The comfortable, Cruella-de-Vil vibe of the shop puts you at immediate ease.
1. Kustom Thrills Tattoo
The first time I got a tattoo, I was 29. We were in Puerto Rico on our honeymoon, and after the requisite amount of Patrón XO Cafe, I had my maid of honor text me a blurry photo of my (now-departed but then-very-much-alive) dog’s paw, walked into a tattoo parlor and said, “Can you put this on my hip?” Dude said, “Totally.” And then he put Generic Paw Print #3 from the Big Book of Tattoos for Tourists on my butt for life.
Jared Wade in his element
Now, this was not wholly his fault. It was 2013, and the photo I asked him to use came in via flip phone. But still — my man could’ve perhaps said, “Look, lady, I cannot see anything in that photo. Perhaps you should wait to immortalize your dog until a later date.” But again, that was not his job! I asked him to put a paw print on my butt, and there a paw print remains.
Around test No. 8, Jared and I agreed a wrist tat would age like a dried prune. My future self thanks him.
But that only makes my appreciation for Jared Wade at Kustom Thrills Tattoo stronger. When I bounced into the East Nashville shop at 6:47 p.m. on a recent Sunday night like a real jackass (they close at 7) and asked him to put this emoji 
on my wrist, he said, “No problem,” and started printing options.
When I wasn’t taken with any options he found online, he asked: “What are you going for? What’s this tattoo about?” It wasn’t intrusive; he was curious. I explained that my friend Joel, who passed away from colon cancer at the brutal age of 40 back in January, always used to make this symbol in photos. I pulled up a picture of Joel doing it, and Jared said, “That’s great. Give me a minute.” He went to the back, and he drew a version of the heart fingers that looked like my friend’s hands making the gesture — the one Joel had made in the photo I showed Jared from our trip to Maine; the one Joel had “taught” my 9-month-old daughter to make when he met her for the first time. It was perfect, just like my memory of Joel.
With Joel
Moments later, Jared was letting me try 10 different placements of the 1-inch tattoo on my arm, which ended up in a totally different place than I thought I wanted. He was patient and relaxed and nonchalant and kind. If everyone’s tattoo artist is like Jared, I see how people end up with a full sleeve. (Though I’ll probably just bring in my dog’s actual paw print and have him fix that first.) Bonus: You can walk right out of Kustom Thrills and into Duke’s for a cold one while you admire your new ink.
P.S. Please take a second now and check your colon cancer risk. While Joel never came close to the screening age of 45 (or 40 for those with risk factors), I’d encourage anyone who might be high-risk to petition your doctor for an early colonoscopy. A shocking number of young Americans are dying of cancers typically found in older people, starting with a diagnosis in their 30s. In my experience, by the time you see symptoms, it’s too late. Watch for signs. Argue for yourself. No one else will.
Poolside at Kimpton Aertson Hotel
2. Kimpton Aertson Hotel
In general, the hotel industry is using too many words to name stuff. Tapestry Collection by Hilton, Tribute Portfolio by Marriott, The Unbound Collection by Hyatt — all of these are hotel names paired with other hotel names. Pick one! Travelers cannot keep up with this nonsense.
In the lobby at Kimpton Aertson Hotel
The Kimpton Aertson, however, is not doing that. Kimpton is the hotel brand’s name; Aertson is the complex the hotel is inside of. I’m going to give them a nonsense pass for that reason, and because they do so many things right:
- The rooms are huge and many offer balconies, which is pretty rare in Nashville.
- Art is built in here — the front desk, for example, is actually a rope sculpture made by New York artist Orly Genger.
- The pool is sneaky-excellent, with plenty of space to spread out and fewer tourists than anywhere downtown or deeper into Midtown. The pool bar is lacking, but you can BYOB with no issue, so do that and call it a day.
- They run all kinds of specials, including a fun “Bee Kind to Nashville package” (a nod to two new beehives on their roof) with a discount on accommodations, two honey-infused cocktails from Henley, a $10 donation to an environmental organization and a $10 credit for BCycle rentals.
- They are as pet-friendly as it gets — no pet fees, all pets welcome (meaning any who “fit in the elevator”), and they’ve even partnered with WAG! to offer complimentary premium access to their services.
- And there’s Henley on the ground floor, where you can enjoy everything from pimento cheese dip with pork puffs to a full tasting menu without ever leaving the grounds.
Most of all, the people who work there are deeply good-humored. I know this because 30 seconds after we stepped onto our balcony, this happened:
If you think that’s a 2-and-a-half-year-old who’s just jettisoned her seahorse stuffy — which she brought back all the way from her birthday in New Orleans — onto a roof into an ungettable spot, you’re right. Is there a reason she did it? No. Is there a stairwell to this roof? Also no.
But the kind folks at the Kimpton listened to my sad story, even if that was all they could do. They told me to email the photo to the front desk, and, should anyone ever get out on that roof for maintenance, they’d let me know. Two days after I sent the email, I received this response:
“Good Afternoon, The Seahorse has been rescued from the Roof and was taken to the Pool for some needed R&R. We have them held at the Front Desk for pick-up whenever is convenient! All the best, Charles Snyder | Front Office Manager.”
This photo was attached:
Not only did they use Seahorse’s correct pronoun, but Charles sent some poor person literally out on a ledge for them, and for us. If that’s not hospitality, I don’t know what is.
Bad, bachelorette. Bad!
3. Husk Brunch
As a society, we’ve gone too far with some things. Rubber shoes on adults. Blankets at movie theaters. And Big Dumb Cups. Don’t get me wrong — I love a Yeti and a Stanley and all their knockoffs as much as the next (basic white) gal. But if I’m dining anywhere someone else will be pouring my water, I do not slam my 30-ounce tumbler onto a table next to plates that were handmade for the occasion. (Caroline Cercone originally did Husk’s.)
If you’re at Pizza Hut or Hooters or Panera, by all means, save the plastic cup and fill your reusable one. But if you are dining in a structure from the 1800s, eating anywhere they specialize in seed-saving or charcuterie, or drinking water served in an actual glass, kindly stow your Stanley under the table.
Ham plate and hummingbird bread at Husk
If you don’t, the folks at Husk will still treat you like you have couth. (They’ll also happily ignore your toddler if she tries to liberate herself from her diaper mid-meal, but that’s a tale for another time.) And they’ll do it all while serving one of the most consistent, baller brunches in town. It had been a while since I’d eaten in Husk’s luxuriously windowed dining room, and I forgot just how much it feels like you’ve broken into the “Secret Garden,” but, you know, after Mary and Colin have cleaned out all the crap and had an interior designer zhuzh it up.
Roasted tomato frittata with pimiento cheese at Husk
By the time our waiter, Dom, delivered our ham plate — sliced 24-month Bob Woods country ham, cut like prosciutto, showered with fresh horseradish and and studded with pickled pecans which were shockingly sour in a delightful way that makes my mouth water even now — I was already saying, “Why don’t we come here every week?” (See again: child removing diaper.)
With all this green outside, I also don’t want to sit down.
And that was before we ate hummingbird bread and perfectly seasoned potato wedges and my absolute new favorite brunch dish: a roasted tomato frittata with pimento cheese. With the juicy, umami-packed tomatoes bursting over a white-toast base, this thing is like tomato pie meets quiche meets pimento cheese sandwich, with big flakes of sea salt adding crunch to every bite, and I want it again right now.
But the best part of eating at Husk is that they take just as much care of you as they do of the food, from the bartenders who thread the pickly things on your Bloody Mary skewer to the servers who smile knowingly as you walk your kid around the garden because they’re simply too feral to sit in a gorgeous glass box when there’s so much pretty stuff to explore right outside.
Husk’s ‘Sun To Me’ — a riff on an Aperol Spritz, made with strawberry Amaro and roasted tomato — is lovely. But nothing beats their bright, addictive ‘Cruel Summer’ made with vodka, cucumber-marigold shrub, lime and dry Curaçao (a French orange liqueur).
It’s always been a bit of a miracle that Husk exists so close to downtown — you’re just eight-tenths of a mile from Bridgestone — but it feels even more magical to be able to enjoy its simplicity now as the debauchery gets dumber by the day.
Nashville Children’s Theatre
4. Nashville Children’s Theatre
As a first-time parent, I find it hard to know when you can take a kid to do what. Soccer, gymnastics, movies, sports — when is a typical kid going to be able to sit through this or participate in that without melting down or blowing up? I figured live theater was something we’d be waiting years to try, but not with Nashville Children’s Theatre. Just go to the What’s On page and pick a show that applies to your child’s age range.
For a young first-timer, start with the ages 0-5 show rather than all-ages so there’s no intimidation factor. We picked The Flopsy Bunnies: A Peter Rabbit Adventure because our daughter is bunny-obsessed, but anything would’ve worked. The setup of the whole thing is sweet but also smart. The lobby is full of crafts, art and activity stations. The shows are accessible to kids of all abilities, and the seating ranges from cushions on the floor to benches and chairs. You can eat or drink the whole time, so restraint is not an issue.
The kids become part of the play at NCT. Which is cool — if your child will return to you to sit down.
But the most clever part is that there are hands-on elements every 10 minutes or so, so even the squirmiest small one has an excuse to pop up and help the performers — like the two “mice” who ran our whole 50-minute show — complete a task like picking up lily pads or hanging blankets to dry, all in pursuit of reuniting a mother bunny with her babies. And we even got to take home a pair of paper bunny ears for our trouble.
It won’t surprise anyone who’s spent time at NCT to know how joyous the atmosphere is. But for any parent who’s yet to go, there’s no reason to wait. They even offer pay-what-you-can tickets for performances if they have space day-of.
5. Rural Animal Rescue Effort (aka RARE Nashville)
I can’t talk about hospitality without talking about people who open their homes to animals in need, and that brings me to Rural Animal Rescue Effort. I love the specificity of what RARE does because (1) they are foster-based, which is a true labor of love as you’re letting an animal into your life, if only for a short time, which has got to be harder in some ways than doing it permanently; and (2) they are solely dedicated to rural animals.
If you tell me you are not on your way to adopt (from left to right) Milly, Liberty and Elia, you are a liar.
This is Basil (right). Basil is also a very good girl.
President and founder Trisha Crowley speaks eloquently about why it’s critical to help this population. Rural shelters don’t get a lot of resources, funding or foot traffic, which makes it hard to get their animals in front of the people who might adopt them. But Crowley’s team knows how rich and rewarding it is to connect a rural animal with the right owner because they’ve done it so many times, and that’s why many of them do it on top of their day jobs.
Both of my dogs have been certified countryfolk. My accidentally purebred Pekingese, Ripley, came from Viola, Tenn. She didn’t bark for the first three years I had her, she could jump a baby fence to get bacon, and she begged like a meerkat until her dying day. My current Chiweenie-plus, Levon — his makeup includes 11 different breeds per a DNA test — came from a Kentucky farm with 60 relatives. He runs a five-minute mile (which he proved by spending his first two months with us escaping every time we opened the door), and can eat a chicken leg, bone and all, with zero intestinal issues.
"Out here in the fields, I fight for my meals." —Ripley
Despite (or perhaps because of) their quirks, these two animals have been two of my favorite living things. I offer these details to illustrate that rural rescue can take a different kind of love and patience, but it also delivers a different kind of joy.
Nothing makes Levon angrier than the fact that he could be a Dentastix model when he believes himself to be very, very tuff.
You can view all of RARE’s adoptable dogs and cats on their website — they even get the occasional rabbit! — or, if you’re not quite ready for a redneck rescue of your own, donate on their website or via Venmo.
