker. Pennebaker recorded the four-minute-long conversations of 80 speed daters, attempting to predict if each couple would—or wouldn't—want to go on a second date. On the tapes, he wasn't looking for awkward pauses or even lonely sighs, but instead for each person's use of seemingly innocuous words like "an," "as" and "her."

For stressed-out city dwellers, Eoin Finn has a relaxing remedy.

After years as a yoga teacher, Eoin Finn still hadn't reached enlightenment—a serene state of appreciation for the present moment. Then, on a retreat in Costa Rica in 2006, he lay in a hammock. "I thought, 'If everyone did this for 10 minutes a day, we'd be calmer and more productive.'" He's right: Studies show that even short periods of relaxation can lower blood pressure and improve concentration. Finn gathered some hammocks and set up a "spontaneous relaxation" zone in Vancouver (his home), inviting hurried passersby to have a swing. "There's some bewilderment, then they melt right in," he says.

Now Finn hosts events across North America (see Blissology.com for details). "We're not selling anything," he says. "We're just helping people sit down and enjoy the simple splendors of life."      

"Life is no 'brief candle' to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible." — George Bernard Shaw

An O reader asks: "I'm traveling a lot this season. Can you suggest the ideal weekender and beach bag?"           

Adam Glassman's Answer: I love bags that are both attractive and utilitarian, but a good one can be hard to find. So I was thrilled to come across this Deux Lux duffel ($119; DeuxLux.com) (in fact, I bought one in every color combination to give to my frequent-traveler friends). The bags combine sequins with rugged washed canvas and a comfortable shoulder strap. Bonus: They make great carry-ons.

 
And for the beach, this Saltwater Canvas tote ($36; SaltwaterCanvas.com) has everything you could ask for: eight outer pockets, room inside for up to six towels and a mesh construction that strains out sand. It stands upright by itself and flattens down for packing. Happy trails!



           

              

I feel like I need a support group for a psychological condition: PBGS, also known as Plastic Bag Guilt Syndrome. Like everybody else in the world, I bought some mesh bags for groceries. But sometimes, I forget them at home. Other times, I buy too many groceries and have to take a few plastic bags from the store.  I keep those in order to recycle or reuse them. But if I, say, scoop up dog poop with the bag, is that really reusing? I’m only reusing it once.
 
And what about the little baggies for sandwiches? After I use those, I wash them out with soap and water, but it’s hard to dry them. I worry about bacteria and mould, not to mention the smell of onions. This is horrible... but a few times, in secret, I have thrown out a plastic bag—just not to have to look at it anymore.
 
My PBGS is related to a larger problem: GPGS or General Plastic Guilt Syndrome, which strikes every night as I walk through my living room, picking up plastic trucks and Legos, not to mention scattered abandoned plastic cups and plates. Am I destroying the planet? Am I poisoning my family?
 
Hence my call to Susan Freinkel, author of the new book Plastic: A Toxic Love Story. “Look,” she said. “The problem isn’t plastic in general. Plastic goes in vital things like MRI machines and car seats. The problem is is single use items, stuff you used once and throw out. In 1960, the average American consumed 30 pounds of plastic a year. Now, we each consume about 300 pounds a year.”

Which is the problem. I should feel bad! I’m like a plastic Pac Man. After the jump, Freinkel’s 5 Strategies for Feeling Less Guilty—or even a little ecologically smug.

Bad news for beachgoers: Jellyfish exist in every ocean on earth (some are as big as refrigerators), and all of them sting. This we learned from the National Science Foundation’s cheekily-titled report, “Jellyfish Gone Wild.” Fortunately, the vast majority of stings aren’t harmful—and some are barely noticeable. If you or your travel companion does feel the sting of a tentacle, Dr. Oz suggests two fast-relief remedies that can be found at a beach snack bar or in your bungalow’s kitchen. “When a jellyfish attacks, it implants thousands of tiny darts, called nematocysts, into your skin,” he writes in the May issue of O. “If you’re stung, fill a bucket with vinegar and soak the affected area for 15 to 30 minutes; the acetic acid in the vinegar stops the nematocysts from releasing more venom (if you don't have vinegar, Coca-Cola is a slightly less effective substitute by virtue of its phosphoric acid). Next, scrape the area with a credit card or knife edge to remove any clinging nematocysts.” Dr. Oz says that some people are allergic to jellyfish, so those experiencing hives or wheezing should seek emergency help ASAP.

Find more surprising first-aid fixes—for sunburns, bug bites, cuts, and prickly heat—here.