Posts from July 2019

packing list

July 18, 2019

Packing up your child to go away for the first time is a surreal experience. Twelve pairs of socks, one pair of rain pants, five bathing suits, bug repellent, nail clippers. Check. And yet, there’s that niggling feeling that you’ve forgotten something, no matter how closely you follow the list. Because the things you really want to send them off with –– common sense, confidence, courage, kindness –– don’t come in travel size bottles. So, you follow the list, and cross your fingers that the essentials are packed within them.

on the border

July 18, 2019

There’s something very handsome about linens with thick borders. I love the idea of a Cycladic blue, but this crimson is chic, too. Have a little browse through Williams Sonoma’s collections. It’s all quite traditional, but a stripe of colour looks great mixed in with modern whites.

decor amore

July 17, 2019

I admire people who decorate with wild abandon, who break rules, (who makes them, anyway?) and who create spaces that make total sense despite the above. They have a certain daring, openness and sense of play that is reflected in the homes they create. I don’t know who designed this room, but I’d love to share an ice cream with him/her. The mix of wood and fabulous 50s furnishings, the richly patterned wallpaper and pictures and plate over top; it’s all so over-the-top, and yet beautifully deliberate.

a room of one’s own

July 17, 2019

it’s always so exciting to catch glimpse inside an artist’s studio; Picasso’s in particular, makes me swoon. It’s so chaotic and decadent. The windows, natural stone and muted, earthy tones of ceramicist, Cécile Daladier‘s studio takes my breath away. Her Provence studio used to house farm animals, and now it’s filled withe her paintings and beautifully bizarre and organic vessels. Have a look around these other studios, each one as unique as the artists who call them home.

tap dance

July 15, 2019

We looked at a dizzying number of taps on the weekend. I start to lose my mind in those places, i.e. wonder if we even need a kitchen faucet. Or a kitchen. Do we? I’ve always loved old, brass taps –– it’s the English in me –– in an otherwise modern kitchen. Something like this unlacquered brass beauty from Waterworks would make the decision easy.

beauty in everything

July 12, 2019

There’s something strangely beautiful about our house right now. It’s been blown wide open, and behind layers of drywall we can now see all the original wooden framing. Remnants of powder blue paint covers the cement walls in the basement. And the crumbling red bricks reveal neon pink numbers. I’m not quite sure what the measurements denote. The back is wide open, and the front door looks tiny. I’m half expecting Alice to walk in from Wonderland at any moment. It’s the raw materials, the glaring decay, that makes the visual experience both jarring and beautiful. Luma was playing in the dirt last week, scavenging for old tiles, and as I looked back at her floral shorts and grosgrain bows against the chaos and grit of construction, I couldn’t help but want to capture the moment.

light my fire

July 12, 2019

Wowza wee, just look at this fireplace. I love all the intricate mosaic, and the pastel palette of blues and pinks and greens. The mix of stained glass, brick and marble sends the whole experience over the edge. In the best way possible. Have I mentioned that more is more?

top of the highstreet

July 12, 2019

Every now and then, I happen upon an item of clothing that’s just enough ridiculous to make me feel that I can make people laugh without being laughed at. Yesterday, my friend (and personal shopper) Bianca sent me this image, with the caption, “you’d look much sunnier than this. Zara. Thought of you.” So today, between pottery and pick-ups, I dashed over to every girl’s favourite high street brand, and snapped it up. It’s too fabulous for me to think too much about what I’ll wear it with, and whether the voluminous petals overwhelm my little frame. One can’t be too practical when it comes to dressing. After all, we’re here to have some fun.


July 10, 2019

Not much to say other than, Wow. This is what it looks like to wear a cloud. A light, puffy, delicious cloud. Or a meringue. Or the cream inside a profiterole. It’s kind of a dream, this dress. One that I’d happily live in every day of the week!


July 9, 2019

I’ve seen two great documentaries this week, Pavarotti and Ask Dr. Ruth, and both left me feeling inspired and uplifted. The two subjects couldn’t be more different. One’s a tiny, Jewish sex therapist, who was orphaned during The Holocaust, and the other was a larger than life, Italian tenor who wowed the world with his legendary voice. What they both share though, is immense endurance and a voracious love for life. I’m always astounded by people, who despite tragedy and trauma, maybe even because of it, are able to achieve extraordinary things. Dr Ruth Westheimer was orphaned at ten. Her parents were both killed in The Holocaust. While training as a sniper for Jewish resistance fighters in Palestine she almost lost use of both her feet. And yet, she went on to regain full motion, move to America and find true love. Dr. Ruth is the most recognizable name in sexual therapy; she changed the zeitgeist and the lives of millions of people around the world. Pavarotti also faced adversity and sacrifice. At one point in the documentary, he speaks of his daughter’s illness, a rare disease that she eventually overcame, but that changed his outlook on life forever. In later years, even as his own health declined, Pavarotti worked tirelessly to bring opera to the masses. He is known as much for his philanthropic efforts as he is his voice. “He lived those songs,” said his good friend and collaborator, Bono. “the mistakes you’ve made, the hopes, the desires, all that comes crashing into the performance.” I asked my friend, Charlotte –– we watched Ask Dr. Ruth together –– what she felt that thing was, that element that pushes people forward, gives them hope, despite pain and loss. “I think it’s love,” she said. Ruth Westheimer spoke often in the film about her love for her parents and grandmother, how loved she felt, even in the short years she had with them. Pavarotti too came from a lot of love, with both his parents always championing his passions and career. “I think to love, and to receive love is fundamental to human growth. That she [Dr. Ruth] experienced love in her early years, may well have paved the way for who she is today.”

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