Winter: Cat in the Hat

 I am hunkered down in the lounge room fashioning frippery if anyone has been wondering, 'where on earth I have been?'

Sorry. I know it's been an while.

I am remiss.

Winter's here in tropical Brisbane.

We are all wearing shorts and long sleeves and complaining, 'It's freezing'.

According to Mr Fascinata, I look a bit like Dr Suess' cat-in-the-hat with my striped socks.

Well, I never.

 Even the dogs have their derrieres facing against the drafty breeze.

 I have started making delicate, lacy petals out of gold embroidered mesh.

Bought from The Fabric Store in New Farm, Brisbane.

Stretched and sized.

Stitched individually on to a wire frame.

 With a generous bunch of matte gold stamens for the centre.

 Here's the work in progress.

 I am en vacances.

For two lovely weeks.

I've already had time to obsess about my eyebrows at the beautician's.

I highly recommend it.

It can wind back the years if you are so inclined.

And, get the house-muse to the poodle-parlour.

 Eat Mr Fascinata's home-made white corn tortillas and pulled pork.

 I took marks off Mr Fascinata's overall result for leaving the sour cream in the plastic container.

A-.

Don't worry.

 I will keep you in the loop and show you when it's finished.

The chalkface term ended nicely.

Thank you for asking.

In an unprecedented moment.

I turned up at the chalkface and found this bouquet outside the workers' classroom door.

A colourful thank-you.

Quite frankly, for helping to sizzle countless sausages over the last few months.

For student welfare through the National Schools Chaplaincy program.

A contentious issue at the moment that's for sure.

Stay appreciative.

 



Fixated

To be honest, I am fixated by this page in my favourite Chanel book.

I could look at it for hours, and as a consequence; have amassed my own collection.

Not quite in the same vein, but nonetheless some satisfying facsimiles.

Lots of lovely provenance here: a hand made peach coloured silk rose from
Ok Ja Choi (a Korean National Treasure artisan), a Burberry look-a-like,

 white leather rose bought from a wagon stall outside Galleries Layfette, Paris, 

and a red velvet rose, unkown designer, heavily reduced,

but exorbitantly priced from the start.

No Chanel, but nonetheless.

To be honest, as much as I would like to, can't bring myself to.

Bit too much.

I'll make do with a book.

And my quest, to craft my own camellias.

I don't think Chanel would actually mind.

I think she'd understand, her and I do have a bit in common, I like to think.

She might even be flattered.

Here's two of Chanel's models, generously styling the House of Flora's latest camellia wool.
Purchased from The Fabric Store, Newstead, Brisbane.

Ready for camellia petals to be carefully cut and pieced.

Here's my latest homage to Chanel.

I'll trot them out on the 14 July, in the company of the Guild.

I am not unhappy with them.

Quite lovely, I think.

All-out on Fleurs

Playing host to Valentino Garavani  in 2010, at the Gallery of Modern Art, Brisbane,

was a lovely time for the House of Flora. 

His frocks arrived for four months, all the way from Rome.

The workers and I did an excursion there, too.

They said to me, it was the best time they'd ever had.

We ate a couple of macaroons each in the 'specially set up fashion cafe,

and flicked through expensive imported magazines.

That part of the trip wasn't quite linked to the curriculum.

When Valentino and I broke-up it was difficult, as he moved out on the day before my birthday.

Frocks packed up, ready for someone else to fall in love with him.

Not a care in the world.

Another bittersweet memory is the time I discovered Maison Guillet fabricant de fleurs, astonishingly accepted the general public, at Viaduct des Arts, Paris.

But they were closed for the New Year break, the time of my visit.

But on my next trip to Paris, I was devasted to find out Guillet had moved fleur production outside-the-peripherique,

the ring road circling Paris. Horrifique.

And was now only open to the high-end of town, YSL, Chanel and Dior, et al.

I'm going all out on fleurs, this week.

Nothing's going to stop me, not even a call from Philip Treacy.

Trying not to get distracted by these.

Philip's millinery meets strappy stilettos.

I'm focussed, head down.

Remember that pure silk organza?

It's found a new life.

Here's the before.

Here's the corsage, against a hand-beaded arachnoid, there's no end to some people's magic.

On a more important note, my boot camp trainer, who usually sends lovely, gentle and encouraging emails to keep us keen,

has released an alarming statement, declaring that,

'There's no need to wear fancing clothes to excercise'.

And that exercise is a simple thing to do.

Personally, I'm offended.

This diamante puma is not going to leave me anytime soon.

Got my lovely friend E, coming over soon, have all the necessary elements to make this beauty.

A Tarte Tatin.