A restaurant without table manners.

     For all those aficionados of the Wizard of Oz, you will know that Toto was Dorothy's dog and loyal companion ..it was also how we were treated at the aptly named restaurant "Toto's" in the heart of London's chic Walton street.
We had originally wanted to go to Scalini's,but as it was fully booked our hotel receptionist wholeheartedly suggested Toto's which is  in the same area and apparently equally good if not a little more casual. Fine.
Now we are true foodies,we love nothing better than a fine meal served with a fine wine and are more than happy to pay for the top notch service one expects in these establishments. We would have had a warmer reception upon entering McDonald's on Brompton Rd than what awaited us upon entering Toto's.
The manager was on the phone,audibly irate and had his back to us. While waiting for our table to be ready,we were relegated to a corner table  in outer Mongolia,adjacent to the neglected bar that may never have actually seen a barman let alone any atmosphere .There we dutifully sat, a little unnerved by the abrupt reception but nevertheless still naively optimistic. We weren't offered a drink but there was a bowl of rubbery looking olives that may very well have been rubber judging by their sheen and consistency.
We were finally escorted to a nice big round table slap in the middle of the hustle and bustle,once the manager had angrily torn himself away from the phone and could muster the semblance of a smile.
"Would you like anything to drink?" he asked.
"Could we see the wine menu please?"
We got water and the menus, the wine list still bizarrely absent. After another two polite attempts and once the order had been taken, did it  finally appear. It was as if we had absurdly demanded to see the Magna Carta.
The bread basket made its round,the wine appeared and the starters were served...we fell into the mutual silence of the hungry.
Then things took a dramatic turn for the worst just as our main meal was served. We had almost finished the bottle of wine by then, when the headwaiter appeared by our sides and it wasn't to ask us whether we wanted another one. The empty bottle was removed and this man with more hair than sense seemed hell bent to get a head start on inappropriately clearing away certain items on our table.... while we were still eating! The excruciating part was watching him extend his arm across my partners plat without so much as an "excuse me,sir"... as if an act of  such gross misconduct could be excusable. We were rendered speechless...but either it was because as a group we are way too polite for our own good or simply because we were eager to see what could possibly happen next. What we did mutually agree upon was our shared desire to get  the hell out of "Dodgy"...and fast!
The bets were on as to whether dessert or coffee would be suggested (they weren't) ... I had a distinct feeling as to what would happen next...and it did not disappoint.The waiter sidled up to my sister's husband and presented him with the bill.Ever polite my Italian brother in law looked at him and quietly said in Italian ,in case anything got lost in translation:
"Would it trouble you at all to at least bring me an espresso?" The waiter withdrew his arm as if it were scalded and sheepishly withdrew the offensive item all the while mumbling that he was told to do so.
No one came forward to apologize for the sub standard behaviour, let alone the shoddy service or to offer us a conciliatory drink. We politely paid the bill and walked out.
As far as we are concerned, Toto can trot on back to Oz...we'll find Dorothy a better ,far more classier companion.
Seriously, do not bother going ... nothing there is memorable apart from the headwaiter's absurd amount of hair.

All creatures great and worn...

 Ever seen a pair of caged shoes? I have... and now so can  you. These are a pair of men's  fur shoes : "Marmoset Moccasins" anyone ? They have to be locked up at night not for their safety but for yours,for fear they may scurry out and join the rat race in the busy streets of London. Now why these were ever conceived is beyond me,what worries me more is who on earth would be caught dead or alive wearing them. I mocked the "Sasquatch feet " boots from Chanel but these are a sight for sore eyes and I haven't even mentioned the rest of the fur fest on show in this men's boutique opposite Harrods. Alternative fashion so far off the radar that no one will miss it apart from the animal itself.
So not to dwell too long on this abominable creation..let me leave you with the icing on the cake....the matching "man bag" .Yes!You saw it here first... now will someone please call the RSPCA.

SHOES GLORIOUS SHOES ! : onstage for your pleasure

I am very excited about this show , even though the odds of my getting to actually see it are slim...(as I live in France)..so I will rely on your comments to let me know how fabulous it is.
This show is nothing but pure genius, not only does it feature one of our greatest passions: SHOES but it also permits us to see them in poetic motion; on stage dancing and bopping away but... on somebody else's feet ! We come out of it  unscathed and blister free but having felt the sheer elation nonetheless. A feast for the eyes for all shoe lovers and a rollicking good time to boot...Genius.
It promises to run the gamut on a whole range of shoes from trainers to crocs, to the sublime Louboutins and Ferragamos...yep!..now I have your full attention. I get that you may not particularly favour the crocs way of life, I have the same aversion for Birkenstocks..but frankly the whim and whimsy of it all promises one humdinger of a show.
 How about this : plan a day out visiting Selfridges' new shoe emporium during the day...maybe buy a  pair  and in the evening show them off at Sadler's Wells on your way to your booked seat to see the show! Perfect shoe outing for any woman .

In a nutshell expect : 32 musical numbers , over 250 pairs of shoes , 12 hot dancers , 5 incredible singers and a live band.

NB : Please don't hang around backstage waiting for a discarded pair of Loubous..tut tut tut.

To find out more or simply book, go to : http://www.sadlerswells.com/

  

Coffee,Cakes and Creative License

If you happen to be wandering down the streets of Paris and find yourself  in the 10th arrondissement , ask your self  this: 
Am I  jonesing for a coffee ?   
Could  it accompany a piece of cake ?
Why don't I revamp this old coat ?
Let loose your artistic  freedom and get yourself to the Singer station at " Sweat Shop ; 13 Rue Lucien Sampaix, Paris 10eme."
In this cafe you can eat , drink and sew up a storm on the sewing machines available . You can  join workshops , learn how to knit or simply while away a rainy afternoon creating  your new and exclusive wardrobe without a care in the world.
Check out their website for more details and information: http://www.sweatshopparis.com/
...the only one sweating is you and the other like minded punters ...don't let the name scare you!

MANOLO...anything BUT BLAH-NIK.

This is bloody typical , just as my trip to London is both sorted and imminent , it still manages to fall short of a major event unfolding at Liberty of London on the 8th of September 2010.
The shoe master Manolo "i want me another pair" Blahnik is collaborating with Liberty and has created a limited edition collection of shoes designed especially for this department store  using their eponymous fabric . There will also be speciality items  such as  gorgeous "shoe print" scarves , candles and more.
Now if a pair of shoes is a little out of your range  don't despair ...there are also cushions , shoehorns and ...now this may sound as weird to you as it did to me but here goes anyway : Christmas decorations. If anyone cares to decorate my tree with a yuletide pair of Manolo's , who needs gifts !  That'll be a 39.5 , thank you very much.
Obviously a MB candle wafting scent around your living room just won't cut it when you would rather be strutting your stuff in a pair of  limited edition  Manolos...But , hey! Beggars can't be choosers and you really can choose something else that bares the designer's signature .
There will  be an exhibition of Mr Blahnik's work for all die hard fans and he will also be overseeing the window displays that will lead us up to the holiday season ...so "Santa baby... hurry down the chimney as soon as bloody  possible ."
I foresee queues , a mad frenzy of epic proportions and for once it  won't be  for a fridge during the Harrods sale. Maybe it's just as well that I will be missing opening day..by the time I come back to London,  there will no longer be my size available and maybe , if I am lucky, I may just find  one silk scarf left , cowering  in some  hidden corner.
Now Get thee to Liberty of London!

Banyuls or Bust !

SPA KIT EXTRAORDINAIRE

Have you ever stared down the barrel of a long week end away and thought : "Nah!I just don't fancy it?" Or :" Fancy it? I can't even pronounce it?!"
Well that's what was awaiting me last weekend when due to an invitation to attend a baptism, I had to bite the bullet and shut the hell up.
Our destination was Perpignan for all intents and purpose but more specifically a snoozing seaside village by the frontier of Spain called "Banyuls sur Mer".
We left at 6am and I unashamedly slept through the better,longer half of the drive awaking for a pit stop that involved croissants and a moment to re-align my spine.We made good time and got to a sunny Perpignan late morning,enough time to visit and grab some lunch.If you have never been to Perpignan and this is coming from someone who lives not far from the downtown thriving metropolis of Cannes.. it was a pleasure and a relief  to get away from the showy summer crowds and get with the locals in this lovely town. I will not get technical with the history of it all,as frankly I didn't delve into that whatsoever: I looked, shopped and ate in that order.
 We had lunch at a local restaurant called "VIP"...the name had nothing to do with pomp or glamour and more with some Catalan saying I didn't quite catch.We chose the "plat du jour" which consisted of a "piece de boeuf " home made mash and green beans." Saignant? (Rare)" asked the waitress. " Non. A point svp (medium)" we replied. And "saignant " it was.Now what piece of beef it was, still remains a mystery,I needed a hacksaw to cut through it and being rare...well,the end result looked like something out of the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre."
We were now but 40mns or so away from our final destination the "Thalacap Catalogne/Institut de Thalassotherapie" or as I fondly like to remember it as "Welcome to Shutter Island ".
Located on a cliff and over looking the sea , the building itself eerily looked very little like an "institut" and more like an institution, "Girl Interrupted "anyone? Once we got passed the basic of basic reception area ,we headed half heartedly to our cell,I mean room. To say that the decor was spartan would be like saying that Liberace's wardrobe came from H&M and I am using the word "decor" liberally here for lack of another one.Everything that needed to be there was in wrought iron,luckily the windows were spared. There was no a/c but thank heaven's for the electric fan that made enough ruckus to wake the dead and muffled the endless screams coming from the room above ...and I don't doubt the need for escape or sedation,but this came from a baby..go figure.  Now this would be the right time to say that we managed a room change to one identical , one floor up from garden level. Actually there was no garden to speak of other than boulders and cigarette butts, so the partial sea/ traffic view was somewhat of a relief. We did score a mini bar..OK an empty one,but one that enabled our tepid bottle of water to cool in a day and a half.
The bathroom came  complete with bathtub suffering from a mild case of mildew,but I must say it was clean,as was the sterile room. There was not one single product ,no bar of soap,no plastic shower cap,no mini shampoo or conditioner...nothing. What was left by the side of the sink was a tiny plastic bottle with a liquid soap that was labeled "for hands,face and body" as well as floors and walls.The toilet was the piece  de resistance, it was in a separate room with a rather large water boiler suspended ominously above it.Luckily we are not tall but even in sitting positions:knees hiked cheek to jowl , our heads barely skimmed the top of that blasted contraption. I can honestly tell you that when nature called,one went in with his life in his hands,heart aflutter.
The spa was surprisingly packed, with old and young folk alike,all could be seen shuffling to breakfast and all hours of the day in their "Thalacap"bathrobes and blue rubber slippers.Now if we were really lucky ,we would be regaled by the sight of full regalia including the rather fetching blue and white stripped cotton swim cap.Like that is a look anyone can get away with. We were given our kit on arrival: bathrobe,towels,swim cap and rubber slippers...and we returned it half an hour later.The clincher,like I needed one, was that men were not allowed to wear swim shorts but had to sport the rather fetching speedo/banana hammock ...now add a gold chain to that and a pompadour and one can almost picture me with a rather shorter version of Elvis.
You must be puzzled as to why we would book in a spa and so readily give up our rights to all facilities and treatments... because couldn't find any other place to stay.
On plus side , breakfast was included ...Joie de Vivre: not.
Outside of spa,the weekend was a blast!

CHANEL-LING BIGFOOT:Fall 2010/Winter 2011 Collection

Having read somewhere that the formidable Karl Lagerfeld had imported a 265 ton iceberg from Sweden (his inspiration being the ICEHOTEL in Lapland) for his fall 2010 /winter 2011 collection for Chanel , I stifled a yawn and thought "showmanship extraordinaire." If the late Alexander MQueen could get away with robotic paint sprayers,fake blood and "frightnight" to get the audience gasping,why not an iceberg. Seeing the collection emerging in the fashion magazines and in the boutiques...I had  to YouTube the show to see for myself  what on earth lead  Chanel ,my wallet weakness, down the road  to Sasquatch Fashion. What I saw frightened me.Not only seeing gorgeous hemlines dragged in water but the "Guinea Pig " colours of the "faux fur"on the 3 models in the opening of the show. Did they show it off with flair...sure. But gorgeous models looking laughable in giant Guinea Pig attire, complete with boots and hood...Yikes.
 It is nice to know that Mr.Lagerfeld has relaunched the desire to get to the bottom of the whole BigFoot myth..is he really out there? Well you can either stomp around the forests of the great unknown in search for him in your faux fur trousers and boots or start a designer Sasquatch frenzy complete with the "double C's" for authenticity.Having said that, peel back the scary and you will find some traditionally gorgeous pieces,the very essence of Chanel with twists of whimsy. 
Now,back to the iceberg... if only Mr Lagerfeld could have airlifted the rest of it and flown it over that blasted unpronounceable Icelandic volcano , he would have sparred us all the ensuing mayhem and thousands of pounds in travel costs.
On the plus side,at least the floors of the Grand Palais catwalk were buffed to a shine...all that water and the "swiffer" faux fur action from the boots...