I was searching for a gift for my niece’s birthday, and I came across these adorable printed rompers. She’s only two, so the gift is more for my sister-in-law and brother. She’d be happy tearing through the paper it’s wrapped in! Truth be told, if I could pull it off, I’d wear one myself. Romper, espadrilles, big old sun hat. Why not?
Over the years, we’ve amassed a collection of coloured glasses — lapis blue tea glasses from Tangier, tumblers in amber, sage and marmalade from a vintage shop in Toronto, and ten ice creams glasses in red, pink and a smokey quartz that were a gift when we got married. A few months ago, I added six jubilantly coloured glasses to the collection, snapped up at Heathrow Airport of all places! This image on the right (from Bohemian Living by Robyn Lea) inspires me to display them on open glass shelves so we can enjoy the kaleidoscopic colour as the light pours through.
My local flower shop has some beautiful hellebores in stock that would take your breath away. They’re the colour of claret, with intricate yellow centres, and they’d look fabulous paired with green hydrangeas. At this time of year, just seeing a beautiful bloom fills me with hope of warmer, lighter days.
I wrote a letter the other day, and honestly, it took eight drafts to make it legible. My penmanship is pretty to look at, but impossible to read. It made me wonder about the stacks of cards and letters I’ve sent over the years that have been a massive effort for people to read, an effort that may have detracted from the sentiment. This is why email is handy. Text messages, too. But when I look at this charming writing desk, I’m inspired to pick up the pen again. Write more letters, work at making them legible.
In all its lopsided glory, I have loved living in our house. Its been joyful, chaotic and intense. If the walls could speak they’d say, “we’ve done all we can to house these weird and wild people, it’s time to build new ones.” I am grateful to every wonky window sill and creaky floorboard, the cracks in the walls, and wobbly banister, all the flaws and foibles of this little house of ours. We moved in as two, without a stick of furniture, and now we’re five with more stuff than we know what to do with. Building something new in its place will be a challenge. Let’s hope houses have souls and this one stays put.
Here’s my idea of a garden shed. A little stone house at the end of the garden, surrounded by wild fauna and flora. There’s a double chaise longue to have a rest on, and a kettle to make cups of tea. It’s where the gardening tools are kept, plus a stash of books, magazines and cozy blankets. It’s cool in the summer, and the wood stove makes it cozy in the winter. Heaven.
I really like the combination of racing green and peach in this charming room. It reminds me of my grandparents home in Bermuda, a little salmon pink cottage surrounded by a jungle of palm trees and grasses. I like the linens with the frilly edges, and the chintzy paper trim. I smell flowers and sand when I see this room, and I feel a humid breeze blowing through the curtains.
Does anyone remember those velvet headbands, the ones we wore with taffeta puffballs and patent shoes? I’d rather like to revisit that phase, now that my eyebrows aren’t so bushy and my teeth aren’t so bucky. Jennifer Behr makes a beautiful braided version, in every colour you can imagine. Bubble skirt, optional.
I love this shot of Bianca Jagger’s platform, backstage at a Rolling Stones Concert in 1975. Trust Bianca to clip her pass to the strap of her shoe. I’m guessing she was in one of her signature white pant suits, and something fabulous on her head. One cool chick.
This style of sofa always reminds me of Savoiardi, the spongy biscuits that Italians dunk in their morning latte. I’ve never sat on one, but I bet it’s heavenly comfortable. Funnily enough, my bank has one in its main lobby. Next time I’m in there for a banker’s draft, I’ll test out its sponginess.
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