At least on this side of the world, winter can't make up its mind how long it wants to stay this year. I'd like the cold and the grey to stick around just a little longer.

It's been a Debussy and Gene Austin sort of day.
The type of misty-winter rain that embellishes everything with little rhinestone-like drops has been a constant feature in Paris.
Even though I don't mind the cold dew, I've taken up staying in and knitting.

Wallpaper

Some things come better with age. Dust and neglect settle out the colors of wallpaper and wood to create some of my favorite textured looks. Something of the same quality can be said for the abandon and emotion of the photographs of Francesca Woodman, one of my favorite photographers of the last century. These images will always be connected in my mind to the unsettled, rusted out splendor of the south, and the coming of age moments Ive experience coming here away from home. For the beauty and detail of this wallpaper I recommend the wallpaper museum in Rixheim France (where all these images reference back to). As one of the oldest and most noted creators of fine printed wallpaper the museum houses incredible catalogues of beauty and history. The old Alsacian building and courtyard that house the old studios and collections are amazing in themselves.

 

This time of year makes me painfully nostalgic for other lives. I hold onto objects too tightly sometimes, probably because they remind me of these memories. Past trips, past tears, past joys. These treasures were from a specifically wonderful time, getting lost in backroads Georgia, right before a time of home, heartbreak and new adventure. The fact that you can still find little antique piles on the side of the road with 5cent paper price tags taped on is a treasure in itself.

Amongst the lively events occurring in Paris,
i miss here:

A bit more of the past to inspire the future.
With a week-end passing, as lovely as it was; winter after christmas still has it's comforts.
Though distance keeps loved ones away, there's a closeness knowing that experiences are shared even with absence.
The temperature keeps getting colder outside, but the water in the kettle still boils just as fast.
I am looking forward to a trip this week over to la droguerie to sort through textures and colors of yarns, trims, and buttons.
xo

January always urges me to organize.
To make order.
To unbury treasures kept away in small boxes from Santa Maria Novella, and let time pass by meticulously absorbing in each memory connected to each item.
With many winter days ahead of us I was charmed to come across a small collection of pressed flowers, and with that an unexpectate desire to splurge on a nice tin of tea from Mariage Frères.
I long to unite Paris with Savannah, spending gray afternoons sipping away with good company.

I am excited to be rounding up inspiring bits and pieces for our fall collection...a small sampling of our soft colors, arranged three ways.

     Sunday Breakfast from the Savannah chapter; A little decadence (especially first thing in the morning) goes a long way. I like to think it helps the effort when we've been extra focused around here at filling our few precious extra hours with some of the creative projects we have piled high.

Bonne année!

Some samples of our past work.
To see more:
Kelsey_: kelseygarrityillustration.blogspot.com
Reba_: www.rebabaggett.com

Collecting color.

tie dirkx

After ballet class, a grey winter day spent constructing linen cabanes.

Working space elements/ Paris

The charms of Savannah become more apparent and more appreciated after time spent in foreign places. With the layers of peeling paint, the old confederacy surfaces; an era when Savannah was saved by Sherman. Preserved because of it's aesthetics, spared and given as a gift to our president, the one with the deep-set eyes and chiseled cheek bones, number 16

This is the beginning of something that has always been an idea, but has turned itself into something more tangible.

Elements of Savannah have become our inner fibers. I will never be able to overlook the oak trees in this city. The branches, with their strong, winding wood carry the tangled, wool-like gatherings of spanish moss are reason enough that this city was saved.

-bois de la laine-