Stephanie Schneider‘s delicate pieces are a weave of mohair, silk and linen with silver and gold. Textiles meet jewellery in each unique necklace, bracelet and ring. Tiny pearls adorn one exquisite bracelet and another one is a mix of red silk and oxidized metal. These are modern heirlooms, to be passed down for generations.
Long time readers know how I feel about the guest loo, the home’s alter personality. When we renovated our house, it was the room I thought about most. We painted it a dark, inky blue, and added a concrete sink adorned with old fashioned brass taps. Sketches for ceramic vases cover one wall and the floor is the colour of a night sky. It’s tiny and decadent, and in total contrast to the rest of the house. The only thing left to do is scribble something on a piece of paper and stick it to the wall. I got this idea from a friend of mine who taped Constantine Cavafy’s Ithaca to the wall beside the loo roll at their family cottage. “When you read something enough times, the message sticks.” Ithaca is one of my favourite poems, a reminder to embrace the journey. For our own loo literature, I’m considering Priest’s wedding speech. Or some Dolly Parton lyrics.
I keep coming back to this fabulous pairing of colours from Valentino’s Spring 2019 couture. Imagine two people who you never would have pegged as a couple meeting, falling in love, and living happily ever after. That’s how I feel about pink and tobacco. They’re unexpectedly fabulous together. Now, if said duo were to have a bébé she’d be aqua, et voilà, fait accompli.
London-based photographer, Tasos Gaitanos‘ portfolio consists of intense black and white portraits, colourful fine art, and photos of fish, radishes and obscure insects all shot with immense attention to detail. It’s the amusing and surreal Toast Henge series that I am most drawn to. The sense of humour here is in wonderful contrast to his grimey sinks and smoking kills manifesto. Have a look; this mushroom is kind of spectacular.
“Rip off the bandaid, and run,” is the advise we give new Mums on the first day of school. When I dropped off my eldest child at school for the first time I ran so fast that I didn’t even say goodbye. I’m not sure Iole noticed, to be honest. But I felt terribly. Tomorrow she starts a new school; 700 children versus the 100 she is used to; hair in a sensible low pony tail versus the giant red bow she wore on her first day in kindergarten; braces, knee high socks and a tie. And just like that, she’s a middle schooler. Rip off the bandaid, and run, my girl.
My new favourite household item is a wonderful vintage wash basin and jug that I brought home from a flea shop in Haliburton. The shop had dozens of them; Art Nouveau ones, Victorian ones, some white and utilitarian, others fancy and ornate. Ours is Art Deco, and made in Belgium. It was cheap as chips in comparison to others I see online. It came with a chamber pot, a portable toilet used before the advent of indoor plumbing and flushing toilets. My kids call it the poo pot and think I’m bonkers for buying one. It now sits on our kitchen counter, a relic from another world, where loos were adorned with flowers, birds and ribbons of yellow, pink and blue.
One of the things I love about travelling is coming home. There’s a growth that takes place when we’re away from home, a shift in perspective, that for a brief and beautiful moment both softens and sharpens the lens through which we see our everyday. When we return, we’re grateful for the comfort of our own bath towels. The handle on our favourite coffee mug feels sturdy and familiar. The street outside our window suddenly seems greener than it did when we last looked. We’re brimming with ideas, and the promise of new rhythms and routines. It’s fleeting this feeling, and we all know it. And so we cherish it.
I love the mix of natural and urban sounds in our garden; the street car in the distance, neighbours clinking glasses, dogs barking, birds chirping. August is quiet on our street, and sounds emanate. If we’re lucky, the tree crickets put on an evening concert for us. They’ve been more vocal of late, or maybe we’re just listening better.
A Horiatiki without tomatoes is like a Caldo Verde without potatoes. Tomato, tomato, potato, potato –– you may as well call the whole thing off. Tomatoes are the star ingredient in this classic Greek Salad. And with ones as juicy and sweet as those that grow all over Greece, why would anyone substitute them for a lowly pepper? Unless you’re me. I’ve hated tomatoes for as long as I can remember. As a child, I ate my own version of the salad –– peeled cucumbers, Kalamata olives, red onion, oregano, salt, pepper and olive olive oil –– while everyone else’s plates overflowed with plump tomatoes. On days when we’d eat Gemista, there was always a single green pepper stuffed with rice for me, and a platter of stuffed tomatoes for everyone else at the table. To this day, I won’t go near a raw tomato for love or money. I picture summer dinners of beautiful, glossy tomatoes from the garden bathed in olive oil and basil I want to be sick. It’s such a bore, my scorn for tomatoes. All you tomato lovers will salivate over this exquisite ode to the noble fruit. It’s not for me, but it’s just too beautiful not to share.
Anna Farba’s botanical illustrations are delightful. Her berries, flower petals, leafy greens and insects bring whimsy and wonder to walls, packaging, rugs, blankets and mugs. I really like Farba’s vegetable and medicinal plant posters –– the radishes are my favourite –– and I can see myself wearing this blooming cotton thistle on the daily. Have a look at her Instagram page; I’m potty about this recent palm tree chart!
All rights reserved © La Parachute · Theme by Blogmilk + Coded by Brandi Bernoskie