fashionably speaking

Paris is the world’s fashion capital. And nowhere else is this more evident than on the streets of this fashionistas gone wild city. I’m lucky to be living in what I consider one of the most fashionable neighborhoods, the Marais. The streets keep me informed of the latest styles and colors, keeping me inspired in my own world of creation and design. I’m not one to follow too many trends, in my personal style nor in my designing, but do appreciate what’s ‘in vogue’ and enjoy this ever evolving creative medium called dress. I shared a few thoughts upon arrival one year ago during my first Fashion Week in Paris. And again in ‘the look of a Parisian’, as another Fashion week approached. 

The streets of Paris will remain my all-time favorite perpetual fashion show. Here are a few recent ‘street looks a la Parisienne’. This year however, at the invitation of Melissa, a fellow expat and blogger, I finally had a chance to see what goes on behind closed doors. Specifically, the doors of Galerie de Minéralogie. Where else but in Paris do you attend a fashion show in a history museum?

Spanish designer Amaya Arzuaga proved to have chosen the perfect venue to reveal her geometric designs evoking caterpillars, butterflies and other fauna. More on Melissa’s blog: Pret Moi Paris.



Ready to fly yet?

homage to the grape

This past week I learned how to harvest wine grapes. In Monterosso. With my Italian and his father, who has been harvesting for decades. Last year, I merely assisted in stomping the grapes, surely as much fun as it sounds (and largely a tourist attraction I might add). This year, I became a true laborer of the land. Little did I know the travail of such sweet work. And the fulfillment that follows.

Harvesting began at 8am. The view itself was worth the early rise. Acres of stepped land, locally referred to as poggi, covered by vines and olive trees. I was wide awake, as were all other forms of wildlife, namely flies resembling wild mosquitos and sneaky little salamanders. No fear. I took to the task at hand and in meditative rhythm the grape cutting began. With intermittent tasting, to ensure quality of course.

The picking continued for three hours, filling over 12 huge crates. We had finished one piece of land but two more remained. It appeared this harvest was much larger than the last, though the grapes were not as high a quality. Thus sciacchetra (my favorite local dessert wine of Cinque Terre) could not be produced. But white wine would flow!

After a well earned home-cooked meal of pasta and fish followed by a nap on the beach (harvesting is exhausting!) it was time to press the grapes. This part I love. I feel fortunate that my Italian’s father has not modernized the technique. It’s still a very hands on, or in this case, ‘feet on’ experience. 

With great care we crushed the grapes as my Italian’s father collected the juice to add to the 300 liter boiler. Almost as quickly as we finished our grape dance the container was filled. Soon the boiling would begin.

The following day our ‘homage to the grape’ continued. Picking. Eating. Stomping. In 3 months time we drink! I will forever appreciate a glass of wine. Especially one from the Poggi Harvest of 2010.

love affair with Greece: part two

Is there a more spectacular place on earth than Santorini? Perhaps. But I doubt it. This unique landscape was created thousands of years ago by the eruption of a volcano, sinking the centre of the island, revealing a caldera surrounded by multi-colored cliffs. Not to mention the surreal sunsets….

We drove directly to Oia, surely one of the loveliest villages in the Cyclades. With patience, resolve (and a little luck) we found a dwelling nestled into the volcanic rock with a perfect view of the caldera. That is where we chose to stay for three days. In peaceful bliss. Staring at the sea.

It was here that my Italian asked me to share his life with him. I said yes. Was there ever a question?

love affair with Greece: part one

Often during my year of travel I found it very difficult to leave one place in order to discover another. A common dilemma of the traveler. The appeal of the ‘paradise found’ was so strong, filling my senses so completely that I could barely say goodbye. Even knowing another unknown and uniquely beautiful place was waiting to be discovered.

This is exactly how I felt during our ‘island hopping’ in the Cyclades. Each place, one so different than the next, became home in a matter of days, and I could imagine no other place so magical and idyllic. Until the next island. 

Our adventure began in Mykonos, the island of hedonistic revelry. Or so it felt. Beginning in the early evening and ending perhaps at sunrise, this stylish island came to life. An endless array of restaurants, fashionable boutiques, bars and discos of Little Venice lining the Mediterranean, not to mention the hidden champagne bars. Time seemed to hold no relevance. Even the shops stayed open early into the morning, should you desire a little pre-dawn shopping spree. We managed to avoid the crowds and cruise ship contingent only during early afternoons spent happily lost in the maze of cobbled streets, while the sun seekers lined the beaches aptly titled ‘Paradise’.

I’m not a big fan of the ‘beach turned dance party’ concept and prefer to listen to the calm of the sea. A quick hitchhike or scooter ride from the town’s center and we found just this. I am privileged to say that I have walked the sands of many gorgeous beaches in my life. Agios Sostis is one of them. 

Equally exhausted from nights of  carousing and days spent beneath the formidable sun, we set sail for The Big Blue, the tranquil island of Amorgos. Here we found a home in the little port town of Aegiali. Hidden from the world. Mykonos hours away but long forgotten. 

In this far away land we were joined by my friend from NYC, photographer Konstantino Hatzisarros, a native of Greece and adopted resident of Amorgos. I can well understand why.

Amorgos holds many treasures, the most impressive being the iconic monastery Moni Hozoviotissis, set in a cliff high above the sea. Within these holy walls lies a miraculous icon said to be found in the waters below, guarded by the few hospitable monks still in residence.

At the heart of Amorgos lies the old capital Hora. This sophisticated village positioned 400m above sea level, boasting old windmills, trendy bars, and a view.

Driving the length of the island revealed it’s wildnerness. The shadows of surrounding islands in the distance. An old ship wreck to provoke the imagination….the natural beauty of Amorgos is unique. Perhaps it’s the light. Impossible to describe and difficult to capture.

After nearly one week of living in what I can accurately describe as an untamed paradise with just the right amount of class, it was time to say goodbye. One last sunset until Santorini….

summer at sea

The day I met my Italian we spoke about travel, among other things. Travel is a passion we share, and something I often blog about. In casual confidence he told me he would like to take me to Corsica and Greece. Corsica we have been twice already. Today we are flying to Greece, specifically the islands of the Cyclades. This completes our ‘Summer at Sea’, though we are heading to Italy for the wine harvest in September. Considering it’s ‘home’, does that count? 

One of the most important character traits I look for in anyone whether friend or companion, is integrity. My Italian is a man of his word. In so many ways. I’m happy that travel plans are included.

I am looking forward to experiencing one of the most magical places on earth. Somehow I left Greece off of my ‘places to visit’ list on my ambitious round-the-world travels. Corsica too. It was not yet time. As I have often learned, and continue to, life reveals itself in the most mysterious ways. It was well worth the wait.

meeting, the year after

I’m often mentioned on this blog as “my Italian” and I happily accepted to have a more active part for the one year anniversary of  “Love in the City of Lights”.

Of course, I requested to write what and how I want, including English mistakes… but what to write about?

While I was asking myself  how could I try to fit in this little world, I noticed that this blog started with a post named “meeting”.

Probably, I don’t manage enough the English language to say if  “meeting” can be considered a beautiful or ugly word.

What I know for sure is that a lot of us, including myself, associate often the word “meeting” to those sleepy or stressing hours that we have to spend in fairly big groups, listening to each other and closed inside some “unfriendly” room.

The room often has no window and it happens frequently that air conditioning is aiming directly at your neck…

Sometimes, on these occasions, we can assist to some of the best modern performances of human vanity, arrogance and…. weakness.  

On the other hand, a few months ago, while we were going to a Chopin concert in the Jardin du Luxembourg, we had a random interesting “meeting” with a completely white dressed beautiful old ballet dancer.

After a while, we also met her companion and I had a chat with him, while Kasia was entertained by the white “ballerina”.

When I asked this humble man, dressed with simple clothes and a very peaceful smile, what he was doing for a living, he answered to me “oh nothing… something with literature…”.

I got to know that he was a French, Russian and Serbian translator of classic literature.

In our 20 or 30 minute chat, he told me as many interesting things as I can’t generally read in a few months.

In between other things, he told me that Nietsche said “…that all material things, like a diamond, or a palace (Nietsche didn’t know Ferrari…) lose their value once that we can buy them, but we cannot buy friendship, love and all things like that….”.

I don’t want go so far as philosophy, but I always believed that we cannot buy love and I have also continued to think that we can meet it…

In an aimless Wednesday, in a crowded street of  New York, I randomly met my ideal love, Kasia.

We both understood pretty soon that it was also a “meeting” with good luck, we put all our passion into it and we made it possible.

I can say today that the “cake” turned out even better than what I could imagine in the beginning.

I remember well a few ingredients that I put in it, but I don’t think I can put together all the recipe…

I only know that it was very very worth to go for it.

– Kasia’s Italian

P.S.

Probably, our work meetings would get more interesting if not planned…

I don’t think that I’ll try to convince my management to make it a rule… or maybe I will, why not? 😉

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