thought of the day...

 A taste of things to come. Full blogpost will follow shortly.

chasing houses

My beloved sent me a link today (click it NOW... loads more amazing pics) and it completely got me. I am bewitched. The architect is Natalie Dionne and the house is in Montreal, Canada. It's called the U-House. It was featured on the CONTEMPORIST a while ago, which by the way, is a fabulous blog for architecture and interiors junkies. 

changing it no more

Living in a small village is probably some people's idea of purgatory (it's my new favourite word: purgatory - so on point, so Dante), but to me it's heaven and a real life-saver. We moved our big family-life, lock stock and 15 barrels four years ago now, although by the roots growing beneath my feet you'd think we've been here most of our lives. Which is in fact what I'd like you (and myself) to believe, but then I wouldn't be the person I am today. Without those 8 longdistance moves (I'm talking countries people, not houses, please!) I probably wouldn't be able to tell a story or two on this blogthing.
Nevertheless here we are, in our bliss, having to once again face up to the idea of change. As some of you know the word "change" brings out the worst in me. Just ask my husband what happens when he suggests something along the lines of "Why don't we move the sofa over there?" I go all weird and pannicky, it's not a pretty sight. In fact he knows better now than to just make such suggestions without priming me first ("Take a deep breath, nothing's going to happen, we can put everything back the way it was in a jiffy, I promise"). Unsurprisingly I already have my fingers dug deep into the ground, desperately gripping with my hands and feet in an attempt to not alter the status quo.
But the good thing about this change I suppose, is that it doesn't involve another country but only another house. Heck! I can do that with my eyes closed. But even to take me out of the village (nevermind the country), would mean you'd have to kill me first. Even the neighbouring village is difficult for me. I am so woven into the fabric of my local surrroundings now, the friendly and very familiar faces, my little superstrong supporting network of very good friends (some of which actually do live in the neighbouring villages but I won't hold that against them) that leaving all this now would cause irreparable damage (how dramatic does THAT sound, eh?). What I'd like to know though, is how I got to this stage? What happened in the last four years that have turned me into this wanderlustless person? It's probably my age and it's more than a little likely that it has something to do with the fact that I have spent too much of my time moving around and now that my greys are growing quicker than I'd care to mention, I am possibly showing the first signs of intollerance that from my personal recollection, become a very recognisable character trait in the elder generation. Just kidding, I'm young and I'm raring to go. But I am petrified of change. Make of that what you will.
So, after this very longwinded prelude I finally get to the point. Which is that we are in the market for a new house. Here in this part of the world, real estate agents don't really have a great time as most transactions happen through word of mouth. Houses are not seen as investments and they certainly don't increase in value over time as they do in the UK. Once you buy a house here, you stay in it forever (now there's a nice word) and if you do decide to move, you tend to let it as selling it would instantly place you in a much higher tax bracket.  Land on the other hand is much more desirable as architecture and build-your-own are 2 very realistic and also very chic options. So how about it? Why don't we try our hand at this housebuilding malarkey? As it happens I have a dream. It's a Neutra kind of dream...and I'm sure you'll agree, it would look spot on, on trend, on point etc, right here in my little village. It looks something like this.

empty beauty

I came across this wonderful site courtesy of a fellow writer. It features images of abandoned houses in and around Detroit. 100 Abandoned Houses is a magical labour of love by local photographer Kevin Bauman whose specific interest in Detroit's Brush Park and its surrounding areas produced a wonderful image bank of abandoned houses. Read his story here.
The pictures are so strong, that absolutely no text is needed. Each and every house has such personality and becomes a character with its own story to tell.  I am fascinated rather than sad when I look at them, they're mesmerising, don't you agree? There is mystery here and there is life (albeit as a memory) rather than death. Houses that are empty are always more intriguing to me than those filled with people. When they are empty or more devastatingly even abandoned as in Bauman's case, we're just left with the luxury of imagination to make what we will of their history. Super stuff.

outside the box

Well let me tell you that it's at times like these when I think that it's certainly not about Style! Emotions have been running high of late. What with vulcanos throwing up their ash and causing total European havoc and of course the elusive warmth of spring leaving much to be desired for, we're all feeling a bit let down aren't we? Add to that the last soul-destroying, persistent shreds of a much churned over world economic crisis together with a looming election (if like me you have part of your heart anchored in the UK), and you may as well throw in the towel.

Well, being the incorrigible optimist that I am, I just refuse to believe that we are on any friggin' slope to nowhere. On the contrary. This, to me, is the moment when we gather strength from the things that really matter. Simple things. Take the vulcano. I bloody LOVE that volcano because for one thing it's reminded me that flying is not as vital as all those Easy Jet and BA ads would make us believe. Let's just regroup here for a moment and remember there are other ways to travel. Train. Bus. Car. Heck! How about bike? Better even to just stay put. And hey, it's only a journey. This is nature being kind, not cruel.

Alright, I'm done with that. What I really came here for is to tell you about my recent trip to Milan. It's the Salone (actually it's SO over now, it finished on Sunday, keep up!). Carpe Diem and all I decided to grab the interior designer husband by the hand and head (by train!) to Milano Centrale for a bit of FuoriSalone-fun (totally fab iPhone App called Interni Guida FuoriSalone is a bit of a winner!). We're slightly over the Halls in Rho and decided it would be much more exciting to head for Tortona and Lambrate for a bit of cutting edge design. We weren't wrong. Of course we really should have taken 2 days (maybe 3) and some comfy shoes (omg the blisters on my heels!) to really do the "fringe event" any justice but it was totally worth it. Loads of inspiration and beautiful exterior and interior furniture offered up delectably in picturesque, ivy-clad courtyards and canal-side settings. Unbelievably, we live one-and-a-half-hours away from Milan yet in the past 4 years have never bothered to take the time to go (en amoureux, as my friend Alec would say) and roam the streets of this lovely city - especially as professionally and personally speaking, architecture and retail are somewhat of an obsession of ours. Sheesh! Well, we've already made our next appointment and this time, we'll be taking the kids.
Ultimately our conclusion was that no matter how happy you are or think you are (!), it's quite important to make the effort to step outside your comfort zone every now and then (whether you live say in Ticino or California - off the top of my head now). Otherwise you really may as well throw in the towel.

on second thoughts

Call me fickle but let's just say that if Toast World is full, I'll happily opt for Topshop County. Here is what I'd just LOVE to be wearing this Easter....

...and if the cold really persists then I'll have to throw in this one too for good measure:

here's a toast to spring

I will never stop singing its praises, it is quite simply perfection as far as style (fashion and home) is concerned. In Toast world I would live very comfortably, never wanting for more. It really is that simple. There's a very nice new feature on their website called Toast Travels (no, they haven't started selling holidays), a cultural scrapbook (a kind of blog, really) of delightful visual stuff as well as some written bits and bobs that are quite inspiring and dream-inducing. Tonight I also noticed that my current obsession features heavily in their online catalogue. Will wear, must order!

super

So remote is it here that I only heard of Superdry last Christmas during our stay in London. Whilst we did quite a bit of shopping we somehow missed this one completely (I was too distracted by Anthropologie and Topshop not to mention my frantic search for a pair of Bailey Button Uggs - so over them now) until that is, we came to Gatwick. There, in the departure hall, quietly humming away, was Superdry. Looking like some Japanese interpretation of Abercrombie and Fitch when in fact it's 100% British. We all had a browse and got our plastic out one last time before boarding the plane and heading back to our well-known retail-free safety-zone (Ticino). I came away with their cute lumber twill shirt in rodeo blue and today I'm working the look for the first time, celebrating the arrival of spring. The website doesn't do the clothes any justice in fact I suggest you skip the site and go straight to their  blog which is so much better. Check it out.

80's girl

Indulging in a bit of 80's Free Association, something surprising came up. I was (ahem, I AM) a bit of a Simple Minds freak. Who knew? Well, it's news to me but I'm having quite the time of my life singing at the top of my voice to Waterfront and Alive and Kicking. I know the whole white tights, black boots and flappy coat look (on men) doesn't seem like much but stick Jim-I-like-to-wave-my-arms-about-Kerr in 'em and I beg to differ. Phwoar! I mean what WAS Patsy Kensit's problem?

For me, music-wise the 80's where all about big anthems, right? Simple Minds, U2 and Tears for Fears. Real big-time anthems though, not the repackaged crap that the Ministry of Sound have been trying to sell us for the past 10 years on Amazon.

So while I was watching a few of those oldies but goodies on youtube it became obvious how very unsophisticated they were - compared to let's say Beyonce and Lady Gaga's Video Phone video. Beyonce can wipe the floor with her productions as can most other current and cutting edge artists, but there's something quite endearing and raw about all that 80's footage. I know, you had to be there and as I type I'm realising that my age is unashamedly revealing itself through my rant, but still... I'm proud and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Christ, have you SEEN Bono in With or Without You?

cars again

Well if you know me well, you'll know I'm a petrol-head - and if you've been reading the blog then you may have guessed. The fact that I have 3 males in my household is purely an excuse to indulge in my auto-passion without appearing like too much of a freak. I mean don't get me wrong I can do "girl" reasonably well, I've got  the long hair and I occasionally wear skirts and wouldn't be seen dead without make-up, but there are times when I love talking cars just as much as the next bloke. Let's just make out that it has everything to do with style and then everyone's happy and we don't have to worry about compartmentalising too much. Alright? Can we move on now?
With this year's Geneva Motor Show drawing to a close (I promise next year I will go, I PROMISE!), I can't help but write about them. Cars. Which reminds me: how about NOT having bikini-clad girls draped over cars (so weird to me) but instead doing the right thing, the much more natural thing and have guys, suitably attired and posing in a cool (not naff) way next to the 2011 models.  Does the car industry really still believe in this outdated presentation-mode? (Feel free to answer). For next year, let's use my updated male-presentation-mode. That would be really nice and I'd actually go then, not just say that I would. 
So yeah cars. How much does it matter what cars people drive? I'd say it kind of depends on your perspective. You see for me there's an unavoidable link to style and therefore it becomes an aesthetic rather than a practical matter. I can hear you there, in the background, chuntering something along the lines of "...only need it to get from A to B" and "...environmental repercussions..." and you've lost me, I'm afraid. And before you say any more let me just remind you that this, is a one-car-household (and there aren't many of those around nowadays) so my eco-guilt is practically negligible. I just like people and their cars. Well, let me re-phrase that. I like some people and their cars. I don't particularly get turned on by blokes (no matter how gorgeous) cruising along in Citroen's version of the Noddy car (of which there really are way too many round here, it has to be said). Instead I kinda like pick up trucks and I love old Porsches and there's something a bit sexy about Ferraris and Lambos.  It's birdwatching by any other name. Just something pleasing to the eye that occasionally also gets your pulse racing (the engine, not the bloke of course).

I care not a jot for defining people by what they drive, that is an altogether different sport for which I have neither time nor enthusiasm. To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, just think of Steve McQueen in one of his many Porshes (or in his Jag below), Sean Connery's Aston, Jay Kay and his Ferrari-love and take a look at beautiful Jimmy Dean below.
PS: This lovely blog is one of my favourites. No words but pictures that say it all and more.  

Honda "Impossible Dream" Commercial

must be big

How absolutely fantastic are large sunglasses? Was reminded of this by my friend D. who breezed by on her bike today looking wonderfully spring-like and glam in her mimosa yellow cardi, tencel jeans and unbelievably large shades. It's a bit like marmite I guess, you either love it or hate it. John Lennon wireless teeny weeny circles? I really don't think so. Larger than large where's-your-face plastic circles?  Mmm, yes please!  I'm already dying to hit the shops* and see what the high street and designers are serving up this season. Thankfully this style doesn't look like it's ever going to go away so you'll find most designers come up with their own version season after season. I am so grateful. It's all to do with glamour and who wants to live without THAT? Nina Ricci relaunched "big" with a fantastic collection of coloured frames (picture below) dedicated to the very one and only Jackie O. What do you think? Gorgeous, eh?

I've also been drooling over Tom Ford...well not really him but his S/S10 eyewear collection - find it here. But don't stop at the eyewear, go navigate round the entire website it'll make you go weak at the knees. Mr Ford is such a style master. 

I'll be indulging my Jackie O passion as usual at the local H&M store where I'm always guaranteed to find at least 3 or 4 superduper oversized styles to stop my craving; and all at the very ridiculous price of CHF 12. I say just buy 2 of each style and be done with it.

*this time I'm not complaining, the local stores offer a very satisfying selection of eyewear collections.

I am SO finished

Hello my darlings! Whilst last February seems to have been alight with frenzied productivity here on the blog, I've just noticed that we are already halfway through February twentyten and not a peep has been published. Accept my apologies for this annoying inconvenience and let me just announce that I am disrobed of this God-awful winter mist and ready to chatter away into spring. I want to take you back to this and let you know what happened next.  Oh, don't worry it all weaves back into the whole Style-thing, I'm not about to force you down my own little Memory Lane just for the hell of it. Consistency is paramount.
Well, after the beaches of southern California (still the best and please take me back there NOW) I decided that No, this was not quite the 'feel' I was after. Instead I pursued my true love. London. I left all my beloved loved ones behind and boldly boarded that plane headed for Gatwick and a promise of exciting Londoney things. A juxtaposition of two locations more opposed would probably not have been possible. From the laid back, barefoot, bareskinned sandy, sunny beach-life, I arrived smack-bang in the middle of Barbour-clad-hooray-Henry-Fulham (Parsons Green, guys - need I say more?) and was duly kitted out in Laura Ashley's latest pinafore (I know! the words "impossible" and "OMFG" are dancing round my dreamy head too right now). And guess where I was going to start my post-California-High-School-of-Distinction education? No, not the London School of Economics, nor Kings College or the Royal College of Art; heck! not even RADA! (chip on my shoulder, moi?) No dears, I was teetering off to Knightsbridge's Brompton Road, to Lucie Clayton Secretarial College (Finishing School to you and me) to be groomed and finished well and proper.  The only thing that keeps me from NOT EVER MENTIONING THIS IN PUBLIC is the fact that Joanna-goddess-Lumley was a pupil too. Admittedly she took the modelling course that was oh-so popular throughout the 60's and 70's whereas I decided to go for the sensible, emancipated 80's option and chose Shorthand (I am soooo good at it, yet it serves me not a jot) and Typing (I am soooo fast at it) and, I hope you're ready for this, Flower Arranging (you'd never know), Grooming (I insist that Mum not Lucie taught me everything I need to know here) and Law (consisting of a very dishy, only just graduated London lawyer popping round to have his ego massaged by a room full of 19 year olds). People, the stories I could tell on this unbelievable excuse of an "education" and how I could make your eyes water by revealing the fees!
I suppose the only real skill that I can boast having gained over, I dunno, YOU LOT, is that I know exactly how to get IN and OUT of a sports car in a mini skirt, without flashing my knickers. A very useful skill if you're a wannabe posh bird, say from Cheshire, pursuing a more 'lucrative' life in London. Let me also add that at the school there was in fact, in the middle of the grand classroom, the ludicrous wire frame of a sports car into which we had to gracefully climb in, and out of. Oh, I just don't have time for this. I like to laugh about it now because finally I can (!) and I realise that it really was a very special place once (not in my time unfortunately). And of course in spite of it all I met one of my best friends there. Sarah A. She was my saving grace and got me through it with so much laughter and so many jokes that live on to this day. We both knew it was a stop-over to bigger and better things. Incidentally we both ended up in fashion (she went to Rifat Ozbek and I went to Katharine Hamnett) and that was seriously cool. So, a worthwhile educational experience nonetheless? It probably was. At Lucie Clayton's we were all part of something unique which just about cut the mustard, then. Now it would most certainly be laughed off the edge of a cliff and of course it's not called "Lucie Clayton" but has been relaunched as the imposing and politically correct "Quest" with not a flower or young lawyer in sight. It would interest me to know how much really has changed since my time there.
So, back to Joanna Lumley. Would she have ended up as Purdy or Pats WITHOUT the Lucie Clayton connection?
I DON'T THINK SO.

can't YOU feel it?

How does it feel for you? Isn't it the same for everyone? To me it's flying. A huge welling up of an enormous emotional tidal wave that takes me all the way up to where I belong. It definitely makes me cry (most things do now) and it gives me chills. It makes me feel like a child again. Without it I'd be dead inside. My inspiration, my imagination and my life are fuelled by it. It cons me into thinking that I can move like Michael Jackson, nevermind sound like him. It has no gender, makes me feel like I could be a man just as well as a girl, I love that! My healthy obsession. Music. Not all music obviously. I have my standards or my level (as Mr R would point out dryly). I'm a teeny bit mainstream but my passion is true and I feel it. Deeply. I can do Elvis and Frank just as much as I can do Jay Z (surprising, isnt' it?). I love music more than any other art - nothing fills me with more hope, happiness and strength. I have a longstanding tug-of-war going on with my husband along the lines of "passion does not equal obsession". He thinks I've gone over the edge when I listen to one particular piece of music constantly for, dunno, 3 months. I can't help it if it makes me feel so good and so happy. Through no fault of their own, both our sons are now also showing (encouraging) signs of this finely tuned sensitivity to music. One more so than the other but both are definitely "on their way". I was considerably (I want to use the verb "brainwashed" but that would be so wrong) influenced by my own parents (father - Frank Sinatra, mother - Julio I. and Demis R. oh yes!) and I'm very grateful for it.
Back to the here and now: we are having a very long, very emotional MJ moment and it won't be long till  my youngest (with his iPod firmly plugged into his ears) will be able to recite the entire repertoire of songs including the dates they were recorded. It's a start. Actually it's a very good start. A fantastic musical foundation on which to build future passions, I think. So from our long, emotional MJ moment (have we done our 10,000 hours yet, Rich?), here are some firm family favourites. Feel it, it's just like flying.
PS: In my music fantasy, when I act out the video sequence of "The Way You Make Me Feel" I never know who I want to be more, MJ or the cool chick. How weird is that?

wehey!

One year guys, one whole year of The Style Inside. It started on a whim and look at it now. My own little blog, chugging along and churning out (fairly) regular short stories and thoughts on style. Happy Birthday, blog. Am not having a cake or a party but what I'd simply love is a little retrospective exercise to remind me what the readers really like. You'll see 2 new items on the left: firstly I've added a blog archive divided into months, this contains all the 2009 posts starting with the very first one a year ago today. Secondly above that, you'll see the so-called retrospective exercise, in other words a simple poll. Answer the question (anonymously and even if you're a newcomer) by just clicking the month that features your favourite story. Of course it would thrill me to bits if you were to actually give me an indication or a key word from the exact story by placing a comment here, but I feel that would be pushing it. I know how precious everyone's time is, so a simple click will do. Really.

Needless to say I am nothing without you, dear readers, so let me embrace you with gratitude.

looking ahead, not down

Clinging on for dear life here in little old Verscio, mid-January with no sign of spring WHATSOEVER the only glimmer on my horizon at the moment is the thought of a forthcoming birthday... but hang on, even that's not exciting anymore. I don't mean to sound ungrateful but a good old moan, especially now, in the chill of this first 2010 month is something that a few of  you may feel like doing too - whether you live here in Verscio or in Manhattan. Same difference. Mind you it won't last. The grimness. It never does. And especially not here. It's only a phase and if I can only inch my way through it, keeping my head down and remembering to boil the kettle and feed the kids between tweets and statuses, I'll be just fine.

Eventually I'll pinch myself, wake up and focus on the positive as always and work hard at making our dreams come true:       
                                     

                                    Travelling far far and beyond with Mr R and the lads, and...

   

                                           

                                                       Happy New Year everyone.

Number Six London

 

I love menswear and especially if it knows exactly what it's doing, ie. if it has the courage of its convictions. So, if you're a guy (aged teen to well and truly matured) and you like cool and if you happen to be in London then head straight down to Brick Lane to get yourself kitted out with some sharp typically London-cool wardrobe staples. Just thought I'd mention it. I'm talking about Number Six (aka When We Were Casuals).  The lads  there say that they have some new tricks up their sleeves for 2010, just visit their blog for a preview. If you're in a rush and don't have time to visit their website, here are some of the brands you'll find there: Lyle & Scott Vintage, Fila Vintage, Barbour, Farah Vintage, Adidas Originals, Fred Perry, Napapijri, and so many more. In fact everything that a man's heart desires when it comes to looking pretty darn good.

Oh, and I almost forgot: sooner or later everyone in our family seems to develop a thing about shoes (fetish, passion, obsession, call it what you like) so we got understandably but unreasonably excited when we saw this!

rado

I know what you'll say... "living in Switzerland is just one great big excuse for writing about watches" and although you're not entirely wrong, there are other things that can set ones pulse racing round these parts, apart from a good watch. I'll write about those another time however.

In the meantime, I will rant on about a few watches that have become increasingly hard to ignore, they are hypnotising in their beauty.  So reminiscent of the 80's but so much better now, in 2010. RADO's r5.5 award winning collection designed by British design God Jasper Morrison marks the company's third phase of a very successful cooperation with the designer. Morrison's approach of giving minimalist design a unique character goes hand in hand with Rado's aesthetic concept.  Rado watches are not for everyone, all that monochrome can get a bit hard to live with, but they are deserving of their iconic status, for their design consistency if nothing else. They've never been my cup of tea, I must admit, but this is different. I want one of these. The watches are unmistakeably Rado but Jasper Morrison's touch has given them a powerful contemporary edge and also a bit of sex appeal which always helps, doesn't it?

Read up on Rado's commendable efforts in promoting young designers here and check out radostar.com, an exciting social networking platform launched at the Salone del Mobile 2009 by the brand; it is conceptualised and produced purely with international design students in mind. How cool.
For all you Rado die-hards there's also an iPhone App... Get it, go on, you know you want to.

cleanse

In an attempt to renew energy levels and cleanse the system of all the toxins contained within copious amounts of Prosecco, Bailey's, Nocino and the odd glass of red wine that were consumed over the festive season (I won't even mention the snickety snacks and all that chocolate), I went browsing through the chemists and health food stores over the last few days and got hideously sidetracked by the vast amount of exquisite little packets and delicate boxes of vintage-looking concoctions that seem to be very popular round here. The Swiss, the Italians and the French do remedies and toiletries like no others and these coloured gems caught my eye immediately. They'd do well in one of those gorgeous shops on Columbia Road and would probably sell for 5 times the amount that they cost here. At first glance you'd be forgiven for thinking they contain soap.

Not sure how useful digestive pastilles will be to me in my quest for purification, but they mean well. And they look gorgeous, especially in my bathroom.

twentyten

Happy New Year everyone, lovely to be back and looking forward to spending many happy blogmoments with all of you!  Is it me, or does the number 2010 emanate positivity in great big tidal waves?