in stiches

January 13, 2020

I came across the beautiful textiles of Gabriela Martínez Ortiz today, and I wanted to share her work. She’s based in Mexico City, and creates one-of-kind dresses, tops and jackets under her label, Ofelia y Antelmo. Her website features dozens of textiles, interiors, and for those of you who speak Spanish, a vibrant glimpse into her process an inspiration. No hablo español, but I still found it beautiful to watch.

on the seashore

January 10, 2020

We brought so many lovely shells back from the Gulf, and a few shark teeth, also. I was on Pinterest this morning looking at ways to display them. I’m thinking of gluing them all to a piece of a linen, (palm frond green or flamingo pink) and framing the fabric in a simple white frame. We found some lovely bits of Mother of Pearl, even the fragments of shells are interesting. I’m a lifelong shell-seeker –– it’s my favourite thing to do on a beach –– and I love the idea of a shell wall, sourced from various corners of the world.


January 9, 2020

Japanese is beautiful language, made up of words that carry a very nuanced and precise meaning. Komorebi, is the Japanese expression for that strain of exquisite sunlight that filters through trees, and Yugen reminds us that beauty is not just in what the eye can see. Furusato refers to one’s hometown, less about provenance, and more about where the heart longs to be. This morning I learned the word, Nakama, a very good friend, or comrade, that while not related by blood, is your family. Jason was the first person that sprang to mind. I feel fortunate to have a small handful of Nakamas in my life, those people that weave their way into our inner most fibres. I also like the word, tsundoku, “the charming tendency of some book lovers to purchase and collect so many books that they pile up unread.” This makes me think of my dad, who has at least five books on the go at any one time, and still has towers of unread books around him. And Ganbarimasu, “I’ll do my best,” is a word we all should know.


January 8, 2020

Sunbathing is one of those pastimes that the idea of is more alluring than the reality. Within minutes, I’m boiling hot, and sweat is collecting in all my creases. I’m twitchy and itchy and bursting to get up. No book is captivating enough to hold me hostage on my lounger. No, me I’d rather walk the beach, swim in the sea, and admire the sunbathers.


January 8, 2020

Every now and then, I come across a room that’s too delightful not to share. The canopy! The mismatch of florals! The darling fireplace, and rose petals on its mantle. The terracotta tiles! One doesn’t see rooms this charming, this considered that often. It’s like something out of an old English story book.

don’t sweat it

January 8, 2020

One of the many things that I love about my community centre gym is the people who frequent it. Most members are baby boomers and come outfitted in leggings and an old t-shirt. They are smiling, engaged and game. There is such a positive energy in the changing room as women walk around naked talking film, food, politics and where to buy decent pierogies. Middles wobble, so do bottoms and boobs. These bodies have birthed babies, endured menopause, and survived health scares a plenty. They are here for the conversation, the camaraderie, the restaurant reviews, routine. Strength and flexibility are fortunate bi-products. This morning I did a yoga class, (it was more of a supervised nap) and watched in admiration as several older participants stretched their geriatric limbs into a bridge. “It doesn’t matter how slow you go, as long as you don’t stop.” As someone who moves through the world at a clip, today’s class reminded me how wonderful it feels to surrender to an activity that asks you to really tune into your breath, and to become aware of body parts that we rarely think about. Our ankles. Our toes. Our jaw. There is great value, and longevity, in slow placed, consistent movement, and surrounding oneself with positive people, who aren’t competing with you, or showing off. Many are just grateful to be alive. One day, I hope to go back to running marathons. It’s also a dream of mind to do an epic climb. But for now, while my children are small, and my days are bonkers busy, I’m okay leaning into a flutter board or a comfy bolster. The people at my community centre didn’t start going to the gym at 55. it’s a lifelong thing.

play house

January 6, 2020

I am so inspired by the originality, colour, and sense of play in Jorge Pardo’s Mexico home. It’s hard not to swoon over the colouful cabinetry, whimsical pendents, turquoise windows, and hodge podge of tiles throughout. It brings together so many elements that I love in a home, all set among the leafy greens of his Merida garden. Just look at the grand ceiling height in the room below, the tall tomato red doors, and those hand painted walls.

lunch hour

January 4, 2020

The Wolseley in London is such a lovely place to lunch. The room is decadent, and so is the food. Just look at this image; oysters, snails and a schnitzel topped with a fried egg, capers and sardines. This is a meal that takes many green salads to recover from. How divine.

desert home

January 2, 2020

I came across architect, Albert Frey’s house today, a small mid-century modern masterpiece in the heart of Palm Springs. Houses that look like they’ve sprung from the terrain that they’re built on are always so beautiful, especially when the surrounding landscape makes its way indoors, as is the case with Frey’s house. Giant boulders encroach on the space in a way that makes it impossible to ignore the fact that you’re on top of Mount San Jacinto. “Before he began construction, Frey studied the angle of sun throughout the seasons in order to site the home,” writes Architectural Digest. “The results are unparalleled views and a unique connection to the environment.”

Something about Mary

January 1, 2020

A Bloody Mary is such a middle-aged drink. Maybe it’s because I remember my parents and their friends knocking them back over Sunday lunch. Just the thought of tomato juice, vodka and a celery stick used to send my tummy into a twist. I’m still not a fan of tomatoes, so I’m unlikely to drink one in my adult life. But it does seem like a smart start to the New Year. A fruit. A vegetable. Vodka. This one’s even got a rasher of bacon. Salut!

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