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Vintage dolls, toys, games, bicycles and lamps are among the items for sale at the 79th Foire Nationale aux Antiquites, a la Brocante et aux Jambons currently underway at Ile de Chatou, France. The photograph below was inspired by a spinning top.
Admiring kitchen collectibles at Blandine Bavoux's Jolietrouvaille. Visit Blandine's stand at 72 Allee Nouvelle from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. daily through October 4th.
Collection of vintage glassware and pharmacy bottles at Gunnar Petterssen's stand at the brocante at Chatou, now underway. See more of Gunnar's finds at 1-3 Allee Pele. The brocante continues from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. daily through October 4th. Tickets are available at the gate.
The last few days have been a whirlwind of brocantes and dinner parties, with four sets of friends in town. Great fun, but exhausting! My husband is off to Oslo and Brussels this week, while I escort said friends to a secret brocante in Paris and again to the brocante and ham fair at Chatou.
This weekend is the stellar Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe at Longchamp, Europe's largest horse racing event. I'll be there Saturday, shooting photos of dashing jockeys and sleek racehorses tearing down the track. On Sunday, I'll train my lens on chic Parisiennes wearing stylish hats. This year I won't be wearing a hat, as I'm more concerned with balancing the weight of heavy camera gear while wearing flat, comfortable boots!
More images of Chatou, as well as photos of the antique Madonna crowns that came home with me, soon. I'll leave you now with "The Poet Always Carries a Notebook" from Mary Oliver's new book Evidence:
"What is he scribbling on the page?
Is there snow in it, or fire?
Is it the beginning of a poem?
Is it a love note?
This week, what will you scribble on your page - or see through your lens, paint with your brush or shape with your hands?
If you're in Paris, you may enjoy visiting the 79th Foire Nationale aux Antiquites a la Brocante et aux Jambons at Chatou. Opening day is Friday, Sept. 25th. The brocante - my favourite in the area - continues from 10 a.m. through 7 p.m. daily through October 4th.
Tickets are available at the gate. From Charles de Gaulle Etoile metro station, take the RER A1 train (direction Saint-Germain-en-Laye) to Rueil-Malmaison or Chatou-Croissy. Follow the signs at the exit and walk across the bridge to Ile de Chatou.
Or you can drive or grab a taxi from Paris. But don't count on a taxi bringing you back to Paris, unless you specifically book one in advance. More likely, you'll need to take the train back to Paris, no matter how much loot you've collected!
I'll be there opening day with an antiques enthusiast and store owner visiting from San Francisco. I'll also be there next week with Di Overton, searching for items she can revamp for Ghost Furniture. Stop by and say hello to my friends Blandine Bavoux (72 Allee Nouvelle), Gunnar Petterssen (1-3 rue Pele) and Geraldine Michelis (Une Chanson Douce). You'll be amazed at the stylish antiques and collectibles these clever dealers have on offer.
See you at Chatou!
Vitrines at Debenham's, Oxford Street, London, depicting backstage dressing rooms for runway shows during London Fashion Week.
Mannequins depicting local trend-setters Victoria and David Beckham.
A vitrine dedicated to A-listers on the front row at fashion shows, including Grace Coddington and Anna Wintour of Vogue magazine.
P.S. I'm juggling too many balls in the air this week, with four sets of friends here, plus work obligations. This is why you're seeing an abundance of photos (taken last week in London) and few words. Hope to address that imbalance soon.
The London Eye, sunset, Sept. 16, 2009.
The London Eye and bridge across the Thames. As always, click photos to view detail.
The London Eye reflected in a building near Trafalgar Square, Sept. 14, 2009.
Just back from London, where I've spent the last week taking a photography class. Our assignment at lunchtime Friday was to approach strangers in the street and ask permission to take their photo.This photogenic couple on Oxford Street agreed to pose, then took my photo while I was taking a second shot.
London police officers and two guys who had stopped them to ask directions happily posed for a photo.
Shy guy at bus stop on Oxford Street, who managed a hint of a smile. Turns out the women I approached individually didn't want their picture taken; they were too self-conscious. The men were happy to oblige.
These people were amused that I was stopping strangers on the street to take their photos.
I was lucky to have a fantastic instructor and fun and talented classmates. We spent the entire week taking photos from dawn to dusk and beyond, walking all over London. It was a relief to have some technical questions answered; now I know what to do in most photographic situations and am confident I can hold my own with the big boys (and girls). Of course, I'll be practicing the tricks I learned, until adapting camera settings to varying situations becomes almost second nature.
Check back later for more photos, including department store vitrines featuring London Fashion Week, currently underway.
For my friends in London, I'm sorry there wasn't time and opportunity to get together! Between shooting and editing photos, I barely had time to sleep.
Last Sunday afternoon, I did manage to see the film Julie and Julia and do some power shopping in record time (had to buy an extra bag to bring back fall clothes). This was necessary, as in Paris it's nearly impossible to find clothes to fit normal women with curves. Plus, London has a unique style that's hard to resist.
Between the weight of the extra bag and the heavy camera gear, my neck and shoulders are rebelling today. Four sets of friends are in town this week, so I will be busy playing hostess. Also, the 79th Foire Nationale aux Antiquites a la Brocante et aux Jambons at Chatou kicks off Friday; I plan to escort some friends. Want to come along?
95k723fane
The chef is just back from Lucerne, Switzerland, where he took these lovely images of Lake Lucerne and environs. I'm off to London for a week. Thought I'd leave you with these peaceful images, contrasting with the fake frenzy making headlines today in Washington.
If those poor misguided "teabaggers" would read the actual plan, they'd realise they will benefit from health care reform. Instead, like lambs to the slaughter, they follow along for whatever crazy stunt their "leaders" tell them. These people make an unintended case for education reform, as their ignorance and fear mean they don't bother to learn the facts about anything. Indeed, they appear to believe any and every false assertion and/or rumor spread like a virus by the increasingly-paranoid Glenn Beck and his partners-in-crime at Fox. Of course their corporate master Rupert Murdoch pays them big bucks to fan the flames of controversy.
Wonder what the motives are of conservative politicians like Joe Wilson, who persist in lying to their constituents - even after being proved wrong - rather than helping them? Or Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty, who apparently doesn't care whether or not his state's residents have adequate health care? No concern for the poor and uninsured, Mr. Pawlenty?
Really it boggles the mind that profit-driven corporate interests are stealing basic human rights out from under people's noses. Even worse, not only are too few citizens protesting (about anything real), they're cooperating in the theft!
Here's hoping more people will come to their senses and focus on reality, rather than right-wing propaganda. A bunch of cynical and delusional Pied Pipers shouldn't be leading the dance.
Bird soaring above ancient chapel, Montreuil-sur-Mer, France.
I once had an office in the 46th floor of One World Trade Center. These photos taken of the Twin Towers before Sept. 10, 2001 are a poignant reminder of the iconic physical structures that served as a center of commerce and industry.
Of course, more than the buildings, we remember the many victims of the terrorist attacks Sept. 11, 2001 in New York, Pennsylvania and Washington, D.C. Today we honour their lives and hope and pray for a better world for our children.
Maybe we could learn a lesson from diverse songbirds, which now sing the same tune.
"Because we all share this planet earth, we have to learn to live in harmony and peace with each other and with nature. This is not just a dream, but a necessity." - The Dalai Lama.
Scroll down the page for an additional post today.
Undoubtedly there's historical relevance to this plaque on a building in Amsterdam. But when I saw the gold and silver coins, it seemed an apt analogy for the greed and unethical behaviour too often seen in both government and business.
Mark Morford: How many hypocritical Republicans can dance on the head of a sex scandal?
Joe Wilson: Still lying, loudly.
The not-so-secret racism in France.
Another reason career diplomats - not political donors - should be ambassadors abroad.
Glenn Beck is a deeply-troubled man. Despite at least 62 advertisers abandoning his television program for Beck's outrageous false claims about President Obama, cynical Fox mogul Rupert Murdoch continues to support Beck. Now Beck is on a witch hunt for communists. And he claims the New Orleans levees were allowed to fail to cover up local corruption - or something like that. Hard to understand the logic behind his ridiculous ramblings.
Let's be clear: Beck's increasingly-paranoid and delusional rantings do not remotely resemble journalism. He sounds like an unbalanced, hysterical snake-oil salesman on the verge of a melt-down. Guess to Murdoch, the more theatrical the better, in terms of television ratings. (People can't seem to look away from trainwrecks). But at what costs, both to Beck and his viewers?
Beck and the misguided "teabaggers"
Update Sept. 12: From Time's James Poniewozik: The stated goal of a rally today in Washington, according to Beck, is to "bring us all back to the place we were on September 12, 2001. The day after America was attacked we were not obsessed with Red States, Blue States, or political parties. We were united as Americans..."UPoniewozik doesn't think Beck's living up to that:
"...What he purportedly wants is to bring back our feeling of "unity." I remember that feeling. After 9/11, I remember hardcore liberal New Yorkers rallying behind Rudy Giuliani, saying nice things about President Bush when he spoke at the WTC ruins. I remember thousands of American flags being flown out of apartment and brownstone windows, not as political statements or in the you-better-prove-your-patriotism spirit of flag pins and Freedom Fries, but simply because we felt we Americans were all in this together.
"So since March, what has Glenn Beck been doing to re-establish that sense of nonpartisan national brotherhood? Calling President Obama a racist, declaring that the government was bringing fascism upon us, asking his fans to dig up dirt on political figures he doesn't like, and predicting civil-war-like uprisings. Because that's how you bring people together ....
"You want to bring back the feeling of national unity and civility, Glenn Beck? You could start by not using this tragedy as your personal political platform."
Hear, hear!
Early 20th-century French children's game pins.
Remember the Stephen Sondheim song Send in the Clowns from the Broadway musical "A Little Night Music?" I've never liked clowns and the song is a bit melancholy, about the rich irony of timing and choices in love and life. Today is my birthday. And I've been thinking a lot lately about timing and choices and goals I'd planned to accomplish by now. On Wednesday - the all-important 09/09/09 - I was not heartened by the "magic" of a once-in-this-century day. In fact, I spent much of the day lamenting that time is flying at an alarming rate and I still have much to do. We Virgos can be quite hard on ourselves.
Today I woke up realising that yes, while there is much to do, I am on the threshold of achieving one particular dream I've been chasing since childhood. And exciting new opportunities are unfurling, defying all expectations. Travel and adventure remain staples of my life.
My daughter is happy and healthy and following her own dreams. I'm married to a good man, who loves me. I'm fortunate to have many friends scattered all over the world. I live in Europe, where women are valued more for their talent, intellect and contributions to society than for any Hollywood faux ideals of youth. As long as I take care of my health, the only limit is my imagination (and suppressing that annoying perfectionist tendency; a curse of being born a Virgo).
I'm joining with other September babies in making a birthday contribution to Charity Water, which helps provide clean drinking water around the globe. What better way to affirm that what matters isn't one's age, but how you expend your time and energy?
P.S. Stayed up until after 3 a.m. Paris time watching President Obama's address about health care reform. Brilliant speech; now let's see ideas transformed into actions. Shame about the distractions of GOP moron(s) rudely interrupting the speech either by shouting, waving pieces of paper or texting. As President Obama said, "When we can no longer even engage in a civil conversation with each other over the things that truly matter, we don't merely lose our capacity to solve big challenges. We lose something essential about ourselves."
Sculptural medallion partially obscured by ivy at a private residence, Loire Valley, France.
"Beauty is truth, truth, beauty..." - John Keats.
Seems it's getting harder and harder to find the truth. We really have to search for it, amidst all the politics, lies, spin and stupidity. Thankfully, even amidst bad news and chaos, beauty remains. Here's hoping truth and beauty prevail on this auspicious day (09/09/09).
A reporter survived, but Marines died
NYT journalist freed; Afghan journalist, UK soldier killed in rescue effort
More stupidity from a "teabagger"
Collapsing wirework basket and late afternoon shadows.
Lemons in an English stoneware jelly mould, vintage wicker-covered bottles, a pastry tin and sardine chocolate mould (a French tradition).
Cherry tomatoes in the pan of la balance, an enamel kitchen scale with its complete set of original weights.
Bridge over the River Seine to St. Cloud, Paris.
French President Nicolas Sarkozy's sensitivity about his height draws unwelcome publicity.
So much for the peace process. Israel announces plans to build new settlements in the Occupied Territories, in direct violation of international law - not to mention a rebuff to President Barack Obama. Why are we still giving billions of dollars in aid and weapons to a state that deliberately defies the law and denies basic human rights to the Palestinians?
And here's the full text of President Obama's speech to encourage American schoolchildren to care for their future. Why are right-wing talk show hosts and conservative Republican politicians up in arms about a speech that encourages children to learn, work hard and accept personal responsibility for their actions? Education trumps over stupidity every single time (notwithstanding a certain former Alaska governor).
A row of trims and lace at Westerstraat Market, the Jordaan, Amsterdam. The market originated in the 16th-century as a textiles market, although its offerings now emcompass food, clothing and antiques and collectibles.
Gingham in many colours.
Rolls of brocades for furniture upholstery.
Bolts of fabric stacked in a van.
Curious combinations.
Seersucker and plaids.
Chiffons and lace.
Gateway to a houseboat along the River Seine, Paris.
Merci bien to Meg Zimbeck and Budget Travel magazine for naming Paris Parfait one of the Top Ten Paris expat blogs! What a thrill to be in such fine company!
This was a nice surprise, especially when the day started out with a murder in the apartment building across the courtyard. From my balcony, I could see several different branches of the police (a sure sign something is seriously wrong) enter the building. Later, I watched nine police officers remove a body on a stretcher. So sad. Then the French version of CSI - although not nearly so glamorous as their television counterparts - arrived to collect information from the crime scene.
A maid discovered the body. According to the gardien (every French apartment building's version of a concierge, only with more duties), the death was under "very suspicious circumstances." The CSI crew were in and out all day gathering evidence, carrying boxes of equipment and removing items for testing.
It was all a bit disconcerting in this quiet, leafy neighbourhood flanked by two parks. And it probably didn't help that I was watching the Season 2 Damages DVD until the wee hours. Oh, and baking sugar cookies. No wonder I had bizarre dreams.
Ever wonder where barricades are stored, when not in use in controlling crowds at parades, protests, strikes, riots and sports events? On a walk Wednesday along the Seine, I found thousands of them, in a mile-long gated lot, surrounded by greenery.
More barricades on the opposite site of the giant lot.
This image was shot through a gap in the locked main entry door.
Rusting fence with bent iron finials near Parc Edmond de Rothschild, Paris.
How did we get so far off the path?
Update Sept. 4: Right-wing hysteria and racism
Steyn delusional; proof we need better education
More evidence education essential
Pfizer fined for fraud (another reason we need health care reform).
The novelist Laila Lalami reminded me that 40 years ago today, Muammar al-Qaddafi overthrew the Libyan ruler King Idris I.
At the time, my friend Muna was living in Libya. Years later in Amman, she told me the story; how they awoke at dawn, horrified to find tanks trained on the palace.
Muna's mother worked for the Queen; her Palestinian father for an American oil company. The family fled with just the clothes on their backs. They spent some time in Malta, before working their way to Jordan, where they ultimately obtained Jordanian passports. To this day, they live in Amman.
Laila Lalami wrote: "It seems to me that coverage of Gaddafi is broadly limited to two topics: his social antics (e.g. the tent he set up in the garden of the Hotel Marigny, his all-female bodyguard corps, his ridiculous outfits and so on) and the Lockerbie bombing. One rarely hears about all the political prisoners who have been rotting in his jails for several decades.
"A couple of years ago, the novelist Hisham Matar wrote a very moving piece about his father, Jaballa Matar, who was allegedly kidnapped by Egyptian security forces in March 1990 and then rendered to Libya. He has not been seen in nineteen years and has not been heard from in ten.
How does one remain free from becoming a symbol or a victim? How do we remain whole and free from hate, yet truthful to our memory?
Life attempts to teach us about loss: that one can still find peace in the finality of death. And yet, my loss gives no peace. My father is not incarcerated, yet he is not free; he is not dead, yet he is not alive either. My loss is self-renewing, insistent and incomplete.
I was always told to expect to lose my father. Many Libyan political dissidents have been assassinated or kidnapped. But now I know that I had no comprehension of the danger he was in. If I had, I would have held on to him with all I could, or tried harder to persuade him not to engage in political dissent, perhaps. Regret is the cruellest companion for those of us who are left behind.
I did try to persuade him to leave his political work, because I loved my father more than I loved my country; or, to put it another way, I had learned by then to live without my country, but not without my father.
When Father was taken, the world did feel empty. For the first couple of years, our ship was lost, then we recovered our bearings and learnt that the speed by which one resumes living is no indication of the depth of one’s grief."
I knew Jaballa Mater personally. When I was a UN correspondent, I was introduced to Jaballa by a mutual friend at the US-Arab Chamber of Commerce in New York. The friend asked me to take Jaballa shopping for presents for his family. I remember him purchasing a wallet and other gifts at the Cartier counter at Macy's. A group of friends accompanied him to dinner at the Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center and the waiter snapped our picture. Jaballa with his shock of grey hair and mustache was laughing, wearing a suit with his signature white silk fringed scarf draped around his neck. There were other dinners, always an eclectic group, whose livelihood or lives were rooted in the Middle East.
Jaballa was living in Switzerland at the time and didn't like to discuss Middle East politics; certainly not the minefield of Libyan politics, which had caused such grief for him and his family. Years later, I was dismayed to learn Jaballa had been kidnapped, while living in Egypt. Widespread speculation was that Egyptian security forces had turned him over to Libya, another victim of Qaddafi's thugs. Until reading Laila's piece today, I hadn't known Jaballa had been heard from at all during the last 19 years. It's possible he is still alive, although who knows in what condition, along with Qaddafi's numerous other political prisoners. Human rights seem to have been forgotten in the West's renewed quest for lucrative oil and business partnerships in Libya.
Another friend, Mansour Rashid Kikhia, the former Libyan Ambassador to the UN, was kidnapped from his hotel in Cairo in December, 1993. Kikhia had resigned his job at the UN and was head of the International Arab Jurists Association. Despite the intervention of the US government and the United Nations, no information about his fate has been forthcoming.
Many political prisoners died in a massacre June 29, 1996 at Abu Salim prison in Benghazi.
In December 2006, I wrote a poem, "Dead or disappeared" about these two men and other activists - and one special friend - I came to know.
Bright young thing
in New York watching
history unfold amidst chaos
key players crossed my path
some became friends
admired for their selfless courage
The last time I saw him
he took off his shoes
and put his feet on the table
at a UN press conference
so we could see the pattern of scars
calling card of the Shah's SAVAK*
He got our attention.
Two weeks later he was murdered.
The last time I saw him
he seemed a little drunk and flirtatious,
escorted by aides and guards
in an Amman hotel lobby
talking about an upcoming meeting
promising an interview
A sobering phone call followed:
felled on his front porch in a hail of assassin's bullets.
The last time I saw him
he was impassioned about
his human rights work
looking forward to an international conference
to expand the jurists' scope and focus
helping secure rights for all
Newspaper headlines reported his disappearance in Egypt;
UN and governmental inquiries produced no answers.
The last time I saw him
I took him shopping
for family gifts at Cartier
they snapped our picture at the Rainbow Room
and we went to a dinner party with friends
then he went home to Geneva
Vanished without a trace in Cairo;
more UN inquiries; no answers.
The last time I saw him
he told me he loved me
and kissed me goodbye
then boarded a plane to Amman
to do his father's bidding
and work in the family business
Less than five months later he was dead,
shot three times in the head.
For those still here
an obligation to tell their stories
remember what they held dear
the struggles and small victories
undying commitment to causes
greater than themselves
*Secret police during the reign of the Shah of Iran
Note that Qaddafi is spelled in a number of ways. At the UN, we spelled his name Muammar al-Qaddafi.
Photo of bas relief sculptures over a doorway in Amsterdam.