Horror and beauty

horror beauty vogue-nippon-dec I have told you so many stories about my blue velvet-like village darling. I have talked to you about so many things that have happened here and I have told you about the haute couture, about the men and women who have come here; about the gypsy hoarders who passed through these streets and the circus found under the mirrored glass tent.

What I have not told you is the first thing I thought when I first came here. Back then I was worn down, tired from trying to keep up with the time on the clock, weary of the world brimming with shoulds and musts. I remember it was dark, except for the light of the moon; I remember the smell of Baker’s gingerbread beasts and the knowledge that time here was nowhere to be found.

It was then they I said — “I hope, finally, to have a niche where I can safely look upon the world’s horror and beauty*” before I walked, for the first time, on the cobble stone streets of the village.

Story credits: *Quote via Vanity Fair; Image via Vogue Nippon. 

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Dancing under frescoes

Darren Bonello photography

We had sat on opposite wooden benches, resting on opposing marble walls. The cathedral was bare — the wobbly wooden chairs had been removed, exposing Latin prayers and the names of those buried underneath the marble floor. Continue reading


The collector

old letter and post cards with feather quillHave I ever told you a story about the collector darling?

He lives in my village, except you will never see him roaming around the cobble stone streets as he has confined himself to his cabin — a one room space where the walls are covered with postcards worn down with illegible writing.

I always find the collector sitting on his wooden chair, crouched down on his wooden desk that is brimming with piles of postcards, as he writes with his black ink pen, while his long beard brushes the edge of the paper. His writing manner is meticulous ­— he takes the time with each one as if it is the first time he is writing on a postcard even though he has written so many.

You see darling, the man is writing everything that has happened to him here in the village and the other places he has visited through the life of the mind. The first time I visited him I asked him why he had to confine himself to write.

“Everything I see, smell, touch, leads me to another story I will have to write on these postcards. There isn’t enough time to write them all down Madeliene. Even here in this space, a pause leads to another story.”

“What about the other pile? Have you written about the stories of the world that moves to the time on the clock?

“Yes Madeliene, I am done with those. They are in a pile in a small box under my desk.”

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Coat call

vogue australia I have been looking for the perfect winter coat darling. I wasn’t looking for it in the woods but I am looking for some to don while visiting the woods.

I am in search of big buttons and dramatic shoulders; of large collars and soft wool. I long for quilted coats and cotton candy hued ones; long velvet body wraps and camel tones.

blue coat

Shop Smoky Blue Double Breasted Trench Coat

velvet coat

Shop Victory Velvet Maxi Duster

camel coat

Shop Reed Krakoff
Leather-Trimmed Cashmere & Wool Coat

ASOS Quilted Blanket Jacket

Shop ASOS Quilted Blanket JacketASOS Quilted Blanket Jacket

ASOS Peacoat Longline With Drop Waist

Shop ASOS Peacoat Longline With Drop Waist

camel msgm coat

textured panel double breasted coat

Shop ASOS Midi Coat in Wool

Shop ASOS Midi Coat in Wool

Story credit: Vogue Australia for main image.


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On another note…I could spend the rest of my life in this stunning dress!


The painter

gerhard freidl for popp and kretschmer fw 13 14He would never be able to paint who she really was.

Her bones, protruding; her dark hair tinged with red tones. She would sit for hours, waiting for him to raise his brush to the canvas but he never did.

She was the one thing in his world which could never be put into words, let alone made a copy of on a canvas.

Story credit: Gerhard Freidl for Popp and Kretschmer FW 13 14.


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