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Deborah Needleman on Handmade Beauty and Going to the Source

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Deborah Needleman on Handmade Beauty and Going to the Source

Debra Needleman’s journey reflects a profound shift from the polished, high-fashion world of magazine editing to a grounded, hands-on exploration of cultural life through craft and daily practice. Once a powerful editor at major publications like the *New York Times* and *Domino*, she left behind the fast-paced, isolating world of fashion shows to embrace a more intimate and meaningful form of travel. Now, she travels with purpose, using crafts like basket weaving as a lens to understand cultures—whether in Venice, Morocco, or India. Her approach is deeply rooted in observation, respect, and connection: she researches through art, visits local artisans, and immerses herself in everyday labor, from willow harvesting in Sussex to Berber weaving in Morocco. She emphasizes that true cultural understanding comes not from grand monuments or luxury travel, but from engaging with ordinary people and their traditions. Her work reveals a lifelong belief in the beauty and dignity of the mundane—gardens, food, festivals, and handmade objects. These experiences, often grounded in personal curiosity and a commitment to authenticity, form the foundation of her philosophy: travel is not about escape, but about deep, human connection. Through her travels, she continues to explore themes of time, legacy, and belonging, especially as she navigates the awareness of limited life span. Her journey is one of reinvention—moving from editorial excellence to a quieter, more embodied form of cultural citizenship. Her stories, rooted in tangible objects and lived experiences, highlight the quiet power of everyday practices and the enduring beauty found in the simple, unglamorous work of people around the world.

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(upbeat music) Pushkin. After the highest profile of Korea's shaping contemporary culture around her, Debra Needleman is now part of a tradition as old as time itself. As one of her generations, most influential and often intimidating editors, founding Domino, editing WSJ Magazine, and then Tee the New York Times Star Magazine. Debra's impeccable instincts and strong convictions influenced how we define excellence, see beauty and perceive taste. But at the height of her power, she left, starting again as a student of weaving, making baskets upstate not glossy magazines in Manhattan. It's an improbable story, but one that is less surprising when you understand that she's always been more inspired by the beauty and dignity of the daily practices of people and places around the world. Whether it's Smeat Gardeners in England, weavers of textiles in India, broom makers in Japan. Debra now travels using a project or the making of an object as a way to comprehend cultures more deeply. She now approaches the world as an enthusiastic, curious, imprentice, but she cannot help becoming a master at whatever she puts her mind in hand to. Here's my conversation with my mentor and friend, Debra Needleman. Welcome, Debra, to traveling through. I was thinking before you came on here that we're friends, obviously, and we have a lot in common. But one of the things that we don't have in common is that I was not the editor-in-chief of T the New York Times Star magazine. - You wrote for it? - Yeah, I did, but like, write a number, 200 is 57 of importance. But I wish I asked you, because you've had dramatic life pivots in terms of your work and interest and it's always evolved, what was the last trip that you did or took as editor-in-chief? - Probably it was going to the fashion shows, so that's sort of a month of travel. New York London, Milan, Paris. So being away from home and being in that little fashion bubble for a month. - Very sort of luxurious travel. What would be considered luxurious travel? - And did you get tired of doing that after what, five years of being away for like what, it's almost two months a year basically. - At least, yeah. Yeah, to say I was tired of it is euphemistic or how I felt about it. I hated it. - Really? - What was the whole situation? I put kind of a little bit picture. - You know, I think for many people going to fashion shows sounds like a really sort of glamorous thing, but I think like a lot of so-called glamorous things when you are really involved in them. They're not that glamorous. But it was incredibly luxurious travel we stayed in really fancy hotels. But you're in a little bubble being driven around. And, you know, a full day of fashion shows is about getting in and out of a car, being in terrible traffic, sitting on a hard bench, waiting for a show to start for half an hour. And then the show's about seven minutes. And then five thousand people trying to get out one door and doing it again and again. And then going out at night. So I don't know. For me, it just, I really didn't like the idea of being told where to go and when to be somewhere. - I know you well. And I know that you're actually kind of a home body in a way. And you're like very independent and like to work with your hands and like to kind of have a solitary life. So I imagine that, you know, you left that job pretty like immediately. And then went to explore another interest, which was brew making it. - Weirdly yes. I mean, I had never really worked with my hands and that was the idea. And I had never really been solitary. And I think being in so many social situations in that job made me long to be alone and to learn to work in a different way. I quit my job with this idea sort of almost out of nowhere of becoming a basket weaver. And I was not like a crafty person. I had never done anything with my hands. And I'd always sort of lived in my head as a writer and editor. So in a way it was a big break. Someone had told me about this thing called folk schools. And the best one in America is the oldest one called the John C Campbell folk school in Appalachia. And they didn't have a basket weaving class when I had decided to quit my job. I decided I wanted to learn to become a basket weaver. But they had a broom making class. And I thought, well, that's natural fibers. So I'll take that. It was the week of the Paris fashion shows that I was instead of being at the Bristol hotel and being driven around in a black Mercedes. I was at this place where the morning started with this thing called like morning song, where someone would sing and play the fiddle and tell stories and there was clog dancing. And it was just this whole experience of just learning to work with your hands. And I mean, it just couldn't have been farther away from where I would have been that week otherwise. And it was incredible. I just loved the idea of meeting these people I'd never would have met before. And there is something about like, you know, you hear about like quilting circles. There is something really beautiful about a bunch of strangers coming together and working on something and learning something at the same time and making something. And there's this kind of intimacy that I realized you can have with strangers. And it doesn't mean that, you know, you're best friends with them for life, but there is a real connection. And that was something I was really missing. There's not a lot of real connection in the fashion bubble. - Was there a story that you commissioned then? Like is it cumulier? Because I know what I loved about like your tea or, you know, even in back in Domino, that was like the daily utilitarian thing of people making things that were beautiful. Like there was a thread through the magazines that you edit. - You're sure? Like is there a particularly memorable story? - I think you're totally right. I mean, I think what I always tried to do as a magazine editor was find people that I thought were doing beautiful, interesting, original things and then sharing that and how they worked and how they thought. And the basket weaving thing did grow out of a story. We were doing a piece on a store that was opening in Mayfair and London called The New Craftsmen. And it was all crafts people from around the British Isles and we were trying to choose which of the, you know, I don't know, 40 artisans they worked with to feature. And I watched a short video of a basket weaver in Sussex in Lewis called Ann Maria Sullivan. And it was probably two minutes and I was sitting in my office at the New York Times in my little like box in an office. And you saw her going out into the willow field in the winter all bundled up to harvest her willow and then bringing it back to her beautiful little wood studio and making on the floor barefoot. And I just thought, that's it, that's what I want. It turned out she lived right next to a friend of mine so we went and took a class with her. But it was like a weird kind of aha moment. And in one way it seemed like a crazy break, a huge break. But another way I've always been a gardener, I'd been a garden writer. And I think those jobs that I had, I feel really grateful to have had those jobs and I loved them being an editor of a magazine. I didn't like all the peripheral stuff but I loved being in the office making a magazine. And in fact, we always called it like making a magazine. It was like a thing we made each month, it wasn't. Anyway, there is a through line of, as you say, from the magazine, I really like to highlight simple things that are beautiful and useful. Well, one of the things I think that we have in common as well is like, you know, I come from the food perspective, I'm really interested in, not that I'm a farmer, but I'm really interested in farming and transformation of like the natural world I product and then how that embodies the environment and the tradition and like what people have at hand. Yeah, I feel like that's everything. I feel like you just sort of nailed it. It's about the ways one which were connected to the land dependent on the land and all that the land can do for us if we are respectful of its properties. Whether that's like making food, making incredible food or baskets. I mean, we're so, you know, historically connected to the land and the way we live now and especially the way I was living as a magazine editor is you're very separate from it. It's a thing like, oh, you make a beautiful gardener, you go on holiday. If your livelihood comes from the land, you have a natural respect for it and I think that's true, whether it's food or basketry or, you know, whatever it is, pottery. We're in New York, which is like the most urban of all, but then landscapes. But, you know, another one that you could think is not urban, but it's like totally built environment is Venice, right? I wanted to jump forward to a month that you spent in Venice last year just talking about like the built environment, the natural environment and like, I was completely fascinated about this basketry project that you were working on. So I'd love you to talk about a little bit the month that you spent there. I mean, I think just, I think what you were getting at first is we think of Venice as this place of glorious art and architecture, unbelievable alleys and the canals and no cars and we're taking a boat everywhere, but we do think of it as a building. environment, which you know, it is. But what it really is is a natural environment and a completely unique one. And the city is wholly dependent on the lagoon from, you know, which it rises. And I think the lagoon is sort of overlooked. Or again, as we were talking about before, seen as this sort of beautiful scenery outside of Venice. But the connection between Venice as a sort of urban place and the water is completely symbiotic. And, you know, I mean, it's why Venice floods. And so much has been done to the lagoon in terms of changing the direction, making it deeper so the big boats can come through. And it's deeply affected the plants there. I'll get to basketry in a second. But it's deeply affected. The plants there, which, you know, are really diminishing. And they were the things in part that kept the water from rising. So now there's this sort of artificial mosaic thing that like this big concrete thing that can come up to stop it from flooding, which works. But it's not helping the problem. And there's an amazing organization called We Are Here Venice. But anyways, zoom around on little little boats stopping the cruise ships coming in. Yeah. Jandemaster, Radica Luffer, who founded it sort of single-handedly, got rid of the cruise ships, which were destroying everything. Because they're just, I mean, it's, I guess my point is that Venice is a very fragile ecosystem. My husband and I decided we're older, the children are gone, we can work remotely. Why don't we go live somewhere for a month that, you know, that you kind of place that you can't really get to the heart of by visiting. Yeah. Unless you're there. Yeah. Yeah. Unless you're, you know, to see how it works day to day. And, you know, Venice is an incredibly hard place to actually live or, you know, to go to the dry clear. Yeah, to bring furniture is on delivery. Yeah. It's insane. It's a really, really difficult place to live in a way. But anyway, so we had this idea. And simultaneously, I'd been asked to do a show of my baskets at a gallery called Casa Yali that's owned by Rosie Cajan, who is a glass designer and has a business called Yali Glass. And it's right outside. So initially, I just thought, well, I'll make these baskets from the willow, you know, that's local to me. Yeah. Upstate. I grow a little willow and I have a willow farmer across the river who grows for me because I decided I didn't actually want to be a farmer. So I just thought, I'll show these baskets that I made in New York. And as soon as I got to Venice, I realized that was a crazy idea because basketry is always about a particular place. And I thought, if I'm showing baskets in Venice, they should be connected to Venice, to its landscape, to its plants and to the history of basketry in Venice. And as you know, I'm obsessed with research. I love researching things. So I thought, well, I'm here for a month. And Rosie said, you can use this gallery space. It's empty as a sort of residency. And so I started to research Venetian baskets and there was no information. I mean, in general baskets are sort of the bottom of the barrel in terms of craft. And in a place like Italy and Venice in particular, there's so much incredible high culture that no one was bothering to think about, you know, preserving the velvet and glass. Yeah, exactly. The dabbiness. Yeah, they weren't like, let's save the baskets. So I couldn't find any information. So I started to research through paintings, Tintoretto and Canaletto. And it was fascinating. And as we'll probably talk about later, the way I really like to travel is to have a way into a place. And so this was like the perfect storm. It's just the dream where I could research basketry through art. And it gave me a way to kind of make my way through the churches and museums of churches. But did you know whichever like church or museums even start with in the beginning? I did. I just went like, you know, it's just a way to look at everything and just start picking out the baskets. And the baskets like a motif through all of that art, like in general. I mean, it's like when there's, you know, it's not in a kind of royal painting or necessarily religious painting, but paintings that are about everyday life. Okay. And you start seeing the same basket over and over again. So that was one half of it. And the other half was, okay, I want to use the plants here. And that's when Jane, Dimasto, took me into the lagoon. And we started, you know, she works, she's a biologist. She works with all kinds of scientists and and botanists tracking the the plant life there. And I realized how diminished everything was. And that plants that had been natural and native to the wetlands. And it's sort of a swampy, you know, it goes from land to kind of silt and then underwater. Um, that the water had just become so oversalinated that they didn't exist anymore. It's interesting that like there are really interesting people returning to the city. Because they think like we're talking 10 years ago. It was like, okay, that is a city set to stone set in amber. All the young people were leaving. Exactly. Why is it now? Do you think that there's like a return? For one, it's one of the most spectacular beautiful places in the world. Yes, I mean, and there's nothing like it anywhere in the world. But I think that people are starting to feel a real responsibility to it. And just the beauty of it is drawing people back. But if there is a really interesting group of people living there now, both local and kind of expats. We're almost kind of going back in, you know, leaping forward. We're not starting at the beginning of your of your travels, which is, you know, it's not chronological. But you've just come back from Morocco, which is like the next evolution of the basket kind of project. Can you tell me a little bit about this? Yeah. So I've been asked by a friend of ours to do a show on Moroccan basketry, Berber basketry at the YSL Museum in Marrakesh. Basically what we see in this sook is kind of in one way it's the death of Moroccan basketry because they're objects that are completely made for us as tourists. But on the other hand, it's a way that the tradition is still living because there is a market for it. But the Berbers are amazigh, I guess they've preferred to be called, are the sort of indigenous nomadic, semi nomadic tribes that have been in Morocco since, you know, before the Arabs, before the Spanish, before the French, everyone. And what I was hoping to find and did find are these pockets of places where people are still making for themselves and for their own use. Is it in the south of the North? Both. I was in the north and the reef. We took a really incredible road trip from the kind of Atlantic side, the 10-year side, over the reef mountains to the Mediterranean side. It was such a fun week because it got, I got to sort of indulge in all my kind of research fantasies of like going into the homes of collectors, going into archives. I love an archive. You know, it's funny because like you're just talking about doing a road trip in Morocco. But I guess people don't really realize because they go to Marrakesh or maybe they transfer through Transfer through Casablanca, maybe Fez, 10-year, let's say. They usually fly between those things, but actually Morocco is an incredible road trip country. Yes. And even, you know, no one would think really, oh, I'm going to be my own driver in this. No, I don't, that would probably be hard. I don't know that you could. Well, I think it's fun to share. Yeah, I guess obviously you could. I think it would be if it's a fun adventure also because it's like wildly different landscapes. And I think it's unbelievable idea of what it is. You know, you can go up into the Atlas Mountains. I remember going once and like was in the spring and you know, there's these just like wedge valleys full of roses. Yes. Incredible. Yeah. And then another time it's like a rock blossom. Yeah. Or then it's a rocky air landscape where then it's a pine forest. Yeah. But the views and the the expanse and the space. Well, the other thing as well is like some parts you can go there and you're like, you feel like you're in southern Italy in a wine region. It's the most hilarious thing because you know, you're not supposed to drink alcohol there, which of course. But there's like a rosé that everyone drinks, right? And I went and visited or talked to the wine maker about the Moroccan wine and actually not horrible. Look at it's a daily kind of thing. But you know, you think that it's, you know, they're not wine producers, but then I asked the guy, okay, so how many bottles are you doing? And it was like, you know, I think it would be 10,000 or something and he said two million. And what? Who's buying that export? I've never had Moroccan wine at a restaurant in, you know, in New York or it did it. And he said, I said, how many bottles are you exporting in the country where alcohol's banned? And he was like, none. Really? Yeah. Exactly. Yeah. Anyway, it's just to say that like, wait, but alcohol's not banned. Not banned, but you're not supposed to. Well, you know, there's a, you know, there's a mix of populations there. So for sure, for sure, I just mean that it's like, you don't think of it as a wine. It's not Ireland or it's not. It's not Ireland where everyone's drunk or France where there's white wine. Yeah, exactly. I shouldn't say that, but it's just that it's not like a place necessarily you think as a wine making region. And I think like, sometimes people have a view of Morocco as being one. Yes. Kind of thing. But I think that's the thing. I mean, that's, you know, not to just tout your business, but that is what you do. And that is how I like to travel where you're finding different ways into a place and it's high and it's low and it's, the great fancy hotel and also a shack somewhere on the beach. And Morocco is, you know, rich with that. And I think that's hard for people to find on their own. You know, when you're seeing someone on a trip and they're like posting on Instagram, that's one of the actual, you know, there's a lot of problems with like traveling and tourism and social media. But at the same time, like when you see someone on a trip, which I was looking at your trip, you know, post that off there. And it's that feeling that someone's on fire in curiosity, I kind of like get super excited. And I was like thrilled to talk to you about that particular trip. I did feel on fire because it was a kind of trip that was like firing on my synapses of like going into beautiful houses, going into museums, meeting weavers. And then I mean, I'll tell you what I thought was sort of magical for me. But obviously, I had a kind of privileged access in that I had this itinerary worked out. We had researched things. I had an Arabic speaking translator from the museum who is also just a sort of really smart, wonderful person. And the driver was great. But I think, you know, for all of us, even if we go to a place without that kind of access, having a particular interest and bringing that interest of yours into a place is such a fantastic way to kind of connect to a place in a way that you wouldn't really do otherwise on this sort of Morocco trip like you're talking about. And whether it's, you know, art or craft or music, whatever food, whatever your thing is, it just allows you to travel through a place and get to know it better. And get to know the people. Exactly. It's like the crack in the door that you just have to put it on. And then you asked to be invited into these people that are both even if you're interested in food and someone else there is interested in food, they're thrilled to meet you. And yes, exactly. It's the door opens and then they're like, you need to talk to this person or go to this place. Because it's a deeper layer than like, oh, I'm fascinated by your culture and your sights in your city. If that makes sense to go then like you plug into someone's like-minded passion or respect. And that's also like when all the doors just swing open. I remember we went on a trip to together now. Well, we've been on a few trips together, but the iconic one was in textiles in India, right? So, you know, after you'd left tea, I kind of wrote a very earnest letter to you because, you know, I was like my favorite editor. I just loved your point of view and admired the magazines that you created. So I wrote you and I was like starting the business and I said, hey, I don't know how I how I even presume that this could possibly be possible, but would you be interested in like exploring Indian textiles with me? And so you and I went on a research trip first. Did we? Yeah, yeah, we did. We didn't. No, we did because we went. Yes, we did. We did it beforehand. I'm telling you, we did. I have a really bad memory. No, we did 100%. So we went and arrived in Diwali in Rajasthan. And then we went to Bengal. David, I have to mention that. So, so you asked me to co-lead this, this kind of craft textile trip to India with you. And, you know, you've never asked me again. It was kind of a disaster. It was not, you know, what? Well, if you ask anyone that came with us, it's, you know, our mutual friend said it's like still the best trip that she's ever done. So it was, you know, it made me so stressed out. It made me realize I could never do your job. The stress of wanting everything to be perfect. Well, yeah, of course, but you know, the other thing is hard in India. Well, for sure, we can talk about how we almost burn down. I'll cut up a little bit later, but just on that point, like I'm on so many dozens of WhatsApp groups now of people that fall in love with each other and on a trip. Yes, exactly. I remember my colleagues at Conanastravla, you know, I was a bit of a lone wolf travel writer. I just like, popped off and did my thing and came in every so often for the pitch meetings. But yeah, it's like, if you're an editor at large, as you well know, it means they want you out of the office. You don't bother me. Exactly. When I told them I was starting this business, because it really started in India, actually, on a group trip, because I thought, oh, actually, India is such a place. And they plug into this, like, not exaggerated, it's real, but exaggerated sense. You know, it's so, but I know you created such beautiful experiences there. I mean, I think, you know, sometimes you described your business as a magazine story brought into life. And I think that was what you created. When did you send thousands of candles down there? Well, I mean, from you, that's a big compliment. But yeah, we were in a place in Maheshwap. There's an extraordinary hotel, maybe like one of the defining hotels of, like, what I'm, why I'm interested in the way. That's a personal, beautiful, grounded in the place. Couldn't be anywhere else than where it is. Exactly. Kind of every corner you go around is sort of Minhog era. Well, if interior, yes, no. And so, you know, one of the things that they do is they take people out on the boat at dusk and then put candles through, and so it's almost like floating loads of candles. But of course, like, I wanted to do it, you know, 10,000 candles. In that direction, on leaves as well. So like, not like some giant waste that's going to be hitting down the so they could be collected afterwards. One of the, they just like, the candles go out and then the leaves just, you know, become part of the river. I think it's just important to say that. In fact, it was someone else that kind of said to me, berated me the first time that I did that. I'm like, on leaves, actually, biodegradable. Anyway, that's as an aside. But, you know, sometimes you can do these kind of, I think one or two of the dinners that you can create because candles are so, and light is so important. And we went during the festival of lights, which is Diwali, which has become a lot about fireworks, but is much about candles too. And I remember actually, we were in Calcutta. And sometimes I have like an exaggerated sense of like what I want a dinner or thing to be. And so I was thinking, Calcutta, yeah, that decrepit colonial era club. Exactly. Because it's just doesn't exist anymore. But I was setting up the dinner, you know, all the guests were coming later and Debra was coming later too. And what had happened is there'd been like a national shortage of, you know, wax candles. Beautiful, like, safe wax candles. I just remember you coming to me and saying, you know, there's no candles in India right now. And I was literally like, what the fuck? It's true. I was like, come on, you can find candles in India. I mean, exactly. And so we sent people out in every conceivable direction to find them. Anyway, they came back with candles all great. So I'm just, you know, setting up the dinner. And we, everyone's about to arrive and start lighting the candles. And all of a sudden, they kind of melt very, very quickly. And then they're starting to kind of flame. And it turns out they're paraffin candles. The ones that I like have been illegal for decades elsewhere. And so starting to light the tableclubs. Exactly. And there starts to be like fire in this wood decrepit kind of gentleman's club. And again, I didn't understand. I was like, why is no one blowing out the candles? We're starting a huge fire here. Why are all these people just standing around? So I started going and like blowing out the candles, not understanding that they were paraffin. And you blow on them. And like the hot liquid was just all over. I was like scalded. Yeah, exactly. So she has a giant burn. And I'm like, we're at the end of the thing that guests are arriving. And so they all arrive. And then of course, the food was disaster because it was like gray English food. Nothing to do with Indian thing. But it ended to be like such a comedy of errors that it was the perfect ending. I think those kind of disasters are better in retrospect. They make for good stories, even though if they're really stressful. Well, of course, but the last image that I remember of that night with Deborah was her running water in the bathroom, like this, with a burn smoking a cigarette. It was kind of amazing. God, you've never asked me to do that again. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. There's a reason you haven't. It stresses me out. Yeah. This episode of Traveling Through is sponsored by Capital One. Capital One cardholders are passionate about unforgettable experiences. Together, we partner to connect these curious travelers to world cultures through expert guided journeys from the peaks of Machu Picchu to the grand architecture of Vienna. These ones in a lifetime trips take you somewhere truly off the beaten path. Through Capital One Entertainment, eligible cardholders can book exclusive experiences in so much more all while earning elevated rewards. Save a cardholders an 8% cashback and venture X and five X miles. Thanks to Capital One, your dream getaway is one step closer. After you left the magazine, you started to do a column for tea called material culture. And I think that's the kind of the first time we had any kind of connection around actually travel. We helped you with a trip in Japan. Is there things that like you've taken from Japanese? I mean, I think probably this is how I really got into researching around craft and traveling to places, using craft as a way into a place. So Japan was the first trip and I was doing a story on a Katazome Indigo Dyer. So it's a kind of stencil on fabric and indigo. And I thought like, I'm going to Japan for the first time. I've never been there. You know, my assignment is just this one thing, but I'd like to get as much out of Japan as I can. And so I appealed to you and worked with people that, you know, on your team that helped me plan an entire itinerary. It was really, really intense. sense of meeting crafts people all over going to a pottery village, woodworkers, metal workers. Because of working with your team, I think I probably saw, you know, 15 or 16 workshops crafts people in eight days, which I think is why people think I know a country better than I do. Why it's like I'd been to India once, and you thought like maybe I could co-lead a trip there with you is because I'd go so hard. Yes. For such a. And I'd like to go. I think that Japan is like, I mean, interesting for a million reasons, but like, I wonder if it's the only country where, you know, the craft is revered. Well, exactly, exactly what I was going to say is the national treasures, right? Intangible heritage. Exactly. There's all these ideas that it's so hard to imagine us having in America where we, you know, celebrate an idea of an intangible heritage. I mean, the last time I went to Japan was, I think, in August. And so I went to Fukushima, actually. And I went to see one of the oldest bonsai growers, makers, super-slipers, you know, fascinated by that. But, I mean, it completely blew my mind. And what this particular bonsai maker is inspired initially by the silver pine that grows and it's the most Japanese thing in the whole work, that grows on the top of the volcano. The conditions of a certain bonsai of that particular silver pine is that they can only sell it at like 80 years age. So it's bridging. Right. Generations. generation and generation. Someone's working on something that they will never see so, but maybe working on something that somebody else started. Yeah. I mean, that's another thing that's so amazing about Japan is the sense of ancestors and generational connection for lack of a better word. I feel like they really feel like a lot of the craftspeople really feel all the preceding generations that led up to they're doing what they're doing. Yeah. And, you know, one of the things that is, on one side, the most exciting thing about what we do and what we're both interested in is when, and it's why material culture, the column that you did is such a brilliant name. The thing that excites me is living culture in those things and a lot of times it's not the high culture. No. It's folk culture or popular culture. For sure. Or natural transformation. Yeah. I feel really privileged that we were able to do this specific thing. They gave me and beat my boyfriend a seedling to, to fashion. How quickly did you kill it? Well, I was so terrible. I mean, we had arrested on the way home. Debra knows Viden is like, he's an architect and incredibly thoughtful and just like precision totally. Except you probably stuffed it in the box. Well, I've snapped one of the branches, but with the wire, so I don't know mine is going to be really wacky. You know, they said to us, come back in a few years. I mean, that was like quite moving. Yeah. No, the dedication to craft in Japan is like nothing I've ever seen. I mean, said this dire I went to see this. I mean, he made all his own stencils based on like 17th century stencils and he had, you know, an indigo dive that in the backyard. And he'd been doing his craft for, I don't know, 30 or 40 years. I didn't feel he was a master and was so connected to his divat, he, you know, he couldn't go to his son's wedding because with these divats, you have to watch the fire and make sure the temperature and mix the indigo. So I mean, his life, he was just so dedicated that, you know, I think probably personal parts of his life really suffered. Yeah. I mean, exactly the same things. He's bonsai. I guess they can't leave that there. Yeah. They cannot leave. And also, I mean, on the side, they're getting robbed occasionally. So now they have these big fences and, oh God, that was depressing to hear. But, you know, just the idea that it's alive in that way. Yeah. And, you know, we had a very privileged access, but sometimes travel and when you open that door and you're curious and you offer that experience, even if it's a rare experience, we were contributing to a side income that, you know, maybe plugs the whole of the theft or continues to be able to allow them to have some person when it's too hot, to take in those gigantic bonsai, like inside. Yeah. And the way they can't do it, it was sort of alluding to with these, the Berber baskets. Like, we romanticize craft and folk culture a lot of the time. And we want it to be a certain way. But the fact that basket weavers in San Maracco can earn a living basket weaving, even though they're making Drek for the suke, they're making like, you know, fake or mezz Burkin bags out of a spartograph or rush or palm. It's alive. It's not how, you know, we romanticize it necessarily. It's not perfect. Do you bring back styles of baskets into your practice or do you have, are they usually from a particular tradition? Uh, most of my work, the things that I make are from sort of European tradition, France, Spain, British Isles. But I bring back, I mean, it's sort of a way, you know, that I travel is I bring back baskets that are done in different techniques and want to make everything, which is another reason I'm not really good because every beautiful thing that I see, I want to try and figure it out and, and make it. I love a kind of souvenir somehow. I like little figurines and, um, and figurine you stole from. Yeah. Well, exactly. I mean, it wasn't going to tell that story, but you can maybe see that little camel in the back there. I really want to. Yeah. Exactly. That was actually about this, there's not been so many actually, sometimes you just, those things imbue so much meaning to, and to me, that's really important, and I like the bring-back little knick-knacks. Yeah. And that's what I think about it. No, so it like, it's, it's an amazing little object in itself. It reminds you of the trip, and it reminds you of stealing it out from under. Well, well, the other thing is, is that you, you're exactly the other animal experience that we shared was, um, when we were in the Natural History Museum of Calcutta, which, if anyone has a chance to go, I mean, I love a decrepit place that, like, was glorious and grand, and at another time. And this makes the old, old Egyptian museum look like Moemah, for example. It's so, like, the scale of it is grand, the beautiful wood built-ins, but, you know, no money to keep it up, and I just remember there being this taxidermied, I don't even know what kind of animal, a lynx, like a Himalayan mountain lion or something on those legs. It must have been, like, before it was shot, it, like, had just gone mad. And so its eyes were bugging out, and it just was, like, the most insane piece of taxidermy. And for a long time, we sent it back and forth of, like, as a meme, sort of, I was like, "Oh, the end of the day is exactly, I mean, you did have a second degree burn, I have to say it's so fair enough." I wanted to ask you, what place are you most intrigued to travel to? What is peaking your interest right now? Well, I'm, you know, deep in this Morocco moment. I've never been to Switzerland, and I'm sort of intrigued by the architecture of those chalets and all wood-panelled interiors. Well, there's one place that I'd love to return with you because we had a very special trip there. And I'm, like, hiding my little souvenir in here with my backpack, because it was very propped. And look at this. It looks like I'm gone to a circuit party, but anyway, I haven't had a big, clacky fan at a circuit party, but I do have Spanish friends, and I, one of my favorite places to see. That was an amazing trip. It was just spain to the fair, the fair of April, and that's, like, so beautiful. It's, like, that place where costume and culture come alive, like, it's, like, interesting because there's not artifice there somehow. It's very exaggerated, and it's a live culture, and it's, like, that's the thing I get super excited about. And I love that trip. You know, and it's also, like, I've been back a number of times, like, I love that as a prior trip. Yes. I love a festival. I love a festival. Because it is, it is when, like, a place comes alive. Yeah. It's carnival. I mean, in general, I shy away from places during those times, because, um, and hedonic, I don't know, because I don't like to have that much fun. Yeah. I don't like to lose myself that way. You know, but I think, you know, when they are still real, and there isn't, like, a Ferris wheel, like, yeah, on top of the festival, like, that is the culture at its most. Yeah, I mean, even a place like Harbor Island, where we used to go with the children during Junkanoo, with a big parade, like, it was an amazing thing for the children to be, to get immersed in a place like that, and to see the spirit of a place. No, for sure. I mean, the county fair, like, it's, it's, it's got something that you need in it, for sure. And if you can plug into that, it's the doorway in with people. It's, like, I think that people should travel for that, understand that sometimes they completely rammed by people, but if you can figure out a way, I've never been to Connor. of all in view. But I am desperate to do. Really? Yeah, absolutely. I really want to do that. But you know, I returned and I wanted to talk to you about Andalusia because the last time I went back, you remember the flowers that we bought in, you know, because you've always got, you've got the flamenco dress but you always have giant flower and giant flower. Anyway, we went to like polyester land because no one's going to be put everybody you want to spend to five thousand euros on those things. But honestly, you buy two or three dresses in your life if you're a woman like that that are really expensive. It's like you're wedding dress. But there are all the accessories and I bought one of the flowers because it kind of just remind me of the trip but it's made entirely of feathers. Oh, that's amazing. It's seriously beautiful. Oh, it's right under the, oh, that thing we bought in Barcelona. No, no, no, that was in Seville. Exactly, that's the X-Foto. So it's like the Mourish heads. Have you ever been to the Santa Fe folk museum? Oh, yeah. And to the folk art festival once a year in the summer in July where they bring in crafts people from, I don't know, nine to a hundred different countries. It's incredible. I was interested in Santa Fe like I'm interested in New Orleans in the sense that like it's got something something like America. We haven't talked about America much. Well, yeah, I mean, I mean, Santa Fe is a completely sort of sewage generous place as what was the place you just met? Oh, New Orleans. Like there's nothing like it. I mean, it's like it's so quite, it's really foreign. It has such a sort of different culture. Well, it's a mix of culture that is, it's the best of all of them and you know, Santa Fe, I knew that that but I didn't really understand it. What's the room of folk miniatures? Oh, Alexander Gerard. Yeah. Was a fantastic artist architect. I think it was an architect. Yeah, maybe not. And he had Alexander Gerard had Jonathan Adler is very inspired by Alexander Gerard. Oh, I didn't see like the sort of childlike and humorous and yeah, and in that room in the folk museum, it's sort of a land of miniatures. It's like it's a small world and that kind of little miniature there is kind of that but they basically have created all of these worlds of folk art figurines from all around the world. And I think, you know, I literally cried when I went into that because it is like a it's a small world. It's extraordinary. I mean, that's one of the most for me amazing museums not only in the United States, in the world. It's fantastic. Unreal. And kind of little known. Yeah, that's the thing. It's like that museum hill in Santa Fe is quite extraordinary. I think it's one of the more interesting places to travel. Yeah, and they have good opera and Santa Fe. That's great. Yeah, that's right. So, yes, exactly. And there's also a really amazing Bezali Japanese Riyokan there. Really? Yes, it's called 10,000 waves and it's in the hills of Santa Fe and it's surrounded by aspen trees. So, if you go in the fall, it's like completely yellow and you're kind of bathing there. It's quite an amazing place. I mean, Santa Fe is just super weird, right? Yeah. Yeah. And then the whole landscape around Aboku, around where George O'Keefe was. I mean, George O'Keefe. These sort of white rocks. No, no, incredible. If you were to just still down to one thing, I know that's that's difficult, but what is the that doorway in for you when you're going to destinations or travel? I mean, for me, it's now its basketry and craft. It used to be gardens, but I sort of learned this from my mother and mom, my husband's mother, who was this kind of powerful brave kooky woman, but also a homebody and hated to travel. And so, she just started this thing of collecting egg cups because, you know, they were small and you could pocket them when you traveled, but it was like almost like a sense of security. It gave her like a purpose. When she traveled, I'm not sure that she, you know, really could learn about different places through their egg cups. Maybe you can. I think if you study anything deep enough, you know, and she ended up with, I don't know, 10,000 egg cups, it was insane. Wow. But it was for her the way for her to feel comfortable, because I think travel can be scary, particularly about the kind of travel you're talking about, not where you're going from fancy hotel to fancy hotel in a chauffeur driven car. But where you're trying to really connect with people, it's a much more intense experience and can be like for me, I always dread a trip right before I go. And then I'm never happier than when I'm somewhere. And then I crash when I come home. But I think it just doesn't matter what the thing is. It can be something as stupid as egg cups, but I think giving yourself at least for a certain type of personality. For me, it really, really is helpful. So then I'm, you know, moving through a museum, you know, you can't take in a whole museum. It's overwhelming. But if you're looking for for one particular thing or one period that you're interested in, I mean, it's somewhat the overarching idea of this show is that you can travel through a particular lens or yes, I often think about like India through belief, Japan through ritual, Italy through food, Spain through fiesta celebration, cultural festivals. Right. I mean, I think and that's a, you know, a framework that makes sense and a framework that makes sense to you and that you use for your business. And I think also, you know, probably people come to you with their particular passions and you build trips around that. And I just think it's such a nice way to be someplace where maybe you're a little off balance because you're out of your comfort zone. Well, it's also you think you're going through that lens and you are, right. But it opens out into every door, you know, and then you start to, it's linked to the food, it's linked to the religion, all of those things. I think it's like, if you want to feel at home in the world to the point of your mother-in-law, Lois, who by the way, if you want to read an amazing article about her, this is, yeah, she's not, she's not kidding, this is an extraordinary woman, Lois Weisberg. You can look it up on that. Yeah, Malcolm Gladwell wrote it for the, for the New Yorker. But I mean, the idea of that piece was like that she was no one famous. It was like, there's a little old lady in Chicago that knows someone that knows someone that knows you. It was because her kind of MO was connecting people and being this conduit for creative people in different fields. And when you travel, you don't have that power. You're at the mercy. And I think that was the thing. It was like, she couldn't be herself in a foreign place without like having junk shops to troll through. Right. Well, this has been fun. It's always fun with you. I love having a laugh, but I also love sharing our passion for the daily beauty of how people transform things that is just magical. Yeah, it is completely magical. How does this happen over time? That you get to, you know, through travel, you get to see things you wouldn't see. And I just remember, like Diego De La Valle, when I was in my fashion life, always talked about, you know, he would do that. Sorry. Oh, sorry. He ran Todd's. Oh, okay. And he's sort of like a sort of Italian businessman mogul. But he would always talk about, you know, the aroma and like his little fingers of, I'm sure you know, there's probably something that that means an Italian gesture. But it's this idea of getting the aroma of a place. And it's not necessarily like the fragrance. It's the atmosphere. And a lot of that comes from everyday life and not from necessarily high culture. Well, I mean, just on the essence or the smell of we once did a story, which is one of still one of my favorite stories that we ever did called the essence of that how bad smells. Like and transport you in not an entirely bad way. Well, all good fragrances are made of that, you know, of bad smell. Oh, really? Oh, yeah. I think it was like feces, extractions. No, seriously, every really like beautiful perfume has a kind of nasty something because, you know, it's like underarm smell. Anyway, this is going in a different direction. No, it's fine. But is there a place that you think comes to mind with you that has a bad smell that's like evocative to you? New Delhi, like that, you know, the smell of kind of pollution and burning. But I sort of love it the way I like, you know, gasoline smell in a closed garage. Right. I mean, I always think of like, you know, stale beer on carpet, you know, it's sort of that English pub Irish thing. Thankfully now, or the most of the Australian pubs, or they always have been like tiles. And actually, if you're going to have a like a big piss up night, it's called a night out on the tiles. Oh, really? I've had a few wet, wet school bus was really bad. Like loads of children on a rainy day. Oh, like, humid and stinky. But then, you know, on their flip side, rain, everything kind of sometimes is the most like, yeah, it just like driving through Morocco just now that was incredible fog. And then it rained one night. And it was so clear. And it was like the citrus were blooming at this time. And it just, this smell was divine. And we like, we're clamoring up through wild time that smelled so good. Or that kind of moment between like, magnolia, grande flora when the rain comes before it turns brown. Yeah. That's next morning. It's like the most incredible. Yeah. And I can think about that for a few different places more than one of them. So anyway. So yeah, thank you. We have to stop talking. Oh, we don't know. We can keep talking. No, no, we have to stop talking. Now, I'm going to torture you with questions that you have to answer quickly, speaking of talking too much. Okay. So, favorite hotel. Hotel Locarno, maybe in Rome. Just a small, not super fancy hotel. The rooms are beautiful. I like, very sexy, very kind of 19th century romantic. I'll decorate it differently. Right on the outside of Poppolo. Yeah. Right and off of that with the beautiful little garden, not a fancy hotel, but just to me perfect. And a huge with stereo over there. Unbelievable. Yeah. And I like a hotel that has a proprietor. Right. You know, the owner is present. Yeah. Is there a meal or taste that you could desperate to relive? You know, I'm not a foodie like you, but I was in Lisbon for 24 hours that last week and someone just directed me to a ceviche place that was so incredible. I don't even remember the name of it, but I think most memorable meals are not in super fancy places, at least for me. I like simple food. A place that you would always return home. A place that you'd never return. I think Varanasi, although I didn't hate it. It was just, you know, I felt like so, you know, Varanasi is where people bring their dead loved ones to be burnt on a funeral pyre. It's on the Ganges. There's all these spiritual seekers there. And it's a magnificent place, but it is so foreign and it felt so apocalyptic. Like I don't think I would bring myself to go there. And it was hard to fully process it, but it was magical and spiritual and just like the fog, the boats bringing tons of wood for these funeral pyres. And people are burning and it doesn't smell bad. It's so polluted. And yet people are like doing their laundry and it comes out sparkling white. Like the whole thing is a mystery. And it just feels like the beginning of humanity and the end of humanity. And it's just like a lot. Well, like just a picture of humanity full stop. Yeah. The first time I went there at the end of the day, I looked down at my feet and I was wearing two different shoes of entirely different genres. Because you were so spiritual. Yeah. Exactly. No, no, no, no, but because it is the most overwhelming on the planet. I mean, all over India, you see cows walking around, but it's like there, the alleys are so tiny. So you like, you know, there are one way and you come up with a cow and you're like doing that thing. Are you going right? Are you going left? Favorite shop or market? This might be a bit cliche, but the Paris flea market, the Paul Bert section, just the best things for the home. What's your favorite museum? I'm going to go low, not high. I like a super personal weird museum. So like Mario Praz, which is his collection in Rome. There's an amazing museum of wax fruit in Torren that's connected to an amazing museum of things that institutionalized insane people make. There's unbelievable weavings. Also this museum in Istanbul called the Museum of Innocence that is completely the passion project of the writer or Han Pamuk and it's a novel. There's a novel and then this collection that he's amassed of ordinary things that relate to the novel. Where have you felt most out of place? I don't think I've ever felt completely out of place anywhere, but I think in Japan it felt the most foreign to me. I mean you can think like India's such a different culture, but it's chaotic. I understand it as a New York. Not that I understand it completely, but I feel comfortable there. In Japan people were incredibly welcoming and kind, but I felt I was in the presence of a culture so different that it was hard to like be myself. Where have you felt most at home? Oh right here with you. Italy. I mean I feel like Italy's my comfort zone. You know it feels easy. The food's great. The people are nutty and you know they seek beauty as just a matter of ordinary life. It's just a matter of course. And deliciousness beauty and deliciousness is like Italian's wood. And ridiculousness. Yes. It's the silly the best. Like over the dramatic. It's just so fun, but it's like Italians if it was if you're like the lights were being cut off and they hadn't paid the electricity bill on the Monday. They'd still get the Pesticini on the side. Yes, totally. 100%. Like nothing's gonna stop them from having great food or like doing something beautiful. Looking good. Exactly. So I like to ask people and remember this is like geography, real life, real obligations aside. Okay. We would most like spend a weekend, a week, a month, a year. Okay, a weekend, Tuscany, Umbria, maybe our friend Camilla Guinness's house, which can be rented, Villa Arnano. Really just such a beautiful house, beautiful location. And we went on vacation. Yes. Okay, a week, Hydra. I'd like to go back to. I guess I like a place with no cars, quiet, beauty, unbelievable landscape. Just wandering around, again, great food, a month, Naples or Mexico City. So you know, I have been doing this thing of the like where do we want to go for a month. And both of those places, I think, are so rich and layered that to be able to spend a month there would be incredible. And a year. Probably Venice. I mean, I feel like I uncovered some and there's still so much more I want. It's a it's calling you for sure. Yeah. As well, I like to ask everyone, what are you traveling through right now? Is that an emotional question? Yes, emotional question. It's a life question. Kind of age. I mean, I think the idea of, you know, I think a lot of the decisions I've made about my life recently are about, you know, getting older, not wanting to have regrets. And so I'm traveling through this idea of time, of limited time and how I want to spend it. And a lot of that is by traveling too. I'm traveling through traveling too. I, well, I hope you spend some traveling time with me. One of my favorite travel buddies. Thanks to I love you, you're the best. I love you. Bye. (upbeat music)

Podcast Summary

Key Points:

  1. Debra Needleman transitioned from a high-profile editorial career in fashion and magazines to a deep engagement with craft, weaving, and everyday human practices as a way to understand cultural authenticity.
  2. Her travels are guided by a specific lens—such as basketry, food, festivals, or ritual—allowing her to connect deeply with local traditions, people, and environments in ways that go beyond tourist experiences.
  3. She sees travel not as passive sightseeing, but as a form of active, immersive learning rooted in respect for place, time, and the dignity of ordinary labor, especially in places like Venice, Morocco, and India.

Summary:

Debra Needleman’s journey reflects a profound shift from the polished, high-fashion world of magazine editing to a grounded, hands-on exploration of cultural life through craft and daily practice. Once a powerful editor at major publications like the *New York Times* and *Domino*, she left behind the fast-paced, isolating world of fashion shows to embrace a more intimate and meaningful form of travel. Now, she travels with purpose, using crafts like basket weaving as a lens to understand cultures—whether in Venice, Morocco, or India.

Her approach is deeply rooted in observation, respect, and connection: she researches through art, visits local artisans, and immerses herself in everyday labor, from willow harvesting in Sussex to Berber weaving in Morocco. She emphasizes that true cultural understanding comes not from grand monuments or luxury travel, but from engaging with ordinary people and their traditions. Her work reveals a lifelong belief in the beauty and dignity of the mundane—gardens, food, festivals, and handmade objects.

These experiences, often grounded in personal curiosity and a commitment to authenticity, form the foundation of her philosophy: travel is not about escape, but about deep, human connection. Through her travels, she continues to explore themes of time, legacy, and belonging, especially as she navigates the awareness of limited life span. Her journey is one of reinvention—moving from editorial excellence to a quieter, more embodied form of cultural citizenship.

Her stories, rooted in tangible objects and lived experiences, highlight the quiet power of everyday practices and the enduring beauty found in the simple, unglamorous work of people around the world.

FAQs

She was inspired to leave her editorial career by a deep desire to work with her hands and live a more solitary, grounded life. She found the fashion industry isolating and disconnected from daily human experiences, and was drawn to the intimacy and craftsmanship of basket weaving.

Debra learned about a broom-making class at the John C. Campbell Folk School in Appalachia, which she took after deciding to leave her high-profile editorial job. The experience was transformative, offering her a sense of connection, community, and hands-on creativity she had been missing.

Craft serves as a lens through which Debra explores cultures deeply. By focusing on local artisans and traditional practices—like basket weaving or indigo dyeing—she gains intimate insights into everyday life, history, and environmental connections around the world.

In Venice, Debra researched traditional Venetian basketry through art history and discovered that local plants had been lost due to environmental changes. This led her to create baskets using native plants from the lagoon, connecting her craft to the region's fragile ecosystem and cultural history.

She found that while many Berber baskets are now made for tourists, there are still communities creating baskets for personal use. This highlighted the resilience and survival of traditional crafts in the face of commercialization and cultural change.

Debra travels through a focused lens—like Japanese ritual, Spanish festivals, or Indian textiles—allowing her to connect deeply with local people and traditions. This approach makes travel more meaningful and helps her uncover hidden cultural stories.

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