Posts from April 2018

four posts

April 30, 2018

It’s been said that Louis XIV had 413 four posters –– “the bed of kings, and the king of beds.” Well, these days they’re making a comeback, returning as a minimal version of their once opulent selves. As a child I had the posts, (lucky, me) but no drapes to play hide and seek behind. So, if I ever have a four poster bed again, I’d go the whole way, with a romantic canopy (circus fabric, perhaps) and decadent wood posts.


April 28, 2018

It was my friend Stephanie who inspired me to bring Eucalyptus leaves into the home. Last time we visited her and her family in New York, I noticed a large glass pitcher stuffed full of tall Eucalyptus branches on the dining room table. What a simple way to bring colour and texture (and scent) into a room. They’re not expensive, and they last for weeks. Even dry they look great. I buy them often now, and plonk them in vessels all over the house.

lip service

April 26, 2018

Some days this blog writes itself, and other days, I can barely think of two words to put together. Today is one such day. And so I give you an image of Elvis by Alfred Wertheimer for no other reason than it’s beautiful. My Mum used to play Elvis songs loud and often in the house when we were kids. Return to Sender was on regular repeat. I thought Priscilla was so beautiful, (I was a huge Dallas fan) and even though I hated bananas, (still do) I loved the idea of a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

red stripe

April 26, 2018

I’m a sucker for stripes, I really am, and red and white ones are hard to beat. Maybe it’s because I think of the circus, or a Punch and Judy show, but I can’t help but smile when I see them. This little nook is calling my name. I like the whimsy of the stripe next to the formal of the painting. Who’s he writing to?


flower power

April 25, 2018

London has cherry blossoms, New York, too. But in Toronto, we’re still counting snowdrops, one by one. Before long, we’ll also have cherry blossoms and tulips in our paths, but in the meantime, Laura Jones‘ flowers paintings will have to do. Have a look –– they might brighten your day. They did mine.


April 23, 2018

I talk about my maximalist tastes here a lot –– colour on colour, print on print, texture on texture –– but then I happen on an image like this one, and I’m swept away with the exquisite minimalism of it all. All this shower needs is a bar of hand milled Goat soap. I read this quote from Joshua Becker today –– “minimalism is the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of anything that distracts us from them” –– and I liked it. Personally, I’ll always need more than a bar of soap, but I appreciate the idea, and it’s good to be reminded of it.


April 20, 2018

This bedroom, with its scalloped pillows, textured walls and dainty botanical prints, is so pretty. But what I love most about the room the modern pattern and classic palette of the floors. I picture these floors in a tiny, but beautifully appointed pied-à-terre in Florence. Or in my Toronto kitchen.


April 19, 2018

I found this image of tarts made by the Le Meurice‘s pasty chef, Cedric Grolet, and I had to share it. Aren’t they beautiful? Have a look at Grolet’s instagram feed, it’s one exquisite confection after another. His almond cake (keep scrolling) looks like heaven on a Carrara marble counter.


April 18, 2018

I find minimal design beautiful, but boring. Give me tchotchke, colour clashes and contradictions. “Maximal” is how owner and children’s clothing designer, Victoria Roper describes her charmingly higgledy-piggledy cottage in the thick of the English countrside.. Every room is a hodge podge of print and colour, and no room is without books, toys and pictures. I love the vintage beds in the children’s rooms and the bright yellow (like freshly churned butter) in the kitchen is delightful. Take a look at the Eat Me Drink Me Cottage’s instagram page, or better yet, book a holiday there.

a taste of honey

April 17, 2018

For as long as I can remember, I had imagined a baby boy. It wasn’t that I had my heart set on raising sons, it’s just how I thought it would be. So when Antimo was born it felt that I’d known him all my life. In the moments after his birth, the nurse handed me my baby and urged me to speak to him. “He’ll recognize your voice,” she said. But all I wanted was to be silent. “He already knows who I am.”  Happy Birthday my sweet boy, your heart is filled with honey.

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