DSS = Drunken Sale Shopping
or Department of Social Security = where I'll be headed next if I don't return one pair of these boots.
Insanely high clompy Alaias (resisting the obligatory quote from Clueless) which are comfortable when seated but need intensive training to learn how to walk in (like, as in, my walk = Bambi), make my legs look eighteen yards long and are probably the only Alaia boots I'll ever be able to afford.
Much more wearable See by Chloe ankle boots that I liked at the beginning of the season and will probably wear loads in my real life, rather than my imaginary Alaia wearing life.
Which pair should I keep? (Bonus points for quoting the Clueless line)
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
IT'S STARTING...
Snow is falling hard and fast, everything is white. I love it.
*edit - um, except for this.
{my photos}
Monday, January 04, 2010
WISHLUST...
Just in case anyone wanted to buy me some jewels, here are some I like.
My wishing powers have been totally on fire lately, so - time to give back. What are you wishing for this year? My biggest wish isn't jewels, or anything that can be bought - those are the trickiest ones. But I'll have a go at cogitating on any wishes you'd like to share in the comments...
{Blanca Monros Gomez black diamond ring, Lee Hale rose thorn studs}
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
SODERMALM...
I know my posts on Sweden are coming in dribs and drabs, but it's that time of year. I've been to SO many imaginary parties lately. Anyway, in Stockholm we stayed in Sodermalm, which I'm reliably informed is a bit sort of bohemian and everyone we met up with lived there as well, which was handy. I really loved it and our hotel*, which was housed in an old brewery, backing onto Katarina Church. Our room overlooked the churchyard with a view of the church, which made it all lovely and Narnia like with old fashioned lanterns lit and a dusting of snow.
They also had this amazing breakfast included in the price, where you went down to a little kitchen area in the lobby and helped yourself to coffee, yogurt (why is Scandinavian yogurt so good?), muesli, boiled eggs, rye bread, kalles kaviar, cheese, basically all my favourite things.
The first night I arrived before my friend and decided to go for a little walk around the church at about 10pm. I saw a little hilly cobbled street that looked interesting so walked up it. There were these adorable old yellow houses, all with stars or candles in the windows of course. I couldn't see where the road went at the top because it was so dark. Eventually when I got there I saw a surprise expanse of water, the buildings on the other side all with their windows lit up and a boat coming in towards the shore. It was just one of those breathtaking moments you sometimes get when you explore somewhere you've never been before. I'd had no idea there was water there. Later someone told me that's THE view they always take visitors to see. Then I walked by the church and, as it seemed perfectly safe to do so, through the churchyard, not something I would do anywhere in London late at night. Each plot had its own little lantern lit - this was two days before Lucia and two weeks before Christmas. Every window I saw in Sweden had a light of some sort in it, be it an office or a boat or a home.
It was in Sodermalm I saw the Whyred booties. I shouldn't have tried them on, but oh they were so comfortable straight away but oh, they were so expensive and I was sure I'd seen some similar somewhere high street-y so I left them. (They did look really cute on me and I never say that.) I also adored Granit which can be succinctly described as Swedish Muji. I bought some fairy lights, which are completely superior to fairy lights you get in England. Oh, and a T shirt at Weekday just because.
On our way to Pelikan for dinner we passed the Grandpa shop, which looked really interesting, but was obviously closed. Over dinner, which was suitably candlelit, we started telling ghost stories and by the time we went back to the hotel and someone reminded me that we had read it was used as both a temporary prison and a hospital during a cholera outbreak at different times in history, the cute churchyard view became slightly less Narnia like. Then neither of us could walk down the long corridor alone, which suddenly looked exactly like the one in The Shining. Add to that the Swedish for room is rum, all the signs to this rum, that rum and redrum were terrifying. I won't even try to explain the little jail cell with a tiny stool and a bowl in it half way up the stairs, which we'd previously laughed at. We had to sleep with the TV on.
We never did make it back to Grandpa, but I see that they have the Whyred booties I love in the sale, but only in a size 36 - and Whyred only has them in a 41 so I'm a bit stumped and might have to get the Zara ones, which are only made in brown as far as I know.
*The photos on the hotel website are out of date - it's been redecorated since then and is much cuter.
They also had this amazing breakfast included in the price, where you went down to a little kitchen area in the lobby and helped yourself to coffee, yogurt (why is Scandinavian yogurt so good?), muesli, boiled eggs, rye bread, kalles kaviar, cheese, basically all my favourite things.
The first night I arrived before my friend and decided to go for a little walk around the church at about 10pm. I saw a little hilly cobbled street that looked interesting so walked up it. There were these adorable old yellow houses, all with stars or candles in the windows of course. I couldn't see where the road went at the top because it was so dark. Eventually when I got there I saw a surprise expanse of water, the buildings on the other side all with their windows lit up and a boat coming in towards the shore. It was just one of those breathtaking moments you sometimes get when you explore somewhere you've never been before. I'd had no idea there was water there. Later someone told me that's THE view they always take visitors to see. Then I walked by the church and, as it seemed perfectly safe to do so, through the churchyard, not something I would do anywhere in London late at night. Each plot had its own little lantern lit - this was two days before Lucia and two weeks before Christmas. Every window I saw in Sweden had a light of some sort in it, be it an office or a boat or a home.
It was in Sodermalm I saw the Whyred booties. I shouldn't have tried them on, but oh they were so comfortable straight away but oh, they were so expensive and I was sure I'd seen some similar somewhere high street-y so I left them. (They did look really cute on me and I never say that.) I also adored Granit which can be succinctly described as Swedish Muji. I bought some fairy lights, which are completely superior to fairy lights you get in England. Oh, and a T shirt at Weekday just because.
On our way to Pelikan for dinner we passed the Grandpa shop, which looked really interesting, but was obviously closed. Over dinner, which was suitably candlelit, we started telling ghost stories and by the time we went back to the hotel and someone reminded me that we had read it was used as both a temporary prison and a hospital during a cholera outbreak at different times in history, the cute churchyard view became slightly less Narnia like. Then neither of us could walk down the long corridor alone, which suddenly looked exactly like the one in The Shining. Add to that the Swedish for room is rum, all the signs to this rum, that rum and redrum were terrifying. I won't even try to explain the little jail cell with a tiny stool and a bowl in it half way up the stairs, which we'd previously laughed at. We had to sleep with the TV on.
We never did make it back to Grandpa, but I see that they have the Whyred booties I love in the sale, but only in a size 36 - and Whyred only has them in a 41 so I'm a bit stumped and might have to get the Zara ones, which are only made in brown as far as I know.
*The photos on the hotel website are out of date - it's been redecorated since then and is much cuter.
Monday, December 28, 2009
SAGE ADVICE FROM MR. O'BRIEN...
"I think it’s about common sense. A lot of people don’t have that. The rules are made to be broken but you have to know them to do it right[.....]Anybody who’s really stylish breaks the rules."
"I’ve worn the Belgian shoes for twenty-something years. I’ve basically had the same taste in clothes since I was a teenager."
"They would hire me and I would go in and I would be wearing a suit and tie and the creative guys were wearing sweatpants and concert t-shirts and flip flops and they would stare and say ‘You’re a copywriter?’"
"By dressing expressively you figure out who you are and what works for you. By knowing what you like you find out more about yourself. That sounds pretentious but it’s true."
Superb interview with Glenn O'Brien on A Continuous Lean.
"I’ve worn the Belgian shoes for twenty-something years. I’ve basically had the same taste in clothes since I was a teenager."
"They would hire me and I would go in and I would be wearing a suit and tie and the creative guys were wearing sweatpants and concert t-shirts and flip flops and they would stare and say ‘You’re a copywriter?’"
"By dressing expressively you figure out who you are and what works for you. By knowing what you like you find out more about yourself. That sounds pretentious but it’s true."
Superb interview with Glenn O'Brien on A Continuous Lean.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
12 DAYS OF LOLA...
On the first day of Lola my true love sent to me
A Poire Williams liqueur filled chocolate pear,
On the second day of Lola my true love sent to me
A pair of Lee Hale rose thorn earrings,
On the third day of Lola my true love sent to me
A Russian hat, an ice scraper and one of those Ipod plug in things for the car,
On the fourth day of Lola my true love sent to me
More than four hours of sleep,
On the fifth day of Lola my true love sent to me
Five pouches of Dreamies cat treats andehfasuf,lm' - wait, hang on my keyboard's been hijacked,
On the sixth day of Lola my true love sent to me
The Ann Demeulemeester boots I want half price in the sale and lalala, five other things,
On the seventh day of Lola my true love sent to me
A New Year's Eve that doesn't suck in any way,
On the eighth day of Lola my true love sent to me
Eight Bloody Marys for my hangover,
On the ninth day of Lola my true love sent to me
Nine handsome suitors,
On the tenth day of Lola my true love sent to me
This Macha ten strand ring,
On the eleventh day of Lola my true love sent to me
Eleven places to travel in 2010,
On the twelfth day of Lola my true love sent to me
Twelve reasons why this was a badly thought out and poorly executed idea and I really can't think of anything else, except to say thank you dear readers - for reading, for commenting and for coasting along with us in our corner of the Internet.
Merry Christmas x x
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
BITS OF SWEDEN...
Scandinavia presents the English speaker with a puerile sense of humour (me) with a smorgasbord of cracking up possibilities. I freely admit, I already have a half filled photo album with photos of Fartplans and Slutspurts from Denmark. I am therefore thrilled to have added to my collection in Sweden. Unfortunately the wonderful Farthinder eluded me. Next time...
Monday, December 21, 2009
DRESS YOU UP IN...
You know when you've seen something 8 million times and apart from conceding that it looked ever so nice in white on Michelle Williams, are ambivalent about it? Then suddenly when you can't get it anywhere in time for all the imaginary parties you may or may not attend, you really, really want it?
Hello Phillip Lim dress of my dreams. While we're keeping things imaginary, I'd wear it with these Camilla Skovgaard boots. (You have no idea how icy my front steps are.)
{image source: dress, boots}
Hello Phillip Lim dress of my dreams. While we're keeping things imaginary, I'd wear it with these Camilla Skovgaard boots. (You have no idea how icy my front steps are.)
{image source: dress, boots}
Saturday, December 19, 2009
IT WAS ALL GOING TOO SWIMMINGLY...
As we walked into the Eurostar terminal at 6.45am the announcement said "all services are cancelled due to severe weather conditions in northern France."
Oh well! We are fine, caffeine fuelled and eating croissants anyway. I felt really sorry for all the people stranded, not able to get home for Christmas. We saw a few tears, but our trip will happen another day, another week...
Thursday, December 17, 2009
SEE THE STARS, THEY'RE SHINING BRIGHT, EVERYTHING'S ALL RIGHT TONIGHT...
You'll have to forgive me, my heart has been performing a number of strange acrobatics this week - breaking open, swelling, exploding - that kind of thing. It's all most unusual. So this year has been crap in countless ways, but hello December. First there was Sweden, and Sweden would have been enough wonderment for a month. But then I had bought tickets to see Depeche Mode here in London and last night I was in the second row. Closer to the stage than people standing.
I could bore you for hours about how I geeked out when both Jonathan Kessler and Anton Corbijn stood a metre away from me, but I know 99.8% of you couldn't care less. I took along my new camera to be told as soon as I took it out of my bag that the lens was too big so I couldn't use it and they should confiscate it. (Having been told at the door it was ok as long as I didn't shoot video.) I was so gutted as I had such a great close up view of the stage and one seat in the first row in front of me was empty.
The support act, Soulsavers, was so boring everyone fell asleep. Then right before the real show started...you know when you can sense very bad energy? Two girls: one looked like a budget porn actress, the other I really can't explain, but they stumbled from some gutter into the seats right in front of me reeking of alcohol and god knows what. The one immediately in front of me was completely off her face, her head lolling around, then she tried to climb over the barrier to fight with this guy who looked at her girlfriend. Throughout the whole gig it went: fight, shout, cry, make up, spill beer on everyone, security intervention, calm down for 3 minutes then it all starts again. Oh, she was vicious that one.
I think security took pity on me because I always had to have one eye on this Exorcist like creature in front of me and at some point in the night they told me it was ok to get my camera out. I actually have a few pictures where Dave is looking right into my camera, probably thinking, "Hello darling, that lens is clearly unauthorised." To be honest, what with the bitchfight being played out inches away, Dave taking his waistcoat off and the combination of World in My Eyes, Stripped, Never Let Me Down Again and Behind the Wheel, my hands were shaking so much I'm surprised I got any decent photos at all. I was still paranoid my camera might get confiscated by someone who didn't know I'd been given permission - even Anton Corbijn gave it a few funny looks. And the possessed one was swaying alarmingly in my direction, so during Personal Jesus I started to put my camera away. At that moment something made me look up and Dave was right in front of me, singing away. I very nearly had a heart attack - I like to think he enjoyed the look of shock/joy/awe on my face.
So that was that, me and my Nikon went home to prepare for our trip to Paris this weekend. Because yes, I only went and WON the bloody competition.
So you see, pieces of my heart all over the place...
{photo by me}
I could bore you for hours about how I geeked out when both Jonathan Kessler and Anton Corbijn stood a metre away from me, but I know 99.8% of you couldn't care less. I took along my new camera to be told as soon as I took it out of my bag that the lens was too big so I couldn't use it and they should confiscate it. (Having been told at the door it was ok as long as I didn't shoot video.) I was so gutted as I had such a great close up view of the stage and one seat in the first row in front of me was empty.
The support act, Soulsavers, was so boring everyone fell asleep. Then right before the real show started...you know when you can sense very bad energy? Two girls: one looked like a budget porn actress, the other I really can't explain, but they stumbled from some gutter into the seats right in front of me reeking of alcohol and god knows what. The one immediately in front of me was completely off her face, her head lolling around, then she tried to climb over the barrier to fight with this guy who looked at her girlfriend. Throughout the whole gig it went: fight, shout, cry, make up, spill beer on everyone, security intervention, calm down for 3 minutes then it all starts again. Oh, she was vicious that one.
I think security took pity on me because I always had to have one eye on this Exorcist like creature in front of me and at some point in the night they told me it was ok to get my camera out. I actually have a few pictures where Dave is looking right into my camera, probably thinking, "Hello darling, that lens is clearly unauthorised." To be honest, what with the bitchfight being played out inches away, Dave taking his waistcoat off and the combination of World in My Eyes, Stripped, Never Let Me Down Again and Behind the Wheel, my hands were shaking so much I'm surprised I got any decent photos at all. I was still paranoid my camera might get confiscated by someone who didn't know I'd been given permission - even Anton Corbijn gave it a few funny looks. And the possessed one was swaying alarmingly in my direction, so during Personal Jesus I started to put my camera away. At that moment something made me look up and Dave was right in front of me, singing away. I very nearly had a heart attack - I like to think he enjoyed the look of shock/joy/awe on my face.
So that was that, me and my Nikon went home to prepare for our trip to Paris this weekend. Because yes, I only went and WON the bloody competition.
So you see, pieces of my heart all over the place...
{photo by me}
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
LUCIA...
I posted about a million more photos of Sweden to my Flickr as well.
{*Trademarked phrase of CJ}
Thursday, December 10, 2009
HEJ, TACK, FIKA, GLöGG*...
I won't be able to post for a few days because I'm going to Stockholm - blind, as it were. Never been there before, haven't done any research other than obsessively checking the weather forecast and worrying that my flimsy London threads and soles won't hold up. Oh yes, we're also spending one night on a remote island in the archipelago; so me and my thin soled ankle boots should be fine there yes?
Anyway, I have a theory that I over research my travels. It's something I love doing, but more often than not I land in a new place with reams of print outs and a list of places I want to go that would take three weeks longer than I'll be there to complete.
So this time we shall see how it goes with precisely zero research. I wonder if I'll find some gems to share when I get back. In fact I'm quite curious as to whether this non method will make me find more off the beaten track places, or if when I come back going hey I found this really cool place, everyone will tell me it's already in every guide book and blog mentioning Stockholm. Also, I will be there with Swedish friends, so better to go with the flow - when in Rome, etc...
Now I better go and buy some more woolly socks.
{*Only words I know in Swedish - ok I know two others but they're unprintable}
Anyway, I have a theory that I over research my travels. It's something I love doing, but more often than not I land in a new place with reams of print outs and a list of places I want to go that would take three weeks longer than I'll be there to complete.
So this time we shall see how it goes with precisely zero research. I wonder if I'll find some gems to share when I get back. In fact I'm quite curious as to whether this non method will make me find more off the beaten track places, or if when I come back going hey I found this really cool place, everyone will tell me it's already in every guide book and blog mentioning Stockholm. Also, I will be there with Swedish friends, so better to go with the flow - when in Rome, etc...
Now I better go and buy some more woolly socks.
{*Only words I know in Swedish - ok I know two others but they're unprintable}
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE...
I watched a fantastic programme about Rudolf Nureyev the other night. (You can still see it on BBC iPlayer if you're in the UK.) And I love that he was apparently the first proper *star* to appear on the Muppet Show, opening the door to lots of others following suit. He definitely has a place at my fantasy dinner party.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
SUCH A PERFECT DAY...
Ah, what would be my perfect day in Paris...This year I have managed a paltry two and a half days in my favourite city, so my perfect day would involve a healthy dose of all those things I always like to do in Paris, with a few new things thrown in. Actually, if you've been reading this blog long enough you could probably write a post about my perfect day in Paris yourselves, and I could just sit here dreaming about it.
The perfect winter's day in Paris would be cold, but dry and sunny. I would start with a filling breakfast at Cafe Charlot, which is a bit of a cliche perhaps. But I love how lively it is - how the term people watching will usually include marveling at how say, Clemence Poesy seems to be permanently backlit, glowing away unassumingly as she chats to a friend. The food's not bad either - a proper breakfast/brunch affair at weekends.
Then, out into rue de Bretagne, which wakes up earlier than the rest of the area. You can't not have a mooch around the Marche des Enfants Rouges, stopping for a coffee at L'Estaminet or the Italian and perhaps a crepe from one of the market stalls. By this time Photographie will be open, so a quick flick through thousands of old photos of other people's families.
Now follows the usual march through the boutiques of the Haut Marais. Except today, oh didn't I mention, I have a budget of 1000 euros; so instead of wistfully stroking the garments at Isabel Marant in rue Saintonge I may actually buy one. A fevered circuit of boutiques at breakneck speed will now include: The Ofr art bookshop and 213, Surface to Air, then all the usual suspects: APC and Vanessa Bruno in rue Vieille du Temple, AB33 in rue Charlot and Hoses shoe shop and La Galerie de l'Instant in rue du Poitou where I've been threatening to buy an original photograph of Jane Birkin for the past three years. A little detour to look at vintage magazines in Les Archives de la Presse, then a stroll towards the Place des Vosges, calling in on the charming M. Bernard Sylvain to see if he can make me a little rose gold ring, to wear with the other ring he made me.
Then, to Merci, where again I threaten to buy something instead of just admiring the merchandise. Phew. We'll stop for a coffee in the bookshop cafe here as well, to catch our breath.
It's almost lunchtime and we haven't even said hello to the Seine yet. Time to stroll down either of my favourite streets - rue St Paul or rue du Pont Louis Philippe and onto the Ile Saint Louis. Here I like to indulge in what I call river pootling. This is where you wander along, half wondering where Johnny Depp's house is, sit down by the water and generally have a breather, taking in the beauty all around you. Then a stroll along the river and back over it to Le Fumoir for lunch. {Update: Le Fumoir has gone horribly downhill since this was written - don't go there.} First though, there are some friends we need to visit at Vilmorin on the quai de la Megisserie. All cute, all adorable? Good.

A nice relaxing lunch in the dark, cosy confines of Le Fumoir - the perfect place for a winter lunch. I have no idea if jerusalem artichokes are in season, but this is my perfect day so they have creme of artichoke soup on the menu.
All we've done so far is shop and eat and walk. Sounds about right, but after lunch we hit the Madeleine Vionnet exhibition at the Musee des Arts Decoratifs. After the exhibition and perusing the fantastic bookstore there, it's a quick stroll around the Jardin du Palais Royal, finally summoning the courage to try something on at Didier Ludot, perhaps buying a pair of shoes at Pierre Hardy. Now, perfume. I'm torn because at Shiseido you can get a scent in a huge flacon with your initials on, which is pretty amazing.
But I am loyal to Frederic Malle perfumes, so maybe we'll just pop down there, before crossing the Jardin des Tuileries and meandering our way across the river onto the left bank. A nice stroll along certain streets looking in antique shop windows, taking in the atmosphere, until we arrive at Pierre Herme.

Now, we will attempt to recreate the perfect day when I bought a box of macarons there and went to eat them in the Jardins du Luxembourg. Writing this I realise that in Paris, it's not so much the destination as the journey itself. It's the walking between, taking the routes on favourite streets. Now, dusk is falling early and we have to get to the Musee Rodin before they close the garden at 5pm.
Now we're exhausted from all the walking. As money isn't an issue today we do something I never do in Paris: take a cab. We need to get ready for the evening. But first I'm going to have a massage at Les Bains du Marais. I change into my new Isabel Marant dress and Pierre Hardy heels and on the way out, passing a gallery, stumble on a vernissage which we politely gatecrash. Now we take an apero at...the Hemingway bar in the Ritz hotel. Continuing the old school theme, we'll have dinner at Le Voltaire, (whose windows I've only ever peered through) and then we'll have a cocktail or two at Curio Parlor. High on Paris and not wanting to end the night, we Velib it in heels back to our lodgings to sleep. Goodnight Paris. xxx
(I made a wish with my previous post and hours later received an email inviting me to enter a competition held by the Regional Tourism Committee of Paris Ile-de-France for their new campaign “Toi, moi et Paris" - to show Le Nouveau Paris. The prize is either a return Eurostar ticket, or if one is very, very lucky a weekend in Paris. I had to write a post detailing what my perfect weekend in Paris would be. I chose to fit it all into one day - the Sunday would be spent recovering at Rose Bakery with some carrot cake and meandering round doing only spontaneous things. That is after all, the best way to enjoy Paris.)
(My English keyboard apologises to France for the lack of accents on many of the words in this post.)
{All photos are mine: Marche des Enfants Rouges, Bernard Sylvain, Palais Royal/Didier Ludot, kittens at Vilmorin, Pierre Herme macarons, Paris at night.}
The perfect winter's day in Paris would be cold, but dry and sunny. I would start with a filling breakfast at Cafe Charlot, which is a bit of a cliche perhaps. But I love how lively it is - how the term people watching will usually include marveling at how say, Clemence Poesy seems to be permanently backlit, glowing away unassumingly as she chats to a friend. The food's not bad either - a proper breakfast/brunch affair at weekends.
Then, out into rue de Bretagne, which wakes up earlier than the rest of the area. You can't not have a mooch around the Marche des Enfants Rouges, stopping for a coffee at L'Estaminet or the Italian and perhaps a crepe from one of the market stalls. By this time Photographie will be open, so a quick flick through thousands of old photos of other people's families.
Now follows the usual march through the boutiques of the Haut Marais. Except today, oh didn't I mention, I have a budget of 1000 euros; so instead of wistfully stroking the garments at Isabel Marant in rue Saintonge I may actually buy one. A fevered circuit of boutiques at breakneck speed will now include: The Ofr art bookshop and 213, Surface to Air, then all the usual suspects: APC and Vanessa Bruno in rue Vieille du Temple, AB33 in rue Charlot and Hoses shoe shop and La Galerie de l'Instant in rue du Poitou where I've been threatening to buy an original photograph of Jane Birkin for the past three years. A little detour to look at vintage magazines in Les Archives de la Presse, then a stroll towards the Place des Vosges, calling in on the charming M. Bernard Sylvain to see if he can make me a little rose gold ring, to wear with the other ring he made me.
Then, to Merci, where again I threaten to buy something instead of just admiring the merchandise. Phew. We'll stop for a coffee in the bookshop cafe here as well, to catch our breath.
It's almost lunchtime and we haven't even said hello to the Seine yet. Time to stroll down either of my favourite streets - rue St Paul or rue du Pont Louis Philippe and onto the Ile Saint Louis. Here I like to indulge in what I call river pootling. This is where you wander along, half wondering where Johnny Depp's house is, sit down by the water and generally have a breather, taking in the beauty all around you. Then a stroll along the river and back over it to Le Fumoir for lunch. {Update: Le Fumoir has gone horribly downhill since this was written - don't go there.} First though, there are some friends we need to visit at Vilmorin on the quai de la Megisserie. All cute, all adorable? Good.
A nice relaxing lunch in the dark, cosy confines of Le Fumoir - the perfect place for a winter lunch. I have no idea if jerusalem artichokes are in season, but this is my perfect day so they have creme of artichoke soup on the menu.
All we've done so far is shop and eat and walk. Sounds about right, but after lunch we hit the Madeleine Vionnet exhibition at the Musee des Arts Decoratifs. After the exhibition and perusing the fantastic bookstore there, it's a quick stroll around the Jardin du Palais Royal, finally summoning the courage to try something on at Didier Ludot, perhaps buying a pair of shoes at Pierre Hardy. Now, perfume. I'm torn because at Shiseido you can get a scent in a huge flacon with your initials on, which is pretty amazing.
But I am loyal to Frederic Malle perfumes, so maybe we'll just pop down there, before crossing the Jardin des Tuileries and meandering our way across the river onto the left bank. A nice stroll along certain streets looking in antique shop windows, taking in the atmosphere, until we arrive at Pierre Herme.
Now, we will attempt to recreate the perfect day when I bought a box of macarons there and went to eat them in the Jardins du Luxembourg. Writing this I realise that in Paris, it's not so much the destination as the journey itself. It's the walking between, taking the routes on favourite streets. Now, dusk is falling early and we have to get to the Musee Rodin before they close the garden at 5pm.
Now we're exhausted from all the walking. As money isn't an issue today we do something I never do in Paris: take a cab. We need to get ready for the evening. But first I'm going to have a massage at Les Bains du Marais. I change into my new Isabel Marant dress and Pierre Hardy heels and on the way out, passing a gallery, stumble on a vernissage which we politely gatecrash. Now we take an apero at...the Hemingway bar in the Ritz hotel. Continuing the old school theme, we'll have dinner at Le Voltaire, (whose windows I've only ever peered through) and then we'll have a cocktail or two at Curio Parlor. High on Paris and not wanting to end the night, we Velib it in heels back to our lodgings to sleep. Goodnight Paris. xxx
(I made a wish with my previous post and hours later received an email inviting me to enter a competition held by the Regional Tourism Committee of Paris Ile-de-France for their new campaign “Toi, moi et Paris" - to show Le Nouveau Paris. The prize is either a return Eurostar ticket, or if one is very, very lucky a weekend in Paris. I had to write a post detailing what my perfect weekend in Paris would be. I chose to fit it all into one day - the Sunday would be spent recovering at Rose Bakery with some carrot cake and meandering round doing only spontaneous things. That is after all, the best way to enjoy Paris.)
(My English keyboard apologises to France for the lack of accents on many of the words in this post.)
{All photos are mine: Marche des Enfants Rouges, Bernard Sylvain, Palais Royal/Didier Ludot, kittens at Vilmorin, Pierre Herme macarons, Paris at night.}
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
ALTERNATIVE CHRISTMAS SPARKLE...
I don't understand all this Christmas sparkle nonsense. I threw a newly purchased well known weekly fashion magazine in the bin yesterday, muttering something about, "outfit porn for P.A.s". All this demanding I become extremely excited at the prospect of wearing sequins, sparkles and glitter on every inch of my body. At what other time of year would normally sane fashion journalists be proposing we all wear stretch burgundy velvet? I don't know anyone who fits into the mould of having the kind of office Christmas party depicted in this Boots ad, for example (which is actually quite funny). It's as alien to me as eating sheep's eyeballs and I would probably prefer to do that. But where are the features for those of us in the minority; who aren't going to nip into the office loo, don a lycra sequined dress, a pair of New Look heels and slather ourselves in glitter before rocking up at All Bar One and gleefully downing a bottle of Cava before snogging Gareth from accounts? Does anyone actually do this, or is it just a suburban myth?
It's cold outside. Why are there women with nothing but fake tan and bruises on their legs? The only leg covering worth considering is either some Hansel from Basel tights or my personal choice, Falke Softmerino tights in charcoal. They're thin, but warm, but not itchy or boiling hot warm. And they're very soft, as the name suggests.
I'm not drinking Cava; my teeth will fall out. Far better to warm up with a nice Scotch. I favour Caol Ila but am not too fussy. In the morning you'll need an Hermes Pendulette travel clock by your side because the Scotch will have knocked you out cold and you'll be late otherwise.
Make up: loads of La Roche Posay moisturiser, Carmex lip balm and Laura Mercier eye pencil. Fingernails: NO glitter, shimmer or metallic. Opi Matte Russian Navy is as festive as I'm getting.
The only way I'll be getting away with any kind of flimsy party dress is by pairing it with a chunky cardigan and boots.
It's cold outside. Why are there women with nothing but fake tan and bruises on their legs? The only leg covering worth considering is either some Hansel from Basel tights or my personal choice, Falke Softmerino tights in charcoal. They're thin, but warm, but not itchy or boiling hot warm. And they're very soft, as the name suggests.
I'm not drinking Cava; my teeth will fall out. Far better to warm up with a nice Scotch. I favour Caol Ila but am not too fussy. In the morning you'll need an Hermes Pendulette travel clock by your side because the Scotch will have knocked you out cold and you'll be late otherwise.
Make up: loads of La Roche Posay moisturiser, Carmex lip balm and Laura Mercier eye pencil. Fingernails: NO glitter, shimmer or metallic. Opi Matte Russian Navy is as festive as I'm getting.
The only way I'll be getting away with any kind of flimsy party dress is by pairing it with a chunky cardigan and boots.
Labels:
Imaginary Wishlist,
Lists,
Rant
Friday, November 27, 2009
7 THINGS: WINTER EDITION...
If Jane tagged me to reveal seven things I love, which coincided with my shocked realisation that...I don't mind this winter* that much. So far. I've been dreading it all year, but now that the ground is full of wet slimy leaves and the curtain of darkness falls at 3.45pm precisely, the anticipated plunge into despair has not materialised. Yet. Maybe I was remembering it wrong and it's just January and February I can't deal with. So to cut the broad sweep of relaying seven things I love in general in half, I give you: things I think I might love about the beginning of winter.
1. Quiet and slow. If nature is hibernating, surely we're meant to as well. Stocking up on food and drink and staying home with a good book is far more socially acceptable in winter, so that's my excuse.
2. Fresh winter flowers for cheap from Columbia Road market: 10 enormous stalks of amaryllis for £10, 3 pots of paperwhites, each with 4 bulbs in, for £5. Who needs a Christmas tree?
3. Exploring a foreign city for the first time - one which includes an archipelago, mulled wine and possibly a voyage on an ice breaking ship.
4. English country pubs suddenly make sense in winter. Ah yes, being warm inside by an open fire nursing a single malt when it's raining outside. 4b. Wellies as daywear.
5. Traditions. As in - every year a friend and I go to the Cheshire Street Christmas shopping evening and every year we do exactly the same thing: At MarMar Co I always think I'm going to knock something fragile over, then lament not being able to buy the red and white stripy string they wrap things in, then we admire a lot of things we can't really afford. By the time we get to Labour & Wait I become paranoid that my right cheek has flushed red from drinking mulled wine. We are always surprised at how packed and busy it is in there as we shuffle around, even though it always is. By the time we reach Shelf, we have started comparing the relative pros/cons of the mulled wine and mince pies given out in each shop. (There is also a moment where we can't work out where to put our empty cups.) Then we discuss whether or not Beyond Retro is part of the evening and decide we can't be bothered to walk further down the road to find out.
6. I know shepherds aren't fond of it, but on the rare occasions I'm up in time to see it, I love a red sky in the morning.
7. Which leads me to: the winter sky against tree branches.
*I know it's not officially winter for another 3 days, but it's cold, dark and there are no leaves on the trees. It's not autumn anymore.
{All photos are mine.}
1. Quiet and slow. If nature is hibernating, surely we're meant to as well. Stocking up on food and drink and staying home with a good book is far more socially acceptable in winter, so that's my excuse.
2. Fresh winter flowers for cheap from Columbia Road market: 10 enormous stalks of amaryllis for £10, 3 pots of paperwhites, each with 4 bulbs in, for £5. Who needs a Christmas tree?
3. Exploring a foreign city for the first time - one which includes an archipelago, mulled wine and possibly a voyage on an ice breaking ship.
4. English country pubs suddenly make sense in winter. Ah yes, being warm inside by an open fire nursing a single malt when it's raining outside. 4b. Wellies as daywear.
5. Traditions. As in - every year a friend and I go to the Cheshire Street Christmas shopping evening and every year we do exactly the same thing: At MarMar Co I always think I'm going to knock something fragile over, then lament not being able to buy the red and white stripy string they wrap things in, then we admire a lot of things we can't really afford. By the time we get to Labour & Wait I become paranoid that my right cheek has flushed red from drinking mulled wine. We are always surprised at how packed and busy it is in there as we shuffle around, even though it always is. By the time we reach Shelf, we have started comparing the relative pros/cons of the mulled wine and mince pies given out in each shop. (There is also a moment where we can't work out where to put our empty cups.) Then we discuss whether or not Beyond Retro is part of the evening and decide we can't be bothered to walk further down the road to find out.
6. I know shepherds aren't fond of it, but on the rare occasions I'm up in time to see it, I love a red sky in the morning.
7. Which leads me to: the winter sky against tree branches.
*I know it's not officially winter for another 3 days, but it's cold, dark and there are no leaves on the trees. It's not autumn anymore.
{All photos are mine.}
READING...
Maybe it shouldn't surprise me that after more than four years of bloggage I still find new to me blogs to add to my daily reading list (which isn't necessarily represented by my links on the left there and I must do something about that.)
The best way to find good blogs is, for me, to read good blogs, which will no doubt take you on that happy, merry path to other good blogs.
Recently, mainly thanks to links from others, I have very much enjoyed:
Daily Routines
Sally Jane Vintage
Vamoose
Paper Ice Cream (which I found through a comment left here)
Bash
notebookdoodles
Julia
I can't exactly remember who led me to these (I never said it was a perfect system) but merci for keeping my inspiration cup topped up.
The best way to find good blogs is, for me, to read good blogs, which will no doubt take you on that happy, merry path to other good blogs.
Recently, mainly thanks to links from others, I have very much enjoyed:
Daily Routines
Sally Jane Vintage
Vamoose
Paper Ice Cream (which I found through a comment left here)
Bash
notebookdoodles
Julia
I can't exactly remember who led me to these (I never said it was a perfect system) but merci for keeping my inspiration cup topped up.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
PASTRY/PARIS...
I'm not usually one for re-posts, but this wonderful little film by Susan Hochbaum {via Vain & Vapid} should be seen by all (except perhaps diabetics).
Watch it - I defy you not to start hatching plans to procure a Religieuse Violette from Laduree asap.
Watch it - I defy you not to start hatching plans to procure a Religieuse Violette from Laduree asap.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
MORNING SCRAPS...
*The Docs I thought I'd bought existed only on a thumbnail photo in a poorly updated webshop, so my re-teenage phase was short lived. Life's SO unfair *slams door*.
*That Anish Kapoor's a clever chap isn't he? I've never been to an exhibition with such a group spirit of attendee wonderment, participation and general happy interaction with the art. Your eyes and body are battling with such confused messages, that your mind can't process anything more than to think things like, "I feel all dizzy." Which is good, as it cuts through the need for any pseudo intellectual chin scratching.
*My camera doesn't really work anymore and I'm more than ready to upgrade to a DSLR. I'm looking at the Canon EOS 1000D or Nikon D3000 (too basic?) maybe. Anything with numbers after the name both confuses and loses my interest instantly. Can't they name one the Best Category Above Entry Level DSLR That's Not Mega Heavy But Is Well Made And I Can Learn On But Keep For Years As I Improve. Any recommendations?
*I'm seriously considering moving to another country so I don't have to endure every single person I come into contact with incessantly droning on about X Factor.
{picture of Anouck Lepere by Greg Kadel - I really hate posting other people's pictures but my camera is broken and I worry you'll get bored if I don't throw in a few images.}
Friday, November 20, 2009
QUIET...
I've given myself a sore throat. I get it when I talk too much but I'm not expressing myself well. All that blahblahblahing gone to waste.
I am going to be quiet now.
This is one of the reasons I like writing. Although I type quickly, the connection from brain to keys is more natural than the connection from brain to mouth. Speaking = spouting forth, overflowing, the stop start of talking. Words swirl in my head and fall out derailed. My personality comes through in writing, but my half garbled explanations and whirlwind tangents of spoken words leave me feeling frustrated and misunderstood. Then I feel upset at being misunderstood.
I don't often delete or hugely edit anything I've written (I might delete this though!), but I very often wish I could delete words that have spilled from my mouth. Have you ever heard anything like it? It's not that what I say is offensive or rude, just that it doesn't represent who I am very well.
Has anyone ever experienced this, and more to the point, having identified this trait, why can't I shut up?
{old photo taken by me}
I am going to be quiet now.
{old photo taken by me}
Monday, November 16, 2009
JUST LOOKING...
Until now, my experience with Kerry Taylor Auctions was of selling a lot in one of her auctions on behalf of someone else. A little background info on Kerry Taylor:
"Kerry Taylor joined Sotheby’s in 1979, at age twenty and went on to become one of the youngest auctioneers in their history. After creating and managing the Collector’s Department at Sotheby’s Chester, she moved to Sotheby’s New Bond Street in 1986 where she re-established the Costume and Textile sales. Kerry later became Director in charge of all Collector’s areas, special theme sales and celebrity sales."
She now runs her eponymous auction house dealing only with clothing and textiles (they held the Daphne Guinness auction amongst many others), both at her own premises and at Sotheby's. She continues to work with Sotheby's as Textile Consultant. In other words, the woman is a rock star of the clothes auctioning world.
At the last auction I went to, the sense of excitement I felt at being able to touch, try on and even potentially own incredible pieces from every decade of the 20th century was invigorating. For me, it's like being in a fairytale - opening a box full of perfect condition Chanel two tone ballet flats and wondering about the life of the person who owned them. Everything has a story and clothes somehow hold them in their seams. I didn't dare bid on anything, though I saw the true prices vintage dealers pay and realised how inflated they are at retail. It made me determined not to pay full whack for anything at a vintage store ever again.
But I don't think there'll be too many bargains at the upcoming sale on December 8th. Any of these clothes take your fancy?
"50% of the net proceeds of lots 283-331 will be donated to the Audrey Hepburn Children's Fund."
48 lots of clothes belonging to Audrey Hepburn, from the wedding dress for her 1952 wedding that was called off, that she asked the dressmakers to give to the poorest girl they could find (who went on to have a long and happy marriage)
to a simple striped mariniere top that comes with a picture of Audrey wearing it.
Kind of beats obsessively trawling Google image search for photos of Audrey to put in a folder on your desktop. I was lucky enough to meet the Audrey Hepburn black dress from Breakfast at Tiffany's when it was auctioned at Christie's a few years ago. Nothing compares to seeing something like that in person. So the thought of seeing what looks like half of AH's personal wardrobe, with authenticating documentation, makes me feel a little faint. This of course includes lots of Givenchy haute couture, much of it made especially for AH. Hubert de Givenchy said of her sense of style; "All the responsibility for the way Audrey looked is hers. She made the selections.” And if you take the time to read through the notes, lots of snippets about Audrey, not just her style but how she conducted herself can be found (such as giving boxes of her clothes to her first official fan, who became a lifelong friend). They build a compelling picture of her seemingly impeccable character.
{In advance of the sale, there is also a touring exhibition visiting New York and Paris. All details are here. All pictures from Kerry Taylor's site.}
p.s. There is other stuff in the auction too, if you're interested in Marie Helvin's '80s body con dresses and Chanel bags in every colour imaginable etc etc - the usual.
"Kerry Taylor joined Sotheby’s in 1979, at age twenty and went on to become one of the youngest auctioneers in their history. After creating and managing the Collector’s Department at Sotheby’s Chester, she moved to Sotheby’s New Bond Street in 1986 where she re-established the Costume and Textile sales. Kerry later became Director in charge of all Collector’s areas, special theme sales and celebrity sales."
She now runs her eponymous auction house dealing only with clothing and textiles (they held the Daphne Guinness auction amongst many others), both at her own premises and at Sotheby's. She continues to work with Sotheby's as Textile Consultant. In other words, the woman is a rock star of the clothes auctioning world.
At the last auction I went to, the sense of excitement I felt at being able to touch, try on and even potentially own incredible pieces from every decade of the 20th century was invigorating. For me, it's like being in a fairytale - opening a box full of perfect condition Chanel two tone ballet flats and wondering about the life of the person who owned them. Everything has a story and clothes somehow hold them in their seams. I didn't dare bid on anything, though I saw the true prices vintage dealers pay and realised how inflated they are at retail. It made me determined not to pay full whack for anything at a vintage store ever again.
But I don't think there'll be too many bargains at the upcoming sale on December 8th. Any of these clothes take your fancy?
"50% of the net proceeds of lots 283-331 will be donated to the Audrey Hepburn Children's Fund."
48 lots of clothes belonging to Audrey Hepburn, from the wedding dress for her 1952 wedding that was called off, that she asked the dressmakers to give to the poorest girl they could find (who went on to have a long and happy marriage)
to a simple striped mariniere top that comes with a picture of Audrey wearing it.
{In advance of the sale, there is also a touring exhibition visiting New York and Paris. All details are here. All pictures from Kerry Taylor's site.}
p.s. There is other stuff in the auction too, if you're interested in Marie Helvin's '80s body con dresses and Chanel bags in every colour imaginable etc etc - the usual.
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