Tag: Buckhead

Every show needs a queen bee. Evidently, Emily Dees Boulden wears that crown on Lifetime's new mommy-centric reality series, "Pretty Wicked Moms."

Forget about the polishing and dusting that accompany those monogrammed mint julep cups handed down by Great-Grandmother. Buckhead residents have a new worry when it comes to their sterling silver after a string of thefts perpetuated by a particularly crafty—and picky—burglar.

Though the green-and-white awning is no longer there and a fancy cappuccino maker has replaced the old percolator, the Henri’s Bakery of today is still very much like the Henri’s of my childhood.

I come from a Buckhead family. My father’s parents live off of West Wesley and my mother’s parents reside near Chastain Park. I grew up in Garden Hills, and my first job was fry guy at Buckhead Diner; I made those blue cheese potato chips and Kevin Rathbun was in the kitchen.

I arrived at Workout Anytime, a gym in a Buckhead strip mall, near Frank Ski's Restaurant and Lounge, at 3:14 this morning. A normal-ish kind of person works out as late as midnight and as early as 5:30 a.m., I figured, having done so a few times myself. But who works out in the vampirish hours between?

In the dark, no one can hear you scream. Or sweat, or grunt, or sob quietly.OK, so I’m paraphrasing the movie “Alien” here. But that seems pretty appropriate, given how slimy and disgusting I looked after a recent 45-minute indoor cycling class in the dark, loud, stadium-style studio at Flywheel in Buckhead.

It’s 8 p.m. on a Friday night, and I’m huddled inside the entrance of Seven Lamps, a new restaurant in the northwest corner of Buckhead’s Shops Around Lenox, waiting for a place to sit. The snug, five-sided room incorporates the casual design elements du jour: Reclaimed wood (from a North Georgia mill) cover the floors; old bricks, stacked vertically in varying shades of red and white, make up one wall; porcelain subway tile gleam in the open kitchen.

At 5:50 p.m. on a Wednesday, I've sidled up to the four-sided bar at Watershed on Peachtree to wait for a plate of fried chicken. Several couples and solo diners already have the once-a-week special in front of them: We know to arrive early before the chicken runs out (usually long before eight o’clock). Many of us mastered this routine at the original Decatur Watershed, which closed last August after a thirteen-year run. There the chicken, which earned so much press it practically needed its own agent, was served on Tuesday evenings.

Its mystique endures at the restaurant’s new south Buckhead location, at the base of the Brookwood Condominium building. But don’t expect nostalgic allusions to the old spot. The move is part of a deliberate reboot of the Watershed brand.