2. Island nail polish from Chanel
A poem for Wednesday
I think it's because I seem hyper-aware of this 10-year emigration anniversary that I've started to crave change. Nothing dramatic, but some flavour of starting from scratch, ebeginning from nothing. Much as I love the idea of gentle change and evolution, there's something so beautiful about clearly demarcated beginnings and endings, even if they're our own artificial constructs. Maybe it'll be a fresh coat of paint. Maybe I'm getting ready to move on from my building. I don't have a clear idea of the particulars, only a desire to end one chapter and start a new one.
This is by Mary Oliver and, of course, I also love it because I'm also an astrological crab.
The Hermit Crab
Once I looked inside
the darkness
of a shell folded like a pastry,
and there was a fancy face—
or almost a face—
it turned away
and frisked up its brawny forearms
so quickly
against the light
and my looking in
I scarcely had time to see it,
gleaming
under the pure white roof
of old calcium.
When I set it down, it hurried
along the tideline
of the sea,
which was slashing along as usual,
shouting and hissing
toward the future,
turning its back
with every tide on the past,
leaving the shore littered
every morning
with more ornaments of death—
what a pearly rubble
from which to choose a house
like a white flower—
and what a rebellion
to leap into it
and hold on,
connecting everything,
the past to the future—
which is of course the miracle—
which is the only argument there is
against the sea.
This is by Mary Oliver and, of course, I also love it because I'm also an astrological crab.
The Hermit Crab
Once I looked inside
the darkness
of a shell folded like a pastry,
and there was a fancy face—
or almost a face—
it turned away
and frisked up its brawny forearms
so quickly
against the light
and my looking in
I scarcely had time to see it,
gleaming
under the pure white roof
of old calcium.
When I set it down, it hurried
along the tideline
of the sea,
which was slashing along as usual,
shouting and hissing
toward the future,
turning its back
with every tide on the past,
leaving the shore littered
every morning
with more ornaments of death—
what a pearly rubble
from which to choose a house
like a white flower—
and what a rebellion
to leap into it
and hold on,
connecting everything,
the past to the future—
which is of course the miracle—
which is the only argument there is
against the sea.
Monday flowers
I took a short break yesterday and walked down to the flower market. In the glaring heat, the colours looked especially saturated. I had in mind muted pinks, but couldn't resist the brighter peonies, mixing them with lilac and white freesia, some yellow-hearted salmon roses and one hydrangea. By the time I got back up the hill, I was feeling slightly wilted, but thankfully the flowers withstood the walk better than I did!
Sunday best: Could / couldn't wear
It's another working weekend for me, but I'm managing to squeeze in some small delights. Today, I'll nip down to the flower market and buy myself some pink roses and peonies and grab a coffee at my favourite coffee shop.
I read this thought-provoking piece on Friday (via TNI). I've never really (deeply) questioned the phrase "I couldn't wear that" though I've probably written it many times here about clothes I admired. I've also myself written many articles on the topic of flattering fit, what silhouettes complement what shape etc.
Occasionally - and I'm being completely honest here - I've run into a woman who lets herself wear what she wants, even if it's not flattering, and I've been confused about what I think. Where I used to perceive some kind of disconnect in self-awareness or judgement, I'm beginning to see, and love, the balls-to-the-walls braveness of it.
I myself am not balls-to-the-walls brave when it comes to letting myself wear what I love.
I don't just judge good fit. I judge how fat / thin / short / tall I look wearing clothes. I judge my body, my perceived assets and "problem" areas. I think about layers I could add or subtract to impact what I judge less favourable. I think about accessories and how they will draw the eye here and there.
I'm so deep inside all of this that I equate loving something with deeming it something I could wear. And I'm even judging what I can wear here in these Sunday bests. I used to think that made them more genuine; because I'm really thinking, "I could wear that". I never stopped to think what's behind that "could" - that it's very much about looking more or less like somebody with a different body.
I did have an outfit all ready for today's post, but it was something I could very much wear. Maybe instead, I'll think what I couldn't and wonder why.
Happy Sunday!
I read this thought-provoking piece on Friday (via TNI). I've never really (deeply) questioned the phrase "I couldn't wear that" though I've probably written it many times here about clothes I admired. I've also myself written many articles on the topic of flattering fit, what silhouettes complement what shape etc.
Occasionally - and I'm being completely honest here - I've run into a woman who lets herself wear what she wants, even if it's not flattering, and I've been confused about what I think. Where I used to perceive some kind of disconnect in self-awareness or judgement, I'm beginning to see, and love, the balls-to-the-walls braveness of it.
I myself am not balls-to-the-walls brave when it comes to letting myself wear what I love.
I don't just judge good fit. I judge how fat / thin / short / tall I look wearing clothes. I judge my body, my perceived assets and "problem" areas. I think about layers I could add or subtract to impact what I judge less favourable. I think about accessories and how they will draw the eye here and there.
I'm so deep inside all of this that I equate loving something with deeming it something I could wear. And I'm even judging what I can wear here in these Sunday bests. I used to think that made them more genuine; because I'm really thinking, "I could wear that". I never stopped to think what's behind that "could" - that it's very much about looking more or less like somebody with a different body.
I did have an outfit all ready for today's post, but it was something I could very much wear. Maybe instead, I'll think what I couldn't and wonder why.
Happy Sunday!
Friday!
My week was all work. In my few spare moments, I reached for easy things; magazines and Italian soda, my new favourite sweatpants (can you believe I bought coral sweatpants? I can't) and the beautiful fade of peonies.
Some more substantial things caught my eye too, but I mostly filed them away to later read. One piece I did read was Alexandra Molotkow's piece on friendship and loneliness over on Hazlitt. I fight this feeling, but I do sometimes feel that - as a single woman so far from home - loneliness is especially mine. But I also find that, for me, there's a tremendous and rarely articulated upside to brushing up against loneliness.
I often feel this way about insomnia too (not so this week, when I felt I might die on the subway one morning). But I love this piece, which I tweeted a long time ago and just dug up again. I believe it too speaks from the side more often unspoken.
Links I've saved for later: Read.Look.Think. | Hilma af Klint | Country Crushes
Ireland's new postage stamp - shown above - features an entire short story (found via Mark on Twitter). I must mail a few when I go home in June. (coming up fast now!)
It's a three-day weekend here, so I'm hoping to catch up with myself a little, enjoy the sun from the shade, start a new book. I'm excited about this one.
Happy weekend!
Links from image: Elle Decor | Sweatpants | Irish stamp
Some more substantial things caught my eye too, but I mostly filed them away to later read. One piece I did read was Alexandra Molotkow's piece on friendship and loneliness over on Hazlitt. I fight this feeling, but I do sometimes feel that - as a single woman so far from home - loneliness is especially mine. But I also find that, for me, there's a tremendous and rarely articulated upside to brushing up against loneliness.
I often feel this way about insomnia too (not so this week, when I felt I might die on the subway one morning). But I love this piece, which I tweeted a long time ago and just dug up again. I believe it too speaks from the side more often unspoken.
Links I've saved for later: Read.Look.Think. | Hilma af Klint | Country Crushes
Ireland's new postage stamp - shown above - features an entire short story (found via Mark on Twitter). I must mail a few when I go home in June. (coming up fast now!)
It's a three-day weekend here, so I'm hoping to catch up with myself a little, enjoy the sun from the shade, start a new book. I'm excited about this one.
Happy weekend!
Links from image: Elle Decor | Sweatpants | Irish stamp
Mirror images
Howe London is one of those most special shops. I usually go straight to their upholstery section, but last night it was the mirror images that struck me. These have got to be some of the most beautiful product shots I've ever come across — so painterly and atmospheric.
I also, you may recall, have a thing for imperfect reflections (see here and here).
I also, you may recall, have a thing for imperfect reflections (see here and here).
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