Four weeks after her 24-year-old son died in her arms, Berwyn nurse Beth Perz stood before a roomful of strangers – reporters, TV cameras and county officials – and broke down. Chester County had just announced its plan to sue opioid manufacturers. And two of the targeted companies – Endo and Cephalon – made the drugs that destroyed her son.
An eleventh-hour addition to the Jan. 15 news conference, Perz had written nothing; she would wing it.
She wiped her eyes, collected herself and began: “I’m here because I have to fight this fight.” When she finished, the room erupted. Normally unflappable Chester County Commissioner Michelle Kichline blinked away tears, her voice wavering as she resumed the news conference. The thunderous applause and the roomful of wet eyes spoke volumes: We stand with you in this fight, Beth Perz.
If the disease of addiction could steal the life of Conestoga grad Bradley Perz, it can come for anyone.
Because Brad – gifted, charming, kind, handsome – was the Main Line boy next door – or could have been, if addiction hadn’t overtaken him, blotting out his sunny smile, burying his many blessings.
His mother, Beth, and his twin sisters, Katelyn and Elise, 20, like to say there were two Brads.
Healthy Brad was personable, loving and loyal. He’d pitch in to help a stranger and would do anything to safeguard his mother and sisters. He was brilliant, too, with a 160 IQ and a terrific sense of humor. He loved to work out, was entrepreneurial, and excelled at every sport he tried.
And then there was Addict Brad, lying and manipulative, risk-taking and reckless, so tuned-out, ashamed and consumed by his disease that he shut himself off and sometimes couldn’t even look his family in the eye.
The two Brads co-existed for years but never peacefully. “The healthy Brad wanted so much to get on with his life,” Beth says.
Addict Brad was trapped. Lost. Rationalizing his drug use. Convinced he could handle it.
“Brad was tormented,” Katelyn says. “He had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other.” Exceptionally close, sister and brother only fought when Brad was using, “when the ugliness of the disease came out.”
In the end, the devil won out.
On Dec. 13, with his mother asleep upstairs in their Berwyn home, Brad brought a “hot bag” down to his bedroom. At 5:20 that morning, Beth, a longtime nurse at Paoli Surgery Center, found her lower-level door open and Brad slumped over outside. She took his pulse. Nothing. She shook him, started CPR. “I was hitting him, doing anything I could to bring him back until the police came.”
The coroner’s report found no heroin but instead, 25 nanograms of fentanyl and “huge amounts of carfentanyl” in Brad’s bloodstream – a one-two punch of synthetic opioids “strong enough to kill several elephants,” Beth says. Easttown detectives told Beth that Brad probably got high just opening the bag. One snort and he was gone.
Having her son OD at home – not alone on the streets of Kensington – Beth calls “a gift… I brought him into this life and he died in my arms.”
More than two months after his death, the Perz home remains a murder scene. Beth and her daughters are helping Easttown detectives piece together Brad’s last days – his Uber receipts, his computer and phone records. “If we can track down the dealer, he would be charged with first-degree murder,” Beth says.
Like many with the disease of addiction, Brad’s life was rife with trauma, culminating in two horrific years in state prison.
He entered and left the world the same way: fighting for his life. At birth, he was given a newborn Apgar score of 1 out of 10, “which is basically dead,” Beth says.
At age 3, he was diagnosed with severe ADHD and prescribed medication.
A year later, his parents divorced. According to Beth, Brad was “terrified of his father” and “traumatized by the divorce.” Her son didn’t miss his dad so much as he missed having a dad. Even though he was raised by a strong single mom, he thought, even as a boy, that he had to protect the family. To be son, brother and father.
Schoolwork and sports came easily. Skiing, soccer, football, and lacrosse – you name it, Brad was a natural. “He lived for lacrosse,” playing on elite travel and school teams for years, Beth says.
He went to Beaumont Elementary, then T/E Middle. He dabbled in pot and alcohol, which, at the time, Beth wrote off as “normal teenage stuff.”
By high school, though, Brad had become harder to handle. He was sneaking out, getting in trouble. He seemed hard-wired to seek thrills, to live on the edge – another hallmark of addiction.
He was recruited to play lacrosse for Malvern Prep but lasted a month. When he returned to public school, he struggled to fit in and eventually “started hanging out with the wrong kids,” Beth says.
“Mom, it’s better to have bad friends than no friends,” Brad would tell his mom. By his sophomore year at Stoga, Brad was “into more serious drug use” – staying out, drinking, doing Molly at concerts and hosting nitrous parties. His younger sisters and mother would search his room and invariably find something incriminating: weed, balloons, tanks of nitrous oxide.
At 16, Brad flipped his car on Route 30 while he was texting a girlfriend. He wasn’t tripping at the time but police found acid in his sock and charged him with his first DUI.
His second DUI came a few weeks later in West Chester. His friend in the passenger seat had a water bottle filled with alcohol. Brad had taken a few swigs and blew just enough for the citation, his mom says.
“Mom, why do I always get caught?” he’d ask. “Because you’re not meant to have this life of hell,” his mother would reply.
By now, he’d been seeing therapists and attending outpatient rehabs. After the second DUI, a “terrified” Beth sent him to a 14-week wilderness program, then a rehab in Utah. Things seemed better when he returned to Conestoga; he graduated only a semester late.
He tried college – High Point then Immaculata, where he was recruited for lacrosse – but left both within months. He always felt like an outcast, say his mother and sister.
“Brad never felt accepted around here,” Katelyn recalls. “The only place he found acceptance was with hard-core druggies and dealers.”
Brad never forgave himself for his screw-ups, for what he put his family through. And the more he beat himself up for his addiction, the more he self-medicated, his mother says.
By then, Brad had moved on to opiates. His drug of choice: “Perc 30s” – 30 milligram tablets of fast-acting oxycodone. As a recovery-room nurse, Beth often gives 5 and 10 milligrams of Percocet to patients. But she’d never even heard of a 30-milligram pill. Brad had built up a tolerance, she says. “He was taking a dose that would kill anyone else.”
Katelyn remembers Brad beginning to act differently, sweating, nodding off.
Over the years he bounced in and out of expensive rehabs – in PA, Florida, New Jersey and Colorado. He’d come home and seem OK for a while, then backslide. Beth calls Brad her “million-dollar baby,” figuring she’s spent at least that much on therapists, rehabs and attorneys’ fees.
Once, when Brad was trying to stay clean and had a painful kidney stone, Beth accompanied him to the doctor’s appointment to make sure he wasn’t given opiates. She was called away by a family emergency. Without her in the room, the doc prescribed Vicodin.
“Every second of every hour of every day, 24/7, you worry,” Beth says. “It’s hell. You live in major fear. What’s going to happen next? What call are you going to get?”
On Nov. 6, 2015, Beth’s phone rang at the dinner table. The trauma team at Paoli Hospital told her Brad had nodded off behind the wheel, slammed into two telephone poles on King Rd. in Malvern, and was lucky to be alive. “He didn’t hit anyone but it was a godawful accident,” Beth recalls. “He was drunk as a skunk.”
Police charged Brad with his third DUI, which carries a mandatory jail term.
Instead, Judge Phyllis Streitel sentenced Brad to drug court, telling Brad his situation was an “absolute tragedy” because “everyone speaks so highly of you” and “you come from a wonderful, loving, caring family,” Beth recalls.
But Brad bolted from the court-mandated rehab center in Bucks County and showed up at his mother’s doorstep. “Mom, I can’t deal with it,” he said. His mother begged him to turn himself in. Instead, he checked himself into a rehab in Florida, then, fearing he’d be forced to return to the drug court program, went on the run.
He moved to Colorado then Manayunk, working and “doing the best he had in years,” his mom says.
But when his new pit bull attacked a neighbor’s dog, police turned up a bench warrant for his arrest. This time Brad was sentenced to 15 to 24 months in the state penitentiary. Beth calls it a “ridiculous sentence” for three DUIs. “He never had a gun; he never hurt anyone.”
He was sent to SCI Huntingdon. Graterford was “like a nursery school” by comparison, Brad told his mom. It was ruled by “corrupt corrections officers, violent gangs and lifers, the worst of the worst,” Beth says. Brad received no addiction treatment or therapy in prison but illicit drugs were everywhere. “It’s like walking on the streets of Kensington,” Brad told Beth.
Trouble followed him to Huntingdon. He would do “stupid stuff,” like speaking up to prison guards when he saw an injustice, Beth says. Set up by inmates and corrections officers, he was put in the hole (solitary) maybe half a dozen times. “They were jealous,” his sister Katelyn says. “Just look at him: he’s blonde, educated and came from a good family. They’d make up stories or set him up and call him a rat.”
His mom says he was also doing drugs (Suboxone) on and off and at one point was framed by the notorious 215 Gang. The parole board felt Brad “still hadn’t learned his lesson,” so he maxed out. He’d have to serve the full 24 months.
Beth would visit each Monday, driving three hours up and back, fighting nausea each time she pulled up to the gate.
Things got so bad, Brad spent the last 45 days of his sentence in the hole, put there by a kindly prison official who feared for his safety.
Brad was released August 13, 2018 and walked into the arms of his mother. “I was hysterical,” Beth recalls. “It was so emotional.”
In preparation for her son’s release, she had lined up a “wraparound therapy” team at Espenschade in Rosemont and arranged for Brad to receive monthly injections of Vivitrol, an opiate blocker.
At first, Brad did well. He started a thriving leaf cleanup business and made plans to resume his studies at West Chester in January.
But there were signs of slippage: a Vivitrol appointment postponed, a medical marijuana card obtained, bouts of binge-drinking. “He wasn’t owning his addiction,” Beth says. By late November, he was back on opiates, sleeping all day and vanishing at night.
On Dec. 12, as she sat on the floor wrapping Christmas gifts, Beth confronted her son one last time. “You have to get that Vivitrol shot, Brad. It will save your life.” He kept his head down, fiddling with his phone.
At 11 p.m., she texted, asking when he’d be home. He’d be back by midnight. His last words came via text: “I’m coming, Mama.”
He arrived home in the wee hours. An hour later, he was gone.
Two months after her son’s death, Beth tells us she has no regrets. “I gave 150 to 250 percent every day of my life for 24 years.” She fought for her son and she plans to keep on fighting: getting certified in counseling so she can work with people in addiction, helping launch a grieving mothers group, assisting women in crisis in Kensington through The Radar Project.
And that emotional Chesco news conference when she first shared her son’s story? That was just the beginning. Beth says she’ll continue to speak out about all the dollar-driven institutions that failed her son:
- the drug companies that fraudulently market opioids, downplay their dangers and ignore suspicious purchases
- the physicians who thoughtlessly over prescribe narcotics, triggering addiction
- the pricey rehab centers that don’t deliver results but gladly take your money
- the insurers that don’t cover lifesaving, long-term recovery
- a criminal justice system that locks a young man with three DUIs in a state penitentiary instead of mandating long-term treatment.
As a community, we’re due for some soul searching, Beth believes. “We need to stop judging, stop calling people ‘junkies’ and ‘addicts,’ … It’s not a choice; it’s a disease like cancer or diabetes, one that’s complex and hard to beat.”
Beth calls the opioid crisis a “pandemic – a wide-span disaster.” We need to “stop turning our backs, pretending it’s going to go away … If I can keep one person alive a day, I’d be happy with that right now,” she says. “That’s what Brad would want. He would save anyone, even if he couldn’t save himself.”
What’s going on in Gladwyne?
Its only fine dining spot becomes a members-only club.
The lone supermarket goes dark.
And just days ago, the adored greasy spoon, Gladwyne Lunch Box, packs it in, too – and not because business had fallen off or they couldn’t find good help. (Serving omelets and sandwiches to 16 seats isn’t all that complicated, after all.)
No, the Lunch Box bounced because the owner’s lease expired and he couldn’t come to terms with his landlord. He’d been priced out of the ’hood.
A village mainstay, the Box was an equal opportunity joint. A no-frills, cash-only, 400 sq. ft. hole in the wall where rich folks noshed next to regular Joes. The kind of place that reminds you that everyone pulls on their pants – and lifts their forks – the same way.
Inquirer columnist Maria Panaritis got it right: Living in Gladwyne, the Main Line’s highest of high-rent districts, is pretty darn fabulous. Until, well, it isn’t.
Until the much-loved local luncheonette can’t afford to stay in business.
Until an enticing new Whole Foods a few towns away swallows up the supermarket down the street.
Being a billionaire, or just living among them, is a blast. Until it isn’t.
P.S. A late-breaking glimmer of hope for Gladwynites hoping a food store moves into the old Acme: The Gladwyne Market might be interested. The market’s owner, Peter Liccio, toured the building Tuesday morning. Was he serious or just kicking tires? “You gotta do it,” SAVVY’s Gladwyne gal Kathy Stevens told Liccio after his tour. To which he replied, “I wish it was that easy.”
Pain relief and more at Paoli’s new Joanna Spas
Hot stone, aromatherapy and deep-tissue, sure. But massage that’s electrified? Wherein – get this – an electric current flows out of the therapist’s bare fingers and into your aching body? New one on us.
According to owner Joanna Li, her new upscale spa near the Paoli Wawa is the only place within 25 miles that offers Electro Massage Therapy (EMT) for pain relief. No pills, no surgery, no needles, no PT prescription required.
With a German-engineered, FDA-approved DDS machine at her feet, Li (somehow) becomes the medium, sending impulses from her fingertips through your skin to stimulate the production of pain-blocking endorphins and promote healing. Because it targets the same energy channels as an acupuncturist, Li likens EMT to “electrified acupuncture.” She says it works for all kinds of pain – lower back, shoulder, hip, knee, ankle, carpal tunnel, you name it. Newer to the U.S., EMT is offered in Chinese hospitals all the time, Li says.
We tried a quick session for nagging lower back pain and walked out feeling 100 percent better.
Plan to spend $30 for 15 minutes of EMT, $60 for a half-hour back treatment, and $120 for a full-body one hour session.
Not looking for pain relief? Joanna Spas also offers a full menu of traditional massages and facials using Eminence Organic products. In Paoli, she gutted the old gold trading shop across from the train station, carving it into several Zen treatment rooms, including an aromatherapy steam room. She calls the place “spas” because she hopes to open a bunch of locations.
Joanna Spas, 34 W. Lancaster Ave., 267-288-7600. Massages and facials from $45. 20% off all services through April 30.
Revolving restaurant doors
So many eateries have called it quits in the last several weeks, our heads our spinning.
- In Paoli, Redhound Grill just ended an eight-year run on Paoli Pike, done in by increased competition and “ongoing staffing issues,” according to owner Owen Marshall. If memory serves, the building’s old occupant, red-gravy joint Luigi’s, lasted years longer.
- B. Good is gone after three and a half years in Wynnewood Square. The healthy fast-food chain still has a local outpost at the King of Prussia Town Center.
- Squeezed for parking and sandwiched between the Starbucks and First Watch Café near the Wynnewood Whole Foods, Potbelly Sandwich Shop has collapsed under its own weight. Kidding. But seriously, why eat at a place that all but promises extra girth?
- Elevation Burger in Wynnewood Shopping Center has fallen, to be replaced by M2O Burgers. M20 as in “made to order” with touchscreens.
- The Persian fusion BYOB, Mediterranean Grill, has grilled its last kebab in Bryn Mawr.
- It’s still going gangbusters in Manayunk, but The Juice Merchant at the old Art of Bread in Narberth is no more.
The Pub of Penn Valley turns 20 on Sunday, no small feat in this era of fickle foodies and restaurant flameouts.
The Pub prospers because it keeps it simple, serving up solid food – actually, much better than solid – with a warm smile and easy-to-swallow prices.
If you’re Pub regular – and most customers are (hello, Charles Barkley) – you know who’s running the show. Because husband-and-wife owners Jeannine and David Hamilton are here night and day: showing you to your table, pitching in at the bar, running food out of the kitchen.
Whoever said Sunday should be a day of rest hasn’t met the hardworking Hamiltons.
They don’t open until 3 that day – brunch, be damned – so they can personally scrub the Pub from top to bottom. Their old cleaning crew just wasn’t up to snuff.
Of course, the Hamiltons aren’t the only fixtures here. Employees make a habit of hanging around – current staffers have been here 19, 17, 10, 8 and 6 years. Tom Wedul has the longest tenure, tending bar for all 20, ever since the Hamiltons retooled the shot-and-beer, sticky-floored Mainliner Pub and unveiled the Pub of Penn Valley on March 3, 1999. Wedul also has the sweetest commute of the bunch. He lives upstairs, in an apartment rented from the Hamiltons.
Pub customers defy description. During last weekend’s visit, we spied noted Gladwyne architect Charlie Dagit eating at the bar with his philanthropic wife, Alice. We missed Sir Charles Barkley’s latest appearance by three weeks – dang – but did spy his signed jersey framed on a wall.
And remember Matthew Kramer, the teen with autism we wrote about in January? Also a Pub regular, Matthew was so disappointed that gazpacho wasn’t on the menu last fall, the chef whipped up a whole gallon for him. The Pub is that kind of place.
The Hamiltons flirted with a second location but feared they’d spread themselves too thin. “We love what we do and we’re proud of what we’ve accomplished in 20 years,” Jeannine says. Amen to that.
The Pub of Penn Valley, 863 Montgomery Ave., 610-664-1901, will celebrate its 20th anniversary March 3 – 10 with special surprises and throwback menu items and cocktails (Cosmo, anyone?).
She calls them “the 911s” – phone calls from flustered folks who tried the DIY route and, well, goofed: the sectional from Crate and Barrel that wouldn’t fit through the front door, the Pottery Barn vanity that didn’t work with a powder room’s plumbing, the guestroom painted an icky asparagus green.
In her 20 years as a Main Line designer, Eileen Devine has seen it all. And fixed it all.
Because when you hire Devine Designs, you get a one-two-three punch: an artist’s eye, an insider’s access and a maestro’s execution.
First, Devine divines your style, so bring on those pics pulled from Pinterest or ripped from House Beautiful. “Visuals are fabulous,’ Devine says. “It’s not that our clients don’t have taste or appreciate fine design, it’s that they don’t have the time or inclination to do it on their own.”
Fair warning: that powder room you adored on HGTV or Houz might be a no go – impossible or wildly expensive to execute, Devine says. “Unfortunately, people get sucked in by what they see.” Redoing a bathroom involves multiple moving parts: tile masons, plumbers, electricians, painters. Working with Devine means tapping into her network of reliable, skilled trades people. Your project gets completed on schedule and on budget, without costly delays and “surprises.”
Of course, creating memorable rooms isn’t just about efficiency. A well-conceived design requires vision and artistry, talents Devine honed at Moore College of Art & Design. They’re in her DNA – her great grandmother was a fashion designer and her family includes several painters. She’s also a board member at the prestigious Institute of Classical Architecture and Art. Decorating styles may come and go, but the need for designers to understand scale, proportion, pattern and color is eternal.
Devine’s clients tend to stick around, too, staying through multiple moves and vacation homes from Nantucket to Naples. And now she’s designing first homes for their millennial children. No project is too big or too small. “It’s not about square footage,” Devine says. “I can have as much fun with a powder room as I can with a whole house.”
Although she’s primarily a home designer, Devine has also added residential flair to public spaces. Overbrook Golf Club, Wayne Jewelers, Widener University, and the sponsor suite and Devon Club at the Devon Horse Show all sport Devine touches.
(If her face is familiar, you’ve probably seen her running hither and yon at the horse show, where she’s been a devoted volunteer for 10 years. This spring, she’ll take the reins as the show’s junior co-chair. An equestrian herself, Devine says volunteering at Devon “feeds a passion and is a cool experience to have in your life. Everyone gives 110 percent for 10 days. It’s very rewarding and great way for me to give back.”)
Devine charges an hourly fee for her design services but longstanding relationships and high volume often translate to vendor discounts and freebies that she gladly passes along to clients. “Our prices are very fair,” Devine says. “We can often throw in special touches at no charge.”
And yes, count on customization when you work with Devine. It’s not unusual for a single sofa to generate up to eight purchase orders, she says.
While Devine aims for timelessness, she takes pride in staying current. So what’s trending these days, according to Devine?
- Streamlined rooms – either “urban rustic,” contemporary or somewhere in between. Old-world European looks stuffed with fussy accessories are so 15 years ago.
- Lighting is more crucial and more varied than you might think. LED and Edison bulbs are everywhere. And chandeliers aren’t just for dining rooms any more.
- Pets are driving design choices. Clients gladly pay extra for stain-proof Crypton fabrics and dog bedding that matches the master suite. Devine once designed a coordinating foot ottoman for a dachshund so he could more easily hop up to his owner’s bed.
- After years of whites and off-whites, wood cabinets in lighter stains and vintage finishes are creeping back into kitchens.
- Also making a comeback: large-scale, bold graphics in artwork and patterned wallpaper.
“People want a little vitality in a room,” she says. Devine delivers that … and then some.
A taste of Hollywood in KOP
Hot diggety. An outpost of the legendary Hollywood hot dog stand, Pink’s, just opened at the King of Prussia Mall. Befitting its star power, it’s taken center stage at the new Savor food court in the old Fat Ham space. (No jokes about Fat Beef replacing Fat Ham, please.)
Owners Richard and Gloria Pink flew in from LA to cut the ribbon last week. The original Pink’s has been drawing crowds – famous and not – for 80 years. It’s where Bruce Willis proposed to Demi Moore and where Orson Welles downed 18 chili dogs in a single sitting.
On the KOP menu: Burgers, sides, shakes and 20 varieties of hot dogs ($4 to $8), including all-beef, stretch, corn, Polish, turkey and veggie, topped with everything from pastrami to guacamole. (The Chili Cheese Dog is especially battle-tested, using Pink’s original, pre-World War II recipe.)
Go local: Ask for the King of Prussia, a Polish dog topped with Swiss cheese, grilled onions, American cheese and chopped tomatoes. Or try the Philly Cheesesteak, an all-beef, 9-inch “stretch” dog topped with grilled steak, peppers, onions and American and Swiss cheeses. (Wait. No whiz?)
Pink’s Hot Dogs at the Savor food court, King of Prussia Mall, 610-265-5974, is open during mall hours.
From Devon Yard to “Chopped”
A star is born. Kristina Wisneski, chef de cuisine at Amis Trattoria at Devon Yard, was just crowned champ on “Chopped.” She may dish out elevated Italian fare at Amis, but her February appearance on the Food Network shows she’s got a way with wontons, too.
A veteran of multiple Main Line kitchens, Wisneski served as sous chef at Savona and executive chef at Enoteca Tredici before joining Amis in August.
Fire strikes Tredyffrin’s Echo Lake at Atwater
The first wave of folks will have to wait a few weeks longer to move into Echo Lake, SageLife’s new senior living community near Route 29 in Tredyffrin. A three-alarm fire broke out in the underground parking garage in the south wing Sunday afternoon, drawing first responders from far and wide. Fortunately, no one was in the building, which is still under construction.
The only real casualty was a shipment of kitchen cabinets for 150 apartments, SageLife’s Donna Ferruzzi tells SAVVY.
“We were gratified at how well the building held up,” Ferruzzi says. “The fire was contained and there was virtually no damage.”
Still no word on what caused the blaze. The first residents were due to move into the building’s north wing the third week of March. Their apartments now won’t be ready until April, Ferruzzi says.
This and That
Banana Republic has split Suburban Square. Shopping center owner Kimco has no comment. Nor does Banana owner Gap Inc. (We’ve tried. Repeatedly.) A source tells us upstart Compass Realty will take at least part of the space. Nope, Compass isn’t talking either.
Kids got cabin fever? Urban Air trampoline/adventure park opens Saturday, March 2 on DeKalb Pike in East Norriton.
Merion Golf Club just reeled in another big one – the 2026 U.S. Amateur, marking a record 20th time the Ardmore club has hosted a USGA championship. It’s Merion’s seventh U.S. Amateur, also a record.
A cult fave in Ambler, Lovebird chicken is feathering a new nest in Bryn Mawr. Lovebird’s claim to fame: “changing the way fried chicken is done.” It sources only birds humanely raised on an Amish farm – without GMOs, antibiotics or “names you can’t pronounce.” Owners also founded Jules Thin Crust. What they did for pizza – healthier, family friendly – they’re doing for fried chicken. Look for Lovebird to open near Insomnia Cookies in late March.
Open Table time. King of Prussia Restaurant Week runs March 11 to 17 with 47 eateries – from fast-cas joints to swanky steakhouses – joining the party. Most are offering $10 to $20 lunches and $30 or $40 three-course dinners. And good sports that they are, each is donating a portion of sales to CHOP King of Prussia’s Specialty Care Center.
More static from South Wayne neighbors about Wawa’s plan to build a gas station/convenience store at Lancaster and Aberdeen Aves. across from St. Katharine of Siena parish. About 50 folks came out to a Feb. 13 township meeting to see – and mostly slam – Wawa’s latest plans. Among the concerns voiced (again): increased traffic in an already-congested area, the safety of students walking to and from nearby schools, and the aesthetics of cookie-cutter Wawa in folksy old Wayne.
Berwyn’s Patsie McCandless may be the Main Line’s ultimate Renaissance Woman, painting with words, paper and music. View her stunning “PaperSolo” creations now through March 16 at the Wayne Art Center. You’ll swear she used a brush but no, each piece is crafted from paper only – intricately cut, ripped, folded and layered just so. McCandless is also the author of the 2018 inspirational book, Becoming Jesse, Celebrating the Everyday Magic of Childhood. She’ll dish on her art – visual and literary – March 9 at 2 p.m. at Wayne Art Center. Book signing to follow.
And finally, a SAVVY shoutout to the peeps – besides Team SAVVY All Stars and you, dear reader – who make this little rag possible. Local business owners who, like us, believe hometown news should be relevant, real and a breeze to read.
Hoping you’ll do us a solid and show some SAVVY love to our early 2019 advertisers: Devine Designs in Wayne, St. Aloysuis Academy in Bryn Mawr, Vaughan Home Builders, Your Organizing Consultant Anna Sicalides, Mulholland-Peracchia Team at Berkshire Hathaway, Austin Hepburn Installs Windows & Doors, Realtor Sue MacNamara, Restore Cryosauna in Haverford and Wayne, Day Spa by Zsuzsanna in Wayne, Village Wellness in Berwyn, KingsHaven in Paoli, Village Square at Paoli, Campli Photography, Hunter,Reed & Co. luxury real estate, Movement Rx Studio in Wynnewood and Mojo Fitness in Wayne and Berwyn.
P.S. If you’d like us to make some noise for your small biz in SAVVY, contact [email protected] or call her at 610-304-4996.