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….