Rummage

The Whirling Dervish Turns Two

oh, yes and just when I thought we had reached the zenith of tantrums.

It's bloody lucky she's such a cute little parcel.

Paris III - Collections

My mother-in-law has some quirky collections. These are some of my favourites. The pompadour belles are from the top of some very old powder puffs.
xx

 

Fabric in Paris - I

The 18th arrondisement in Paris is probably not to everyone's taste. Straddling the Pigalle and Montmartre as well as sitting at the nexus of the North African quarter, the 18th is the loud, artistic, rapscallion cousin to some of the more refined and touristy arrondisements of Paris. Hang out at the chaotic open-air market on the weekend near the station or prowl Tati for a bargain, go to the Musée d'Art Naïf (Halle Saint-Pierre - 2, rue Ronsard) to check out some naive and folk art - don't forget the small bookshop inside the gallery entrance.

You'll get a wicked cous-cous, North African-style in this area as well as some charming Parisian bistrots that don't try too hard. Don't eat where your guidebook dictates, mooch around until the planets are aligned above your restaurant of choice. Gut instinct always wins out over pompous proslethetysing from guide books.

And then there are the fabric shops.
Lord have mercy. If for no other reason, come for these and these alone.

Marche St Pierre - 2, Rue Charles Nodier

The oldest, the largest, the greatest. This place is set out over 5 levels with virtual football fields of fabrics and haberdashery on each floor. You will see men and women marching about with long rulers in hand. Do NOT get in their way, they will mow you down as soon as look at you and whatever you do, don't (as I did) take fabric from one floor to another. This is heresy punishable by death if you are French, luckily my foreigner status granted me immunity.

Sounds scary? It is. But worth every minute. If you are short of time, or have a toddler or two in tow, focus your energies on floors 1 and 3. When I was there, the first floor had a range of African waxed cottons at 2.50 euro per metre and gorgeous plaids from Madras at 6.95 a metre.

The 3rd floor held fabric from many regions of France including heavy Provencal cottons and striped canvas from the south. There's also spectacular toile de jouy, linen tickings and amazing embossed velour. The prices for all of these fabrics were 4 or 5 times less than what they would cost here in Australia.

I was also lucky to find packets of the original Cholet teatowels - 6 for 17 euros and rolls of heavy linen used for sheeting and napery for 5 euros a metre. Frankly, if the Frenchman hadn't come in and dragged me out I think I'd still be there.

This is my bottom after one too many pieces of Roquefort in France

Am back but in denial. Hence the new banner.
All the travel posts start tomorrow.
Missed ya!
x

Paris II.

So much for bringing you along with us. I have hardly touched a computer since being away. Luckily, I've had the camera working over time so there are lots of posts to come. These are some photos taken around Paris about a week ago.

PS. Remind me to tell you about my trip into the fabric distric on the border of Montmartre & Pigalle soon, quelle bliss! Thanks to those lovely readers who gave me some tips. x

Paris I.

Back in Paris now with an armful of photos and stories. I'm too tired for the stories now but some photos follow. These are from today out and about in Paris. Visting the FNAC, Galleries Lafayette and lolling about in petit bistrots. You'll be pleased to know that the Frenchman has reverted to form in his driving and we approach traffic lights at Mach 10 and gesticulate wildly out the window at fellow drivers. I have a new, lengthy vocabulary of naughty words to use in French when the need arises.

I hope all is well with you. x

Konichiwowwww!

I've got heaps of photos and stories for you but the computer is on the blink and I'm in an internet cafe which charges an internal organ per half hour, so I'll be brief. The stopover in Japan was brilliant, beacoup des photos. We're in a gorgeous seaside port in Brittany now with the extended family - lots of great seafood,scenery and wicked shopping. I'll post properly when we are back in Paris - until then..
xxx

ps I bit my tongue at the airport and I'm pleased to report the soymilk got here safe and sound.

The Naughty Gene

We're heading off to Sydney on Wednesday and I'm still running around like a headless chook trying to tick things off my list. I spoke to the airline today about carrying soymilk on the plane for the smallest person. I was solemnly told that this would be allowed but I may have to drink some in front of the airstaff at the check-in desk, (one assumes this is to demonstrate it is not a weapon of mass destruction).

I am now in an agony of sweat. What if I can't resist the naughty thought to clutch at my throat, make gagging noises and collapse Chaplan-style? I have had a stern talking-to from the Frenchman, to no avail, the urge is still there. Reminds me of the time my sister and I were at the christening of my cousin, for whom we are the (fairy)godmothers and were Very Badly Behaved Indeed! The minister had the most shocking baritone during the first hymn that we collapsed in naughty giggles - most unfairygodmother-like behaviour!

Is there anyone from France who reads this, I wonder? If so I'd love some hints re. fabric shops, thrift shops and markets in Paris and Brittany.
xx
PS the mandarins and the bangles are here because they make me smile when I look at them.

we laughed, we cried, just the usual weekend mania

Here's the scarf/frock/thingey. And yes, those are polaroids that I am too lazy to scan. The Frenchman said they are stupid, actually it was more like this, "zey are stupeeed". I said "that's a load of old bollocks".
I am quick with the witty riposte, no?

Fashion - Quicklike

I love fashion, I always have but bit by bit I find it slipping away from me.

My favourite thing about fashion is how it presents a blank page every morning. I used to stand in front of the wardrobe and consider the daily narrative - what story do I want to tell today? Do I pull on the leopard skin boots and mix it up with a crisp white shirt and artfully-askew black tie a la Patti Smith? Or how about some braces over a bovver-girl tartan skirt and heavy-handed liquid eyeliner? What's my motivation? Where's the twist in this tale?

Not now and not for a long time. Don't go feeling sorry for me though. It's quite liberating in a way and it hones one's wardrobe down to the bare bones - we're  talking jeans, jersey, black (lots thereof) and khaki, a couple of nicely-cut shirts and a kick-arse, take-no-prisoners dress.

Now I find myself planning my children's holiday wardrobe instead of my own and with the most modest of budgets I've re-purposed some bits and bobs for a few cute holiday frocks. The frock above was a $2 size 14 women's skirt which I cut down and added shoulder straps to, (there's some great gingham elastic with a delectable frill at Spotlight for small change). The (50 cent) silk scarf is on it's way to being a toddler dress. I'll show you later.
Hope it's a beautiful weekend for you.
x