PS. This post is for my Sister, Robin, who asked that I share this with you. As she is so wonderful, I couldn’t refuse, even though I certainly didn’t plan on it originally…I told you I am shy…
Happy Labor Day weekend for those that are celebrating…
Everything that makes living in a small town in Provence worthwhile…
Last night, I took a glass of wine and sat out under the trellis in the courtyard, listening to the neighborhood’s pair of turtle-doves call. They stated their love for each other over and over. “Yes, the light has morphed,” I thought. The vines tumbling over the wall were lit up from within, a golden x-ray that I could almost pull at like taffy between my fingers. I picked up my cell phone, then put it down. “Don’t fiddle,” I told myself. “There is plenty to see here. Plenty to keep me occupied.” Habits…I gave me head a sharp shake as if to let them go.
As I reached towards my glass, I saw that two leaves had fallen, just so, as if I had placed them prettily under my sluice of red. “These autumn leaves…” I hummed a little Nat King Cole merrily to myself… “beneath my window…” even if it is a wistful song. For Summer is solid in France, a yearly right of passage or a coda, something earned the rest of the year. And yet Remi and I had given ours over entirely to working in this new house, then moving, an investment in our future. Neither of us saw the time passing but it has and I am relieved.
For now, so much has been shed, just like blooms that had once triumphed brightly and yet are no longer useful. The boxes have been unpacked and stacked and in the middle of the night when I had to find my way down to the kitchen in the dark, I knew the way.
As I looked up at the sunset’s scrawling across the crowds, I sipped slowly and let my shoulders drop. “Goodbye Summer, you beautiful swanning girl. See you next year…” A light popped on in the kitchen behind me, Remi coming down to watch the evening news on a very important day when an entire government had faded into the past. Yes, change is in the air.
It was my birthday. I am superstitious about them, childishly so. If they aren’t slam-dunk amazing does that mean that I will be doomed to a year ahead of offness? So it was with a nearing whininess that I wandered through the crowded streets of high season Uzes, a town that I usually adore, after a late and frankly so-so lunch with my honey on the Place des Herbes. I held his hand tighter when I saw that the shop that we had come here to visit was closed for Monday. Things were not going according to plan.
But then Remi made a swift turn and entered into a boutique that I had never seen before. If I have learned anything after living nearly thirteen years with this handsome photographer, it is that the man has pif, he has instinct. Where he goes, I will follow or regret it later.
Those of you that have been reading for any length of time know that I am fascinated by patina. I don’t just find it “pretty” or “fashionable” I also find it…quite meaningful. So perhaps you can imagine my inner leap of joy upon discovering that I was in the Ali Baba Cavern of Yee Olde Beautiful Things. And it is run by a wonderful curator.
Bénédicte Leuwers-Mohr was previously a fashion editor for various European magazines before turning towards l’art de la décoration and we were in immediate agreement on the importance of both respecting creative rights and that of taking time to do things well. I saw first hand how her shaped eye had lead her to make such pieces as a giant suspension lamp built around a vintage industrial flour shifter or folding chairs recovered in fabric that bread had been baked in. Inventive, textural, grounded and quietly stunning. My heart went pit a pat.
She also showcases some of the bright lights of the region – literally in the case of the work of Vox Populi, a personal favorite – and beyond, including the most sumptuous cashmere and yak (yak!) blankets that I have ever seen, which were handmade by a pair of brothers in Nepal.
I believe that I have found a new favorite antiques store in Provence. That Bénédicte is such an interesting host only makes the visit all the more worthwhile. It was a birthday gift for the eyes, one to delight a certain aesthetic and longing for the past, all while opening the door to confidently looking towards the year ahead.
I will take everything, please.
PS. I am sorry for the quality of the photos but I still haven’t found my battery charger for my camera since the move! Hopefully soon…