Love, Blue Rooms and Hemingway on Valentine's Day

I feel sorry for my partner. Imagine having a design journalist manage your household? ("Are you putting green and purple sheets on the bed? Together? Are you really going to do that to me?") 

Seriously. No wonder he drinks. 

(Side note: He deliberately switches the towels and bedlinen around when I go away for work, just to be wicked. I come home and the house looks like someone's vomited Pantone's mis-tints everywhere.

Anyway, I realise he lives a very difficult life with me as a partner, and so every now and then I try to make it up to him with marital rewards. (No, NOT that kind.) If you've been in a relationship for a few years you'll know these keep the peace. What's that old adage? "A marriage is less like love and more like a business arrangement where you both try to balance the books and keep an eye on the competition."

So, as a gift, I gave him this (above). It's a Fishing Pass. For 12 months' of Guilt-Free Fishing. 

He used January's pass last weekend, and has a February trip to King Island this weekend. A group of his mates have chartered a plane and are flying down to the island to do Secret Men's Business. When he comes back, I'm going to Sydney for a girlies' week. This is how you keep a marriage together, you see. It tends to work beautifully.

While he was away on last weekend's Bloke's Bonding Trip with the political boys, I decided to turn his bedroom into a 5-star, hotel-style suite. As a treat.

(This is our bedroom, but when he snores, I sleep in the Maid's Quarters in the back. So I call this his bedroom.)

The 'theme' was 'Hemingway's Boat'. The book of which I read over summer, and loved.

Repainted the walls, which were splotchy from the last painting effort.

(WHO hung those wonky pix?)

Then re-painted the butler's trays. These were spray-painted with gold paint, then lacquered over with a Feast Watson Choc-Walnut finish, so they resembled the side of a boat. 

The curtains were $20 at Spotlight. Love those Spotlight sales. Hate the navy and gold fabric but it does look masculine and we can't afford Manuel Canovas.

The padded bedhead was a DIY job with leftover Ralph Lauren navy pinstripe linen, bought for $12/m.

Made a little Hemingway side table. We already had the replica of Hem's house in Key West and the bestselling book Hemingway's Boat by Paul Hendrickson, and then I found the boat on sale – the closest I could find to Hem's beloved cruiser 'Pilar'. (Just ignore the dubious painting job on the table.)

The finished product. 

The Hemingway Suite.

(Sorry about the bad hospital corner on the bed there. The whole bed looks dishevelled! I had to get back to work!)

This was my helper. He likes to oversee things. When he's not emitting gaseous smells and humping his Jack Russell sibling.

RR loved the new bedroom. He loved it so much, he decided to write a poem. This is what he wrote:

Our love is like a Hemingway boat.

It always manages to stay afloat...

When he gave it to me, I had to try not to laugh.

"Is that all you have for me?" I said eventually, with a solemn face. "Love is like a boat?"

"Well, I agree it's not Keats," he said.

"Perhaps you need to revisit it?" I suggested. "Perhaps it's missing a verse, a stanza, or something...?"

(Actually, this is the replica card. The original was damaged after the dogs trod on it.)

"I'll write you another poem on February 14," he said generously.

And that, my dear readers, is how we keep the magic going in our house.

Read more »

Green, Spring, & The Art of Being Happy

Do you ever look up from your life and think: I'm actually quite happy? Do you ever sit in the garden with a cup of tea, or sing along to a great song in the car, or walk along an autumn/spring street just as the trees are erupting into colour and realise, with a small shock, that life is actually really lovely?

I'm deeply ashamed to say I don't. Not as much as I should. I used to. I'm sure many of us did. Years ago, a good friend told me about CBT and The Art of Gratitude, so I used to practice both of them. Often. Running was another life enhancer. Walking too. (Especially in foreign cities such as Paris: there are few things as lovely as being a flâneuse.) But then my partner and I had a few challenging years. As many of us have had since the media and PS industries hit the proverbial wall...

It started when we bought a big, old, rundown house in the country, which ended up being inhabited by ghosts. (No, I didn't believe in them either, until last year). Then I became quite sick, then kept getting sicker, and nobody could figure out what was wrong. (I'm slowly getting better thankfully). And then the publishing market collapsed, and my publishers collapsed with it. (One of them, Murdoch Books, is even being sold as I write this.)

So I started writing a book about a famous Australian novel (above), which I discovered was cursed. Or, if not cursed, then certainly affected by its own haunting back story. (The story is too complicated to explain but it's incredibly sad.) We eventually sold the big old house and left the persistent ghosts behind. But the entire book industry, meanwhile, kept falling to its literary knees, and still hasn't been able to get back up again.

So, earlier this year, we made the decision to move to the US East Coast where I could perhaps have a better career, perhaps even start my own company, and my partner could have a better career in his industry, and we could buy 3 houses for the price of our Australian home! But then, realising our families needed us, we turned around from our NY reccy and came back again.

Then, to finish everything off in a truly fitting way, we realised that, by not moving to the US, our dreams of having children were probably quashed once and for all. (It would have been easier there, with adoption and surrogacy options, than here in Australia, where such things are impossible.)

I'm ashamed to say that I didn't think about happiness for a long, long, long time.

Until yesterday.

You know those days where everything falls into place, like a high-scoring Scrabble word? Well, this was such a day. It was glorious. I took the dogs for a long walk and realised I could at last breath again.

The scents of the spring hyacinths, apple blossoms and jasmine filled the air, and the soft morning light turned into the most golden day. Some parts of it were showery with spring rains, but other moments were warm and still. There was even a double-rainbow, which acted as a exclamation mark for a pretty sunshower that made our newly replanted hydrangeas perk up again.

I gave the dogs a bone each and sat down to finish editing the last chapters of The Book About The Cursed Novel, and realised it wasn't such a horrific story after all. I went out at lunch and bought an orchid, and a sports bra to go running again, then prepared some dinner for The Loved One. I also made significant progress on The Garden Tour Itinerary (which has been very, very difficult, but will be worth all the effort), and then sorted through 658 photos of Paris and New York for 2 lovely new books that we're about to begin work on. {Image of a Gramercy Park balcony from our faux honeymoon earlier this year: Oh, how I loved Gramercy Park. That was a glimpse of happiness, right there!}

At 5 o'clock, I went for another walk with the dogs, amid yet another sunshower, and ended up near the Botanic Gardens at dusk, which reminded me of this beautiful book (above). It was there, at the top of the hill that The Loved One found me, soaked through and grinning from ear to ear like some Jane Eyre-esque madwoman. Only without the attic. And the match. (He'd arrived home, realised we were out in the rain and come to find us in his car.)

"Hi honey," I said, as we all clambered into the 4WD, soaking wet. "Thanks for coming to collect me. I love you. Life's pretty wonderful, don't you think?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Have you done something you haven't told me about yet?" he said.

I know it's a cheesy thing, but sometimes you just need a bit of gratitude to enjoy life again, don't you think? Why is it that the old-fashioned remedies – a walk, a run, two dogs, some grass, a whiff of jasmine, a toss of a salad, a flick through photos of Paris – work far, far better than any modern therapy methods? I don't know. But I do know that that the old 'Halleluja Approach', as my grandma called it, is vastly underestimated.

{NB Here's K D Lang singing Leonard Cohen's Halleluja here – so beautiful, it will bring tears to your eyes.}

Here's another quick tale. I have a friend in the Bahamas who owns a famous and very beautiful hotel called The Landing, on Harbour Island. I'm helping her and her husband write a book. I may even publish it. One day, several years ago, her little sister, an extraordinary young lawyer who was highly respected in New York, went out running in SoHo. A guy started driving a truck backwards down a one-way street, while talking on his cell phone. The ladder perched precariously on the back of his truck struck her in the head. Just like that. She had no ID so she wasn't identified for several days. She was so respected that when the news leaked out, much of the New York legal community went into shock. Then this friend's father, a GP who by all accounts was another extraordinary soul, passed away. Then, just last week, I learned that her other sister, another remarkable person with a heart of gold, also died. The funeral is in Nassau this week. Hundreds are going. It's being planned as a enormous celebration of life. Which is just what it should be.

So this is what I advocate. Be grateful for the life you have. Even if it isn't quite what you imagined.

Here, to inspire you all on a Tuesday, are some glorious photos of green and spring growth. I'm sorry for the bad metaphor, but I couldn't think of nicer images to illustrate The Art of Happiness. Furthermore, I'm now officially engrossed in The Garden Tours, which are going to be wonderful, and so I thought a few horticultural images might make give us all a little spring in our step today. (Sorry, another bad metaphor!)

So if your career isn't going the way you want to, if your family life is getting on top of you, if your dreams have stalled and your life isn't unfolding quite how you planned, don't worry. Don't worry. Just be thankful anyway. It works. Trust me.

Wishing you all a truly lovely day.

(PS I've caught a cold from the rain yesterday but you don't need to hear that. It would have spoiled a good story!)

The spring windows of Peony, in Hawthorn. Jill always does a beautiful job of merchandising.

Joe's in Greenwich Village, New York. I remember this day in New York. It was sunny. All the cafes had opened their window and doors. Washington Square Park was full of happy dogs. It was a magical day.

The spectacular garden of the Delano Hotel in Miami. Gardening as only Miami can do.

A Marimekko tray from the spring range. Have you seen how Marimekko is coming back into fashion? The new store near the Flatiron building is eye-wateringly beautiful.

    

A bouquet with limes. Love this. Imagine the scent as you walked past?

Love this too. A design by Fulvio Bonevia, via Slim Paley. I love broccoli. Not sure I could do a handbag in it but this is still enchanting.

The parterre potager of a new friend, the always-delightful Bumble at Lynwood Farm, which can be found here, at this blog – here. Bumble's garden is truly amazing. Look at that trim job!

            

Photographs of the countryside by the talented Ben Pentreath. I love Ben's work, and not just his architecture and design. He's a skilled writer and photographer, too. His lovely blog is here.

The library of one of the most stylish people in fashion, Iris Apfel, via Architectural Digest.

Re-reading this, with much joy. Adam Nicholson is one of the best gardening writers there is, next to Monty Don. No wonder really, considering his grandmother was Vita Sackville-West.

Also bought this on the weekend. The images of Italian and English gardens are wonderful.

A curious little Arts and Craft-style cottage at 29 Leggatt Street in Daylesford that recently sold as part of an auction of charming country properties. Another one was Islay House in Woodend (below) – the old Georgian coach inn, and one of the architectural treasures of Macedon.

It sold for just over $550,000, apparently. Even though it was derelict and in a flood zone. So happy to see that someone's going to save it.

Bunny Mellon's conservatory. Have posted this image before, but still love it. Look at that trompe l'oeil. {Via Vanity Fair}

The royal greenhouses in Brussels. Just lovely.

And a gorgeous new restaurant in Sydney called Chiswick, which has its own kitchen garden. Love the colour scheme, and the outlook over the potager. A meal here would certainly make you happy.

And a few more images for the road...

Read more »

A Long Overdue Note To My Extraordinary Mother

I'd like you to meet my mother. It's her birthday next week. She says she doesn't want anything for a present, but she says this every year. (In fact, she's so frugal that some years she returns birthday cards to me – which I've given her in the past – just so I can give them BACK to her to save money!)

Anyhow, I've been thinking about what to get her. What do you get the woman who has everything? We encounter this problem every year. So I've decided I'm going to write her a letter. A thank you letter, for being a truly extraordinary mother.

I'd like you to meet her.

My parents are not like normal parents. Don't let the cute photo on the Île Saint-Louis fool you. They're what you'd call Extreme Adventurers. One journalist wrote that they like to take the Department of Foreign Affairs warnings and create travel itineraries out of them. It's not quite right, but it's not far off the mark.

In the last two decades they've travelled through two wars, a tornado and a cyclone, and narrowly missed perishing aboard a sinking ferry on freezing Lake Titicaca. (The highest lake in the world.) They've gone fishing for Anacondas up the Amazon, eaten guinea pigs with the locals in some remote village in Peru, stuck their noses over Iguazu Falls, travelled through Alaska aboard a tiny Sessna, traversed the villages of the Arctic Circle, wandered around the bottom of Patagonia, wandered a bit more around the wilds of Argentina, spent some time absorbing the culture of the Spice Islands, recovered in the Seychelles, gone trekking in Africa and criss-crossed the Outback more times than the rest of our family have had cups of tea. About the tamest trip they've done is Maine (above). Where they ate a lobster that wasn't quite cooked.

Once, I met Dick Smith's daughter at her beautiful hotel, Capella Lodge on Lord Howe Island. Curious, I asked her if she'd ever been worried that her father wouldn't come home. (We'd just had dinner together and she'd been regaling me with stories of his adventures.) "Oh YES!" she said laughing. "Every time he steps out the door!" I was pleased to hear I wasn't the only one. When normal parents get bored, they go out for a meal at the local RSL. When my parents get bored, they grab a flight to Mozambique.

Now, I've had the privilege of travelling with them several times but I can tell you it's not easy. For a start, they're both former school principals, so it's a little like travelling with, well, former school principals. We travelled through the US a few years ago and I felt like I had to write an essay at the end of every day. We also travelled through France and it ended up in an almighty fight in Versailles. (I walked off in a huff, crying silent tears, and then heard my suitcase wheels breaking on the cobblestones. I had to laugh, in spite of my bad mood!)

The thing is, having parents like this – having a mother like her (and she instigates these incredible adventures, not my father) is a real privilege. It's like having two David Attenboroughs in your living room. All the time. I can ask my mother just about anything and she knows the answer. Sometimes it's frustrating. Most of the time it's incredibly helpful.

My mother and I have had a lot of fights over the years, as most mothers and daughters do. But she is always – always – the first to say sorry. And that small gesture shows just how gracious and kind – and how great – she is. {Top photo is in the back seat of my father's beloved '66 Mustang. Not sure what they were doing back there?}

Mum, I do love you. You're smart, funny, witty, kind, and still correct my grammar. Plus, you've been to more places than anyone I know. How could I not be in awe?

Have a wonderful, wonderful birthday.

xx

Read more »

Feeling Blue: Why Navy Interiors Reflect Our Mood

Life, Interrupted...

In 10 days we are moving to a new home. We had intended for it to be an investment property, as we had hoped / planned to move overseas. However, life has a way of throwing a cul-de-sac at you, and so we've gone overseas and come back again.

 {Butterfield 8, via Apartment Therapy New York}

The reason(s)? It's election year in the US and so job prospects in US politics are slim (ironically.) RR has had interest from several political players (those not burying their coiffured heads in policies), but it's not enough to give up the great job he has here. Not just yet anyway. In addition, we're realised that his mother is at a stage where she will need more of our help, and may even wish to live with us, intermittently or full-time. (And she is more than welcome to do so.) And my parents would miss us, too.  So we're here for another year or more. Melbourne winter, and all.

The irony is (and I was ruefully cognisant of this as I walked around New York), I could happily go and live in the US tomorrow. I could begin work there immediately. And there is far more work for me than here. (Look at Liz in her lover's Fifth Avenue apartment in Butterfield 8. She looks happy, doesn't she? This is before The Lover throws money at her, of course, and she throws a tantrum back. And then runs out the door with a bottle of scotch.)

I could also happily settle into a little cottage in Connecticut. Especially if it had a little garden. {Photo: Connecticut Cottages & Gardens}

But the road seems to have forked unexpectedly, and we're now taking the left track in life, rather than the right one. (Or should that be, the left door, rather than the right?) I'm hoping the skewed route still gets us there eventually, but I have to admit the detour has made me a little contemplative. No wonder I've been sombre all week. No wonder I'm posting images of bathers. And beaches. And New York streets. Anything to distract me from the fact that I'm still here.

Have you ever given up everything for your family? Have you ever sacrificed your own career to put your loved people first? I have to admit I've never done it. I've moved when I've wanted to; taken jobs where I've wanted to; lingered in places (Paris, London, Key West) just for the sheer pleasure of it. But when you create a family, your life becomes theirs. And theirs becomes yours. It's difficult to herd a clump of family members to the East Coast of America, especially when they're quite happy here, thank you!

The upside is, we love Australia. We love our families. And we adore Melbourne. We also have a beautiful home to move into. So I'm going to console myself with a bit of decorating. (And perhaps a glass of something, too...)

The colour scheme I've chosen for our new living room? You guessed it. Benjamin Moore's New York State of Mind. Or as close as I can get to it with a beautiful navy blue.

What's that old saying? If you can't have what you want, be happy with what you've got? Gratitude is a great thing sometimes, isn't it?

“So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact. And remember that life's A Great Balancing Act. And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed!” ― Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You'll Go!

{NB Have completely lost the sources of these images, possibly somewhere over the Pacific. Please let me know if you know, and I'll happily credit.}

Read more »