I don’t think that there’s a magic way to mix wood tones in a room. Just think how beautifully cedars, cypresses, spruces and redwoods look in a forest. I think the more open you are to variety in texture and tone, the more playful and natural your space will feel. Architectural Digest gives some helpful tips, and here’s an example of a room where half a dozen different woods came together so well.
Balfour Books is one of my favourite independent bookstores in this city. I remember buying children’s books (before I had children) at their old location further west on College. These days, I rarely make it inside, but I always stop to admire the window. Anna Sui, Fortuny, John Rawlings, Bjarne Melgaard and Kimsooja were all there this week. I came home and read a little bit about Kimsooja –– she’s a multidisciplinary artist based in New York, Paris and Seoul –– and looked up Bjarne Melgaard, too. Melgaard is a Norwegian artist based in New York City, and his work immediately reminds me of Basquiat’s. This all from a window display — imagine if I made more time to walk through the door.
Looking back, my teens and twenties were spent with friends swimming in my same pool. We were all the same age, doing more or less the same thing. It wasn’t until my thirties that my community of friends broadened to the salmagundi that it is today. And in the last three years, it’s women in their mid to late 60s that I gravitate toward. They’re smart and funny and beautiful. They’re raised kids, survived cancer, had three careers, trekked the Andes, and here they are, swimming laps and throwing pots with me. I haven’t lived in the same city as my Mum since I was 19. I miss her. Sometimes, I think it’s that missing piece that draws me to these bright, brilliant, fiery women. Perhaps. Sometimes, I think it’s because they’re on the other side of where I am now. Anyway, I’m lucky to have found them. I think they might feel the same.
Can we all agree that these wicker chairs are dreamy. I’m not sure how much time you’d want to spend in one, (they don’t look too tusch friendly) but you’d sure look good flopped inside its petals. I like the mismatch of those rather 80s looking arm chairs in the background, because two quite different conversations can indeed take place in the same room.
Afternoon tea is such a delight. In fact, tea at any time of day is lovely. My grandparents had one of those Teasmade gadgets that made them freshly brewed tea at 7.30 a.m. every morning. My grandfather added at least three cubes of sugar to his cup. It was so sweet and delicious. His was the first tea I tried. My Dad’s mum was a big tea drinker, too. She took hers in the afternoon with a pack of Karelia lights. When we were children, afternoon tea was a whole other meal at my Dad’s house. There were egg sandwiches with shortbread and coconut squares. Even in height-of-summer Greece we’d stop for afternoon tea, only afternoon was more like 6.30 p.m. There we’d have our tea with homemade sponge cake and Papadopoulou Supermarket’s finest packed biscuits. These days, a cup of tea is usually on the run. It’s rarely in fancy porcelain, and there are never petit fours. It’s s a shame, for many reasons, not least because my cupboards are crammed with beautiful cups. At my wedding shower, a splendid afternoon tea hosted by my mother-in-law at the King Eddie, every person invited brought me a teacup. So, there’s no excuse, really. It’s high time I brought back afternoon tea!
I came across the Austin-based clothing line, Esby today –– and my wish list is long. It all looks so easy and wearable. I’ll take a cotton Ikat dress, a pair of high waisted cream denim pants, and this effortless tomato red romper. The bathing suit styles, all simple and athletic, are super. And the menswear looks pretty swipeable, too.
I don’t remember recess as a kid, but I do remember it once I hit my teens. We were allowed to leave the school grounds and walk around the neighbourhood, which for us meant loitering in an alley two minutes away. We chain-smoked Silk Cuts, (which I’d stolen from my Mum) talked about boys we liked, and practiced our latin verb conjugations. By fifteen there was no latin –– just bitching and boy talk. Oh, and we’d graduated to Malboros. Reds. On rainy days, we sat in the basement of a Kentucky Fried Chicken smoking and eating chips. God knows what we smelt like when we came back to class. Thankfully, our school had no uniform, so people couldn’t call in complaints about our obnoxiously loud and lewd talk. I’ve got two girls now, who I hope will be swimming laps and reading at recess. But when they do end up loitering in back alleys, please make it be a short phase.
Here, Bernard Koffman captures children playing on a see-saw at recess. Illinois, 1946.
Red and turquoise is a dynamite colour combination, in my view. Add shimmer, sequins and plenty of barely pink tulle, and Delpozo just whipped up Cinderella’s perfect frock. In fact, in my fairytales, Ariel, Aurora, Belle et al. are all dressed by Josep Font.
Fall colours –– rust, sage green and ochre –– are beautiful. But how about bursting into Autumn with a neon green oversized sweater or a pair of crepe de chine pants in wildflower pink? This coat, the colour of a Sicilian lemon, is pure joy. And just look at the size of that dahlia. Dahlias come in high wattage colours, and so can we.
I was invited to a party the other day with an animal theme. My friend Katherine Holland was showcasing her fabulous photos of exotic rescue animals, and I realized I had not a single animal print to wear. In a wardrobe with more variety of print than a Kenzo runway, it’s surprising that there’s nary a cheetah, leopard or snake in sight. Claudia Cardinale often wore a leopard coat, and it’s crossed my mind to do the same. I’d choose a vintage one, and this boxy tailoring is just my thing. Another idea is to buy leopard scarf, and turn it into a turban when I feel like walking on the wild side.
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