Weekend Away

Sometimes, when a girl is all alone, she has to take her initiative for a drive.

A few weekends ago, that is just what I did.

After a little research into a providore and wine region just a few hours away I chose one of my favourite dresses, a flower for my hair, and planned my day away.

As I mentioned in a previous entry, a girl dresses twice: once secretly, and once overtly. As you know, by clicking on "Lingerie" on the list on the right hand side of my blog, I take my secret dressing very seriously. As my deportment teacher told me when I was just a girl "a woman must have good foundation garments that are both comfortable and beautiful". This is a tenet I still hold true.

I always like to match my pretty underthings to my outerwear. But since you couldn't spend the day with me, I thought I could share the simple, beautiful things with you here.

This is one of my most favourite vintage dresses. I have lifted it a little so you can see my layered pink petticoat which holds it out to its best advantage:

These are my delicate foundation garments. They always remind me of a Nick Cave song, Nobody's Baby Now:
"This is her dress that I loved best
With the blue quilted violets across the breast"

The stockings I chose were seamed and cuban heeled. In this skin tone you can just see the detail, with its gorgeous Art Deco-like stepped design. I do love the subtle beauty of them.

And a girl does like to be corseted in.

My touring revealed a little out-of the-way place which hosted the most sumptuous lunch for me, even though I strolled in at a languid 2:00pm. With their signature Pinot Noir, a delicious dessert, and coffee over a Pinter play, it was difficult to leave this lovely tranquil place with the most divine view.

Next time won't you please come with me?
xx

How Far I've Come

So much time has passed since my last post, and although it was filled with unprecedented activity, I must admit I have missed you.

As you know, I took a little sojourn abroad. Since then I was hurled into a whirlwind of obligations: at home and at university. In those first weeks of November I handed in my final assignments - some a little earlier than expected. A dear friend called me in those heady days to share some dreadful news: the company he owned had been sabotaged by a fellow director while he had spent the past 18 months, some 4000 km away, setting up a new office. The effects were devastating. Even though it was not due until the following week, I wrote into the early hours and through the next day so I could submit my final assignment, and be available if he needed me.

When he called the next day things had become worse. I sped down to the university to hand in my essay, which they thankfully accepted even though the faculty had closed. I arrived home to find the girl dearest to me with my favourite flowers to celebrate the end of my degree. I explained what had happened, and she agreed that I should help him pack his apartment and the new business address so he could return to head office immediately. How very cruel it seemed to ask her to cancel her celebratory plans and take those beautiful flowers back with her.

I had 30 minutes to organise my flight, taxi and suitcase, and negotiate a lift to take that sweet girl home. The plane was the last one to leave town, and I was exhausted when I arrived at my destination some six hours later.

The next few days were spent packing his home and office. I do not envy the personal grief he had to endure during those dark days. On the third day he flew back to head office while I spent that, and the next, packing and cleaning his apartment. After the removalists left I took his magnificent vehicle to the international terminal to be shipped home. Because of the airport curfew I waited seven hours before catching the last plane to his home town.

The flight travelled through the night to arrive four and a half hours later at 6:00am. With a chatty passenger beside me, I disembarked without sleeping. I was met and whisked to a shower, and then went into the office for a ten hour day. Although it is not my line of business, I did what I could there for the next two weeks before flying home. I had so much to do. My little house was evidence of serious neglect while I had studied. But I also eagerly awaited my final grades and looked forward to my graduation.

How very excited I was to be awarded four high distinctions for the semester, and a high distinction average for my course. My graduation day was such a special day for me, and I was so pleased to be offered Honours. I spent it with my beloved "flower" girl, and my dear friend who flew in especially.

The next day I packed up the car and my puppy and we took a 12 hour road trip - the first day of a four week holiday. I spent time at beaches, by the pool, with good books, but most importantly with family and friends.

Now I am back and am unpacking, I have something to show you. It is something delicious, and something you know I love especially.

Can you wait until the next post?

I promise to post pictures ...

I hope you have been good, and have accrued a few pretty packages of your own.

Shall we share?

xx

Sweet Holiday Dreams

We are coming to that time of year when many of us are taking holidays and enjoying the opportunity to spend luxurious hours with those dearest to them. These happy little events are usually combined with fine victuals and infusions, and often a few little wrapped surprises.

This year I have started a little early, flitting over to the farthermost city of our fair country to visit and to venture through places I remember, and others I have heard lauded.

And what a piquant little time it was. One of the most surprising days was spent in a small university town outside of the city. Design, unusual stationery which incorporated themes and images from children’s books, and sweet little cafes tucked into tiny facades were inspiring and delightful. This was also a dream-come-true place of pristine vintage books in tiny stores with friendly prices. Bookish owners who were happy to discuss details of strange literacy histories and hearsay. Dark and dusty shops with vinyl records which you thought had disappeared for ever, or did not know existed, which rest heavily on others which have acquired a kitch, quaint or quirky presence as all our years seemed to have passed them by. There were, of course, others which would make you feel queasy if they made it to the turntable, but on the shelves simply seemed amusing. How exciting it was to walk out of the store with one of those slim square plastic bags made just for records. Shall I tell you what I made mine?

Greg Dear and the Beautiful Losers “lover/saint” and Nina Simone “forbidden fruit” as LPs. (Doesn’t 'LP' sounds so K-Tel!), the Bamboos “Virginia” b/w “Snuff” and the very exciting Partridge Family “I Think I Love You” b/w “Somebody Wants to Love You” on 7”. I also got a little Tubeway Army single for a dear friend.

And like surprises, friends are what make travel so worthwhile. I was fortunate to enjoy both on my glorious first day. There was sunshine, a big black beast of a vehicle, and beaches. We swam in that rollicking surf and stretched out on the sand to dry.  The twilight generously gave us extra hours to explore a park with small pools, rolling lawns, unfamiliar flowers and plants and wading water birds. And there was the most perfect present for me to remember the time we had.

But sometimes a girl cannot spend enough time with her oldest and dearest friend, and I am afraid it was often compromised. Although I later ventured with others south into vineyards to discover delicious things, pristine seashores that extended to the horizons, and beautiful art and architecture, I missed the quiet time I would have liked to have had together to catch up on the little things which seem to make the most sense in this busy old world.

Venus In Furs

One of my 2011 texts is Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's Venus in Furs. Quite a groundbreaking little read in its day. I had this slim volume and one final night of solace to enjoy, and thought there could be little better than spending it amongst brocade, velvet and candlelight. So just before midnight I careened through wet and empty streets to my gilt and guilty haunt to be enticed by La Caterina. Sometimes it is obviously the right place.