Monthly Archives: October 2012

…will tell you more later…but as the eternal Bond enthusiast I would definitely rank it among the top 3. Hats off especially to Severine. You stole my heart…

 

 

 

8 am meeting. I admit I am pretty tired but mostly from pulling long days and little sleep (sleep is like money…or love for that matter –  us deprived when we need it the most). I do a rush job getting myself together, opting for a different pair of shoes than the patent leather Giuseppe Zanotti I was wearing the day before. They are comfortable, safe…sleek, feminine. But conducting a workshop for a day have rendered them too big for my size 35 feet. So I opt for another pair, my first Christian Loboutin’s and thus very dear and special to me (yes shoes are the equivalent to women as cars are to men – just different price league). So I put them on, thinking they match the rest of the ensemble to a T. Read more

I rose before dawn (6.30 am) feeling tired from only catching 6 hours of sleep. I did the packing as best as I could, said my farewells and dashed off into a grey autumn morning. I nearly missed the train as well as my shoe as I dragged my suitcase the steps up to the platform. I cursed the Dutch for being so brutish (not offering any help) and felt generally stranded in a cold an uncaring landscape. Read more

So why is it that you go away for one night (yes ONE!) and you pack for three? The more choice one has, the harder the decision becomes it seems. Au contraire to what one might think, I prefer decisions based on binary selection. And so, I would find it impossible to live in the US for example – too much to choose from and I’d only end up with getting it all – just in case. It’s the same with packing – What if my mood wishes to wear one blouse over another? Read more

Someone very kind decided to treat me to a Dermalogica facial today. It turned out to be a bit more than a facial however as I also opted to remove some fine veins around the nose (yes I got greedy as it was a treat!). All very good if it wasn’t for the pain. After 15 minutes I was crying and begging the poor woman to stop. OK, I grant you I can be quite a wuss, but the pain was nevertheless excruciating. Yet I have decided I will be back in 3 weeks as already the results are quite promising :). The second treatment was infinitely more enjoyable though and I almost fell asleep during facial manipulation I happily subjected myself to.

Now movie and an Indian. Happy Saturday everyone! Sx

An hour later, I’m with my black coffee and laptop reading up on last week’s news; Sebastian is watching Finding Nemo. I can’t help but publishing this incredible sweet picture of two feet and a gigantic screen. Sx

I wake up from a little boy shouting in the other room “Mamma, Mamma”. I tell him he should go to sleep although it is visibly getting light. What seems like only moments later, a siren breaks out. Wonderful I think – it’s his new helicopter toy. Within that moment and half an hour later I wake up. I’m not even sure if the sun is shining, but a few rays manage to filter in.

I have not many plans for today apart from catching up on work, get back in the cross-trainer (my body needs it sorely) and a late afternoon facial. Until later… Sx

 

I’ve just woken up from a 10 hour sleep (the perks of being ill again ;). I try to combine my days with some work, but it is work and relaxation in pretty equal measures. Last night I felt especially dowdy, so I decided to visit my near next door tanning salon. I’m pretty peculiar with using SPF 50 even in winter, so this wasn’t something I did lighthearted. The following conversation ensues:

-(Me): I’m looking for a bit of sun. Not too strong. Minimum time.

– (Pretty 20 something cashier): We have Power Titan, Super Titan and Titan Giganticus available for you.

– (Me): I just want a bit of sun

– (Pretty 20 something cashier): They will give you a great tan instantly.

– (Me): I just want the minimum.

– (Pretty 20 something cashier): But you could do with a tan.

She turns to a little chrome stall standing on the bar that is adorned by various cream sachets in girly colours.

– (Pretty 20 something cashier): Here, this will make it even better.

– (Me): But doesn’t that make you go even more tanned?

She’s considering what to say now as by now she’s figured out I am what they probably call Customer X. Doesn’t fit the mold. I can hear the thinking wheels turning. After a brief interlude of silence she returns looking at me….still flashing those perfect white teeth that I had a year ago after a teeth brightening session….the colour has since sadly faded.

– (Pretty 20 something cashier): Their products are great and….(she pauses as if to remember to say what you say when you meet customer X)…you could need a bit of a tan.

There you go, she said it. And I’m not even in a good mood. So I halter my voice box before I start screaming (which I can’t btw because of the flu thing going on)

– (Me): Listen, I don’t want a tan.

She looks perplexed at me.

– (Pretty 20 something cashier): Then why are you here?

– (Me): I’m ill. I’m depressed (not really but a week in bed will do that to you), I’m cold and I want a tanning session. In all honesty I have a total aversion for places like these. They ruin people’s skin and I’ll be lucky if I don’t come down with skin cancer to top off the flu.

I again halter my talk, this time gasping for air as my nose is bunged up.

I just want the lightest sun bed you have, and no up-sale of a cream.

– (Pretty 20 something cashier): OK that will be Titan 12 minutes. It’s ready in 5.

I pay the cashier, who gives me a smirk still flashing those pearly whites and recline in a waiting chair. I wonder if I should have even bothered coming

A new morning, and I go up to my daughter’s room.

– (daughter, with hair extensions and full make-up regalia): WOW! You look tanned mum!

Have I just been tangoed I think to myself.

…and alas another thing I was looking forward to fell by the wayside. I had been lucky to be on the guestlist of the Fashiolista party hosted tonight in Amsterdam but my running nose, sore throat and constant perspiration from feeling feverish didn’t exactly constitute high fashion. I do feel better though but I don’t believe I will be out of my PJ’s before the weekend. However to compensate for my great disappointment, I got a much desired call from someone that opened up for a nice little chat about 1940’s screen siren glamour – something I rather lacking anno 2012. I’m talking french lingerie, pencil skirts that are so tight one can barely walk, translucent silk blouses, black eyeliner and crimson red lips. Hedy Lamarr, Vivien Leigh and Rita Hayworth – please come back!

I’m slowly getting back in the saddle but office is still relegated to bed. It’s day three and I’m starting to get bored. The French coffee press is broken (thanks Cecile – my dog!) so I’m living on instant coffee and apples. Great for dieting, but counteracting is the lack of physical exercise (the cross-trainer accu needs a good injection after months of discharge). Not so strange I start slowly merging with my bed to a formless blob. I haven’t worn my contacts for days and the glasses starts to make permanent indents on the bridge of the nose. It’s time to get back in action to save what can be salvaged but I’m afraid I’m a few days away still…