Every time I think I think I’d like an ultra modern bathroom, I see a picture that reminds me of my true aesthetic. White and minimally appointed, yes. But ultra modern, mais non. I’m in Marrakech, or on a Greek Cycladic island, where the the tub and the shower and the loo all meet. That’s the bathroom for me.
When I met Jason in 1997, I was well into trainers. I wore my Nike Air Max with everything –– jeans, track suits, skirts. There’s an outfit that stands out in mind: black crêpe tuxedo pants, round neck plum merino sweater, a black velvet coat and white air maxes to finish. Maybe it’s what I wore on our first date, and that’s why I remember it. My hair was long and my eye brows were over-plucked. It was a good look. To this day, Nike is my go-to trainer. There’s a pair of adidas athene that I wear once in a blue moon, but really, I’m a Nike girl. These are my latest pair, a gift from Jason, who 20-years-later, says that outfit was the coolest.
Autumnal blooms –– sunflowers, daisies and chrysanthemums –– are not my pick of the bunch. I find them all a bit folksy. But I do love to see a window box or a rectangular planter stuffed full of heather. I’d never seen a cabbage until I moved to Toronto, and I think they’re ridiculously fun, too. The more the merrier, I say.
“I’ve always thought of accessories as the exclamation point of a woman’s outfit,” said Michael Kors. I mostly agree. But when an outfit is as sensational as this Delpozo, one needs nothing more than the confidence to wear it.
Every few months, I make my way through all the cupboards and drawers in the house in an effort to reduce the clutter. It’s a satisfying feeling to purge us of stuff; boots that were a good idea at the time, old spatulas, toys, magazines, bank statements and soy sauce that expired a year ago. For a few weeks after, I’m chuffed every time I open a drawer to see a tape measure, a phone charger and a ziplock bag of receipts lined up neatly among the kitchen utensils. But a month or two later, receipts and keys and cords are scattered everywhere and the drawers are spilling over again with lego, broken sunglasses and confiscated lollipops. The bathroom drawers are in a similar state, stacked with free samples I’ll never use, tubes of toothpaste with nothing but minty water in them and enough hairbrushes to open a salon. “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” It’s a lovely idea, William Morris, it really is. And I can certainly try to keep life’s debris in check. But to stop it all together, well, that would be mighty hard and frankly, a bit of a bore.
If I am repeating myself, forgive me –– but I have a penchant for fancy pajamas. The simplest are the best; white cotton with navy blue piping –– initials beautifully monogrammed into the breast pocket. It’s a little rêve of mine to spend the entire day in Frette pajamas, Charlotte Olympia loafers on my feet. These here are just perfect, ATS.
My brother and I shared a huge bedroom with multi-coloured curtains, matching bed spreads (his was green, mine was pink) and built in matching pine desks with shelves for books and toys. We would wake up with the birds and play hide and seek, or build forts out of pillows. I have said this here before, but I am a big believer in children sharing a room, even if you have the space for them not to. I think it encourages silliness and squables, deep friendship and daily compromise. If their bedroom was a teensy bit bigger, I would put all three of my children in the same room, with our third bedroom acting as an office-cum-play-read-watch movies room. I would put two bunk beds in, with a spare bed for a visiting pal/Yiayia, and leave them to bicker, bond and figure it all out.
With eye-popping colours and bold, graphic prints, it’s no wonder that Tata Naka (designed by identical twins, Tamara and Natasha Surguladze) is my kind of line. If I buy anything it will be a cushion from the Travelling Babe collection. With her printed turban and crystal clusters, ‘Babe goes to Capri’ is kind of amazing. And ‘Babe at the Chelsea Flower Show’ is just how I’d want to look at a splendid horticultural event. It’ll be hard to choose just one, but really, these dames deserve the company.
Separate bedrooms, no –– but separate beds, why not? This divine set up at the Luchino Visconti room at the Grand Hotel et de Milan will do nicely. A pair of vintage ormalu-decorated beds and the covers all to myself, si grazie.
Artist and stylist, Kate Schelter’s Manhattan apartment is a charming mix of fabric, light and whimsy. I adore the poppies, anemones and dahlias scattered about the place, and her picture walls of fine art, photography and humour are so well done. Plus, any room that mixes stripes, dalmation spots and Schiaparelli pink is my kind of room.