I’m a big fan of polka dots –the more the merrier. Last week, I wore black trousers covered in white dots with a white blouse splattered with blue and orange ones to my pottery class. Coincidentally, I had decided to glaze a pinch pot with blue polka dots. “She’s the polka dot girl,” called out our teacher, Celia, in her thick Brazilian accent. I’m delighted by the nickname, and I’ve since covered two more pots in big blue splodges.
This morning, my friend and fellow textile fanatic, Alison and I went to the Textile Museum‘s annual summer sale to rummage through bolts, boxes and bins of fabric. “Are you looking for something in particular?” asked her friend Dori as we stood in line outside Artscape. “No, but I’ll know when I see it!” I couldn’t resist a bolt of coral fabric covered in tropical birds and flowers, and at $2 a piece, the Navajo inspired cushion fabrics in pinks and blues had to be mine. My favourite find was metres of heavy white satin decorated with butterflies, ladybirds and bumbles bees, perfect for dresses for the girls or a ballgown for me! Alison snapped up a few metres of pale blue toile, and a gorgeous print of aqua florals for her home in Nova Scotia. All so beautiful, and so much fun. Next year, I’ll bring a bigger bag.
When my Dad came to visit me in Florence, he bought me plants for my tiny studio flat from a stall near Piazza della Signoria. He also bought me a pair of Gucci loafers. Guess which ones I took better care of? I’ve never been one for plants at home, (pink thumbed, yes –– green thumbed, non) but I do love the spaces featured in Greenterior. The book spotlights 18 interiors from Antwerp to New York, designed by creative people with a passion for plants. I don’t know that I could live in this jungle of print and colour, but I do love how the plants merge harmoniously into their surroundings.
Jib doors, once used to hide entrances to service quarters, are so amusing to me. We have one that’s built in to a paneled wall below our staircase that I like to tell people is the trap door to the dungeon. I find them so quirky, and there are so many playful ways to hide them, whether it be with paint, paper or a faux bookshelf. The Queen has her own jib door, in the White Drawing Room, that leads to official rooms from her own private quarters. I wonder if hers is covered in De Gournay paper? I hope so.
Nothing brings people together like a game of a footie. One of my favourite films, Joyeux Noël, tells the story of how British and German soldiers in the First World War called a truce on Christmas day to kick-about a ball in no-man’s land. A few years after the film came out, I bought Jason a photograph of young boys playing football on a dirt field in Sierra Leone shot by Canadian photojournalist, Dominic Nahr. Both the film and the photograph speak to me about optimism and hope. There’s something in the universal appeal of football, that people all around the world love and play the game –– and that all it takes is a bunch of kids with a couple of sticks and plastic ball –– that makes the sport so accessible, so exciting, and so beautiful to me.
Who wouldn’t want a pied-a-terre in Paris –– a place to host salons for Parisians from all corners of the globe. There would be potent drinks and dresses that sparkle, and an enormous paella on the stove. Conversations would flit from the ridiculous to the sublime. With its high ceilings and beautiful parquet de Versailles floors, this grand apartment in St Germain is just the place for our soirées.
I love to watch the blooming of Spring flowers –– the lilacs, the magnolias and the cherry blossoms –– that bring life and colour to our city. London is so beautiful in the Spring, but I never really noticed until I moved to Toronto. There’s nothing like living in a cold, concrete city for months at a time to make one appreciate the greens, pinks and warmth of a new season.
As children, my brother and I spent a lot of time in fancy restaurants, the sotto voce kinds with starched table cloths and lots of cutlery. One of my favourite pastimes, (beyond eyeing the pudding trolley) was to visit the loo. I loved the scented soaps and four-ply loo roll. I loved watching women in gleaming mirrors applying fresh lipstick and powder. Sometimes, I’d find a little basket filled with plasters, perfume, deodorant or safety pins and I’d stash something into my pockets. I loved chatting to the ladies loo attendant, although I’m not sure she always felt the same. I remember discovering automatic plastic seat covering for the first time at a posh restaurant in Palm Beach and thinking that was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. I think I pressed the button twenty times. These days, it’s my 7-year old daughter who makes a dash for the loo the moment we settle into our seats. Most of the time, she doesn’t even need to pee. I know I never did.
It’s a satisfying feeling to eat toast (loaded with marmalade) off a plate I have made. Bonnie and Neil‘s selection of painterly dishes are inspiration for my next attempt. The Aussie-based line of homewares is right up my street, with wall tiles, napkins, cushions and ceramics in bold colours and whimsical prints. I’ll take a plate or two, and this gorgeous table cloth that looks like a child’s smock after hours of painting.
There are so many different kinds of tulips -– the Negrita, the Ballerina, Gypsy Love and Prinses Irene –– but my very favourite, (partly because of her name) is Orange Angelique. She is the most darling apricot colour, with occasional flecks of soft pink, and she’s got a lot more petals than the classic Single Late variety we see at our corner shops. I also adore parrot tulips in a crisp green and white combination. But really, one can never go wrong with any kind of tulip. Buy yourself a bunch today. I know I’m going to.
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