The best people possess a passionate feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, a capacity for sacrifice..
Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded.. Sometimes destroyed.. It’s as if they were made for another world… ♥
~ Adapted from Ernest Hemingway
xXx ~ S. E
Cutting one’s own hair is a life-changing event.
Not the absent-minded snip-snipping of stray fly-aways or split ends we did all through high school with our pencil-case scissors when a certain physics lesson got particularly boring…
No. I mean the premeditated disposal of locks. It’s scary. And sad.
But, in a sense, it can be quite liberating. You choose your own cut, you watch it develop and you get to skip the annoying hairdresser who insists SHE knows what you want without you even getting to vocalise your opinion! (I have a few stories, but don’t get me started!)
Often-times, its just plain brutal. Chop. Blunt. Hack. And soon, you’re surrounded by a pile of glossy tendrils all curling in on themselves, fetus-like, as they reach the floor, defenceless and unwanted. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re choking on a hairball..
But sometimes, no matter how well you condition, treat, lovingly brush and style this flurry of strands.. some day, like all things in this world, it is time for them to depart.. And you know, because its beginning to resemble the matted straw where an elephant just sat, or – quelle horreur – extension removal gone wrong..
And since I’ve always been the type of girl whose dreamt of naturally lengthy, lustrous locks (I mean, just cast a glance at that picture…), I’m hard-pressed finding the motivation to pick up the hair-killing scissors in the first place!
So here I am with neither of the two aftorementioned hair disasters, armed with the knowledge that … “in order to have long lustrous locks, they must be kept healthy… In order to be healthy and strong, they need regular trims.. blah blah..”
Okay. Hair combed and flattened pristinely like a falling halo around my head, check. The scissors slide gracefully across the bottom two inches, find their mark, and.. Chop. The thick gilded-chocolate tendril falls to the floor, and curls itself around my toe. And my vision gets all cloudy.
An intervention is in order. STAT. And then I recall Phoebe (you know, Madame Buffay, from the all-time greatest ha-ha show, Friends?). Yes, I though you might. 🙂 And just like she does, I stroke my flattened mane, and whisper to the strands.. “Now some of you are going to get cut, and some of you aren’t.. But I promise you, none of you will feel a thing…”
The tendril around my toe uncurls, and just like that, I raise my scissors, ready to let go.. It’s going to be fabulous…
xXx ~ S. E
You cannot leave footprints in the sands of time if you’re sitting on your butt.
And who wants to leave buttprints in the sands of time…?
Bob Moawad
Stumbling out of bed this morning, after a ridiculously cold night that sent me reaching at 2am for all the doonas, blankets, stuffed toys and anything nondescript that remotely resembled ‘thickness’, ‘softness’ or ‘warmth’ that I could find, I literally looked like a teddy bear: round, covered in fluffy-down and unabashedly uncoordinated.
I won’t show you a picture of my bed, 1. As it reveals how much of a big little baby I am and 2. Because it looks like someone put the entire cast (plus blankets) of the collective ABC Kids programs — plus a few more ‘Big Teds’ — and had a slumber party where pillow fights were the order of the day, or night…
Having had spent the entire night re-writing a niggling story in my head, I needed a MASSIVE double-strength-anything caffeine hit to commence the writing/re-writing/editing process…
So this morning, this is me….
Today is going to be fabulous!
xXx ~ S. E
“I don’t understand how a woman can leave the house without fixing herself up a little – if only out of politeness. And then, you never know, maybe that’s the day she has a date with destiny. And it’s best to be as pretty as possible for destiny… “
Coco Chanel
I awoke thinking I was in a cloud this morning – the first fog of the year had arrived in all its swirling mist-and-tendril glory round about my bed..
Must have clouded my mind too… I turned the ‘cold’ tap on full whilst prepping for my shower and faced near-paralysation as I jumped into a waterfall of streaming ice! *brrrrrrr*
I assure you, the foggy vision quickly dissipated! I stumbled out of the relentless ice-plummeting so fast, irritatedly flicked the ‘cold’ tap off and the ‘hot’ on full, and unceremoniously stood there absolutely starkers and shivering waiting.. waiting for the entire bathroom to be enrobed in a protective layer of steamy mist — testament that the shower was now going to bathe me in blissful warmth..
I took a step. Two. But once I felt the first few reasuring drops — the strays that jump out like salmon in a river — I was hooked.
And there I stood, surrounded in a steamy cloud of my own making.. My skin numbed and pinkened, my shoulders glossed and softened, and my mind numbed as the streams of water cascaded down the waterslide unique to my body, learning my twists and turns, caressing my waist and the small of my back…
And I turned my face upward, eyes closed in surrender, basking in all this seductive river of warmth had to offer..
~ S. E
It’s not merely the lulling softness of its sound, the freshness that lingers in the air after its fall, or the way grass and flowers seems to glow at its dewy presence.
It’s the uncanny way rain de-clutters and soothes the mind, purifies the soul and distils all wrong done to man; it assures a dawn of new beginnings, and wills the sun and ourselves to cast their rays all the brighter…
But the best part? How it gives you goosebumps, spreads your arms to reach for your favourite over-sized sweater, pour youself a mug of hot cocoa and succumb to the warm-downy-retreat of your couch… Or, on occasion, go frolicking in the sheer fresh wetness outside, jumping, leapfroggie-like from puddle to puddle!
~ S. E
Inexplicably creamy home-made vanilla-bean icecream!
Oh, study-fuelling, celestial-glow-inducing perfection! Euphoric.
Se délecter imprévu innamoramento …
Baci e Coccocle xo
~ S. E
Louis Vuitton just wrapped his S/S 2013 Fashion Show and it was a phenomenal gameplay, on a checkerboard of blanc, blanc, jaune!
Ever a lover of Louis’ handbag masterpieces, I was instantaneously doting on this little tote!
It would be like carrying around a magical pot of sunshine!
For the full-checked Fashion Show, follow this little link to Louis’ latest wonderland: http://bit.ly/DigitalFashionShow
Want one? We’ll have to be SPEEDY!
Happy innamoramento!
x ~ S. E
The Classic White Shirt: Not just a staple.. A Chance to make a Difference!
Join the Cause, Fashionably…
I had the pleasure of interviewing the charming Tristan Melle after his latest win on Project Runway!
Hailing from the UK, the suave mister pomme-bomb is all disarming and philanthropic, with his latest venture a charity piece raising funds for the Ovarian Cancer Research Foundation.
Featuring a batwing sleeve with rolled cuff, concealed button through placket and contrast fabrication panels, Tristan’s re-do of a classic has all the hallmarks of his design style: sophisticated, edgy, glamorous and sexy.
And who is his model? The strong, confident woman.
And you’ve got to be. 100% of the gross proceeds from the sale of this shirt goes directly to the OCRF, in order to find early detection methods for this insidious disease which kills one Australian woman every ten hours.
Read the interview in December’s madison magazine and Shop Tristan’s Classic Whites Now at Witchery: http://bit.ly/WYZDEk
xXx ~ S. E
Rosy-Glassed Raconteuse 