Palette

just some lofty ideas and daydreams i’ve been having about my sad little wardrobe.

– la garconne lookbook

– vogue paris

charles anastase & a.p.c.

– la garconne lookbook

hansel from basel socks

pepper & chips + street peeper

– junya watanabe chinos & wood wood sadie pants

youneak & vanessa jackman

rittenhouse tops

– clockwise from top left: dakota loafer ; elma neat cutout flat ; jaguar loafers ; loafer heel

various collages from magazine cutouts by my pal amy

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Oh, Paris!

Oh Paris, I like to see you in the rain, pretty girls in black berets, reading books in in sad cafes… - Dent May

what! did we just go back in time to nine months ago? no, i’m just reminiscing about paris … as per usual. i think i still have about 1000+ unedited photos from my trip. it’s almost too sad to look at them now.

all photos by me.

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Bread & Wine & Exotic plants

i went to bread & wine this past weekend, the beautiful restaurant at moreson wine farm in franschhoek. this place is heaven for me –  99% due to their homemade charcuterie. i am a sucker for some cured meat. but i’m not going to talk about the delicious mozzarella & tomato salad (with crystalized basil leaf, mind you) or the amazing setting that makes this place such a winner. no, indeed. they are also home to the exotic plant company which tempted me with so many different kinds of awesomely alien looking orchids i almost couldn’t stand it. my flatmate jessica, whose birthday we were celebrating, says that they are actually pretty easy to take care of – if you know what you’re doing… i distinctly don’t know what i’m doing, so i didn’t end up walking home with an orchid. but i took a lot of photos.

which reminds me, my new succulents are doing okay and have made the flat look so much more appealing. i had a mini freakout a while ago because the little beasts looked like they were dying on me, but then a ton of helpful people on twitter advised that they should be ignored and basically not watered. well, if you say so!

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The Comparisons Project: Bright Star

you’ll remember hila from her things i like right now a while back. we’ve teamed up for a cool little project where we pick a film, i create some colour comparison mash ups (be it with art, fashion, vintage…) and hila writes a short piece of fiction based on the results. i was immediately intrigued when hila suggested the idea, as it combines creative strengths from both sides  – and i am in awe of anyone who can write creatively.

the first film is bright star directed by jane campion, which tells the story of the romance between fanny brawne and john keats. i paired stills from the film with paintings by edmund c. tarbell, an american impressionist who often painted portraits and scenes of his wife and children. hila’s piece of fiction follows.

fanny brawne sits in a corner and watches an ailing man duplicate words. her needle tears and reforms incisively.

she imagines a tweed suit that can be gilded with unutterable sentences. she would sew this suit as armour, lain against a rapt chest that beats irregularly with illness.

she knows her woman’s work is really a form of enlivening. an act of creation and generosity.

fanny’s watching becomes a topic of fascination for someone who reads letters meant only for her. after her mother’s death, a young girl likes to sit in the enclosed space of a torn armchair, examining the cover, the pages, the smell of a book of letters with fanny’s name. this too is an act of evasive generosity, parcelled out through distance.

she mirrors what fanny creates. in her bed at night, she lays fabric before her and rips neat squares. they cover one another like a palimpsest. what clever fingers can do is bind the trauma of experience with love.

her mother liked the quiet contemplation of needlepoint. like praying, she would say. and so her prayers come as a form of domestic reconstitution, not sublime poetry. the revenant residue of someone who will be forgotten, while words remain.

fanny feels his straining beneath clothes as she sits in corners, wrapped in chairs like a cocoon. this evasion, this bodily separation, comes together through her sharp needle, moving in, moving out.

words by hila schachar.

paintings from top to bottom: the blue veilacross the roomgirl readingmother and marymy daughter josephinenew england interiorthe sistersmary reading

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