As a child, and teenager, I kept sketchbooks, dozens of them. I’d fill them with drawings and poems, and clippings from theatre or exhibitions I’d seen. I kept matchbooks in there, and cinema stubs and little love notes from my friends. I made collages from fashion magazines like Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar. And scribbled my name in every font you can imagine. When I came across the sketchbooks of British artist, Catherine Cullis this morning, I felt inspired to start keeping my own again. Hers are really lovely to look at, as is her work. Have a look around. Maybe we could all keep sketchbooks, instead of relying so much on our phones.
What a fabulous pair! I love this emerald green fabric –– the pleats are so chic and decadent. It sort of reminds me of lettuce ware, which is also on my wish list. Just imagine eating petit fours off lettuce plates with your derriere firmly planted in these emerald beauties.
I’ve lost my bathing suit. I’ve worn it to every swim for at least four years. That’s a lot of swims. It was navy blue with neon straps. My signature suit. Four people, including Alex the lifeguard, have asked me where my cozzie is. “You’re wearing a new suit, Athena.” It’s not a new suit, but it is new to the community pool. It doesn’t belong there. It belongs on a beach in Cap Ferrat. But no suit feels as good as my Speedo did. It was a second skin. With neon straps. So, now I am on the hunt for a replacement. Shopping for suits in December is a horrible bore. And I’ve learned the hard way that buying suits online is a mistake. I’m considering a red suit. For a change.
I’m stalling on the Christmas tree this year. When we moved house and decided to cram all the decorations behind boxes and suitcases in the basement, Christmas seemed so far away. And now, the thought of rummaging through it all feels like such an effort. Our rental apartment is carpeted, so I foresee a lot of vacuuming. I totally understand why people opt for a fake tree. The holidays can be overwhelming enough, why add a million little needles to the list. But just as I contemplated a visit to Canadian Tire, (Jason was aghast at the merest suggestion of a fake one) I remembered why the tree is so important to me. For years, my Mum made every effort to make sure Christmas was splendid. She’d hoist a tree up the stairs, untangle lights, unwrap and hang a hundred baubles, and shop for and wrap all the presents under the tree. I don’t know that she was always in a festive mood, but she definitely made us, and our home, feel warm and sparkly and adored. This year, we’re fleeing the city on Christmas day, but I do still want the children to wake up on Christmas morning to the sight of a glorious tree, festooned with flashing lights and macaroni garlands. It may all be an effort, but it’s a worthy one.
If colourful, madcap adornment is your thing, I suggest a scroll through the whimsical world of ceramic artist, Amy Rogers. Her ceramic beads, some intricately glazed, others bold and simple, remind me of the ethnic ones I beaded with as a kid. Except her designs are modern and fresh. Think bold evil eyes –– more surreal than spiritual –– and graphic chandelier earrings. Rogers is having a show at her studio this weekend, the info is on her website.
I’ve thought about my dream guest loo for years. Long time readers will have seen me share many a powder room idea here. Extravagant sinks, fancy wallpaper, gilded mirrors. It’s the room that’s most fun to choose decor for. I kind of love the salmon pink walls here, the marbling in the fabric below the sink, and those fabulous shell sconces.
I’ve not felt well this week, so I’ve not swum, or gone to the studio, or bought fresh flowers, or walked into the woods, or sung a song, or talked with strangers. I haven’t done much at all, actually, outside of writing and watching television and drinking ginger tea. I really do believe that sickness is the body (and mind’s) way of forcing us to slow down and take stock. It started last Thursday with a horrible neck pain that by morning had travelled into my back. “I had to make you uncomfortable otherwise you never would’ve moved.” Forced to break with our routines, shift gears, we are left to examine the reasons we got ill in the first place. So yes, while sickness demands a physical reprieve, it does ask something of the psyche. Which is the whole point. Address the list from the comfort of your sofa. By Monday afternoon, a chest infection had come on that stayed with me all week. Five days horizontal. Anyone who knows me knows that doing nothing is not my forte. “If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run.” So, I wrote two-dozen Christmas cards and watched the Joan Didion documentary. Next week, I’ll be back to health, and swimming laps and making bowls and racing from one end of the city to the other with three kids and an armful of teacher’s gifts in tow. And what will I have gained from this break in regular programming? How will I have been moved? Sideways? Forward?
And because it’s December, and all the living things are coated in snow, here are some peonies, in my favourite shade. I saw peonies at my local flower shops last week, but resisted the urge. It felt wrong to fill the house with June flowers in December. Besides, it’s the amaryllis’ turn to shine.
I’m dizzy, too. But if we can catch our breath, and absorb the sheer playfulness and whimsy of this room, the dizziness may pass. With three different prints on the ceiling, walls and floor, it is a lot. And none of it makes sense. Until it does. And then it’s all positively delightful.
