My grandmother had impeccable etiquette. But the old adage of no white after labour day, was one she never adhered to. Crisp white shirts worn with white cotton slacks were her staple. It made a difference that she lived in hot climates all year round, but regardless, she would have worn white in Reykjavik in November. Because a sophisticated woman knows when to break a rule.
My all time favourite wedding bouquet wasn’t a bouquet at all. It was a single white magnolia the size of the moon that my friend Zelmira carried when she married her long-time love at the Mairie de Biarritz. If I was to re-imagine my own wedding day blooms (big, beautiful and classic) I would carry as many colours and varieties as I could pack into my two hands. Think of it as the Monsoon Wedding of bridal bouquets!
When shoe designer, Charlotte Olympia Dellal got married she wore leopard print platforms under her Giambattista Valli wedding gown. It’s always a sweet surprise when an unexpected colour or print peeps out from underneath froths of classic white fabric. Red shoes are a playful, flirty twist on the pure, white dress, while cornflower shoes tick the “something blue” box. When I got married I wore beautiful stilettos in the softest peach, with a swatch of delicate pink fabric across the toes and Louboutin’s signature lipstick red on the soles. I wore them from 7 p.m. until the sun rose the following day. So happy was I, that I may as well have been barefoot. For the bride who wants something different, that’s still in keeping with the sophistication of her day, these bronze beauties are your girls. City hall wedding? These glitter bugs would look gorgeous with that cream day dress. And for sheer whimsy, pale blue butterflies on sliver strappies mean you’ll flutter down the aisle.
Two flights to Europe in a month –– one to London, one to Rome, plus a weekend in Muskoka –– is forcing me to perfect my packing skills. Jason tends to carry a bag of his own, while I pack myself and the three children into another. Luma’s clothes fold to the size of a wash cloth, and our summer clothes, mostly cotton and rollable, don’t take up much room either. As always, it’s the shoes that pose a challenge, with Iole wanting to bring at least four pairs, and her mother wanting to do the same. We come to a compromise, and pack two pairs each, with one to travel in. If I consider our outfits for the week/weekend ahead, I can even cram us all into a Longchamp. One thing I never do is pack straight into the suitcase. Instead, I make piles on the bed or the floor, and do all my editing there. If I am not absolutely sure about something (that top is tight in Toronto, why would it fit in Tuscany?) I send it back to my cupboard. And here’s the order I pack: shoes first, and washbags –– both packed inside a cloth bag which I use as a laundry bag/diaper bag once we’re away. Accessories come next, then swimwear and underwear in fabric bags. I then pack each child so I can easily access their pile at the other end, and finish with my own things (fold it, roll it) on the top. And while I always travel with my own cosmetics, I’ve had too many sticky explosions to dare to travel with kid’s toothpaste again. So, I tend to pick up a shampoo and sunscreen at a local pharmacy at the other end, and leave it behind when we’re done. Wasteful, but worth it. And I always leave a little room for travelling indulgences. In Italy’s case, I may even bring a spare pliage. Because, how will I resist freshly pressed olive oil, Santa Maria Novella creams and teacups from Ceramiche Toscane the size of la bella luna?
At school, swimming caps were mandatory, and we hated them. It didn’t matter how much talc we poured in, they were always such a pain to peel on and off. I heard a similar lament this morning from a woman who grew up in the 60s who said that while her latex cap was pretty to look at (a psychedelic flower print) it was always so painful “especially when my Mom pulled it off my head, pulling my hair out with it.” When men started sporting long hair and ponytails, she said, and still swam without a cap, women decided they could do the same. “If men didn’t have to wear swim caps, neither should we.” Of course these days, they’ve come full circle, with caps making a splash once again. Only this time around, it’s purely aesthetic.
It takes guts to don a topper. And I’m not talking about baseball caps or floppy fedoras. I mean an objet d’art du tête. On the patio at Terroni yesterday, I met a woman in her late 70s sporting a classic straw cap sent over the edge by a huge black straw pompom. “You look fabulous,” I told her. She wore the hat with such insouciance and confidence, and was genuinely delighted (surprised, even) by my compliment. I think we reach a certain age/stage in our lives when humour and chutzpah trumps trends, and when noshing on tagliatelle with a giant pompom on our heads is the new fabulous norm.
Yesterday afternoon, as the rain came pouring down, Iole, Antimo and I took cover under Holt Renfrew’s large magenta awnings. Donald Robertson’s whimsical windows were a whack of high voltage colour on a grey day. Unless it’s a collaboration with a big name like Robertson, we rarely know the artists behind window displays. At Harvey Nichols, it’s Janet Wardley who spearheads the store’s wildly creative, head-turning displays. From magical fairy-tales and forests to circuses, air balloons and dinosaurs, standing on the south east corner of the Knightsbridge and Sloane Street always feels like a front row seat at the theatre. The windows at Bergdorf Goodman are equally sensational. I can’t visit New York without going to see what David Hoey has created for the season. The man’s a creative genius. “Opening a window is a bit like a premiere,” he told the Daily Beast. “We try to get people’s attention by putting on a show. You have to do all sorts of things to make a stream of pedestrians into an audience. It’s extremely ephemeral. It’s very of the moment.” Here in Toronto, there’s one window that never fails to stop me in my tracks. I’m not sure if Kalpna Patel is still behind all the displays at Type Books, but I’m a big fan of her eye-popping style. And as Wardley said in a Q & A for Retail Focus, you don’t need a large budget to create effective displays. “The budget at Harvey Nichols is surprisingly small and mostly we work with easily obtainable materials. It is the idea, the skills of the builders and dressers, and keeping true to the idea that makes a scheme work.”
Anything I know about Eva Perón, I learned from Madonna. It was 1997 when the film came out, and my friend Zelmira and I were living in Florence. We’d found a small cinema, inside a 15th-century palazzo near Piazza della Repubblica that played English films, and that’s where we watched Evita. The seats were upholstered in a gold velvet, not unlike Madonna’s opulent Parisian gowns. Her wardrobe in the film was exquisite. In terms of favourite movie closets, hers (alongside Rachel Mcadams‘ in The Notebook and Cate Blanchett in Cinderella) tops my list. Long after the film credits rolled, Zelmira and I sang the songs –– another suitcase, in another hall –– ad nauseam. The other day, I heard a song playing with a similar melody. And as I walked on, I couldn’t help it, another suitcase in another hall.
Sometimes I imagine buying a pair of shoes exclusively for the indoors. They’d be beautiful, and decadent, and just a little bit ridiculous. I’d wear them around the house, and never, not once, would they step foot outside. They’d be saved the pain of hard pavements, the splatter of rain, and the flecks of dirt, dust and grime, and after twenty-years they’d still look nearly new. It’s such a lovely thought, isn’t it? Beautiful shoes, pristine forever. But what if our faces never saw the sun? And what if Rapunzel never escaped her castle? Yes indeed, indoor shoes are a lovely idea, but shoes are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do.
Everyone knew Posh Spice couldn’t sing to save her stilettos. But it didn’t really matter. Beckham brought balls and attitude to everything she did. But from her side, I bet it felt as natural as her silicone boobs to do something, and be someone that she wasn’t. Which is why I love what she’s doing now. I love that she freely admits that she was a crap singer, and that in fashion, she’s found home.
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