Who doesn’t love a bandwagon?

I bought a new vase recently for no reason other than it was adorable, went to buy flowers, and to my disappointment, found none in the shops I liked. This brought me back to the time I bought a silk bouquet for my wedding, and was met with my families collective horror. What?! Fake?! You can’t have fake flowers at a wedding!! They must be fresh! From a florist! A good florist!

Thinking I must have killed the Queen of England to attract such ire, I meekly went along and got a bouquet which were peonies, out of season and odd looking, and felt a bit disappointed. Fresh flowers didn’t live up to the hype. Luckily they photographed well. I kept my silk bunch which have been in a pretty vase ever since attracting favourable comments.

And now that my wedding is over and I no longer have to suffer under the weight of Highly Informed Opinions, I went straight back to the silk flower shop today and bought these beauties.


The irony of the vase’s wording isn’t lost on me! I’ll have to spray them with perfume. I adore them. Status anxiety does not exist at my house, and after seeing Faux Fuchsia’s forchids, I knew that good style knows when to cross the boundaries!

A quick snippet of my life.

I’m a bit of a fan of Eleanor Roosevelt, the woman was practically a quote vending-machine.  That book is a plain lined notebook I picked up in my most favourite gift shop ever, Pentimento.  It cost way too much money but I use it as a sort of thought-journal plus it looks good on a shelf.   Right now it’s sitting on my desk.

It only took me the end of two degrees to realise that a study space is so, so important.  It has to invite you there or you’re not going to go there.  And I can tell you now, as inviting as they get, sometimes only a massive block of chocolate and some Etsy purchases for your walls will get you there, and that’s okay.

I went for my customary walk with Mr G today – we go for a walk around the neighbourhood every day if the weather is nice, all good Mediterraneans* walk around 2-3km a day so I do too.  Not very quickly.  There’s always so much to look at, neigbours gardens to inspect, fruit to be pinched from trees, and dogs to chuckle at.

I think the best bunch of flowers are the ones you gather yourself on these walks, they don’t match, they tell a story of where you’ve been and the conversations you had that day.

I love colour.  I love star jasmine.  I’d never seen it before moving from a cooler state to a warmer one.  I was so excited when I discovered it that I rang my mother immediately and described it to her.  Of course she knew exactly what it was, she is a walking encyclopedia of flowers.  Whenever she comes to visit, we go walking around the neighborhood, and she makes me name all the flowers.  If I don’t remember the name, she makes me remember it every hundred metres or so.

I love Sundays, I love spring and summer, and I love the sunlight brightening up all the colour I’ve put around the place!

*I am not Mediterranean.  Not even remotely.  My ancestors ate potatoes and died of scurvy.  But I am obsessed with living like one.