le conseil sage

"good things happen to those who hustle."

quoth anaïs nin, whose calling card might have read: literati, diarist, dancer, and bohemian minx.

(see also: jezebel, correspondence for the vagabond heart)

young hearts (run free)

if there's anything more romantic than a depression-era travelling circus, then it's a recession-era circus wedding. this three-ring spectacular was raised by the hands of art school sweethearts in the heart of savannah, kissing booth and all. isn't it marvelous?

(simply click to enlarge and don't miss these beauties!)

all photographs by the very talented josh goleman

(see also: sarah sophie flicker and the citizens band, god help the girl, the pains of being pure at heart)

summer music

(see also: the take-away shows, the red balloon, moons and junes)

le fabuleux destin d'amélie poulain

i love this tribute to the patron saint of strange, sweet birds and purveyor of simple miracles, amélie poulain. and although i'm not particularly partial to jewelry, those cherry earrings are pretty fabulous.

(see also: yann tiersen, the impossible project)

les raies

(see also: the latest chanel no.5 flick .. it's another cheesy fragrance ad, but with trains and istanbul and audrey tautou!)


it seems process of creating simple nautucal stripes is fascinating work. here is a glimpse of the saint james factory by the sea.

ship-to-shore

(eleanor hardwick, etsy vintage)

my incorrigible wanderlust has set its sights on norway's breathtaking lofoten islands. i'm daydreaming of living (or all the more unrealistically: summering) in this little kingdom by the sea. all one really needs is a bicycle at hand and some batty neighbors.

(1. i.prinke 2. grey owl 3. i.prinke 4. whale watching 5. i.anton 6. ingrid 7. grey owl 8. sveinam 9. tiny teeth)

500 jours d'été

the soundtrack to 500 days of summer is filled with the sort of songs by the smiths and the pixies first discovered this music with elbows propped on a seafoam bedroom carpet. this music lays such deep roots in suburban basements, germinating in journals hidden beneath mattresses, musty record sleeves in the attic, driveways, and unusually long afternoons.

just listen to these ditties:



(see also: there is a light that never goes out)

la vie dans le technicolor

today my friend posed a clever challenge over afternoon coffee. she asked what an autobiographical movie of my life would look like. i had no answer, except that it would be set over the course of four or five days. so, she suggested that i set out to make the next five days of my life into movie material, just for the sake of vivacity. it sounds like a brilliant antidote for ennui.

(see also: the young girls of rochefort)

les petites huttes

(from top: apartment therapy re-nest, tim walker, debi treloar)

despite everything nuts in this world, i think that people are a part of something naturally quite extraordinary. therefore, i believe in the importance of fresh air, bare feet, and flushed cheeks; and adore these little homes overrun with moss and vines.

(see also: steiner lenzlinger)

les reines de glace

here's one last, fleeting look at winter from john galliano's dreamy paris runway show, inspired by russian folklore. it inspires a touch of nostalgia for glacial, airy nights and it's as though john galliano illustrated my trans-siberian railway fantasies.

(see also: the first "coco avant chanel" trailer)

tous les amoureux

i've been captivated by jules and jim, a hauntingly beautiful movie, since seeing it for the first time recently. where could i even begin? it provoked so many fascinating questions about human relationships - friendships and muses; infatuations, infidelities, and strange bedfellows; the clash of wildly different expectations and the quest to re-invent love - whether possessing or selfless. i had goosebumps from the humming of simple ditties and the narrator's unflappable delivery of lines like "catherine meant different things to each and couldn't please them all, but too bad."

the director, françois truffaut, came across the story of jules and jim serendipitously - while browsing through a used bookshop. the book, in turn, was inspired by a romantic tangle between the author, marcel duchamp, and bohemian beatrice wood. i love that about art - all of the perpetual motion. and i secretly hope to find a worn copy of jules and jim at the strand, underlined passages and all.

(see also: a woman is a woman)

les moustaches magnifiques du monde

in my humble opinion, the word "mustachioed" should be used as often as possible. these mustachioed pencils from atypk make me want to doodle trench coats and intrigue and fog. then go incognito with a little flick of the wrist.


from top:
clark gable, django reinhardt, burt reynolds, zorro, salvador dali

les bon temps

isn't it remarkable when you come across certain movies or records or old soul songs or pages in a library book at just the right moment? i hadn't felt quite like myself for a few days and couldn't seem to shake certain anxieties. this weekend i happened to watch a fantastic movie, hannah and her sisters, for the first time.

woody allen plays television writer mickey sachs, who falls into the throes of an existential crisis after a medical scare. in a particularly moving scene, mickey finds himself at his wit's end. he frantically paces around the upper west side for hours, before slipping into a movie theatre to collect his thoughts. serendipitously, the film on screen is an old favorite, duck soup. he's instantly charmed by the carefree chaos before him, calms down, and notes:

"geez, i should stop ruining my life searching for answers i'm never going to get and just enjoy it while it lasts. and you know, after .. who knows? maybe there is something, nobody really knows. i know that maybe is a very slim reed to hang your whole life on, but that's the best we have. and then i started to sit back and i actually began to enjoy myself."

(see also: somewhere i have never travelled)

¡volare, cantare!

(peggy guggenheim)

i had a comically awful week, albeit one with a marvelous sense of timing. laughing goes a long way. as does dancing. sometimes, though, the only thing a girl can do is run away to spain. so, when a friend pointed out outrageously low airfares to barcelona this afternoon, we bought tickets immediately. it will take a few months to reach mediterranean waters, so for now i'll just dance the night away!

(see also: giulia y los tellarini)

une bibliothèque

growing up in alexandria, my back gate swung open to a spacious, sun-dappled library. i spent endless afternoons there, pouring over astrid lindgren and roald dahl books, contraband issues of seventeen, and microfilm reels from the days of flappers. i was delighted then, when i finally paid a visit to my local library, just around the corner from my apartment and steps from my beloved waverly diner.


it was a nineteenth century courthouse and today, it is a cozy collection of stone spiral staircases, stained glass windows, gables, and gardens. i couldn't help but think of beauty and the beast.

around the time that it was built, a spunky socialite named anne charlotte lynch hosted lively literary salons in my apartment building. writers like ralph waldo emerson, herman melville, and edgar allan poe stopped by to raise hell. with some goading from anne, edgar even shared a poem of his, called "the raven", for the very first time. (he once lived nearby with his beloved virginia - later known as lenore, annabel lee, and lolita.)

my, i love my haunted old neighborhood.

(see also: party girl)

your sunny, funny face

although audrey hepburn wielded a mythical sense of style, many of her roles demanded a rags-to-givenchy transformation. there were sabrina and my fair lady, of course. then there was funny face, wherein audrey played a fabled greenwich village girl of yesteryears. naturally, she worked in a bookshop called "embryo concepts", spouted "empathicalism", and liked a good pout now and then.

she would be eventually be whisked away to paris, where she upset fashion shows, danced in speakeasies, and shockingly, wore bright hues. looking back, however, i am happy to claim this story's ugly duckling as one hep style icon for the village. she's perfectly, breezily polished, while still indulging in a healthy dose of make-believe. the unabashed head-to-toe black. that turtleneck. all of her trench coats, kerchiefs, and fuss free skimmers.

sure, her beatnik inspirations teeter on ridiculous, but i, for one, can't wait to play dress-up!

(see also: trovata, jonas löfgren)

une icône: jean seberg in "breathless"

these days, the ladies of new wave film occupy the same esteem that i once held for disney princesses. in the light of technicolor and jump cuts, these women are cool, fearless, and well, completely fabulous. there's anna karina, of course, catherine deneuve (especially in the achingly bright-eyed movies of jacques demy), and most recently: jean seberg in breathless. as patricia, an american student in paris and an occasional lover of handsome gangsters, jean exuded unassuming confidence, vivacity, and easy charm.

here, vogue re-imagines her stylish turn as patricia in a spread from the early nineties. i personally love seeing pixies with so much swagger.

cent lettres d'amour

happy valentine's day! if you're hoping to swoon over sweet nothings today, there are perhaps none sweeter than the one hundred love sonnets that pablo neruda penned for his wife, matilde urrutia. the note he fondly affixed to this bundle of poems, a true labor of love, read:

"my beloved wife, i suffered while i was writing these misnamed "sonnets"; they hurt me and caused me grief, but the happiness i feel in offering them to you is vast as a savanna. when i set this task for myself, i knew very well that down the right sides of sonnets, with elegant discriminating taste, poets of all times have arranged rhymes that sound like silver, crystal, or cannonfire. but - with great humility - i made these sonnets out of wood; i gave them the sound of that opaque pure substance, and that is how they should reach your ears. walking in forests or on beaches, along hidden lakes, in latitudes sprinkled with ashes, you and i have picked up pieces of pure bark, pieces of wood subject to the comings and goings of water and the weather. out of such softened relics, then, with hatchet and machete and pocketknife, i built up these lumber piles of love, and with fourteen boards each i built little houses, so that your eyes, which i adored and sing to, might live in them. now that you have declared the foundations of my love i surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life." - october 1959

like matilde before me, i've loved pablo neruda for ages. his poems, crafted from pacific coastlines and labyrinthine fjords and foam-covered stones, always make me glad to have descended from his same shores.

(see also: snarky personals, labour of heart)

les étoiles dans ses cheveux

my mother was sure to pass along her avid love of flea markets to me. (why, just last saturday in brooklyn heights, i found delicate cards from the sixties, already carefully signed in childish swoops.) not surpisingly then, i could amble through etsy endlessly. i recently came across this new shop of handmade delights, taza and the prince, for young ladies who like technicolor musicals, the letters of f. scott and zelda fitzgerald, and their own freckles.

(see also: the creator's rockstar diaries)

la nostalgie

(or "the trees like lungs, filling with air.
my sister - the mean one - pulling my hair.")

these evocative pictures by talented miss olivia bee, age fourteen, are nibbles of proust's madeleines, swallowed with swills from a chipped teacup. they are carefully underlined passages in library books, the feeling of birch against bare feet, hot breath whispering in your ear, radios that crackle, and the somnolent light of late afternoons.

(see also:au revoir simone, sok song)

oh deer

can you imagine a more bewitching pet?

audrey hepburn and her fawn called pippin

(see also: the bird and the bee, cherry blossom girl, roman holiday)

tweed et bicyclettes

just days ago, a group of bicycle enthusiasts and dandies hosted london's first-ever tweed run: a fancy-free jaunt with a break for afternoon tea. evoking a life of leisure, everyone involved sported their most dapper, old-fangled fashions. tweed, naturally, was matched with more tweed, houndstooth, argyle, fair isle, flasks of gin, and smart capes. to help keep things cordial, the top prize was the doff of the cap award for the day's most civilised behaviour.

i'd be charmed, i'm sure!

(see also: this month's tweed run san francisco, evelyn waugh)

un danseur, un patineur

i imagine that there are few talents more enchanting than being able to roller skate and tap dance at once. my charmed friend katie found one man who could perform such an astonishing feat. ladies and gentlemen, i give you mister gene kelly:

(see also: singin' in the rain)

un cirque

were i born a hundred years earlier, i'd surely have arrived in manhattan on the midnight train and flocked to the ziegfeld follies. i did, in fact, move to new york and join show biz, albeit in a less romantic era. no matter! these pictures by wendy bevan, all captured on polaroid film, remind me that all a real ziegfeld girl needs is a little bit of swagger, glitz, and a few odd birds by your side.

(see also: geek love)

bon conseil

this proud, hand painted sign flaps valiantly over a side street in the west village. (i passed it this afternoon, en route to tea and sympathy.) it offers some tried and true advice: if we all do one random act of kidness daily, we just might set the world in the right direction.

(see also: my favorite color is shiny, sweet darlin'amélie)

fleurs délectables

while watching monsoon wedding, i was tickled by love-sick dubey's habit of swallowing marigolds whole. i recently came across a bin of dried, sweetened hibiscus flowers and brought a bag of the tart, red beauties home. now i too can't resist devouring these blossoms. it's best to just pluck and pop the finespun flavors all at once.

and when the weather is finally sweltering, i'll have to serve bourbon and mint leaves with this lavender ice cream on the rooftop.

une lune de papier

my, i love this picture, spotted while museum-hopping this weekend:

backdrops circa 1940s by lorna simpson

cue: it's only a paper moon