Posts from April 2019

Dear John

April 30, 2019

John Mayer is the soundtrack to our life. I’m always a little sheepish to admit that. His songs play in coffee shops and dentist’s offices. His talent was, and maybe still is, overshadowed by prickish comments about girls he’s dated. His music likely classifies as easy listening, and easy isn’t complicated, nuanced or edgy. But we love it. We love him. And maybe it’s because he’s so damn easy to listen to. And maybe it’s because his lyrics, simple and honest, resonate with us. Jason appreciates his insane skill –– I gather he’s astounding with strings –– and I really like his lyrics, and how each album reflects a chapter in our lives. Your Body is Wonderland was our early years, before we had children. When we spent three-months in Greece, with a then one-year-old Iole, I used to run daily in the hills listening to Say What You Need To Say. Songs like Gravity, Daughters, and In Repair (Jason’s favourite) played on repeat. When our son, Antimo was born, I listened to the Born and Raised album a lot. Speak for Me is my favourite song on that album. Paradise Valley is home to Dear Marie, a song I’ve listened to over 1000 times, and which feels like a bit of an anthem. Heart of Life was the beginnings of Luma. And the Search for Everything album is us as a family of five as we drove through the Catskills a few summers ago. Needless to say, we’ve listened to I Guess I Just Feel Like a lot lately, and we’re waiting for John’s next track.

table & chair

April 27, 2019

I like the juxtaposition of a modern table with vintage chairs, and vice versa. This antique table looks great flanked by Eames buckets. What a delightful spot to petite dejuener to. No milk in my tea, and yes please to jam.


April 26, 2019

I went to a dinner a few weeks ago where we made Baklava. It’s really quite a simple think to make, when you have ten hands in the kitchen! As a teenager, I used to devour a whole tray of baklava in one sitting. Nuts, sugar and cinnamon! Filo! What’s not to love?


April 26, 2019

What a lovely alternative to petals and rice, to throw olive leaves at the bride and groom. These little baskets filled with dried leaves are so charming. Have a look at the flower girl’s head garlands, also lovely.


April 24, 2019

Ever since I first watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s in my teens, I’ve loved Audrey Hepburn. It’s unusual to come across never seen before images of her. These here, taken by Inge Morath during the production of The Unforgiven in Mexico in 1959 are so lovely. The simplicity of her outfit, that great hat, the expression in the first image, are all reminders of why my affection for Hepburn has held on after all these years.


April 24, 2019

I remember my 30-something-year-old Mum skipping off to the opera in a pink satin moiré frock and black velvet pumps. I remember my friend, Polly wearing beautiful vintage lace to see Circque du Soleil at The Royal Albert Hall in the mid-90s. No doubt, I wore patent shoes and a velvet bow to my first theatre, and to this day, I love the idea of dressing up for such occasions. “The  audience was as much a part of the experience as the performers,” my friend, Rikki said today, as we lamented that people no longer get dressed up for the theatre. “The intermission was always a highlight, because you got to people watch, take in the outfits. These days, a lot of shows don’t even have an intermission.” The first time I took Iole to see a show, an oddball magician at a small theatre in the west end, we both wore dresses. We were so out of place in a sea of denim. But I wanted to instill in her this idea of dressing for occasions, putting your glad rags on to see someone perform. Today, it’s a struggle to get her to wear anything but leggings, but my hope is that she too will one day dress the part.

(Opera-goer during the break in the corridors of the Vienesse State Opera.)



April 19, 2019

There was a time when a shindig wasn’t a shindig if the guests didn’t dance. I don’t know what your plans are this weekend, but between our seders and egg hunts, let’s try and fit in a foxtrot or two.  Happy Easter! Happy Pesach!

fatta a mano

April 19, 2019

One of the many very wonderful things that has come out of pottery, is the community of people its connected me to. When I meet a fellow potter, there’s an instant draw. Just like when I hear a British accent on the streetcar. Through clay, I’ve met such beautiful, daring, determined and persistent women. It’s thrilling to be inspired, and to feel that I inspire others. This is community. But it’s not just my fellow makers. The supporters, the champions of handmade, some friends, some strangers, are such an important part of this community. They invest in our work, and thus acknowledge the time and thought and joy and frustration that goes into each piece. “This will be perfect for all the Middle Eastern food we’ve been cooking,” one lovely buyer said at a sale yesterday with my platter in hand. “I love that this bowl is a little unstable,” said another buyer of a wobbly castoff. “And I love that you appreciate that imperfection,” I responded. One couple snapped up five pieces. Likely two weeks of work. “I love your ceramics,” she beamed, while throwing her arms around me. These moments are a thrill, for us both. “Buy from humans,” my friend, Katherine Holland says. It’s such a different pleasure to spoon up ice cream from a wonky, handmade bowl or plonk daffodils into a vase that shows the markings of its maker. I am so grateful to all the people who motivate me to make, who celebrate the mistakes, are inspired by them, even, and who choose to bring my heartfelt creations into their homes.

from a far

April 18, 2019

I was dashing along an Annex side street today, when I caught a glimpse of something that brought me to a halt. My daughter, walking home from the playground. There she was, leggings hiked up to her knees, jacket unzipped, moseying down the street arm in arm with her teacher and a little boy half her size. I bellowed her name, “Luma, Luma!” For a smidgen of a second she had no idea who I was, so engrossed was she in her other world. I watched her on her road back to school, blowing kisses from afar, relishing the entire minute that she remained in sight. We know our children so well, their every mood and whim, each and every  freckle on their cheeks. So, to see them out in the world is precious, because it’s a perspective we rarely get.


April 16, 2019

I love how tulips keep growing, even when they’re cut. And that even if you try to tame them, they’ll always move in the direction they want to. Towards the light. Towards each other. They’re not the grandest of flowers, (although there are some fancy varieties) but they’re trusty and true. I just don’t think you can ever go wrong with a bunch of tulips.

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