A red dress for the holidays sounds a bit clichéd, but with a dress like this one, who cares about clichés. I kind of love the 70s vibe of this Gucci number, too. Zara has two flirty frocks that I rather like –– this one with frills and a sleeker, more dramatic option that I’ve been eyeing for weeks. If you’ve got red shoes and you can pull off a red lippy, I say go for it, and paint the town red.
Here is the Tunisian home of filmmaker, Ahmed Bennys. Paintings and photographs hung on soft apricot walls, folk art, (amassed over decades travelling the world as a cameraman for NBC) antiques, and mismatched fabrics –– this is just the sort of rich, eclectic hodge-podge decor that I adore. I’ve never been to Tunisia, but I’ve visited both Morocco and Tangiers, and the north African aesthetic inspires me no end. “Bennys’ house, which fronted the beach –– surf and children’s cries and the smack of paddle balls floated in through the windows –– seemed to be a monument to post revolution Tunisia’s reclaiming of its more cosmopolitan past. The house is deliriously crammed with folk art from all eras: local Tunisian paintings, Sicilian puppets procured from the medina, a wooden statuette of Barack Obama.” What a wonderful experience, to visit Bennys in his home, and listen to him tell his stories.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had much to do with what my eldest child wears. From a very young age -– maybe two and half –– Iole knew exactly how she wanted to dress. On her third birthday, I wrote her a note on the back of a post card that said, “ich bin mein stil” –– “I am my style.” At that time, her outfits were an eccentric mix of hot pink tutus, tiaras, cowboys boots and frilly tops. These days, she’ll rarely wear a dress. And her choices are steered by comfort and conformity. Physical comfort has always been a priority, but dressing to fit in, that’s new. To her chagrin, I won’t buy, “teenager clothes” –– tops that show her belly and leggings with dollar signs on them –– but I do understand, that for now, at least, flower crowns and fairy dresses are out. Iole still knows how she wants to dress, it’s just not how I would like her to dress. And so I resist the urge to force her into a pretty frock with velvet bows and printed tights, because I know that that is my taste, and not hers. And because few girls want to be the kid in polka dot culottes when your pals are all in jeans. One day she may choose to stand-out, but today, all she wants is to fit in. And so we navigate our way through this awkward terrain, (that my Mum and I navigated our way through, also) where I accept her need to feel the same as everyone else, while gently whispering to her that it’s okay to be different.
“Fashion makes me feel like the other version of myself, like my Sunday best,” wrote Sarah Jessica Parker in an interview on Net-a-Porter. “Just putting stuff on creates a feeling so specific and different than every day. Anytime you are in a fitting room, it’s very much about you becoming something else, and sometimes it’s a familiar place, but sometimes it’s completely pretend. I think a lot of other women want to feel that.” Most of us believe in the trans-formative power of fashion. Indeed, woven into the hems of skirts and sleeves of blouses is some weird, wonderful magic that makes us feel sexy, strong, smart, demure, delicate, prim, whimsical or wild. In the right dress, you may even feel all those things at once.
This Art Nouveau renovation in Barcelona is really quite cool. Between the traditional tiled floors, stark white walls and sleek modern furnishings, I can’t think of a cooler place in which to sit around with good company and several bottles of Cava. I do appreciate the grand height of all the doorways, and those Serge Mouille lights are among my very favourites. Olé.
They’re vulgar and gaudy –– whimsical and exuberantly colourful. One look at Ashley Lonshore’s pop culture inspired portraits, and it’s easy to see the connection to Andy Warhol. The “modern day Andy” has a wicked sense of humour and a fearless, in-your-face style that draws thousands to her gallery on a daily basis. Of course, Audrey With Peony Headress is a favourite of mine, but I do like Vermeer’s girl with a pearl posing as Wonder Woman. And Abraham looks like he just stepped off the Gucci runway.
I’ve always been a magpie for things that sparkle. In my early teens, one of my favourite party pieces was a mini skirt made up of hundreds of fucsia sequins. I’m amazed it survived as many fêtes as it did. In my late teens, I got pushed into a swimming pool on New Year’s Eve wearing a full length red sparkly gown. That dress did not survive. When I turned 18, my father took me to Whistles as a birthday treat, and we came home with two bags of bejeweled cardis, tops and dresses. Even after all these years, I still have one of the sequin tops and a beaded cashmere cardigan the colour of pink champagne. These days, this is just the sort of boho frock I’d like to throw on late summer, or mid-winter with a big woolly sweater.
I’m not a fan of pumpkins, unless it’s the kind that turns into a gilded horse-drawn carriage. Next Autumn, I’m taking a leaf out of Martha Stewart’s book and spraying ours gold. Or I’ll paint it black. Because orange is never the new black.
These aerial images of the ocean by Gabriel Scanu are really quite awesome. I’m lucky, that I’ve had the chance to swim in some amazingly blue and dramatic waters. As a little girl, I remember getting pummeled by the waves on Coral Beach in Bermuda. They felt huge and daunting to me. But the feeling was thrilling too, and with sand in my suit and water up my nose, I went back, again and again. These days, I’m a bit more of a wuss. But if given the chance, I’d still dive into any of these waters.
In the game of who’s coming to dinner, Iris Apfel always tops my list. And after listening to her speak in Toronto last night, I know she’d be a dream at any dinner party. Talk loudly and slowly –– she is hard of hearing –– and don’t bother with mindless, Kardashian chit chat. Avoid politics. Ask her where she bought her first pair of blue jeans, or which First Lady was most involved in re-decorating the White House (Pat Nixon). Don’t bother with selfie requests, just snap the pic. And if she compliments you on your outfit, smile, and tell her that you take inspiration from the fearlessness of fashion greats. She won’t stay for long –– she is 95, you know –– but half an hour is all you need. What a fabulous, sharp-witted, daring broad.
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