No Good Deed.....

Why do I not learn? Sadly its so true "no good deed, goes unpunished". Its times like this that its just easier and far more lovely to look at beautiful images.

........Getting All Worked Up At More Than 20 Miles An Hour

One of my many favourite daily reads is Garrison Keillor's The Writers Almanac.  Found this snippet this morning and it made me laugh hysterically.  How far we have come!

It was on this day in 1909 that the first woman to drive across the United States, Alice Huyler Ramsey, left New York City for San Francisco. She was 22 years old, a housewife from Hackensack, New Jersey. Her trip got a lot of media attention. In 1909, not many women drove cars, and some doctors thought that it was dangerous for women to even ride in cars because they would get too worked up at more than 20 miles an hour. Alice Huyler Ramsey drove 3,800 miles across the country in a Maxwell 30 with three other women, but she was the only one who knew how to drive. They drove for 41 days and used 11 spare tires. She wrote a book about the trip called Veil, Duster, and Tire Iron(1961). In 2000, she was the first woman inducted into the Automotive Hall of Fame.

To reply or not to reply -

Sorry but I am dragging my soap box out again.  It hasn't come out in a while and it needs an airing.

I spent about 9 months reading blogs, mostly in the design world before venturing out in the blogsphere with my own, almost a year ago.  I had mainly read design blogs as they were vastly different from what I do on a daily basis so therefore an escape but also something that I've always loved.  When younger I dreamed of going to the Inchbald School of Interior Design in London until I found out how much the tuition was, literally an arm and a two legs.  There was also an intimidation to write a blog solely based on writing as I am not a trained writer and as you can see from "my lengthy hiatus" I don't have that writing muscle honed.  

So there was one blog in particular that had everything I loved re. design - mid Century (or Middle Century as one of my sister's friends refers to it as), op art, vintage, flea market finds etc.  Without knowing it, she had inspired to me to start a blog.  Of course I'm the dweeby perfectionist who bought several books on how to write a blog (I read the first chapter of one and then was over that).  So I plucked up the courage to send her an email basically thank her for being a design blog pioneer and an inspiration to me.  I didn't feel it was over-stalkerish, just honest.  It didn't say "please read my blog and post my link on yours"....

To this day I have heard nothing, nada, zip...not even a quick "thanks so much"-that was last August so am not holding my breath.  I must be honest, in the last 6 months or so I have veered away from my some of my daily-read design blogs as have found a few to be a little ostentatious.  One "old" one did catch my eye recently, as she had just traveled to where I grew up.  Lovely photos were posted on her blog and she'd written about her trip there.  It brought back memories and I was propelled to email her (who knows why as I should have learnt by now)- just a quick email of gratitude, letting her know that her photos were lovely, nothing overly gushy or freakish.

That was about 3 weeks ago, again nothing, NOT A PEEP and she's one of those bloggers who continually posts gushy thanks to her readers and how grateful she is that they stop by.  Well I won't be stopping by again and please bear in mind these are not huge design blogs with an enormous amount of followers.  I'm sure to some this all sounds a bit pedantic and brattish, and in the grand scheme of things I won't be losing sleep but I do find it a little rude.  Am I alone in thinking that these bloggers are a little clueless?

On Hiatus

Well.....not really.  I have the worst writers/creative block.  Its the result of being pulled in 10 different directions, and having very little left.  Trying to find my creative mojo and will be right back with y'all.

In the meantime I shall leave you with one of the most beautiful places that I love to go and wander.  Greystone Mansion.  Pure bliss in the middle of the concrete jungle.

Not Everyone Is A Weirdo

Sometimes I am still amazed that there are normal, down-to-earth people in the world.

Every Christmas I travel halfway across the world to see my family.  I dread the flight as am not good at sitting still for long periods of time, without becoming exceptionally bored - a lifelong affliction (ask my poor mother - I am the annoying "I'm booorrrreedddd" child).  This year was different. 

As I was organizing my "area" for the next 12 hours, a bright and shining face said "hello".  I thought oh no, not again.  I had fallen for that before, lulled into a false sense of security by a welcoming face.  The last time I'd been polite, it had started a bout of verbal diarrhea that included being "hit on" profusely for the next 5 hours before having a business card thrust into my face and a "let's get together".  We had to bump into each other again as we waited for our bags.  Had even detoured into the loo to bide my time, so that we didn't have to reunite. Unfortunately that was not the case here.

So I said "hi" rather briskly back to my fellow passenger before busying myself, hoping that he would get the message.  He didn't and asked sweetly if I wanted him to put my duvet in the overhead compartment.  Then I felt bad and said to the devil on my shoulder ....."have a little Christmas spirit, don't be so rude".  And honestly I'm glad I wasn't.  We chatted for hours, found out we are in the same biz, drank lots (a wine and cocktail tasting that lasts for 12 hours), laughed and probably annoyed all the passengers around us.  We vowed to have dinner when he was next in Los Angeles.  

I am a little cautious now I have to admit. I try not to be judgmental or distance but I have, as some would say "an open face".  As was always the case in London, on the "last tube" surrounded by the merry older Irish gentlemen (I'm being politically correct), talking incessantly and incoherently to me while at the same time looking for somewhere warm to end their evening of libation.

So my fellow passenger and I had dinner last week.  Left off where we had started and laughed continually.  We went to the only restaurant in Los Angeles that doesn't take reservations, is packed every night, incredibly noisy and the wait is usually about 2 hours.  We got a table as a) there is a RECESSION and b) no-one else would sit outside, although it was warm enough for summery dress and the heat lamps were a-blazing.  Traveller friend and I are becoming fast friends. 

So, in closing...not EVERYONE is a weirdo but there sure are a lot of them out there.  

Springtime (sigh)

It's truly a stunning spring day here, with birds singing happily.  Its at times like this, there does feel like hope is in the air.  

In Early Spring

Road catkins, russet and tan let the

wind sweep over them as dusk

seeps in along the lake,

and I pass road puddles

swelling to ponds, mirroring

the sky's own silveriness.

At the railroad tracks seven geese

veer off and set down in a field

so that only their necks

speak for them, telling us all

to go on while they rest

by the barn.  Today a man

asked me if I were depressed,

and I looked up and smiled.

No more than these geese or catkins

as light falls around them, no

more than those pine boughs

lifting in the wind - just so,

life goes on.

By Larry Smith

from Writers Almanac.

Hot Cross Buns

This is my attempt at making Hot Cross Buns.  I've been searching for Hot Cross Buns for Easter but they're just not available in the US the way I like them.  I contacted a few different shops here, that specialize in foods other than American; no-one stocks them.  I mentioned to one shop owner that I was going to have a go and bake my own.  He said, "if they turned out well, I will order from you".  Hmmmmm....I think not.

Its all a bit of a fiddle really and takes about 2 hours to make.  They have to "rest" for an hour and 1/2 before being baked.  Mine don't have that mushy almost fluffy consistency that I grew up with.  The actual "cross" turned out well as I made it the authentic way, with flour and water, not icing (counterfeits).

I think I'll leave it to the mass produced experts who make millions of them at a time.  These won't go to waste though - I will serve these to my unsuspecting friends, toasted with pounds of butter.  And a creme egg chaser.

Under A Shell

Apologies to all: I've been a little bit of a turtle this week, recovering from the insanity of living the night-life at SXSW.  I'm a morning person, but alas the music industry is not.  How will I survive Coachella (but if that's the least of my worries really...........)

I will be back next week minus the shell.  Have yourself a stunning weekend.

Back in LaLa Land

I'm absolutely exhausted.  I'm going for a long walk up in the Canyons to come down off the ride. It will be beautiful today as the wind and rain will have given the city a spring clean.  Back later - toodle-loo........

SXSW In A Shoebox

I'm off to SXSW in Austin, Texas for the week.  Was going to go on a tour bus but realized that I would need a little more space than a shoe box to bring what's needed to prepare myself for a week of insanity. 

I am really looking forward to the Festival though.  Its always lots of fun and the line-up this year is truly amazing.  I have been fortunate to hitch a ride on a private plane so the luggage situation shouldn' t be a problem.

I feel I will certainly need a vacation afterwards or even just a quiet spot in a corner!

Escapism in a Louis Vuitton trunk

In these dismal times, one of my little obsessions is to escape to all the amazing fashion blogs. I am not talking about the mainstream fashion blogs like Style.com, or The Cut.  The bloggers I am referring to vary from high school girls in California, Texas and Oregon to corporate types in Paris looking for an outlet. What I love is the creativity with inexpensive clothing from thrift stores, Urban Outfitters, H&M.....

I thought I wanted a career in the fashion industry so started as a barely paid assistant at a prestigious PR company in London, that represented Ferragamo, Louis Feraud, Louis Vuitton, Principles, Wolford, Cerruti to name a few.  It was a harrowing experience as the owner had daily temper tantrums, throwing various objects around the office and yelling at anyone in eyesight. The rung I was on there was so low I didn't even have an office to retreat to or a sturdy desk to hide under.    

I was in charge of looking after all the samples from the designers that we kept at the offices.  I would hand deliver pieces to photo shoots when needed, and/or retrieve them.  A product nanny, in a sense.  It was a brutal job, but I was very young and wanting to learn everything I could.  The one saving grace of the day was GEORGE MICHAEL.  This was at the height of WHAM fame.  All the girls in the office would watch him walk past, our jaws on the floor - sometimes we got a bargain and Andrew Ridgeley would be with him.  Their offices were in the same building as ours.

At the end of every season, all the samples had to be removed as the new season's line was coming in.  That was my other job - to lug pounds of designer clothing and accessories to the local Op Shop (Thrift shop). Most were rejected as I was always told that my wares wouldn't be great sellers, "weird looking clothes and shoes" that to me were brilliant.  A substantial amount of those rejectees found a home with me.

I have some fond memories of my days at the PR company.  My most favorable memories are not set at the office though but chaperoning huge Louis Vuitton trunks to photo shoots in fabulous places in and around London, driver and all. 

The Most Stunning Image

Kate Moss, taken by Annie Leibovitz for American Vogue in 1999.

From Style.com.

Ho Hum

Mad Girl's Love Song

This was left by an "Anonymous" reader - I love this and thank you to my mysterious commenter.

"Mad Girl's Love Song"

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

By Sylvia Plath

Ready For Your Close-up?

Blinds from Artylicious.  Great idea if the view is a dreary wall or you have nosy neighbours!

Images: from Living Etc.

Unspoken Words

Time + Distance

The tea you pour is black and strong.

It doesn't taste like tea to me;

I must have been away too long.

Where's that old fork with the bent prong?

What happened to the hemlock tree?

Have I really been gone that long?

I think I hear the saddest song;

It has no words, no tune, no key.

The tea you pour is black and strong.

You're careful to say nothing wrong,

You seem too eager to agree.....

Yes, I've been traveling far and long,

And now it's clear, I don't belong.

I watch you sash your robe, as we

sit, sipping tea that's black and strong.

I went away too far, too long.

by Leslie Monsour, from The Alarming Beauty of the Sky. 

Seeing The Beauty

I am not an Angeleno, but I am a "legal alien" (shouldn't that be changed at some stage - alien always sounds so suspect).  This is my primary residence right now, due to my occupation.  I arrived here initially at 22, without really knowing a soul.  Like any new city, it took time to figure everything out, make friends, but looking back it was such an adventure, as still is.  

Los Angeles does get a bad wrap at times........smog, earthquakes, crazy people, no architecture and on and on.  I believe every city has history and there is beauty, compassion and inspiration - sometimes you just have to look up!

This building could be anywhere......a million dollar apartment overlooking Central Park, NY or a flat in Notting Hill, in London.  But its 3rd and La Brea (heavy traffic area, for my out-of-town viewers) in LA on a particularly beautiful morning. 

E.1027

This house was originally designed and built by Eileen Gray - who was a Irish laquer artist, architect and designer.  She is one of my favorite artists!

E.1027 was built between 1926 and 1929 by Gray as a summer residence for Jean Badovici. It is situated on the Mediterranean coast of France, at Roquebrune-Cap Martin overlooking the Bay of Monaco. The name of the house, E.1027, is a code for Eileen Gray and Jean Badovici, E standing for Eileen, 10 for J - "Jean" (10th letter of the alphabet), 2 for B - "Badovici", and 7 for G - "Gray".  This was Gray's way of showing their relationship as lovers when the house was built. 

Le Corbusier, who was a friend of Badovici's, visited E.1027 many times.  He added a series of murals to the clean, white walls in the villa between 1937 - 39, without Gray's permission.  She took this an intrusion and considered the murals vandalism.  There has been much discussion on this subject as the murals were either painted out of admiration for her work or jealousy of 

her accomplishments.

Gray was ahead of her time in regards to the design and interior of the house.  Inside and out flowed together, every room flows out to a balcony, shutters, screens and windows are all moveable, allowing the hills and sea surrounding the house, to converge.  Inside there was no wasted space, most furniture built-in and living areas open plan.

Jean Badovici lived in the house until his death in 1956.  The house was then put up for auction and bought by a friend of Le Corbusier.  The house has had two other owners.  The second of which sold many of the villa's original contents to fund badly needed repair work, which unfortunately never got underway.  

After the last owner's death, the house remained empty and was susceptible to vandals and squatters, who damaged the property extensively. In the early 90's Friends of E.1027 was set up to raise money to restore this now historic home.

P.S. My favorite weasel, La Belette Rouge just reminded me that there is an amazing documentary running on The Sundance Channel (sorry overseas viewers).  Its called Eileen Gray: Invitation To A Voyage.

All images from Friends of E.1027

For all the middle children

                       UNCLE JIM 

What the children remember about Uncle Jim

is that on that train to Reno to get divorced

so he could marry again

he met another woman and woke up in California

It took him seven years to untangle that dream

but a man who could sing like Uncle Jim

was bound to get in scrapes now and then:

he expected it and we expected it.

Mother said, It's because he was the middle child,

and Father said, Yeah, where there's trouble

Jim's in the middle.

When he lost his voice he lost all of it

to the surgeon's knife and refused the voice box

they wanted to insert.  In fact he refused

almost everything.  Look, they said,

it's up to you.  How many years

do you want to live? and Uncle Jim

held up one finger.

The middle one.

By Peter Meinke

From The Writers Almanac

Ssssshhhhhhhhh!

Is it just me, or is there something really offensive about people speaking LOUDLY on their cell phones, in bookstores.  I do understand that there are times when its unavoidable not to answer your cellphone - but I am more than certain that neither of the people I encountered today were brain surgeons, on call or that food and dress choices were emergencies.

I couldn't believe it!  I stopped by my favorite bookstore this morning, to have a browse.  Hadn't been there in a while so had lots to catch up on and was really looking forward to escaping from the craziness of life.  I believe it really is one of the last bastions of peace and quiet.  Maybe bookstores and libraries.  

Loudly and quite out of nowhere, two separate cellphone conversations started up.  She was discussing what her dinners plans were for tonight, and what was on the menu. Should she buy broccoli or broccoli rabe, and what was broccoli rabe anyway.  Oh and how her date had gone last night.  

The other conversation just made me giggle.  He couldn't quite decide if he should wear the black T-shirt for his audition later today, or the white one.  And what jeans, the dark denim ones with rips or the lighter jeans that were tight in all the right places!  This went back and forth, and BACK AND FORTH.

I wanted to scream out really loudly - I DON'T CARE!  This is a bookstore, and I WANT YOU TO PLEASE BE QUIET!