“One of the things I love most about Chanel is Karl’s light hand with mad colour,” wrote Harper’s Bazaar executive editor, Laura Brown on Instagram this morning. We know exactly what you mean, Laura. This fabric looks like it’s covered in watercoulour paint, applied liberally and lightly with a sable mink brush. I’d wear all of this in a heartbeat, or hang it on a wall to gaze at all day long.
Unrippable paper goods are all the rage. Think bread baskets, laundry hampers, totes and wallets made from washable, durable paper. In San Gimignano we stumbled into Uashmama, a beautiful shop that carries the bags in every shape, size and colour. They’re made from a natural fibre that feels almost leathery, washes like fabric and flattens like a paper plane. My friend Bianca, over at Bibelot & Token, carries the line, even the teenie tiny ones, that are perfect for rock salt or pistachio nuts. The extra large ones are great for plants –– heaps of chilies and heather would look charming for Fall.
This time last year, I was walking the sunny, chilly streets of Toronto with a tiny Luma strapped to my chest. She was rarely anywhere else, and I loved every minute of it. This year, she wants to explore the world on her own feet, not mine. When we were in Italy she took three courageous steps on the stone floor of our villa’s kitchen. And this morning, in her siblings bedroom, she did it again. It’s kind of amazing when I imagine how far her feet will take her –– up mountains, down boulevards, along dirt roads that lead to nowhere, everywhere and obstacles a plenty. But right now, at the start of her second year on this earth, she is just trying to find the courage and balance to take those first few steps. We’re right there with you, little girl.
It’s been quite some time since I’ve bought myself a coat. But today, as I thew on a goose down vest to fend off the morning chill, the urge for a new outer shell set in. I have a gorgeous trapeze coat in a subtle aztec print that has kept me warm for years, but I like the idea of something longer and a little more classic. This one from Club Monaco makes me think of something Jane Birkin might have worn walking the streets of Paris with Serge Gainsbourg. I adore the colour of this bouclé coat from Emilia Wickstead and this MSGM coat is a great hue, too. Coats likes these make the idea of cold weather easier to bare.
Red and white stripes always remind me of those fabulous circus-like tents on the beaches of Normandy, as captured by the impressionists in the late 1800s. Emilie Irving’s dress in this New York Times T Magazine spread, is nothing short of spectacular. I don’t know if beach tents were on her mind with this outfit, but it’s all I could think of when I saw it. Plus, the chintz floral fabric that she’s reclining on, à la Olympia (which, incidentally is the name of one of her husband’s two daughters) only makes the whole scene cooler. This couple has style in shed loads.
The house we rented last week in Tuscany was bursting with style and imagination. The fabrics –– curtains made from fine batik cotton, kantha throws strewn on sofas and the beds all covered in crisp, white linens and hand-embroidered Tuscan quilts –– added texture and colour everywhere you looked. I personally cannot resist a beautiful piece of fabric. If the little textile shop in nearby Montalcino had been open when we visited, I would have snapped up a suitcase load of Italian cotton. Now that we’re home, I’ve got my eye on the exuberant work of Sydney based artist Liz Payne. With such saturated colours, these textiles are more India that Italy, but that wouldn’t stop me from framing them on the walls of my Florentine pied-a-terre.
Satin shoes embellished with jewels are made for shimying on marble floors, not climbing dirt roads in the Tuscan Hills with a baby in your arms. But it was in the heart of Toscana, at a beautiful family wedding, that my Giambatista Valli’s made their debut this weekend. There was a joyful hora when the shoes got to dance and hop and jump on a muddy, rocky terrain, and then more dancing inside the cobbled grounds of a medieval castello. Indeed, it was quite the debut. They’ll need to be re-heeled, but boy, did we have fun.
We’re off to Italy today, not al mare, but the house we’ve rented does have a pool, and that’s just grand. I’m hoping to read a book under a cypress tree and guzzle olive oil and vino rosso in equal measure. Let’s hope the bambini are on the same itinerary.
Yellow is such a happy colour. I think of sunshine, I think of daffodils and I think of fields of bright yellow canola. I have a particular taste for mustard yellow, the colour that squirts out of a Heinz bottle. I have shoes, a tote, and I’m pining after a wool jacket in that very colour. It’s gorgeous and original, like Ms. Hepburn here.
My body has worked hard for me over the last six years. There are some lumps and bumps, wrinkles and scars, but frankly, I’m quite proud of them. I can’t say I don’t lament the loss of my once pert(ish) tatas though. “Why are your boobies so droopy, Mama?” asked Iole last week. “Ballooning from an A to an E three times in 5-years will do that,” I mumbled under my breath, with a curse or two about breast pumps. “Because Mama’s all out of latte,” I added. Indeed, my days of leaving the house sans brassière are over, and so should those items in my wardrobe that don’t require one be too. I tried on a long dress today, yellow like Sicilian lemons, that I used to wear bra less to parties and weddings. “You could get some of those sticky pads for your nipples,” said our nanny, Marilyn. What, the nipples that sit somewhere around my waistline? No way. I can’t be bothered with sticky tape and silicone cutlets. I need to wear a bra. Full stop. One day, I may take my friend Bianca on a trip to Panama City for cocktails and lifts, but in the meantime, I’ll trust my sturdy bra to get me through.
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