For the bride opting for white, shoes I mean, this pair of Manolos is kind of perfect. More of an ivory than white, with the loveliest point and ribbon bow, these are the shoes that you really may wear again. And again. Consider dying the ribbon a beautiful terracotta, or black for a classic two-tone. No heel is comfortable, but Blahnik’s come pretty damn close to comfort. Most brides don’t care. Their feet rarely touch the ground.

I read this quote on Instagram, it was Comedian Steven Wright who said it, and I loved it. “I have the world’s largest collection of seashells. I keep it on all the beaches of the world… perhaps you’ve seen it.” That we can admire beauty, but not need to possess it, that it can be enough to know that something exists, is an idea that resonates with me.

I came across this exquisite image of the Char Chowk ki Haveli Laxmangarh, a 19th century havelis, one of the largest,  in the Shekhawati region. It was once owned by a family of bankers and moneylenders, but now sits abandoned. I imagine rollerblading through these halls, or lying flat on the ground and trying to figure out how to re create the frescoes in my kitchen.

I’m bonkers about these rugs by Bertjan Pot for Moooi. Inspired by African textiles, the colours and patterns are exuberant. “The Magic Marker Carpets started off as felt tip pen-drawings,” said the designers. “When we re-discovered the color surprises of magic markers, we knew that we were on to something. Primitive hand-drawn weaves seem to go well with the advanced technique of digital printing on carpets.” Hang one on the wall; they’re too beautiful to walk on.

I just don’t know what could be more wonderful than a round room. Maybe fabulous textiles and walls the colour of sea foam green. I might consider painting the ceiling with a fresco of cherubs and clouds, (because, why not?) but really, this room is all kinds of lovely in my book.

Taking a shower is a highlight in my day. I stand there for well over twenty minutes thinking about very silly and significant matters, while piping hot water runs over me. Sometimes, a child of mine will interrupt my thoughts with questions or quibbles, but mostly,  it’s my time to be alone. Which is why the dream of a beautiful shower draws me in. If it’s where I go to cleanse and dream and put the world to rights, surely it should be artfully tiled.

These are the kinds of spaces that draw me in; sleek, white kitchens brought to life by vintage furnishings and grandiose chandeliers. It’s imaginative, daring juxtapositions that bring intrigue, originality and humour to a home. To life.

I was dashing along an Annex side street today, when I caught a glimpse of something that brought me to a halt. My daughter, walking home from the playground. There she was, leggings hiked up to her knees, jacket unzipped, moseying down the street arm in arm with her teacher and a little boy half her size. I bellowed her name, “Luma, Luma!” For a smidgen of a second she had no idea who I was, so engrossed was she in her other world. I watched her on her road back to school, blowing kisses from afar, relishing the entire minute that she remained in sight. We know our children so well, their every mood and whim, each and every  freckle on their cheeks. So, to see them out in the world is precious, because it’s a perspective we rarely get.

I love how tulips keep growing, even when they’re cut. And that even if you try to tame them, they’ll always move in the direction they want to. Towards the light. Towards each other. They’re not the grandest of flowers, (although there are some fancy varieties) but they’re trusty and true. I just don’t think you can ever go wrong with a bunch of tulips.