the hunt Beautiful

Weekend Hangover Edition…

Oh my.  Nothing is worse than the sneak attack hangover.  

Well, maybe the wine sneak attack hangover and that’s what I’m nursing this Saturday morning.  I’m armed with tylenol, water, coffee and sparkling mint mineral water.  The latter two are the best things since sliced bread…

Last night I thought I could live on escargot and wine (weird, but true), and didn’t eat anything substantial during the obligatory midnight burger run.  I only ate fries. I didn’t feel drunk.  Rookie move, my friends.  

While I pay the piper this morning, please be well, and enjoy your weekend to its fullest potential.  (and don’t let the wine fool you!)

Cheers,

Elena

Photo: View of the screen in my living room during summer.  I love how the light creeps through all the palm fronds.

Meet the Un/Real World…

I find myself at a cross roads, confused.  I love photography.  I love styling.  I love interiors.  Most often though, if you combine all those things you do not arrive at the truth.  I know this, and most often I turn a blind eye, but I can’t right now.  I see too much…

Sunday morning, I lounged, drank coffee and read the NY Times Magazine (my favorite thing ever) and came across the Domains section, where you see how other people live (literally).  Always intriguing.  This week, it was a piece on Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips.  In the one of the gorgeous photos,  Wayne and his wife Michelle (who looks bad ass in a bikini - wowza) are lounging in their backyard.  Her Miu Miu platform sandals are waiting her exit from the kiddie pool and he’s sitting in some craaaaa-zy outdoor chair, which anthropologie was hawking earlier this summer for some outrageous amount. 

I think back to a documentary that I watched about the Flaming Lips, where they show Wayne and his wife at their compound.  And for a guy who sings in a plastic bubble while walking over crowds and writes lyrics about “evil natured robots” you might expect that same crazyness, but it seemed pretty normal, both indoors and out.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, their place was quirky as all get out, but still normal.  Not so stylized.  Not, I just “borrowed” ten pieces from Jonathan Adler to make this place look quirky-cool, which is what we see above. 

Now, I’m not saying that Wayne borrowed the pieces for Jonathan Adler - that’s what stylists do.  And I’m also not saying it was styled badly, as in, if indeed the crazy chairs, Miu Miu heels, druggie ceramics and pillows are not theirs, it certainly suited them.  I’m saying that a certain subtlety was missing.  

For all the star worship in the world, for all the “everything must be fabulous and perfect”: sometimes, you just want to see the real thing.  

P.S. the interview is good.  I agree with his “desert island” music choices. (Except the Bjork)

Photo via The NY Times

Gifted…

Sad story, a couple of friends of mine are recently divorced.  Not like two separate friends of mine got divorced, but rather I am friends with both the divorcees.  Even more complicated, no?  Well, she finally moved out into a cute as a button place of her own.  Being that it is cute as a button, it is small and she has a lot of things.  You can see where the problems begin…

In the midst of moving in and throwing things out, she gave me her old Polaroid today.  It was the kind of gift where you don’t really want to give it up, but you don’t have space and you know it’s going to a good home.  I am touched that she felt I was special enough receive her Polaroid camera.  (I know how those things go)

It’s a Polaroid Land Camera and all I need are some batteries and film and I’m in business!  I promised her a nice framed polaroid of something pretty.  And being that we understand each other, we both know that it’s a nice gift (going both ways) and we’re happy…

The Weekend…

Not-So-Grand:  Grey days,  soaking wet from the rain, squishy ballet flats that won’t dry out, less-than-stellar days at work.

Grand:  crazy friends who laugh and dance, vacation planning, pushed back photography exhibition (phew!), floral palazzo pants (for L.A.), home-made grilled corn salsa, bloody mary’s and kitten hugs.

More Grand things in my life than Not-So-Grand = Just about right. (right?)

I hope everyone has a great weekend!

Marilyn Stories…

I love this picture of Marilyn Monroe putting mustard on a hot dog at some nondescript lunch counter in NYC.  She looks so pretty: her hair all wavy, the lace edging of her white top and that serious look on her face.  (Hey! Mustard on hot dogs is serious business, ok?)

But even better is the look on the faces of those on either side of her.  That young boy, and that gentleman…you know they can hardly believe their good luck.  They just probably wanted lunch, and they got Marilyn!  Imagine the stories they told that night at the dinner table!

My Marilyn story is not as exciting, but I do have one.  When I lived in Switzerland, I tutored English on the side.  One of my students was quite well-to-do and collected old cars.  One of his favorite things to do was to take a different car each week to his lessons, as he lived about 45 minutes away in the country and enjoyed the drive.  

After our lessons, my car-less self would take the train home (I miss those days), but one day my student insisted on driving me home.  I declined politely what felt about ten times.  No, he said, you have to take a ride in this car.

I demurred and walked over to the beautiful Rolls Royce, a Silver Cloud, and started to get into the passengers side. No no no, he exclaimed…in the back: I am your chauffeur today!  Again I demurred, and sat in the expansive backseat of this gorgeous car.  

He told me he was going to take the long way around to my village, so I could enjoy the drive.  It was spring and we talked about how nice the sun felt and what we were growing in our gardens, but of course in the end, we talked about the car: what type it was, how long he had owned it, etc.  I asked how many owners it had belonged to, and he replied that he was the third.  He had bought it from a sheik, but the first owner was Marilyn Monroe.  

That’s why I wanted to drive you home,  he said.  You had to sit in her car.  

(He immediately became teacher’s pet)

Photo via Everything’s Beautiful Here