A short post on the last day of our lovely holiday. Thank you all for the kind FB birthday messages, calls and texts. To the few that were wondering where I’ve been hiding in all these months and in some cases years – all I can say it’s just been a hectic period, but I am convinced it will not last forever.

Tomorrow we are flying back from Nice and Biot. So it only seems fitting to upload some pictures of the holiday.



Birthday evening

my first tennis lessons

shopping in Nice

exploring the city

…and Biot

You reach over for your iphone, wondering for a brief moment if you should stop yourself in your tracks and go back to sleep. The summer nights have been playing havoc with your sleep and some mornings have been so early they can best be described as late at night. But to your surprise it is 8.09. You lounge leisurely in bed for the next half and hour playing brain games whilst sipping on a cold cup of tea that has infused since it was brewed last night. The sweet hibiscus aroma hits your palates and whilst you savour it, you decide you need something stronger. 

An hour later and you are on the terrace working on your second cup of coffee. The weather is glorious so you station yourself in the only corner basking in sun. It’s a beautiful day with so much to be grateful for…


I am not quite sure how it happened….ceasing writing…and with that bursting the metaphorical bubble of existence. Discouragement led to a slow dwindle of posts and one day I turned off the tap altogether. In the beginning there was just silence. The voice that would incessantly tell stories fell quiet, and with that my soul seemed to die…little by little. Not sure what suddenly awoke it but perhaps a painting that I acquired for a mere penny which was delivered yesterday.  According to a tattered label on the backside, it was painted in 1802 portraying a young man born in 1777 – 199 years before I was born. I’ve given him a place in the the hallway and I find myself slowing down every time I pass by. …and there I stand watching him as he watches me….silently. And I wonder who he was, what became of this man born a year after the American declaration of independence, painted just as Europe stood on the brink of the Napoleonic wars? I only know his name…Peter Heinrich Reimers…but for now he is Dorian Gray…

the picture of Dorian Gray




I don’t think I have been sitting still since touching down on the melting tarmac in Malta (temperatures are hoovering around 30 degrees, which is a lot better than the furnace oven we left behind!). All well and said, we were lucky to get an offer simply too good to refuse, for a day on the sea together with Victoria and friends – not to forget a pink flamingo that decided to tag along.

Really the best day so far, providing ample opportunity for relaxation and catching up on some sleep.

Embarking on our journey around the northern coast of Malta

Lovely scenery

Too good to be true

chilling to the sounds of waves

sun, sea and blue skies

fun in the blue lagoon

super food lunch

Many thanks for the lovely birthday wishes and a fantastic celebration with the family who have gathered in Malta for the summer. Being a stickler for traditions, we ended the day with a sumptuous dinner at the Barracuda before heading back to for a last nightcap and yet more unpacking (we just arrived the other day!).

Birthday celebrations

with the family

thank you fall for making it a memorable day

Some things are rushing into existence, others out of it. Some of what now exists is already gone. Change and flux constantly remake the world, just as the incessant progression of time remakes eternity.

We find ourselves in a river. Which of the things around us should we value when none of them can offer a firm foothold?

Like an attachment to a sparrow: we glimpse it and it’s gone.

And life itself: like the decoction of blood, the drawing in of air. We expel the power of breathing we drew in at birth (just yesterday or the day before), breathing it out like the air we exhale at each moment.

— Meditations, Marcus Aurelius

Most weekends appear the same….early rise, followed by family breakfast and then work until 5, 6 pm. A weekend let alone a day, that I took truly off are far and few between. So not feeling particularly well yesterday, I decided to spend the Saturday on the couch trawling Netflix for an easy fix. I’ve always been a fan of good crime drama, and consume them wholesale….the Bridge, the Killing, House of Cards….enter the Fall. Perhaps not as grim as the Killing, its still a visual yet understated production with Gillian Anderson in the lead. One has to love the lady, ever since X-files via Lady Dedlock in Bleak House, here is another sharp and bracing performance in the incarnation of DSI Stella Gibson. Absolutely smitten with the cool, sophisticated icemaiden persona and the equally deadly chic look with pencil skirts, silk blouses and come-fuck-me shoes (no stripper kind, just plain classic high heel pumps). Speaking of which, it is time to update that Christian Louboutin collection…


stark contrasts in the Fall

As a result of my quest for peace – and here I’m talking about constant, inner peace – an even mind so to speak, or equanimity, I have made quite some changes to my life. I have described them here before but I shall repeat for those who are perhaps reading this blog for the first time.

After a long journey of reading, contemplating, and practicing that of what I read (the Art of War, The 48 laws of Power, buddhistic passages, stoic literature to name a few), my life took an even more “radical turn” when I decided to live more clean and ethical. I have since cut out alcohol, coffee, meat and as much as I can, sugar. What is left is my ill habit of taking sleeping pills and that I will work on to to eradicate once and for all too.

Further, I changed my routines, waking up earlier and earlier and as a result going to bed no later than 10.30 pm. Right now I am usually up by 6.30 am, although I am going to push this to 6 am for weekdays and 7.45 for weekends.

My idea is to start off the day the with stoic meditation followed by a 40 min work out whilst listening to different podcasts on philosophy. It takes time and commitment and perhaps more so the 4 cardinal virtues of stoicism: courage, equanimity, self-control and wisdom.

And so I started today, with my stoic meditation. I turned on the fire, wrapped a blanket around myself as a chilly draft swept past me from the aging windows. I made myself a cup of tea and I began.

At first I went though my usual morning exercise, the morning ritual of Marcus Aurelius

“Begin each day by telling yourself: Today I shall be meeting with interference, ingratitude, insolence, disloyalty, ill-will, and selfishness – all of them due to the offenders’ ignorance of what is good or evil. But for my part I have long perceived the nature of good and its nobility, the nature of evil and its meanness, and also the nature of the culprit himself, who is my brother (not in the physical sense, but as a fellow creature similarly endowed with reason and a share of the divine); therefore none of those things can injure me, for nobody can implicate me in what is degrading. Neither can I be angry with my brother or fall foul of him; for he and I were born to work together, like a man’s two hands, feet or eyelids, or the upper and lower rows of his teeth. To obstruct each other is against Nature’s law – and what is irritation or aversion but a form of obstruction.”

Then I began thinking of the challenges I may have to face during the day and which of the 4 cardinal virtues (once again, courage, equanimity, self-control and wisdom) I’d be called to employ.

After this I engaged in an exercise called Hierocles Circles, which is a stoic form of cosmopolitanism, through the use of concentric circles. Hierocles describes individuals as consisting of a series of circles: the first circle is the human mind, next comes the immediate family, followed by the extended family, and then the local community. Next comes the community of neighbouring towns, followed by your country, and finally the entire human race. Our task, according to Hierocles was to draw the circles in towards the centre, transferring people from the outer circles to the inner circles, making all human beings part of our concern.

Then I passed to “premeditatio malorum”, a technique of contemplating potential misfortunes in advance. I imagined minor and major “catastrophes” (one being going without sleep for days, should I choose to stop taking sleeping pills and go cold turkey). I focused on that fundamentally it would not change myself and my self-worth (although cosmically I don’t prescribe to the idea I would hold any intrinsic value).

After this exercise, which lasted a good half an hour as I am a novice to the game, I read the writings of Epictetus.

I am sure, as with everything, it will take time, to apply and re-apply and get back on it, if or when I fall off the bandwagon (the emphasis being on when here).

But for now, I am happy and pleased I have taken yet another step towards total freedom of disturbance.


Stoic meditation by the fireplace

What makes up the woman? Her shoes, her dress, her way of walking? I say all, but above all and in a league of its own is her perfume. It says more than all those attributes that she may think is what people will note and remember her for.

Perfumes, like music, has an almost nostalgic property difficult to be surpassed or supplanted.
In my early 20’s, when I was time rich but dirt poor, I would scramble together whatever Guilders I had left to buy myself a copy of Elle. It was the most luxurious item I could afford in the bat of an eyelid. These esteemed copies of fashion reading provided much entertainment as I would make sure I read them from cover to cover savouring all the fashion trends and beauty tips.

But one Elle stood out and I have never let go of this prized possession ever since. This was the Elle that laid the Grunge trend to rest and paid homage to Glamour. Those grunge years had been like the dark ages for a girl like me, and so I was delighted to see the back of it.

Towards the end of my reading, an article called “Scents of desire” appeared. It started off intriguingly with a scene from Belle de Jour. The accompanied picture made the scene all complete. I was lost, and for the next 20 or so minutes I was consumed to this article. I dare to say it change me forever, as it became the turning point from being a young girl to entering the life of adulthood.

And so, as I decided to dedicate this blog to the life that inspires me vastly, the people, the style, the films, the cities, the books, and of course the perfumes, I shall quote the whole article for you. In fact you are very lucky to come across this as I am sure if not it would be lost to mankind forever….

~Scents of Desire~ Elle, December 1996

Severine is always immaculately dressed – chocolate-brown shifts, fine leather gloves, fur-trimmed coats. Her face is flawlessly made-up and framed by a mane of perfectly blond hair. She is married to a young, improbably good-looking surgeon, but they sleep in separate beds. She lives in the sort of elegant Parisian apartment you see in the pages of Maison & Jardin. In the mornings she drifts around the boutiques of the 7th arrondissement. Her afternoons are rather different. Between the hours of two and five, she goes to a seedy building on the wrong side of town and lies in the arms of men she doesn’t know – traveling salesman, a Japanese businessman, small-time gangsters. They all pay her, even though she doesn’t need the money. The perfume she wears is Guerlain’s Mitsouko. I know this because before she embarks on her double life, she breaks a huge bottle of it on her bathroom floor. Accident or symbol? Probably the latter – after all, this is the film ‘Belle du Jour’ and its director, Luis Bunuel, was fond of symbols. The bottle Severine shattered had to be full of Mitsouko because Bunuel understood what Mitsouko is: the consummate dark-side scent.

Dark side scents. These are the perfumes that get a girl into trouble. They’re not about lightness, freshness and high spirits: they are an opportunity to be sensuous, voluptuous – greedy for satin and lace. Dark-side scents are always compelling and often overpowering. Some, like Narcisse Noir, are even slightly sinister. Above all, dark-side scents are complex. ‘It’s this complexity that makes dark-side scents what they are,’ says Roja Dove, Guerlain’s proffeseur des parfums. “The best ones give you the idea that the perfume is on one level, but have an enormous hidden ‘base’ – the base is the sensual bit, the carnal bit. Dark-side scents are like black widow spiders – they lure people in, make them feel safe, then get them hooked on this voluptuous base. You get drunk on it, lost in it – it is like falling into a bottomless pit. But, the important thing is, you don’t care. All you want to do is get close to the person wearing it.!”

Each of the fragrance families – oriental, floral and chypre – can produce dark-side scents, but the best belong to the oriental and chypre groups. Of the chypres, Cuir de Russie, Tabac Blond, Shocking and, of course, Mitsouko, are all wonderfully dark. As are heavy-lidded orientals, such as Opium, Vol de Nuit and Narcisse Noir. Floral perfumes, by their very nature, are rarely dark. “After all what’s sexy about a bunch of violets or a little possy of lily of the valley,” says Dove. But some exceptional florals qualify: the narcotic L’Heure Bleue; Bellodgia, with its thick, spicy knot of carnations; and tuberose-laced Fracas.

Few of these perfumes are less than 20 years old, in fact, most would be described as “classics”, but being a classic doesn’t automatically make a perfume dark. Take Chanel No 5. Yes, it is classic. Yes, it smells extraordinarily beautiful. But, no, it’s not dark – it’s far too well-behaved, far too upbeat. In the “Fear of God” Irish novelist Derry Quinn pinpoints the difference perfectly: ‘He thought, in about 30 seconds she will get up and leave the room. A few minutes later, she will come back wearing a chiffon negligee, smelling faintly of Chanel No 5. In about 30 seconds, she left the room. She came back a few minutes later, naked and wearing Shocking. He was on his feet.’

~ The dark-side notes ~


“The French are very anti “clean” smells, they like a bit of rottenness – they call it pudeur.” Says Susan Irvine, author of fascinating Perfume – The Creation and Allure of Classic Fragrances. “In the 18th century, they even put children’s feces in their floral scents to give the pudeur.” The perfumes behind the great dark-side scents might not go to such extremes, but dark perfumes just aren’t dark enough without a certain pudeur – so they are laced with ingredients like civet, which comes from the anal glands pf the civet cat, and smells, in the raw, like a sewer.

Other dark-side ingredients? Amber, which according to Irvine “is close to the smell of sun-warmed skin”. Orris or Iris root: woody and soft, a mix of flesh, flower and earth. Then musk: intense, erogenous, narcotic and chemically very close to human testosterone – not surprising when you realize that the natural form (most musk used now is synthetic) comes from the penile sheath of the musk deer. Chinese courtesans were fed on food flavoured with musk so that when their skin was stroked or squeezed they would sweat pure scent. Added to perfume, it gives enormous warmth and sensuality. “Why mince words – it smells like sex,” – says Roja Dove. “But what’s important is that these notes are so stable and stay so close to the skin, that they end up becoming part of your own personal odour”.

If these ingredients give dark-side scents their sweaty, animal kick, it’s the dark-side flower notes that give them their naggingly erotic smell. Jasmine and tuberose, what perfumes call the ‘carnal flowers’, both have their smooth, white scents spiked with indole, a molecule that’s also found in human faeces. “Good jasmine is so overtly sexual, you can hardly believe it’s a flower,” says Dove. Carnation, which smells like cloves, adds an unbelievable warmth – “like two naked bodies pressed together,” he says.

Then there is narcissus: sweet, spring flower in the garden; pure mantrap in a scent. French Vogue editor Joan Juliet Buck wrote of her experience of wearing a narcissus absolu, “It was so concentrated that just a drop on each wrist and two in the bath were enough to send silver running down the walls, to blot out the sun…it set the world throbbing out of control when I wore it. I became a little weird, it was only years later that I read in a Caifornian herbal book that Narcissus Tazette is a lovely flower with a delightful scent, but it is thought that inhaling too much of it can make you go mad.”

~ Dark-side women ~

Not surprisingly, dark-side scents can be difficult to wear. Some find them strange, others overwhelming or even a little scary – but dark-side insiders would say this ad more to do with the wearer than the scent itself. “I think dark-side scents frighten a lot of people,” says Roja Dove. “If a woman wears this type of perfume, it says a lot about her – she is not frightened of her sex, she is not frightened of her womanhood. She has too much character to be the perfume equivalent of a Stepford wife. A lot of women – and a lot of men, find this intimidating.”

So, like the fragrances themselves, the women who wear dark-side scents tend to be strong and complex; adventuresses and non-conformists who want more from a perfume than a quick olfactory fix. “You’re looking at the fragrance that expresses the inner you, your alter ego – the dark side of your personality and sexuality,” says Susan Irvine. Not such a tall order – our sense of smell is a hotline to the limbic system, the part of human brain which is most closely linked to the hormonal and reproductive systems that control basic human drives like sex, hunger and fear.

Even the stories of how these women discovered their dark-side scents are spiced with more than a little romance and intrigue. “I smelt it first on an ex-girlfriend of my husband. She was extremely rich, extremely spoilt and extremely neurotic. I disliked everything about her except her perfume, which I was mad for. Much later, I discovered it was Fracas,” says Paula Reed, charismatic fashion director of The Sunday Times, who has worn the fragrance for eight years.

“It goes back to my first kiss,” laughs Irvine. “I was 14 and wearing Coriandre by Jean Couturier, which smelt like a young girl’s cleavage – musky and warm. A real Lolita perfume. My mother gave it to me because I wanted something that made me feel womanly. It worked!”

And Joan Juliet Buck writes: “At 17, I bought a teal-blue velour hat and cracked open a bottle of L’Heure Bleue. A screenwriter who had been one of the Hollywood Ten told me I looked like Hedy Lamarr, but I only think I smelled like Hedy Lamarr. Or smelled the way Hedy Lamarr looked.”

~ Dark-side dressing ~


How do you wear a dark-side scent? First and foremost, buy the perfume, or at least, eau de parfum. “With many of these perfumes, what makes them ‘dark’ – the base – hardly exists in eau de toilette,” says Roja Dove. If you buy the perfume, you need to use less and you can fully experience what perfumers call the ‘dry-down’: the extraordinary sultry scent of those base notes that will cling to your clothes and hair – and linger in the memory of everyone else…the morning after…and days after that. Think, too, about where you’re applying it. Pulse points, where the veins are close to the surface of the skin, are perfect; so is the dip of the collarbone. Don’t, however, put it behind your ears – the oil from the sebaceous glands there may alter the perfume. Finally, think about when you wear them. To weave their magic dark-side scents have to be lived-up to. Wear then when you’re vulnerable, and you’re lost. Wear them when you’re strong, and the effect is nothing short of devastating. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

post-21846-1252243589~ Dark-side directory ~

MITSOUKO by Guerlain. Probably the closest thing you can get to the scent of a woman. Contains oakmoss, patchouli and extraordinary amounts of amber.

CUIR DE RUSSIE by Chanel. Sex in the back of an Aston Martin – all leather and jasmine. Easily Chanel’s naughtiest perfume.

TABAC BLOND by Caron. A unique mix of tobacco. Leather, musk and civet. Perfume expert Dr. Luca Turin calls it ‘perfumed darkness’.

by Balmain. Another perfect ‘Belle du Jour’ scent: elegant on the outside with a sexy underside of leather.

SHOCKING by Schiaparelli (no longer available in the UK, but no dark-side list is complete without it). “One of the rudest perfumes ever made – it smelt like the inside of women’s underwear,” laughs Dove. Contained lots of rose without smelling rosy.

DJEDI by Guerlain. “One of the driest, duskiest perfumes I’ve ever smelt. Unbelievably strange,” says Roja Dove.

VOL DE NUIT by Guerlain. “So smooth and so suave – it just exudes sex and sophistication,” says Dove.

CHAOS by Donna Karan. Ms Karan’s latest scent is an earthy mix of incense, amber and musk with a suitably dark-side name.

NARCISSE NOIR by Caron. A real ‘femme fatale’ perfume. With a true narcissus note and a slightly sinister reputation. “I knew someone who used to say that when you smelt it, it was almost as if there was someone behind you, looking over your shoulder,” says Dove.

COUP DE FOUET by Caron. Pungent and spicy. The name translates as ‘crack of the whip’ – what more is there to say?

by Yves Saint Laurent. Famously scandalous oriental. Officials attempted to ban it when it was launched in 1977 (things could have been worse – according to legend, Saint Laurent was planning to call it ‘Hashish’).

MAGIE NOIRE by Lancome. The bad-girl oriental from an otherwise well-behaved perfume house – rose corrupted by incense, sandalwood and amber.

L’HEURE BLEUE by Guerlain. Named after the ‘blue hour’ – twilight. “L’Heure Bleue is a cheat,” says Dove. “It gives you the idea that it is a shy, timid, powdery floral, but it is so overtly sexual, it’s like a drug.”

FRACAS by Robert Piguet. “Its enormous tuberose note makes it incredibly sultry,” says Dove. Wearers can become quite fanatical about it.

BELLODGIA by Caron. A thick knot of carnations on an animal, musky base.