Lean, black and sultry. Waist cinching. Tailored firmly. Yes, that old chestnut- the tuxedo, or as the French like to call it Le Smoking.
Femme fatales of old blew cigarette chains as smooth as their own shoulders. Shrouding the room. Le smoking. I don’t want to condone the act of smoking but can we bring back the garb for smoking in at least?
Delgado, negro y sensual, modelado a la cintura, ajustado firmemente. Si, como todos lo conocemos, el Tuxedo, o como los franceses suelen llamarle Le Smoking (el traje de fumar).
Las mujeres fatales de antaño solían exhalar argollas tan delicadas como sus propios hombros mientras acolchaban el salón con el humo. Le Smoking. No quiero indultar el acto de fumar, pero ¿será que al menos podemos traer el traje de vuelta?
I’m positively enthralled by the charm of the little leather jewel toned stained glass clutch bag from Alexander McQueen’s Fall & Winter Collection, 2014. Its spectrum creates a vivid flash back to my visit to Sainte Chapelle, Paris: a golden moment in May of 2009, a fast trip by rail from the grey east Germany with it’s still naked deciduous trees to sunny Paris and her chestnut trees blossoming abundantly.
Perhaps chief designer Sarah Burton wants to remind us of our moments under the archways and flying buttresses of old euro churches, of wedding days and christenings, or perhaps we simply need to recall the summer of misdemeanors on the beach under stark sun and crave instead the shade of sacred buttresses, enveloped by cashmere, and in so doing give our sun loaded skin a little penance.
Two dehydrated love birds burst into the peaceful Aēsop QV Centre store one Sunday afternoon.
“We want beautiful skin for our nuptials”, they declared.
The ever attentive and fastidious Aēsop man smiled, his eyes glowing as much as his well hydrated brow.
The two love birds exclaimed and ooh-ed and aah-ed over the plethora and bouquet of bottles and receptacles, each encasing little elixirs for skin, coiffure or even ambience. Don’t we all dream of an elixir for ambience? They even chuckled over the naughty potty humor behind the Post-Poo Drops with their swift aroma, the key to turning your smelly bathroom to a refreshing chamber as zesty as tarte au citrôn.
One little lovebird, whose skin was ever so dry after daily early morning bird baths was recommended product so supple. With its pannacotta texture, Primose Facial Hydrating cream sorted her our pretty quickly. The other little lovebird was mended of his flakes and frazzle with Purifying Facial and Exfoliant Paste (a supple scented paste with fine pieces of shiny quartz) and the decadent Camellia Nut Hydrating cream.
The two little lovebirds were so enthused and heartened by the aromas and the beauty of life in general, especially given pending nuptials and their now suitably glowing skin.
The wise Aēsop man declared they were so cute and silly that he would like to give them a wedding present. Which they bashfully received before fluttering off to their next rendezvous albeit fragrant and impeccably hydrated.
Since its inception in Melbourne in 1987, Aēsop has risen to become a much lauded and adored worldwide skincare firm. On each entry Ms Divageiger is overwhelmed by the courtesy, intelligence and good humor of all it’s employees to date and wishes in particular to thank Mr Aēsop man, who shall remain as arguably anonymous as the famed writer Aesop but as memorable as his fables.
I have been doing it again. Drooling over wheels. Perhaps it has met pathological proportions but I can’t stop despite all manner of logic. To be precise, the weather is ghastly and something you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in on 2 wheels. It’s hardly the time or place to be cycling, however I’m still valiant in my yearning for a bike to sate that liberating flying feeling. So this means I really need a bike, yes?
The bike I settle on, must be special. After all it will be for city-based purposes- cycling to the Botanic Gardens with picnic basket strapped to the front, spinning out alongside the murky Yarra River on a hearty spring day, or a fast pace buzz to Lygon for some vivid espresso.
The onus is on me to make a thorough decision informed by practicality (my Yorky terrier Seppe will after all need a basket on this locomotive) and aesthetics (it better match my ensembles, I don’t intend to falter on elegance and don lycra, this baby will ride with heels and frocks. Ding ding.
Today I was perusing bicycles by ROYAL DUTCH GAZELLE. Between the Dutch and the Danes, the final word on old worldly cycles lies.
There is the Basic model, aka the trendy Dutch Granny Bike, that coaxes me with it’s euro charm. But I’m hardly the picture of a Dutch Granny, or am I? The birthday is soon approaching. Maybe this one would be an apt purchase. In a range of 6 colours, the black tugs me more than ever.
But then I always authentic nostalgia so maybe the Toer Populair is the bike for me, which dates back to an exact model from 120 years ago. That little dinky light is tempting…
But then there is sky blue…
Choosing a bike is rather like choosing a dog. You have to go with the one that tugs your strings the most.
When I see it, I’ll get it. But it won’t be coddled and cuddled in bed like any puppy. Come spring, that baby is going to work, damn!
- In search of Australia’s best cycling city (theguardian.com)
I’m more than moderately into Madrid label Pedro del Hierro’s heady and elegant creations. In fact I’ve been swept off my tootsies by them! The current collection features clear lines, streamlined silhouettes… It’s sprinklings of Little Lord Fauntleroy and the 30’s screen goddesses all in one.
I’m waiting with fashionista bated breath for September 7, when the Spring collection is launched at New York Fashion Week nearly as much as I’m waiting for Australian Spring!
With one month of winter still remaining in the antipodes, these images should fuel the current Melbourne appetite.
Trawling beloved sites for nuptial jewelry ideas no doubt has led me into a fabulous labyrinth of completely unrelated, but no less charming items. Well, this first one is somewhat justified. I did say YES after all.
The following black dress makes me so so contento….
Gold Dyslexia. Even though I’m a speech and language pathologist, I’d love this pathology…
Circle more than one finger with playground words.
Clasp truth around your wrist.
Gold words. Semantic Alchemy.
All Images sourced from Vogue España August 2013 and credited to original image source.