I remember one autumn writing about unconformity and the pull of the unexpected when symmetry is taken away. Maybe that explains the appeal of zellige tiles? – the subtle variations of each tile, the changes of light playing across the glaze, the feeling of something artisan and handmade. Their origin is Moroccan, crafted from the clay found in the city of Fez. First formed in a mould, craftsmen use a shaping block and hammer to smooth and shape the tiles; an imperfect, perfect art. The second appeal is their infinite variety of colours and shapes, from pale, misty sea-kissed aquas to freshly just churned creams and barely there pinks to dark stormy greys and forrest greens, from skinny rectangles to chunky squares, hexagons or stars. The variations are endless.
What a treat the Sunday Times Home supplement had this week – and whole article on this amazing story – Club Jupiter – the tale of three talented friends pulling together to create something special over lockdown that will change the way you think of static caravans forever. So much of this spoke to my heart – taking something forgotten and breathing new life, stripping away the plastic and replacing it with everything natural and considered, three women with a special bond, three women with fantastic eyes for colour and pattern; it’s a dream made in heaven – or rather Margate, because this little beauty is now up for renting – so not only brilliant but financially brilliant as well – I doff my feathered cap you incredible girls.
An Architectural Digest tour of Cara Dellvingne’s L.A. home (as supposed to the one she shared with her sister, Poppy) In fact, this is about Cara living her best life and embracing her eccentric spirit. For me, it’s the first time I’ve seen the true extremes of money: we have bedrooms, dining rooms, sitting rooms? She has a velvet pussy palace and a vagina tunnel! Honestly watch – you’ll only smile!
So this post was going to be a homage to my Best Buy of the summer – a black, trench length pac a Mac from Muji that has been worth every penny of the £9.95 I paid for it, particularly given the strange weather we’re back to in London – rain, rain and more rain. But there are no pictures or mentions on Muji’s website, so you’ll have to take it from me – I’m having to buy another one because everyone in the house keeps nicking it; small, lightweight and does exactly what it says on the tin. Ding dong.
And now, a selection of pictures that sit on the more unusual spectrum of life, because if you can’t have basics, then reach for the stars…
So Boris Johnson is about to extend the 21 June deadline for the UK final lifting of lockdown. Who didn’t predict that? But before he does it, he has to leak his intentions in the press just to make sure he’s made the right choice; such strength, always wanting to give what he thinks everyone wants. Except that only works if your name is Father Christmas; centuries of culture, stories, parables, legends, myths, history, religion and Disney, highlighting the problems of temptation and taking the path of least resistance. And then we have Boris.
Once this does lift, I will be one person hoping the life will not be going back to normal. My wish is that the hot air will be taken out of rampant consumerism the government is so banking on, that stuff will not equals feelings, no matter how often we’re sold that it does. My hope is that things will be valued for what they are, not what they’re seen to be, and that beauty, in all its forms, is no longer limited to the age when we can be groomed into buying products for a dream we’re told will come true, if only we buy the products. Time to break the circle, because there’s only once place it leads – to people like Boris ruining, sorry, running, the country.
So different from last year when the season changed at the flick of a switch. This year, the weather also seems to have been infected by all things associated with the pandemic. In London it’s cold, like turn the heating back on, winter socks and thermal undies cold. Outside the green is appearing – but it’s being battered by high winds and driving rain; my garden hasn’t had it’s summer make over yet, there’s been no incentive. I’m thinking maybe an offering to forgotten earth spirits is required – it’s what these green chandeliers make me think of, there’s a joy in their simplicity and a celebration in their construction. Who couldn’t fail to be impressed?
So here’s the thing – I did a post about brooches a while back. But my love of them shows no signs of abating, instead the need to embellish is growing and multiplying like a sparkling, cabochon mold.
But there’s something else that’s caught my eye, away from the traditional magpie pull of vintage costume jewellery; beautiful handmade and handcrafted brooches, little masterpieces of creation, witty takes and outrageous pieces of inventiveness.
Saw this. And a part of me, deep inside, roared – why hadn’t I thought of this? So simple, so satisfying. How many times have I passed piles of pictures and postcards at jumbles and car boot sales and felt the pang of loss for their former glory, the lure of their nostalgia and potential ignored? No longer my friends – this ship is primed and ready to sale; the perfect combination of new and old, structure and imagination and Netflix plus mindful.