Posts from the NOTES Category

 

A new city (and continent) to me, one where two of my closest friends grew up: discovering Rio de Janeiro was the perfect kick off to a new year with a fuzzy heart. I tried really hard with my basic Portuguese (aka random phrases), but most of the time it came out like Spanish with a German accent. I’ll need to work on that for next time.

The thought that in the minds of those from the Southern Hemisphere, December, January and February are the warmest of months will always intrigue me. I’m sure it’s the same the other way around when Northern hemisphere folk associate June, July and August with summer heat. Funny.

We should probably all just stop taking everything so seriously.

I have a thing or two to learn about packing for a tropical vacation. I even forgot to paint my toe nails. 

Coconut water is one if the greatest beverages on the planet.

A good book and the beach is a recipe for getting a sunburn. I just finished Big Magic and boy did I like it. 

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If you’ve followed my blog or know me you probably know I get a cake every year for Louis and I’s anniversary. I mean, come on, who doesn’t want an excuse for some cake?! This bad boy was done by none other than Cat from Sugar Daze (the only place I’d ever order a cake from in Paris). This year it really hit me, holy smokes, how has 6 years gone by so fast? This cake was dedicated to my boyfriend’s acceptance of my addiction to vintage teacups and glasses. Something about traditions makes me a happy girl, I mean, if we didn’t have that, what else would we have?

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How do you visualize a year? As long as I can remember, I always feel like a year is such a long period time, until I would think about it in terms of days:, 365. Three-hundred-sixty-five days seems so short. It my head it’s a linear view, January on the left and December on the right. The night between the 31st of December and the 1st of January visually I guess was sort of a transported leap back to the beginning. Anyways, a quick detour to insert the Rent song, Seasons of Love.

2015 was a pretty rad year. It was my second year as a financially independent professional, which I’ll probably stop counting in the coming years. It was less transitional than 2014 was, and particularly sticks out in my mind, when I look back, as a year filled with familiar faces passing through: the Ying to my Yang came for a week of Parisian summer shenanigans, Mom in town for nearby adventures and exhibitions, an old roommate stopping through, a childhood friend passing through on her way home from her Peace Corps term, also two very inspirational pals came to town for what turned out to be an unexpectedly heart-wrenching weekend for the City of Light. I’m genuinely happy that I was able to take a couple of little trips: to Munich to visit one of my favorite Brazilians, to Brussels with a dear friend, to the Canary Islands for a sun-filled and much needed getaway with my lover, a weekend in London to sew my bridesmaids dress with a bride-to-be for her wedding next summer, Christmas in Bretagne with my in-law’s at a family home filled with so many memories.

Throughout the year I was able to reconnect with so many people I care about a lot, which is unfortunately not possible every year for various reasons… Is it sad to think we’re already making plans for next Christmas?! I haven’t really set out my goals for this twenty-sixteen, but I do like the idea of a theme that my friend Anne told me about. One of my main goals is to keep my head as much as possible in the present, to take full advantage of the simple moments with the people I’m surrounded by. I have a tendency to think too far into the future and let it overpower my present. I’ve also ordered a bunch of books I plan to read and keep my mind churning with podcasts. These two points will have to somehow fit into the theme I’ll define my year by.

I sure hope the years don’t increasingly seem shorter and shorter as I continue to get older… Happy New Year, folks!

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It’s been a busy time these past weeks, which seems to always be the case when the holiday season rolls in. My days are better when they start with a coffee. The weeks that fly by with celebrations and seeing friends, which is infinately nice. At the office I’ve been playing my Christmas playlist over and over which makes me even more excited about the holiday festivities next week, even though my French boyfriend always asks why we have to watch The Family Stone or the Grinch every Christmas. It just is a must…

Unrelated, but I was feeling a bit nostalgic last week and thinking about memories of my elementary and middle school self: band practice, my brother picking me up in his navy blue pick-up truck after jazz bang let out, adventures at the local country club where we’d order candy and curly fries on our parents’ tabs with the other kids in the neighborhood, endless nights of running through the local golf course sprinklers and jumping on the trampoline texting boys. I have vivid memories of long summers staying up “late” with friends watching music videos on MTV. That is, before YouTube and direct access to everything and beyond. We had to watch what felt like hundreds of them before one that we actually liked came on. You know, some Britney, Blink 182, No Doubt… the memories! I got to thinking the other day, there are few things more moving than a great music video. You know, a good song and beautiful movements and visual storytelling to make a good song even more intense. I’m a sucker for that. Sometimes I even get goosebumps or teary-eyed, not even kidding…

A couple of music videos that I find to be quite rad:
The Love Within // Bloc Party
Flesh Without Blood // Grimes
Wildest Dreams // Taylor Swift
Magic // Coldplay
I Really Like You // Carly Rae Jepsen
Hopeless Wanderer // Mumford & Songs
Countdown // Beyoncé
In A World Like This // Backstreet Boys

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Visiting Granville and Christian Dior’s childhood home, which opened as the Musée Christian Dior in 1997, has been on my epic weekend getaway TO DO since I started working for Dior early last year. Most of my colleagues have been to the dreamy pink house and man, I was a bit jealous! I knew I’d have get some travel-hungry pals to join me on the little journey to the Manche to visit it. After discussing it last summer repetedly, and then all winter and then spring being like, “oh yeah, we should go to Granville…”, we enfin locked in and I was so completely and ridiculously excited. Anne, Ylenia, Lauren and I hit the road one Saturday morning in my pretty old but powerful used car and headed northwest towards the sea. The cherry on top was that the family with whom I lived when I was 16 for a year came over from Caen to discover Villa Rhumbs with us.

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Despite the fact that we’ve had a sunny and hot summer – one that actually exists this year – we did have a few cloud and rain scares that particular weekend according to la météo… OF ALL OF THE WEEKENDS, ugh. Lucky enough, the clouds cleared the sky as we got closer and closer to Granville, and gosh we had the best of luck that day. Pure sunshine! As we got even closer we rolled the windows down as we passed through little towns adorned with hydrangeas, we could actually smell the seaside air. Granville itself is a little port town, with one main street and a big-ass cliffside that wraps upward along the coast with a few cute streets filled with cafés and shops (check out rue des Juifs if you’re visiting). In the town center, we popped in for a quick and delicious lunch at Picorette before heading up the hill to CD’s childhood pad.

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That house though… It’s painted such a dreamy peachy pink, and surrounded by the greenest freshly cut grass and flower-filled gardens in every direction. Fun fact: Christian Dior actually aspired to be an architect when he was younger, but now that I’ve seen these gardens I am totally not surprised by the fact that when he ended up becoming a couturier his love for flowers is so obvious (the names and shapes of dresses or looks, perfumes… The love he had for flowers certainly made of them a key part of Dior’s world. Oh, and here’s a little photo souvenir of petit CD.

The museum fills up the whole house, there aren’t like the original rooms or anything. The current exhibition is The New Look Revolution, a focus on Dior’s iconic silhouette, notably the iconic Bar jacket and the Corolle skirt. This feminine style with a cinched waist and full bust set the pace of fashion in post-war 1947. Amongst the photographs, video clips and magazine clippings on the three floors of this precious pink house, were the actual pieces: those by Monsieur Dior himself as well as silhouettes inspired by his New Look by the House’s current and previous designers. Quite a small exhibition, but filled with momentos of Monsieur Dior’s first collection where the New Look was unveiled, the impact his vision had on fashion at the time, and how deeply engraved this silhouette is in the House’s DNA, even today.

Behind the house is a little outdoor Salon de Thé with pink metal chairs where you can enjoy a high teadiorisé (note: the salon de thé is only open in the summer months). Bref, we spent the afternoon in this lovely place, frolicking on the grass (technically we weren’t supposed to, but ended up doing cartwheels, oops), and taking one million pictures of flowers and all things pink. I think I could go on and on about how lovely this little visit was, but I’ll leave that here. Oh, and yes that’s kale outside in front of the exhibition poster.