The anatomy of desire

I love a bit of fantasy in my fashion and have always adored this image of Manolos on a country walk.  It is the juxtaposition and the complete impracticality that apppeals to me.  I am not sure to which era these shoes belong, but I have a feeling that it was when I started appreciating the beauty of a perfectly executed photographic fashion story and realised that really good editorial could be on a par with the fine art of old. It shouldn't just be considered as a shopping guide, some things are just beautiful and that is enough.
Whilst searching for this picture, I came across these on sale in a US second hand designer store...

They are indeed the very same, and they are my size, it must be fate.
My heart skipped a beat and I knew I had to had them.
Not long ago I would have bought them without hesitation, but with my more limited budget and time to think, they made me consider brands, marketing and the premiums that we place on some items (particularly luxury goods).
The desire to own these shoes did not stem from having the perfect outfit or event to which to wear them, rather it was about possession pure and simple. If I'm honest I can't really ever envisage actually wearing them.
For me, in a similar way to how (some!) modern art can bypass reason and appeal to the senses, these shoes appealed directly to a part of me that had been locked away and was long forgotten.  They represent a zeitgeist that I can't specifically recall, but I know it was positive and pleasant and made me smile.
I have friends who have worked in PR, but find it very difficult to quantify the value that they add to the marketing of products.  And I think that my reaction to these shoes probably sums up the essence of successful PR; if you can make something part of a moment in time through its editorial coverage that brand or item becomes part of the fabric of our history and experience of life and its appeal will be longer lasting than any advertising campaign can ever achieve.
And so I am still debating the purchase of the shoes, I will make an offer but if the offer is not accepted, I will whip out some silk foliage and an old pair of flip flops and endeavour to make my own!  Afterall not all desires should be fulfilled all of the time.

Snow Fairy

Throughout the afternoon I watched them there,
Snow-fairies falling, falling from the sky,
Whirling fantastic in the misty air,
Contending fierce for space supremacy.
And they flew down a mightier force at night,
As though in heaven there was revolt and riot,
And they, frail things had taken panic flight
Down to the calm earth seeking peace and quiet.
I went to bed and rose at early dawn
To see them huddled together in a heap,
Each merged into the other upon the lawn,
Worn out by the sharp struggle, fast asleep.
The sun shone brightly on them half the day,
By night they stealthily had stol'n away.

 Claude McKay was born in Jamaica, he was educated by his older brother, who owned a handful of books, he went to the United States where he used poetry to record the injustices of black life in America.
This is one of my favourite pieces of writing about the snow, may be it takes a West Indies climate to appreciate the beauty and the sadness of it.

This weekend I was in the town and country and the scenery was equally beautiful in both.

The a sprinkling of snow is the perfect finishing touch to white London town houses, which always remind me of perfectly iced cakes.

country couture

Country interiors can be tricky to get right.  The more relaxed pace of country living often invites an abode to become a dumping ground for unwanted bits and pieces from elsewhere so that the style is a higgeldy piggeldy mix of everyone's cast offs.
I have always preferred a simple chalky white look, maintaining as much of the original as possible but combining it with modern touches.  There must be light, heat and hot water at the touch of a button.  So many Brits are still happy living in draughty mausoleums relying on their dogs and layers of dust for warmth.  They wear their fortitude as a badge of honour and see central heating as a weakness of the feeble in body and spirit.

The puritanical style that I have adopted has remained unchallenged until I saw this beautiful table cloth for sale at a local shop.  It is antique French linen and the embroidery has been done a lady who lives a few cottages away from me.
She embroiders for the love of it, and a piece is only finished when it is perfect.  She does not labour to get the best price for her work, rather it is the love of creating beauty that drives her.
She has no idea how many hours of work goes into each one, but each is given as long as is required for it to be ready to leave her.  Whatever your personal style, how can you not love this?

The photos simply do not do it justice.  I paid the princely sum of £50.

Each time I look at it it I find different details to love, it just lifts my spirits.