Frette sheets, a fireplace and enough room to dance the tango –– yes, this is my kind of hotel room. Well, I’m assuming this is a hotel room. Where else do you see tea for two and fresh Delphiniums sitting at a writer’s desk? I’m guessing we’re in India, Jaipur maybe. If anyone finds out, let me know. I’ll buy us the airline tickets.
Oh yes, to pants with pleats that button up around your belly button! These trousers are kind of perfect, comfortable and sexy and perfect with flats and a simple white tee.
I haven’t had a bath in years. I do wash, just not in tubs. But if I were the bathing type, I’d be in this claw footed lovely as fast as you can say soap. This Japanese soaking tub looks quite heavenly, and I love the starkness of this one. I’d be rather happy splashing away in this gorgeous tub, too. All this tub talk is making want to have a bath. Be a doll, and pass the bubbles, won’t you.
Take a look at José Antonio Roda‘s paper cutouts, all fashioned from a single sheet of paper. The Barcelona-based illustrator draws inspiration from Eduardo Arroyo, Fernand Leger, Saul Steinberg and Picasso, to name a few. He uses simple shapes and bold primary colours. I kind of love this French lady –– I may steal that eye for one of my plates.
I love these bee soaps, made by Charming Frog. They look like white chocolate, marzipan and Turkish Delight. I can see them sitting in a pretty porcelain dish in the perfect little powder room. The jade green one is my favourite –– definitely too gorgeous to ever wash your hands with.
I love this little house in Western Australia, it’s so full of colour and quirks. It’s owned by an artsy couple, Ian and Ros de Souza and is regularly open to the public for garden days and art walks. Most unusual, is their embrace of indoor/outdoor living –– the kitchen is virtually outside, and their shower is outside. Ros’ office is inside a reclaimed vintage train carriage, while Ian’s steel/glass studio is covered in paintings. Even the ceiling. The house is small, but that doesn’t stop them from squeezing 22 guests around one of Ian’s handmade tables on rails.
My introduction to fur came early in life, at about eight-years-old. My father used to take me with him to his fancy parties and I’d hide in the cloakroom fawning the furs all night. There were minks, sables and chinchillas, some jackets and gillets, others long to the ground. This was Gstaad in the 80s –– decadent, flashy, over-the-top. The chinchilla was the softest thing I’d ever felt. Then came the lessons from my grandmother. Yiayia loved fur coats and she had plenty of them. Hats and cuffs, too. When I was in my mid-20s, she sent me a mink in the mail. She’d picked it up at a consignment store at the plaza near her apartment in North Palm Beach. It was beautiful, but I was never sure how to wear it. I’m still not sure. The truth is, I haven’t loved fur since my cloakroom days. I don’t feel comfortable in it. Maybe if ever go to the ballet in St. Petersburg, I’ll bring out my mink. It even has my name stitched into the lining.
If we’re on a beach, it’s because we’re on a beach holiday, wearing bathing suits and sunhats and slathered in SPF. Few people think to book a beach holiday, off season. It’s a very different experience. The water is often too cold for a dip, and a sneaky, noontime daiquiri ain’t on the cards. No jet skis for rent, and no Kokomo at full blare. But you do have the whole beach to yourself. And who doesn’t love cold, squidgy sand under their feet? And if you’re brave enough to strip off your woolies for a quick splash, it’ll be the best swim you take all year.
My mum has an original sense of style, so much so, that my bother used to pretend he didn’t know her when she came to pick him from school. When she cut her hair really short and dyed it berry red, he crossed to the other side of the street. So when my daughter very politely asks me not to wear certain outfits to school, I know not to take it personally. One day, she may embrace my style, much like my brother does our Mother’s. But she’s a a kid and she wants to fit in, not stand out. A bejewelled pink coat in the schoolyard is more spotlight than she’s comfortable with. “You can wear it anywhere else though, Mama.”
Summer is my very favourite season, and then Autumn. Only sometimes, I’m too busy lamenting the end of summer to fully enjoy the beauty of fall. But yesterday evening, walking through Little Italy, I happened upon the most majestic amber sky simmering above our grey town. And I was immediately reminded how easy it is to miss those skies, when we’re not paying attention.
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