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Sunday, 31 October 2010

"Say You, Say Me..."

Getting back to the boogie:
This story was told to me the other day by B a lovely 36 year old woman of Italian decent whom I have know for many years and with whom I have shared many a laugh over both successful and unsuccessful liaisons all in the name of love,well lust. She has yet to find the "oogie to her boogie..."
Now B has had her fair share of dates in her quest for "the one" even had relationships that went well past their sell by date if it wasn't for her sheer determination to make it work and prove her father wrong.
Early last summer she had met someone with potential,he ticked most of the boxes including ones that weren't even on the list such as:"knight in shining wet suit"....He voluntarily jumped into the filthy,fuel addled sea between boats and flotsam to rescue B's IPod that had fallen in. She was smitten...so was I! How Mr Fantastico was he? I mean who does that on the first date other than Shrek, who would actually enjoy it? My own BF would say:"Honey,I love you but there is no way in hell I am jumping in there...I'll buy you a new one." And that would be perfectly okay! 
He was an incredible kisser and soon turned out to be an incredible asshole when on the drive back after a particular dud evening out,he received a  text message at 3am and tried to pass it off as "ads".They in fact turned out to be a booty call and trying to fend for himself,he tripped over the numerous lies he had spun that he was soon caught in the web of his own making. Exit Jacques Cousteau.
B bounced back as she always does and by mid summer met her potential Oogie:X through a popular Internet dating site . They got together a couple of times and enjoyed each other's company,he:extremely gentlemanly and attentive to her needs,she:happy with all the attention. Soon the night was upon them,X invited B over for dinner and she was electric with the anticipation..it was time to take the next step. Dinner was perfect, X took care of everything ... right down to the box of Kleenex by the bed side!?...and the lace hanky artfully placed over the lampshade to create the right shade of cheesy. She told me she wanted to run...all that was missing were the rose petals and cooing doves. She didn't utter a word until X reached out,flicked a switch by his side of the bed and out popped the dulcet tones of the King of Cheese himself, Lionel Ritchie crooning:" Say You,Say Me...." to his now tepid audience.
"For God's sake! Turn that thing off!"
"But why? I find it romantic!"
"I don't...it is a mood killer and mine is on suicide watch."
They did try to make a go of it but B 's pragmatic approach to love and relationships was never on par to X's. He is hearts and roses while she is Guns and Roses...and never the twain shall meet.
And I am not even going to tell you about B and "Argyle sweater man" and his faithful side kick:man bag..... 

Thursday, 28 October 2010

In Memoriam:my mother A.Y.Yassin who died on the 28 oct.2002

It is 8 years to the day since my gorgeous, argumentative mother passed away. She had been in hospital for while and we all knew she would not be leaving.
She slipped into a coma in the early hours of the morning and then into God's capable hands, giving us just enough time to get to her and to touch her one last time. She succumbed to the cancer that had claimed her breast and the brain tumour that claimed her dignity.
Not a year has gone by when she hasn't come to me in dreams when I am distressed or in need of direction or when I feel the need to talk to her,I do..there and then.
She was my inspiration and guide into the world of fashion through her unwavering style and sophistication.She shopped like the best of them and hide her purchases from my father like a squirrel burying nuts. She was ahead of her time embracing trends way before they were considered fashionable or even acceptable. She lived large and her generosity knew no bounds,she lacked confidence in social situations outside of her comfort zone and her incapacity to communicate certain fears resulted in her anger and wrath. Her pride was her golden mantle but it too would play nasty tricks on her.She never cared for criticism,gave as good as she got and would hold on to anger long after its sell by date.She was tough but generous and fiercely loyal to her family...which was quite often her downfall. She was an inveterate dreamer,too often lost in the past and with the loved ones who had gone before her,much to our detriment. She could be beauty and the beast in one blink of an eye, her rages quite notorious that would scare the toughest in our family.
During our adolescence she longed to share our secrets while we longed to fly the coop. She encouraged gatherings of our friends when dad was away,  joining in the fun, letting us sip the amber nectar while sharing illicit cigarettes with her. 
 She was misunderstood by us, her daughters, just as we seemed to constantly disappoint her.  It was all in the timing and when it could have made a difference,it ran out on us.But when she felt safe and loved, we would bask in her smile and she would reward us with gifts,her way of showing us how much she loved us.
A day before she passed away,she grabbed my cheek almost violently and told me "You know how much I love you..."something I needed to hear as much as she did.
I know she has found peace from all her ailments and the disappointments in her life. 
She is smiling now and she is happy...I know this in my heart. Just as I know how much she loves us and is filled with pride for her two daughters.

"Death is nothing at all":

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That,we still are......

.....I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere.Very near.
Just around the corner.
All is well.

Henry Scott Holland

Tuesday, 26 October 2010

"What a difference a Dane makes..":Freja Beha Fashion's "it" girl.

 In the October 2010 issue of British Vogue,I counted 5 separate ad campaigns in which Freja appears ...something I haven't seen the likes of since the 80's and the whole "Supermodel" phenomenon. When I was in Paris I saw her gazing down at me from the huge billboards outside  mega department store Printemps, she was "the face" for their "8 jours or" ad campaign and she was everywhere. There are so many websites about her, even a blog dedicated solely to her ....her meteoric rise to fame seems to have happened over night and yet she started out in 2005.This 22 year old Danish model has taken the fashion editorial world by storm appearing in 19 ad campaigns for this season alone ...the Tom Ford ad campaign is so dark, so sensual  with such a Hitchcock undertone it visually stimulates the senses ....one of them being the desire to run and hide. 
The tattoo on her neck "float" first caught my attention way back ,followed by her very distinctive androgynous look that I hoped would not be her only claim to fame. Look how far she has come and how much her look has evolved. She is everything this new "curvy revival"is not but in her aloof way she has all our attention...like I said "What a difference a Dane makes...."
My thumbs up model of the moment.

Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Writer's Blog and Travel Log: Part 2

There is nothing more invigorating than waking up at the crack of dawn...waking would imply I actually got some sleep...to find myself on the 7.05am TGV to Paris, Gare De Lyon with 4 rowdy kids and their equally chatty parents behind us. And judging by the equally vocal Nino, a few rows down...I had to question whether this was in fact First Class or kindergarten? So catching up on any lost sleep was a moot point as I sat seething in my seat with extra leg room, shooting daggers at my BF who had booked the tickets and was supposed to have put us in the "Zen" section and not in an episode of Sesame Street . Needless to say,I got thorough the 5 hours surprisingly well once we passed Avignon and the Train went Grand Vitesse on our collective asses,rocking us all into a blissful sleep.

Ah! Paris....just like the song goes: .."I love it every moment of the year"...but maybe a little less at rush hour which bizarrely seems to crop up at any given moment and always when your taxi driver happens to go on the Peripherique...
We made it a point to take the metro everywhere...obviously the fastest form of transport when you decide to forgo sunshine and scenery for underground and underarms and at "Squish Hour"...well prepare yourself for an assault course of intersecting limbs,body odours and being packed in so tight that you are practically chewing on the same piece of gum the guy next to you is so enjoying.
Once above ground , my BF and I walked and shopped along the boutique lined streets of St Germain and kept right on going through St Michel , an area much populated by university students and full of life and cafes. We enjoyed the balmy weather and the busy streets as well as a healthy dose of people watching. Parisians have flair,they truly are the thoroughbreds of fashion as opposed to the circus ponies on the Riviera, so watching them in their natural habitat was a moment of sheer indulgence. Hermes Kelly bags were out in full swing in every hue and texture,new and vintage... the ultimate fashion accessory was doing its rounds with the best of them and everyone seems to have one! Jealous much? Then again the "Jypsiere"in taurillon is more my cup of tea and on my "lusting "list...have you jotted that down?
So indulging in this constant streaming catwalk was immensely satisfying for the likes of us who find fashion a little lacking in direction in our neck of the woods.Simply picture a  colouring book;Paris fashion is keeping the colours within the lines and in Pantone sequence,on the Cote it is as though the child has coloured outside of the lines in a messy felt tip blur.Trampy chic reigns supreme away from the yachts and Club 55, with subtle hints of "Pole Dancer" and "Hooters" for that added glam around the festive season. Fashion can be murder on the eyes... and it is quite frequently murdered on the Rue D'Antibes.
We continued along the Quais towards Rue du Rivoli where we happened upon a lovely new concept cafe called "Tea by The"(as in tea in french...English keyboard!) a modern take on tea and its endless possibilities. The menu has a varied selection of hot and cocktail style cold teas with mouth watering names such as:"Ginger Spicy"-hot and delicious and "Mojithe/Pinacolathe" their deliciously refreshing cold options..and let me tell you they taste just like the cocktails minus the alcohol and the ensuing buzz. I highly recommend this delightful place on: 2 Place du Palais Royal (metro stop Musee du Louvres) and the staff is young, friendly and cute in that Abercrombie kind of way...but with more clothes on and a college degree. 
NB:For all die hard fans of A&F..they will soon be opening their doors for you in Paris on the Champs Elysees (metro stop Franklin Roosevelt). Kind of beats bringing the eponymous t-shirts home after a shopping spree in NYC...then again I can hardly see a thing when I am in their store with all that dim,sultry lighting...I just about make it passed "young semi clad buff boy" at the entrance before I have to squint my way through the crowds. He should be handing out miners lamps to all the over 4o's instead of Polaroid's of his 6 pack...
To end my travel log on the same high we left Paris on , I have one last suggestion: Franck et Fils department store in Passy (metro stop La Muette...) It is a small and classy joint with high fashion designers and buyers with exquisite taste.On the first floor and in the ladies department there is a stand for "Cire Trudon" the most gorgeous candles and candle busts I have ever seen.You lift up huge glass cloches to inhale the fragrant and intoxicating aromas such as "Carmelite:old mossy walls, "Manon": fresh laundry and "Roi Soleil: the parquets of Versailles. There is nothing vulgar or cheap in the scents but an evocation of time and history so cleverly produced that you can close your eyes and hear the creaking of the wagon wheels on the cobble stones. Maison Trudon has been around since 1643 and their history is as rich as their products.
You can also visit their boutique on: 78 Rue de Seine, Paris 6e or go to their website from your sofa (minus the time travel ): http://www.ciretrudon.com/

Sunday, 17 October 2010

Tea and Sunday Tidbits...

So JK Rowling says she might be writing more Harry Potter books...That is quite exciting but knowing how long it takes her to write each book ,I may well be over the age limit to enjoy it let alone remember to buy it! 
Having said that I did come across a fabulous Harry Potter-esque book for adults called: "The Magicians"by Lev Grossman. It is simply a mesmerizing treat from the word go and a literary gift for all HPotter fans; dark and magical with a hint of  downright scary. So,if you can't wait for Ms Rowling to put pen to paper,this paperback is waiting for you . How old will Daniel Radcliff be by the time those books are made into films?
Lauren Conrad , one of "The Hills" original stars , has brought out a new book called "Style". Now every bit as stylish as she may well be for a girl her age..I sometimes feel that her token jumbo sized Chanel quilted handbag must have her rushing for spine realignment at least once a month...so what will her style suggestions be regarding handbags heavier than you?
This week has seen the announcements of 2 marriages gone sour: Courtney Cox/David Arquette and Christina Aguilera/Jordan Bratman. I am sorry to say but Jordan Bratman never quite looked credible to me as Aguilera's husband ,let alone music producer...something about his beady eyes, that beard and the worried look like someone would sooner or later find out that he is really Rick Moranis from " The Ghostbusters"...desperately seeking the gate keeper...
As for David Arquette..well,there are only so many years one can take one's husbands clownish clothing before they stop being funny.
My tea is getting cold... 

Wednesday, 13 October 2010

Writer's Blog and Travel Log : Part One

I have been suffering from an acute case of Writer's Blog with nothing willing to open itself to me since returning from two consecutive weekends away.I guess it is tantamount to a mild case of constipation one develops while travelling due to a change of food and routine...
My sister and I went on our monthly trip to London where upon arrival,an hour late and under the pouring rain, we were treated to an unprecedented race of North London by the driver Saied "The Lone Ranger"in his slick Mercedes. Normally when you hit traffic on the highway, you expect to ride it out while listening to the soothing tones of Magic FM and staring out of the window in silent contemplation. What we got instead was The Stig (ex Top Gear)speeding through the wet streets, taking hairpin turns at breakneck speed while extolling the virtues of his Tom Tom navigator. Just as over talking something generally leads to disappointment, we were lead so far off the beaten track that we were soon avoiding all semblances of civilization let alone traffic.It soon became blatantly clear ,even to the driver,that we were losing the battle when we found ourselves on the very same roundabout we had just been told to exit...Tonto/Tom Tom was taking us on a royal ride.Once we finally hit Hyde Park narrowly missing hitting a cyclist in the process of a very abrupt U turn,did our journey soon come to an end.
"You see? Tom Tom told us we would get here in 45mns...and we did!"
I finally got to see the fabulous Manolo Blahnik room on the ground floor at Liberty's and it did not disappoint. Manolo himself will be in store next week (check Liberty's website for details) to sign the sole of his shoes,(in the instep obviously for longevity) ones he expects you to buy naturally and not an old pair from your closet! We had lunch at the seafood bar  in the basement,tucked within the folds of menswear.What could be finer than a glass of champagne and a tasters platter of oysters...sheer indulgence and my idea of Sunday perfection.
The rest of the stay went by at breakneck speed and soon we were back in a car barrelling up the A4 towards the airport and our version of Hitchcock's " Strangers on a train/plane"...Criss Cross,remember?
A 60 year old American woman sat beside me on the aisle seat and proceeded to hijack my attention during the entire flight. She discussed her love life and very active libido with wild abandon: "I love sex you see and have to have a lover who can keep up." No dark plots were hatched other than the murderous looks my sister gave her and upon landing she simply slipped on a pair of dark glasses,asked me whether she needed to re apply any lipstick and we parted ways...her towards a future lover and me to my BF waiting to take me home.... Criss Cross.