shady spot no.3

shady spot no.2

shady spot no.1

The time has come for summer guests. Every year we hope they return and this year, we shall not be dissappointed. The heat is practically unbearable (for some - not for me - and possibly for the houseguests as they arrive from cooler climes) and therefore I thought it might be a good idea to think about shady spots. Here are a few which might take our guests' fancy and which will give them a taste of things to come (you know who you are!). The sunlounger is my particular favourite and in the afternoon there is nothing better than to read ones favourite book and nod off ever so slightly.
We are considering launching as a B&B...

nostalgia

First time back on the computer in 3 weeks! Feels weird and very big and really comfortable. During the hols I've been posting from my iPhone (don't you know it) and after my initial exhilaration at having conquered my temporary inability to write, I soon realised that miniature blogging was about as appealing as applying factor 30 on sand covered skin. Of course I'll never stop loving my iPhone (until I realise that I can't live without the iPhone 4 - which I reckon will be real soon or at least once they've sorted out the signal probs) but nothing beats a good old chunky keyboard where I can blindly and flawlessly tap away without forever going back to correct the ridiculous amount of typos that appear when I blog from my phone. No offence Steve, but you need fingertips the size of chopsticks to type, even when going horizontal.

Anyway glancing over my recent holiday posts, sat here in my holiday blues stance in front of above mentioned computer, I realise that the photos are just a tad over-sized. Funnily it doesn't bother me much, in fact I rather like it and they suit the blog, particularly when taken with my beloved Hipstamatic (if you haven't got it, please do just get on with it). For anyone my age, who loves a little weep while leafing through old family photo albums, then this is the app for you. I've just taken a load of pics of the family beachside and if I didn't know any better, then I'd swear they were taken in 1968 or '72, depending on which fabulous lens/film you choose. I'm sure most of you actually have it already installed, but you never know.

'bout time

OK well that only took a week. To unwind, I mean. Don't know why I'm making it sound like some great, big revelation. Year in year out it's the same story: nothing but tension and apprehension during the first week followed by such total relaxation, that you'd have trouble finding a pulse between the lot of us. Luck would have it dear readers, that the kids have give or take three months off in the summer and we "as a family" insist on taking a ridiculous 3 weeks' holiday (because we're worth it) in glorious posh Sardenia (but we're camping so that's ok), and so we just settle and try to enjoy. Like I said it takes a while but oh, does it happen. We're now "in the zone" after bickering and swearing under our breath for a week, and can look forward to sweet abandonmemt on the sand, in the sea, and by the bar. I was getting a bit nervous this year but what a relief when not a moment too soon it happened after all.

wrap it up

GeoTagged, [N38.89710, W8.87803]

I remember being delighted at the sight of this paper last summer and thinking "oooh, I must put that on the blog" (but alas that was pre-iPhone and therefore inconceivable to post on the spot; and to do it 3 weeks later in the lull of homely doings would seem a bit irrelevant as one of my BIG things is to give in to my impulsiveness). I couldn't resist therefore when I went to our little supermarket for provisions this morning and was handed several little parcels neatly packed in this lovely "Nonna Isa" paper. Simple and lovely, don't you think?

proof?

GeoTagged, [N38.89710, W8.87803]

As if you needed proof that this camping malarkey is all it's cracked up to be and more, right? Here is a peek at a moment this afternoon, post-lunch. Sarongs blowing in the wind and hammock-happiness.

living in tents, part 2

GeoTagged, [N38.89710, W8.87803]

Am deliriously happy that our campsite has WiFi. It's completely changed the whole feel of the place. Well, of the bar at least. All of a sudden everywhere you look there are iPhone users and people sitting at tables under the eucalyptus trees catching up on goodness knows what - it all looks very serious but I bet most of them are either tweeting or on Facebook. As for me I have no laptop, let alone an iPad, but I have pen and paper and a serious bout of writer's/blogger's block. Handwriting though seems to be so NOT the point with this blogging thing. It has to be typed, surely. I did try yesterday to scribble in my notepad (no not the electronic kind, just a plain old hardbacked black 'n red book) and whilst I felt fabulously intellectual and old-school, I somehow couldn't get half the momentum going that my tapping fingers can, plus my hand really hurt. I have my trusted iPhone though (and WiFi!!!!!) and some app that promises to link up to my blog and publish. We will see. I have a feeling the format will leave much to be desired for but as I have some serious catching up to do, post-wise, I really see no other option. My posts will look a bit different over the next few weeks dear friends, but heck, at least I'm writing and seem to have got over the temporary but rather disturbing aforementioned block. All I needed was a bit of sun. And some coffee. And some time off. And to be back here, in our beautiful hideaway. With WiFi.

The Contemporist

I'm not saying it's my ideal house but I just can't get enough of The Contemporist's daily feeds. And a few of you seem to be house-junkies like me so I reckon you'll find the pictures and the articles interesting.This is another lovely example and be sure to visit the blog to view all of the interiors and front views.
Well, I'm not sure about you but I've certainly had my daily fix.

a toast to summer

 It's that time again. It's summertime at Toast. Go see before there's nothing left.

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.