SAVVY MAINLINE

Devon Horse Show has filed suit against its own township, accusing it, in effect, of price-gouging the equestrian nonprofit to benefit its own bottom line.

We just received Easttown’s response and let’s just say, the township sees things a bit differently.

Signed, sealed and NOT delivered.

Like stocked shelves and affordable gas, the Main Line can no longer take reliable mail delivery for granted.

Too many letters are taking too long to reach their destinations, or worse, are poached by thieves and never arrive at all. 

Ongoing staff shortages often mean longer lines at post offices but blue boxes aren’t a safe answer, either.

Love ’em or loathe ’em, new walk-to-train-and-shopping apartment buildings are dropping anchor in our downtowns: Paoli, Berwyn, Bryn Mawr, Haverford, Ardmore, Narberth, Bala and beyond.

Notable exceptions, at least for now: Devon, where plans to build a residential complex near the horse show kept shrinking then disappeared altogether, and Gladwyne, where neighbors lawyered up to kill an apartment proposal and will get a food market instead.

Well, family-friendly Wayne may be next.

After a brief taste of the sweet life, we’re back in the bitter COVID soup, drowning in record-breaking case counts and daily-life disruptions.

Forget frills like air travel and social plans; our very essentials are under siege. Emergency services are strained. Our first responders are stressed. Our schools are struggling to staff their buildings. Oh and did we mention that COVID tests are as coveted as Moderna vaccines last March?

(Hat tip to Mother Nature, at least, for gifting us that nuisance storm last Friday. A snow day for weary schools? Yes, please.)

A most concerning case in point: Paoli Hospital’s ER.

Tongues are clucking at the prospect of a Chick-Fil-A in downtown Wayne.

But don’t be counting your chickens; This bird might take a while to hatch, if it does at all.

In six years, Ashley Meyers has ricocheted from restless – OK, bored – Berwyn housewife to multi-platform fashion influencer to beauty queen.

“If you dream it, you can do it,” says Meyers, aka Main Line Fashionista, of her swift ascent.

In September, she was crowned Mrs. Pennsylvania. Next month in Vegas, she might just win it all: the tiara, sash, and title: Mrs. America 2021.

On July 25, 2021, the 10th anniversary of the catastrophe that upended her life, Melissa Schweiter Oeth, 52, posted a grateful message on Facebook, took a long walk near her Devon home and counted her blessings.

That night, she cuddled a little longer with her 22-year-old son Logan, who remains in a near-vegetative state from the accident, and told him how proud she was of him. Her “Bear” was trying so hard – to talk, to move, to make himself understood.

She went to sleep relieved that the milestone she’d dreaded was over and thankful it hadn’t rained a drop.

The toughest anniversaries were the wet ones.

At a meeting punctuated by riotous applause, cheers, jeers and out-of-order outbursts from angry parents, the T/E School Board unanimously approved a mask mandate for all students this week.

It wasn’t pretty.

Both sides – for and against the mask requirement – attended in roughly equal numbers, but those opposed were decidedly more vocal, at times verging on disruptive.

The Main Line teems with talented trainers.

But we’ve found no one (yet) who brings as much of himself to the table and inspires a more rabid following than SoulCycle Master Instructor Ryan Lewis.

It goes way deeper than his jammed classes, his Instagram eye candy and legendary Taylor Swift rides.

Twenty-three times a week – 16 classes at Soul in Ardmore and Center City, seven more at Barry’s Bootcamp – Ryan empties himself fully, baring all, daring all. Lay it all out, I’ll pull you out, I’ll lift you up. We’re in this together. 

St. Joe’s Prep alums may recall Ryan as the skinny theater kid who came out to 50 male classmates during a religious retreat.

A 12-year-old just opened his own bike shop in Paoli.

Yup, you read that right.

Dom Fixes Bikes, aka DFB, is owned and operated by Dom Pecora. The Valley Forge Middle School sixth-grader ditched modeling and acting gigs – he’s walked runways and appeared on national TV – for the greasier charms of bike chains, tubes and lubes.

Calling Dom merely precocious sells him short. This kid’s got an entrepreneur’s moxie, a mechanic’s smarts and a salesman’s gift of gab.