My favorite store in Aix

…and perhaps the world. I am completely serious. And yes, that is saying something. 
Meet Zaia. She opened her boutique in Aix-en-Provence last October, having chosen an up-and-coming neighborhood in the South of France over her previous digs in Paris. 
In France, surprisingly I find that we can rarely call any retail environment “curated” (a word that is slung around a little too loosely in the States) save for Colette and Caravane in Paris and a few worthy exceptions. But every object in Le Sérail has been considered down to its finest detail. 
Zaia works with not only artisans but designers in both India and Marrakech to create exquisite pieces of the highest quality possible. Her direct relationship with them keeps the prices incredibly reasonable considering, what the French call un rapport qualité-prix. The above clutch is of such finesse that it would be deeply treasured and handed down–how often can that be said for an item that costs 248€?

I came across the store in my wanderings with the beautiful and very glamorous Dash and she was drawn to the tunics in the window like a moth to a flame. All hand stitched in India and yet, can I tell you? Even in Rajasthan, I did not come across such fine craftsmanship. Can you see the delicate beading along the collars? Amazing.

In my excitement, I admittedly forgot to do my job as well as I should. I did not take any photos of the giant heavily grained leather shoppers that any woman would want, let alone ask the price. Nor how much are the metallic woven pillows that line her shop. Folks, I know it is in poor taste to play the “I have travelled the world card” but in this case, let me insist with all honesty (and of course with absolutely nothing to gain personally) that I thought this to be one of the most finely curated (there is that word again) boutiques that I have seen anywhere. 
And it is tiny to boot! Quality trumps quantity everytime. And are you ready for the good news? Yes, she ships internationally. She doesn’t have a website yet but I am sure that if you contact her, she will be willing to help you as best as she can. 
Le Sérail
5, rue Jaubert
Aix-en-Provence
Tel. +(33) 4 42 63 03 26
Email: zm**********@***il.com
or for those of you visiting Morrocco:
Boutique Akbar
Place Bab Fteuh, Medina Marrakech
Have a wonderful weekend everyone!

Fête de la Musique

Just a little break in our regular programming as today is the Fête de la Musique in France! All across the country–from the swarms of wandering millions pulsing the streets of Paris to a single accordion player in the tiniest country village–there will be notes filling the air and dancing to go with them. Perhaps I write about this every year but it never ceases to amaze me. It is the France that we all dream of, where culture is what rings in the first day of summer. 
And so I want to share a bit of music with you! First above, the song of the martinets flying outside my window this morning at 7 am, making their last swoops and swirls before the heat kicks in. And below, what I will be listening to for the next few months: “Mira” one of the tracks off of the new album The Absence from one of my favorite artists, Melody Gardot. The video celebrates all of the joy and exuberance of the season ahead…
Vive l’été et vive la musique! 

A Dash through Aix with French Sampler

This is when things start to get interesting. A smudge of the thumb and the fine line between virtual and  real is erased. Within…shall we say…two minutes of having met Dash from the amazing blog French Sampler, I sensed that she was exactly the kindred spirit that I had hoped. But to have her sitting across from me at a small café just outside of the train station in Aix! I scanned her face eagerly. Would there be signs of her panoplie of knowledge, her distinct elegance? I had long appreciated her honest writing,  been inspired as she worked hard to improve her photography and was always beautifully surprised by her subject matter. Our tastes are mind-bogglingly similar, it is true but had I misjudged her and she me? A warm smile spread out across her face. We started talking and didn’t stop for the next six hours. And it passed like the blink of an eye. We were still at lunch after three and when finally we pulled ourselves out of our comfortable volley to move, we  wisely abandoned our best laid plans and let our feet and cameras lead us. How wonderful to be just two women wandering. Alright, I’ll say it, deux blogueuses. Both looking, discovering with no one to hurry us in the least sense. Cameras in hand, focusing at the eye and click. Quite like a good connection. I have written about the wonderful city of Aix many times and it was lovely to watch her discover its rich diversity. We decided to make mutual posts, revealing our farandole on the same day without showing each other in advance. So I will look forward to finding where her eye landed nearly as much as I will spending time with Dash again…

Now, as quick as you can name the name of Lartigue’s favorite muse (“Renée!”), let’s hop on over to Dash’s wonderful blog:
And for those of you that are visiting for the first time from chez elle, a very warm welcome indeed.
Have a wonderful week everyone! 

My Dream House(s) in Arles

For some time I have been trying to choose what is my all time favorite house in Arles–and I need your help! All of them are in the neighborhood surrounding the Arena, which finally is not such a surprise. The area is the most sought after in Arles and has been since Roman times as it is on a hill, high above the possible floods of the Rhone River below. Car traffic is limited by the winding, rising streets and so la colline retains a wonderfully quiet and elegant character all its own.

This ancient city is full of surprises and appearances can often be deceiving. A seeming doll’s house might open onto an enormous complex fanning out from an innocuous front door while a long facade may only be one room deep! Crooked, graffiti-strewn walls disguise a magnificent jardin à la francaise replete with pool and fountains only visible via Google Earth. The cadastre or land registry office keeps maps that read like a maze with centuries of construction built smushed up against, on top of or even underneath another. So I hope that you will use your imagination as we visit. After me, if you please…

House Number 1

 

Admittedly, this house has sentimental value for me as Remi and I spied it with a For Sale sign attached on our very first visit to Arles. The house swerves around in an L with a large enclosed courtyard to the right so that it receives sunlight throughout the day. The rooms are well-proportioned, neither too grand nor too petite. It clearly has been well-renovated with an ivory and cream stucco exterior highlighted with greige accents on the shutters.

There is a small terrace above the courtyard and the wrought iron balcony looks directly on to the Arena. Here in the South, it can be a big advantage to have several outdoor spaces to enjoy depending on the time of day and the force of our Mistral winds.

House Number 2
Deceptively difficult to photograph, this house seems far smaller than it is in reality but it is un vrai bijou. Imagine an impressive Provençal mas in the middle of Arles, with creamy stone walls, exposed wooden beams on the ceiling as well as long 18th century rounded windows to let in the light. A really good energy emanates from this house and I often hear children’s laughter when I pass.
To the right is one of the prettiest and most secret squares, in the center of town but with no noise but birdsong. It feels as if you are in the country.

And directly in front, down a tiny impasse, the tower of Saint-Trophime looms overhead.

House Number 3

We first met Bruno, a brilliant but utterly cantankerous mason, while he was renovating this house. Not happy with a simple stucco for the exterior, he revived an eggshell technique from the 17th century which creates an incredible smoothness, not to mention a depth of color. The rest of the house was met with the same care. He carefully reproduced the stone detailing on the facade so that it is impossible to see what is old and what is new.
Untold layers of wash were used on the front door to create patina, one expressly not too perfect. Just  inside is a sweeping stone staircase leading to the upper levels including a terrace and solarium. The house is on one of Arles’ most charming cobblestone passageways with several views on the adjacent Arena.

 House Number 4

Halfway up the prestigious Rue des Arenes lies the formidable Hôtel Forbin-Soliers, not a hotel in the contemporary sense but a hôtel particulier or mansion. While heavily renovated in the 19th century, it has retained many of its finest 16th century features, including decorative pilasters and Corinthian capitals in the antique style, as was fashionable at the time of its construction. The stone facade has not yet been renovated but could easily be restored to a gleaming splendour.
Those of you that have read this blog for a while have undoubtedly seen this entry door a few times as I never tire of photographing it. I find it the most beautiful (if not the most ornate) of Arles. While I was trying to find an angle to fit all of it in, an extremely elderly woman slowly approached and entered without giving me a second glance.

In accordance with the period, the house has its own watchtower that is usually attached to a terrace, one that would have views over nearly all of the town. To the left is an expansive courtyard. It is difficult to truly know the size but I believe this to be one of the largest houses inhabited by a single family in the Historic Center of Arles.

House Number 5

The most elegant house architecturally speaking, is on another hidden square, right next to the Arena and yet completely off of the tourist radar. The right of the ground floor opens up onto a long enclosed garden that is completely private and covered with a tunnel of blossoms. 

The Renaissance fenêtres à meneaux,  or divided windows (here with the shape of a cross), that line the upper floor have a clear view of the Arena. 
A charming balcony in demi-lune form protrudes over the garden. Most often in such fine homes of the period, this level would hold the receiving rooms. Creeping vines along the perfectly renovated stone facade give an additional charm to this clearly well-loved home.
***
So what do you think? Each is interesting in their own right and I know that I would be thrilled beyond belief to inhabit any of them but I am looking forward to hearing your thoughts! It is good to dream, isn’t it? As I mentioned in my previous post, I have given one guided walk through Arles and am open to doing more. What do you think–would you like to see these houses in person?

And for those of you cat-lovers out there (and you know who you are), I couldn’t resist sharing this photo, taken on the same luxuriously blooming square as above…

Bon fin de semaine…

View on the Rhone

“Why don’t you write more about the Rhone?” Remi asked one day while I was putting together yet another post rhapsodizing over the inherent power of the crumbly remnants of time. “What do you mean?” I tossed back with a casual tilt then scratch of my cheek. “The Rhone,” he repeated flatly. I blinked and tried to look winsome.
Yes, I know it is the reason why Arles exists, why Arelate or “town above the marshy lands” became so powerful in Roman times. Because a river runs through it. While preparing my first guided tour–given recently to an indescribably lovely group of Australian readers of this blog–its importance was a key thread of the conversation. Having the southern-most bridge before the Mediterranean while intersecting on the roads to Italy and Spain, it was the crossroads of Gaul. Spices and exotic goods came in, jars of wine, olive oil and fish flowed out, offering wealth for all involved. Times have changed–its days as an important port ending abruptly with the arrival of train transportation–but the river’s appeal has not.
I love the Rhone deeply. I stroll the recently renovated quay with Ben, my Golden Retriever nearly every day and I am not alone. It is one of the social centers of the city, where one can be lost in thought or cling laughingly to the arm of a companion. It is ever-changing depending on the light, the time of day, the season and roil of the current. Vincent Van Gogh painted it often, also drawn to its mercurial nature.

Which, I realized this morning is exactly why I don’t mention it more frequently despite it’s being such an important part of our daily lives in Arles–parce que le fleuve coule, it slips through my fingers. I can’t capture it in words or images in any way that is satisfactory to me but I can try. I grabbed my camera, called my faithful canine companion and headed out the door.

The Rhone is not neutral, it is nature. The Mistral winds can gather enough force off the winter waves to knock a strong man down. In 2003, the river rose with the rains to kiss the underside of the bridge, spilling over the banks and leaving many homeless for months. But I prefer to focus on all it gives. It is where I have gone on my darkest days, confident that the tide would pull my worries away and where Remi and I walked to celebrate buying our first house here, one whose roof terrace looked onto its shimmering surface. Perhaps that is why the Rhone makes Arles synonymous with home. It is hard to imagine living without it.

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