Ill Seen, Ill Said

A poem for Thursday

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 13:26:00 +0000

I try to keep an eye on that fine line between enjoying silence and enjoying it a little too much. Without careful attention, silence can turn on you and quickly curdle into loneliness. And you don't know what happened, because you were happy up until that point and you think maybe it's something you lost, as if by accident, like dropping your keys or a ring sliding off your finger.

When you get really good at all of this, you can see it coming and push past your own resistance, out into the world. And I often wonder what it's like to be an extrovert and not crave that aloneness, to want to watch every experience bounce of walls and trees and people until it comes back to you, finally clear and comprehensible.

There's danger in all of it, so many ways to get hurt, of course. And the best you can hope for is some kind of balance, some kind of happiness in yourself and with others, finding the right ones to let in a little more than the rest. This is by Jack Gilbert.

Waiting and Finding
While he was in kindergarten, everybody wanted to play
the tomtoms when it came time for that. You had to
run in order to get there first, and he would not.
So he always had a triangle. He does not remember
how they played the tomtoms, but he sees clearly
their Chinese look. Red with dragons front and back
and gold studs around that held the drumhead tight.
If you had a triangle, you didn’t really make music.
You mostly waited while the tambourines and tomtoms
went on a long time. Until there was a signal for all
triangle people to hit them the right way. Usually once.
Then it was tomtoms and waiting some more. But what
he remembers is the sound of the triangle. A perfect,
shimmering sound that has lasted all his long life.
Fading out and coming again after a while. Getting lost
and the waiting for it to come again. Waiting meaning
without things. Meaning love sometimes dying out,
sometimes being taken away. Meaning that often he lives
silent in the middle of the world’s music. Waiting
for the best to come again. Beginning to hear the silence
as he waits. Beginning to like the silence maybe too much.

On mirrors and imperfect reflections

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 15:00:00 +0000

I've long been fascinated by lenses and optics, anything that bends and contorts, reflects and glows: Mercury glass, crystal balls, concave mirrors, prisms and lenses; the play of light and object, reflection and projection. Nowadays, we are surrounded by reflective surfaces. We inhibit most of them; the reflections from elevator doors and storefronts, from subway windows and car windshields. Still, even with all that, most of us don't seem closer to having an objective grasp of ourselves.

I'm always prepared to be surprised by my reflection. The lack of consistent feedback from mirrors can lead to utter confusion about what we really look like, about how we're objectively perceived. Mirrors mostly capture us unanimated and from a limited point-of-view. No wonder we're suspicious about how they hook up with reality. Of course, there are reflective surfaces in nature. But the first man-made mirrors were polished obsidian, dating back to 6000BC. This stone is black, so the reflection would have been somewhat obscured, like Narcissus' reflection.

Mirrors didn't evolve much beyond primitive pieces of glass until the pre-Renaissance. But by the 14th Century, convex mirrors were common and painters both employed mirrors to capture their subjects, but also featured them to show their skill, a sleight of hand like Van Eyck's famous mirror in The Arnolfini Wedding (Secret Knowledge by David Hockney is fascinating if you're interested in the use of lenses and optics in art).

In the 1600's, Murano was the heart of the mirror-making world. The technique was to apply tin and mercury to the back of glass. This was the best "objective" reflection a viewer had ever had and there ensued 100 years of espionage trying to hack the Murano formula. Louis XIV managed to lure a group of Venetian glassmakers to reveal their secret (they were then assassinated). But the cat was out of the bag - mirrors soon became ubiquitous.

In theory, a flat mirror presents a stable, exterior reflection of ourselves, not filtered through the perception of others. But we know too well that reflections offer no such objectivity, no such constancy. I remember when I was very young running inside from playing, I was breathless and giddy and had to change because there was mud on my dress. It was a rare occurrence to be upstairs on my own, and when I caught sight of my reflection in the dressing table mirror I was surprised. I looked calm, composed when I felt exhilarated and playful. I remember (and I must have been only six or seven) leaning in and look closer, to see if I could find myself in that reflection. And I remember crying when I couldn't.

We often seem to look to mirrors and reflections - literally and metaphorically - for a coherent narrative of self. If I've had a few glasses of wine I tend to do this, to see if my reflection matches my mood, or to look at my reflection for a clue as to what my mood really is. Perhaps we use the mirror, our reflection, as a talisman for introspection. I always think of Lizzy Bennett sizing up her reflection before blowing out her candle in the BBC Pride & Prejudice. Was that vanity or was she searching for a glimpse of her own mysterious inner world in her mirror image?

Siri Hustvedt: "Infants and most animals do not recognize themselves in mirrors. My dog Jack had no interest in his own reflection and had no idea that it belonged to him. At some moment in their development, human beings, some primates, elephants, and a species of dolphin are able to know they are looking not at others but at themselves. It is a privilege of the highly evolved. The psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan named this turn in human life the mirror stage (stade de miroir), identifying the moment when a child looks at her own reflection and sees herself as an externalized whole, as if she were gazing at herself through the eyes of another person. But most of the time we do not see ourselves whole. I see only parts of my body, my hands and part of my arm when I type, for example, or none of it when I stroll through the street taking in the sights and sounds and smells." (1)

But mirrors in all their multifarious manifestations are not the only reflectors; there are many other ways of viewing a reflection of yourself. Expressive art, certain writing, blogging all result in output that can be viewed as a reflection of self. Blogging is another way of holding up a looking glass to yourself. I'm always slightly surprised by the reflection that looks back at me from my blog. It's not fully me and yet it is wholly me. And I'm also aware of that narcissistic pull, of being drawn in too far, of substituting it for the real thing. And I'm sometimes guilty of doing that to other bloggers and artists too, falling for the smooth veneer of glass instead of inferring the much more flawed and complex reality.

Blogs aren't just reflections, though, they're also projections. Like art and conversation, poetry and theatre, they're a way of expressing something to others, not just staring at one's own visage. We send a part of ourselves into the world and others respond, a dialogue unfolds. Unlike mirror reflections, blogs and art remain once we've walked away from them, they have their own autonomy and are something in-of-themselves. They take on their own life independent of their maker, a life that sometimes grows beyond their maker's intention.

Is there such a thing as an accurate reflection? I'm not sure an objective external reality is any more fixable than a constant internal sense of self. David Hume: "Our thought is still more variable than our sight; and all our other senses and faculties contribute to this change: nor is there any single power of the soul, which remains unalterably the same, perhaps for one moment. The mind is a kind of theatre, where several perceptions successively make their appearance; pass, repass, glide away, and mingle in an infinite variety of postures and situations. There is properly no simplicity in it at one time, nor identity in different, whatever natural propension we may have to imagine that simplicity and identity." (2)

I'm inclined sometimes to think that the most accurate reflection of ourselves we see is neither in a mirror nor through introspection, but in the relational, the self you see reflected back in your most intimate friendships and relationships, the most frank and trusting kinds of exchanges. But those moments of being understood and understanding, of being fully revealed, unguarded and seeing one another can be fleeting too. We're constantly changing, aging, growing in and out of relationships and things. We refuse to be pinned down to one static self-portrait. So we mostly remain a mystery to ourselves, forever obscured from our own true reflection.

References:
(1) The Shaking Woman or A History of My Nerves by Siri Hustvedt, p. 49-50
(2) A Treatise of Human Nature by David Hume, Book I, Part 4, Section 6 'Of Personal Identity'

Images:
1. Narcissus by Caravaggio (1597-1599), via Wikipedia
2. Obsidian mirror (c. 15th-16th C AD), from The British Museum
3. Self-portrait in a Convex Mirror (c. 1524) | Girolamo Francesco Maria Mazzola (Parmigianino), via Wikipedia
4. Detail from The Arnolfini Wedding (1434) by Van Eyck, via Wikipedia
5. Girl before a Mirror (1932) by Picasso, from MoMA
6. Self-Portrait with Leica by Ilse Bing (1931 and 1986), via Dieselpunks

Three of a kind

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 13:43:00 +0000

1. Dries Van Noten Spring 2012 via Julie Nobis / Style.com

2. Etched Arcadia Mural from Anthropologie

3. Gap of Dunloe | Bartlett - my own, purchased here

Bedroom

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 13:41:00 +0000

In the next fortnight, I expect my bed to finally be delivered. It seems like ages ago that I went to Ethan Allen to help me make a final fabric selection. The fabric I settled on is the one you can see on this bench on their website. It's very neutral, but has a bit of sparkle with a metallic thread running through it.

My own bedroom, as the decorating cliche goes, is the room I tend most to neglect. When I purchase new accessories or artwork, I usually want them on show in my living room. And so my bedroom has never had the dedicated love it deserves. I hope this purchase will put me on the path to correcting that.

When I saw this bedroom on Skona Hem's website, I immediately felt cozy and relaxed and wanted to emulate the atmosphere of it. The books, the lights, the layered textiles all drew me in. And I love the touches of rose, my colour of the moment, as you all well know. This bedroom seems pretty and cozy without being cloying.

Image: Skona Hem

Sunday best: Colour pop

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 15:53:00 +0000

I had the loveliest day yesterday. It was the perfect Saturday; both leisurely and productive. I finally broke through that mental block I've had for the last few weeks and got a major task finished.

But there was also time to wander the neighbourhood and stop in all my favourite shops. At Nadege, I bought a pistachio pain au chocolat and my world changed forever. At Hollace Cluny, I daydreamed about cushions by Adam + Viktoria.

And I went to Gee Beauty to stock up on a few new products from the regime they prescribed me. Everywhere I went, people called me by my name and smiled and chatted. And I felt at home in the best possible way in my city.

This morning, I got up early and went to yoga. I'll spend the rest of the day reading, puttering and doing minor chores. I often go into weekends expecting too much from the two days and from myself; redemption and relaxation, productivity and unfettered joy. This weekend, as if by magic, I seem to have managed to have it all. I hope yours was similarly delightful.

In response to my colour posts, I often receive comments from readers saying they're drawn to the colours but always wear neutrals. Me too! Today's outfit seems incredibly colourful to me, but is in fact very safe and neutral. It's a good reminder that I can entertain that colourful purse or scarf or nail polish I'm suddenly drawn to and not feel like it means redefining my style from the ground up. The neutral / colour thing might be another example of when over-identifying becomes narrowing in the end.

Products: Girl by Band of Outsiders Crepe blazer from Net-a-Porter | ELA MILCK Clutch from The Code | MiH Jeans Paris mid-rise cropped jeans from Net-a-Porter | United Bamboo Border Knit Pullover from La Garconne | Etro Paisley-print linen and silk-blend scarf from Net-a-Porter | April & June nail polish from Chanel | Lewis collier pêche from Titlee | Honolulu Honey lipstick from NARS | Jil Sander Wave Flat from La Garconne

Friday!

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 13:39:00 +0000

Don't you feel better now it's February? I know I do.

January ended on a good note though; a pretty snow storm and an e-mail letting me know I've won a first prize Canadian Web blog Award for Writing & Literature, which was a very pleasant surprise.

The snow has all melted now (it evaporated that very same afternoon) and it's abundantly and alarmingly spring-like here. I have to say, earlier on I missed winter, but I'm rolling with this weather now - happy to think about frocks and flimsier shoes (there were lilacs for sale at the grocery store last night!)

I'm yearning for easy intimate days. But I've got bigger fish to fry with work that's hoarding my attention, leaving me spent most days. If I get through the next few weeks, hopefully I'll be rewarded with some of those sweeter days at the end of it.

The loveliest thing by far on my blogosphere this week was this house wedding on Miss Moss. If I ever got married I would like it to be this domestic and sweet with dogs on laps and pies in the oven. Also, if you liked Hila's new year poem as much as I did, you'll be happy to know it's been turned into a print. Get yours here.

I loved this post on Leslie Williamson's blog, not just because I share her love of Francesca Woodman (I always admired her small scale prints, that drawing you into a one-on-one exchange between artwork and percipient). But also because I was still thinking about identification this week after writing about Maeve Brennan. And I liked this take on it.

All this week I was too daydreamy and distracted to be much good to anyone, least of all to be productive in my free time. I seemed mostly to flip between escapist fantasies and fretful "shoulding", neither good productive places to be. I hope to get back on track this weekend, but also to buy flowers and spend a little time gazing out of windows.

Have a lovely weekend!

Rose

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 13:47:00 +0000

It started out innocently enough. I wanted the perfect shade of pink nail polish. Not one of those ballerina pinks; something with more presence. More of a dusty rose, just the pretty side of muddy. I found it at the Chanel counter and it's called Rose Confidential.

And then I wanted more. I went to the florist. It was easy to come by there. Then I thought of Bellinis and peach granita and the colour washed over me, mouthwatering and cold. And since this winter doesn't know whether it wants to be warm or cool, I think this is the perfect shade, because it's at once enveloping and refreshing, as well as clearly and unashamedly romantic... The perfect hue for February.

Products / image credits: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Inspiring women: Maeve Brennan

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 13:36:00 +0000

I've been thinking lately that I'd like to reread some of Maeve Brennan's stories. I went through a phase when I entirely loved her, perhaps over-identified her as I was trying to find a way to understand what I was doing with myself. It was a phase when I found it difficult to reconcile journalism with my aspirations as a writer, when I found myself wincing explaining to former academic colleagues that I now wrote about fashion and beauty.

I was clearly at odds with myself... on the one hand vigorously defending these things as important modes of aesthetic expression, as extensions of ourselves and ways of communicating our personality to the world. But I was also wary of the pure materialistic connotations, the shallowness of the style world, all the conspicuous consumption that goes with it.

I still have a tug-of-war relationship with fashion and decor in this respect, perhaps even more, as I age. I find myself filled with wonder that people can sustain those conversations for decades, beyond arriving at their own happy home and sense of style. My passion always seems so much more subjective and mutable.

Anyway, as I felt all these things I was drawn to Maeve Brennan. She worked at Harper's Bazaar in the 1940's but also wrote lovely wistful stories. Of course, we share a motherland and a North American migration, perhaps also heartbreak at a young age that drove us to strike out further than the rest of our family. It was an instant and obvious kinship that served a purpose when I was a certain age, at a certain time.

I don't identify with her in that way anymore. But I do still admire her writing. And I feel like she's sadly forgotten and uncelebrated. She had a little resurgence when the Bourke biography came out, but seems to have faded just as fast. It's easy to lead with the rumour that Brennan was the inspiration for Truman Capote's Holly Golightly. But she was also a serious writer striving to make her mark on the literary world of the 1940’s and 50’s. If you're unfamiliar with her work, it's worth taking a dip into.

Books: The Long-Winded Lady: Notes from The New Yorker | The Springs of Affection: Stories of Dublin | The Rose Garden: Short Stories (Scarcrow)
Biography: Maeve Brennan: Homesick at the New Yorker by Angela Bourke

Images via Life Archive, here, here and here.

Three of kind

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 13:36:00 +0000

1. Tsumori Chisato Paint Print Draped Tee from La Garconne

2. Blush from NARS

3. White Center (1950) | Mark Rothko via NGA

Apartment updates

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 13:26:00 +0000

I always have a long list of things I want to do or change in my apartment. Whether it's painting or getting drapes made, hanging new pictures or the ever-present wishlist of investment furniture. Each year, it hangs over me like an impossible dream, sometimes fueling fantasies and other times frustrations.

This year, I'm keeping it simple. I'd like some new lamps and bed linens (to go with the new headboard that should be arriving any day now - eep!) And on the weekend, I ordered this moon print. I've long loved it, like a good moonchild. This post from Thomas O'Brien sealed the deal. I can't wait to pick out a frame for it.

If I invest in one thing this year it will be a perfect leather armchair, something that will get perfectly worn and patinaed with age. Just like me. And, when something really good happens, I'm going to finally spring for that Frances Palmer vase I've so long coveted.

Products: Lamp | Moon | Chair | Vase | Linens

Sunday best: At home

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 15:04:00 +0000

What a strange winter we're having in Toronto.

It's hard to commit to the day, I find, when the elements are so shifty. Yesterday I found myself sitting at my desk and I couldn't keep my eyes off the sky. One minute hurling snow at my window, the next pink-tinged and cloud-chasing as Hopkins' Pied Beauty.

Today, regardless of the elements, I'm hunkering down indoors. I have a a difficult job to battle my way through. And although it won't take long, I know it will take fits and starts to get going. I'll probably tidy my whole apartment before I can settle into it.

Once I finish my work and hit the send button, I'll be able to relax a little. I'll sit sideways in my favourite chair, my legs dangling over the arm, a book on my lap and a cup of tea, steam curling, near me.

Things have been tough this month and yesterday I really felt the full force of all that's happened bearing down on me. I've been fighting admitting how tough, how disappointing it's been. And the week ahead is already looming, promising to compound all that's gone before. But Sunday, Sunday is a day to push that to the back, if only for a short moment.

Products: The Collected Stories by Grace Paley | Vanessa Bruno Ribbed Boatneck Pullover from La Garconne | Jane glasses from Salt Optics | Aiden Leather Chair from Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams | Wild berry tea from Løv Organic | Dipped cup from Coterie | Scout chino from J.Crew | Lanvin Leather ballet flats from Net-a-Porter

Friday!

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 14:34:00 +0000

Often I reach Friday and it’s like the last clawing mile of a long run, but today I feel energetic and excited about this weekend.

I’m going to buckle down to some long put-off chores and I know I’ll feel good checking each one off the list. It’s the last weekend of January too and that feels like a milestone. It’s been a good start to 2012, I think, though it threw me for a loop a few times. Ultimately, I think I was coasting into the New Year and I needed that jarring. I feel even more resolved now than I did at the start of the month.

I had so many “ahh lovely” moments on the blogosphere this week. Anabela started a new series called Repository and it’s all kinds of lovely. I’ve always been tempted to do something more visual with my Friday round-ups, but I want to come up with something different. It’s hard when people like Anabela, Miss Moss and Kate do such a kick-ass job with theirs. I’ll put my thinking cap on!

I also very much liked Katy’s interview with artist Kathy Galligan and these beautiful photographs by Ines Nepomuceno, via Kinfolk. Hila’s post about publishing woes hit a nerve (you could also replace “publishing” with “journalism” and the post would stand). And back on pretty, these tone-on-tone wedding dress shots struck me as particularly beautiful. And this apartment over on Roseline’s made me want to buy abundant pink roses and gilded picture frames.

Some house-keeping: There’s now threaded commenting on blogger (hip hip!) making it easier for me to respond to readers, which I like to do! I still haven’t fully resolved the invisible comment issue and blogger help boards were a rabbit warren of unconfirmed fixes. I think it’s firmly an unresolved issue on their side. If this happens to you please know I’m not rejecting your comments (unless you’re a spammer or self-promoter) but simply not seeing them. Finally, I started using Instagram and if you’re on there you might like to follow me at seenandsaid.

That's me for this week... have a lovely weekend!

Burst of blue

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 13:41:00 +0000

January isn't one of those simple months. I felt myself teetering more than once, losing confidence, letting things I don't believe in upset me. Each time, I managed to pull myself back, to stretch deep in yoga, to reach out to friends, to sleep it off. And so the blues have stayed at bay. But this burst of blues is the good kind... we can keep all of these ones.

Image credits: Max Rollitt discovered via Katy Elliott | Lanvin from Browns | Lanvin from Net-a-Porter | Judy Ross Textiles | Saipua

A poem for Wednesday

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 13:15:00 +0000

My reader is bobbing with various notions of love. And I've always been a strange one when it came to these things, not quite at home with easy, uncomplicated feelings. Today's poem probably betrays too much of how I feel. It's by Sam, of course, and is here in English and French.

what would I do without this world faceless incurious
where to be lasts but an instant where every instant
spills in the void the ignorance of having been
without this wave where in the end
body and shadow together are engulfed
what would I do without this silence where the murmurs die
the pantings the frenzies towards succour towards love
without this sky that soars
above its ballast dust

what would I do what I did yesterday and the day before
peering out of my deadlight looking for another
wandering like me eddying far from all the living
in a convulsive space
among the voices voiceless
that throng my hiddenness

--------------------

que ferais-je sans ce monde sans visage sans questions
où être ne dure qu'un instant où chaque instant
verse dans le vide dans l'oubli d'avoir été
sans cette onde où à la fin
corps et ombre ensemble s'engloutissent
que ferais-je sans ce silence gouffre des murmures
haletant furieux vers le secours vers l'amour
sans ce ciel qui s'élève
sur la poussieère de ses lests

que ferais-je je ferais comme hier comme aujourd'hui
regardant par mon hublot si je ne suis pas seul
à errer et à virer loin de toute vie
dans un espace pantin
sans voix parmi les voix
enfermées avec moi

Thomas O'Brien

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 13:24:00 +0000

Thomas O'Brien is my favourite home designer, not least because he seems as much a collector as a designer. And his spaces remind me more of haphazard professor's offices and gentrified old country houses and less of the self-consciously "undecorated" schemes we've been spoon-fed of late.

While I was browsing Aero Studio's Facebook page, I found the above picture. See the leather chair there? That leather chair really wants to live with Janey.

And I've always (always) loved the desk chair in the above photo. Only last night I found this post. It's an Irish chair! I might have known that sooner if I owned this book that I've had wishlisted on Amazon for yonks or if I had paused to wonder why its lines were so familiar and comfortable to me.

I've been changing some things around at home. I'm not the kind to top-down plan a scheme. But I always find a look at O'Brien's interiors sends me in the right direction. His mix of traditional and modern, masculine and neutral, bookish and airy always appeals.

Image credits: First photo via Aero Studio on Facebook. Second photo by Laura Resen, via Aero.

Book Report: First Loves and Other Sorrows

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:43:00 +0000

I picked up First Love and Other Sorrows second-hand after spotting it in a holiday post over on Lottie & Doof. I'm usually loathe to take book recommendations, but somehow I knew this was one to trust. Was it ever.

Brodkey's writing is excessively spare, which I'm always drawn to. But what hooked me the most is how well he writes women. I usually look to Irish writers for this (William Trevor in particular, but also Colm Tóibín). It was a surprise to find women laid bare here, in Brodkey's spartan prose.

I think often of the movie Closer. To be honest, I'm not sure I like it, but I think of it often and am intrigued by it. Its characters articulate exactly what they feel when they feel it. Every swaying emotion is told as it's felt. And there's an unflinchingness to it, which also makes it feel wholly artificial to watch; that's simply not how people talk to each other, even our inner dialogue is seldom that blunt.

Brodkey's stories tell of the complexity of love, the bluntness and even primitiveness of subjective thoughts and feelings, our wild vacillations in self-esteem and esteem for those we love. But his delivery; so disciplined, never florid, in contrast to the tumultuous feelings he's telling, called to mind that movie. And I sometimes found myself wishing his characters could muster the same directness.

I don't understand at all how this book is out of print. Excepting the last two stories, which I thought the volume would have been better without, this book left me winded. I'm astonished that I didn't cross paths with it sooner, but I do believe in a certain magical synchronicity of timing with books at certain times of your life.

Every time I return to reading short stories after a spell with novels or non-fiction, I rediscover my complete love of short fiction. These compact stories are like perfectly in-focus photographs. There's no blurry depth of field, every detail is given clarity and meaningfulness, the scene is exposed just as it is and you notice details that are easily overlooked and disregarded in everyday life.

Photo of Joseph Brodkey by Eileen Travell

Sunday best: Matinee movie

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 14:01:00 +0000

Snow on the ground is the perfect excuse to retreat to the dark of a theatre in the middle of the day.

I'm going to see the new Cronenberg film today, although I'm sure Ms Knightley will do her best to ruin it. Still, I hope that the ultimate manly man combo of Viggo-Fassbender is enough to compensate. The movie will no doubt be followed by lunch and gallivanting. I'm ahead of myself with my spontaneous 3-day weekend, so I can leave the day just that unplanned.

Yesterday, I slept later than usual and lounged at home, reading for a long time before heading out. It was the first time I've worn my Bean boots this year, as we've had so little snow. And I found myself giddy to pull them on. They'll always be my favourite snow boots.

I stayed at the coffee shop long enough to drink two big mugs and found myself in a strange sort of daze. Maybe I was a bit hungover from too many Bellinis the night before. But I was just happy to sit there. Although it was cold, the sun was low and direct so it felt warm to sit close to the front of the coffee shop and watch the street outside. And dogs in snowshoes always make me smile, especially when they're particularly jaunty about it.

I feel 2012 is hitting a straightaway now, after the steep climb to the new year and the jagged turns of those first few weeks. I bought some potted mini daffs and hyacinths to force indoors and am feeling a more even-keeled optimism setting in. And last night, I dreamed about lilacs.

Products: Organic by John Patrick Tee from La Garconne | Open mesh top from Micaela Greg | J Brand Denim 231 jeans from Net-a-Porter | Botto Giuseppe Cashmere Tweed Tube Scarf from Barneys | Movie tickets, via | Anna Sheffield Ingot Ring from Love, Adorned | Long Locked purse from Mulberry | Bean Boots from L.L.Bean | Cable knit socks from Toast |

Friday!

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 14:38:00 +0000

If last week was a week of Wednesdays, this week was threatening to be a week of Mondays, and I just couldn't have that. So I booked today off with no reason or agenda.

I'm going to do lots of writing and puttering about. Finish the book I'm reading. Cry because the book I'm reading is so good and I don't want it to end. Write some e-mails. Drink some coffee and cook dinner for company later on.

I came across this blog - something concerning everything occurring - yesterday and am charmed by it. Do take a look! I also love the look of these candles Chelsea blogged about. I would love a whiff of Bron Yr Aur.

Both my passports are being renewed right now and just knowing I can't travel is giving me ants in my pants. So, I probably shouldn't be thinking about candles that conjure Welsh country laneways. Instead, I should focus on those winter nesty feelings I'm also experiencing and do some things around my home.

And before I go, here's a random hit of unabashed pretty. Beautiful dressing tables light up my eyes like I'm a little girl nervously reaching for her Mum's pearls. I can smell her lipstick as she readies for a night out.

Happy weekend, friends!

P.S. A regular reader has alerted me that her comments have not been appearing on my blog. She leaves comments using the name/url option. I never "reject" comments unless they're spam, self-promotion etc. and love hearing from readers, so this is a little upsetting. If anybody has left comments and been concerned they didn't appear, please rest assured it is not an intentional thing on my part. And if you have experienced this, please let me know jane[at]janeflanagan[dot]ca as I'm anxious to troubleshoot and resolve! Thanks.

Softly, softly

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 13:39:00 +0000

Being a bookish sort of Flanagan, I don't always wear my love for soft and pretty on my sleeve. But it's true, my stoic, studied ways have been known to give way to softer sentiments. And I think that's evidenced lately by the touches of pink creeping in to my Sunday bests (here and there, not everywhere).

Yesterday, the little arrow ring I ordered from Odette arrived and I love it completely. I also recently indulged in some lingerie from Fortnight—perfection. I'm digging around in my own taste for softer things; I like sweet, but not twee, romance, but not froth. I'm getting used to feeling disarmed, without feeling vulnerable.

Softly, softly.

Products: Middlemarch by George Eliot | Fortnight Lingerie | Quill & Fox Valentine | DL&Co Candle in Edelweiss | Odette NY ring | John Derian decoupage | Fieldguided tote | Confetti Systems pinata

A poem for Wednesday

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

I usually tell you something about the poem I pick, or why I picked it. But I'm tired today and know I will fuss too long looking for the right words. So, instead, I'll just give you this. By Mark Strand.

Black Sea
One clear night while the others slept, I climbed
the stairs to the roof of the house and under a sky
strewn with stars I gazed at the sea, at the spread of it,
the rolling crests of it raked by the wind, becoming
like bits of lace tossed in the air. I stood in the long
whispering night, waiting for something, a sign, the approach
of a distant light, and I imagined you coming closer,
the dark waves of your hair mingling with the sea,
and the dark became desire, and desire the arriving light.
The nearness, the momentary warmth of you as I stood
on that lonely height watching the slow swells of the sea
break on the shore and turn briefly into glass and disappear...
Why did I believe you would come out of nowhere? Why with all
that the world offers would you come only because I was here?

Katherine Hooker

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 13:26:00 +0000

Well, that didn't last long; mild weather is back again! Nevertheless, a perfect excuse to admire Katherine Hooker's lovely country apparel. The horse-riding Wicklow woman I have too long repressed loves these with intensity. And the Toronto version of me would make do with that leather armchair.

Teixidors

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 13:33:00 +0000

I'm still shivering from the walk into work this morning. I'd really rather be in bed today. Love these bedding sets from Teixidors, a label spotted at Hollace Cluny on the weekend.

Sunday best: Welcome back, winter

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 14:05:00 +0000

After a ridiculously mild few weeks, winter is back in Toronto. Finally, we can stop whining about how unseasonably warm it is and start complaining about the cold. All is right with the world once again!

My weekend has been a fun one, celebrating Laura's birthday, treating myself to just about the best pain au chocolate I've ever tasted. Today will be quieter. I'll bundle up and head out for a brisk walk, do Sunday chores, go to yoga and finish a story I've been working on...

The weather changes the atmosphere of the city. People linger for longer, puffing and clapping hands when they step inside, letting everybody know just how cold it is. Ritualized little conversations recur. Everybody says they're glad it's really winter now, but simultaneously damns the cold. I like it all lots and happily go through the motions with checkout girls and people in the coffee shop.

Still, the cold leaves me feeling raw and needing comfort. It's funny how we craved that feeling just last week. How important it seems to Canadians to be pushed to these extremes. And how quickly I've become used to that; I know seasons would be top of the list of things I'd miss if I moved back to Ireland. Today, when it's my turn to puff and shudder, blow into my hands, I'll try to remember that.

Products: The Row Sabeen jersey T-shirt from Net-a-Porter | Tresta Cardigan from Toast | MiH Jeans Paris jeans from Net-a-Porter | Ugg Belcloud from Gravity Pope | Ines Grey scarf from A Peace Treaty | Sterling silver donut ring from Hilary Druxman

Friday!

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 13:55:00 +0000

Hooray for Friday! It felt like a week of Wednesdays - a huge hump I just couldn't get over.

January's early hope sets you up for feelings of listlessness and lack of momentum. You pull the pendulum right back at the start of the year, expecting it to swing dramatically, sweeping away everything in front of it. But somehow it defies gravity and just hangs there. And all that sweeping change you got yourself ready for seems to stall.

Of course, there were nice things this week too. Blogging over at Hila's was a complete pleasure - such thoughtful and insightful comments to flatter and cheer me. And I loved the post she wrote directly after mine. Hila and I often seem aligned, though we come at things very differently and it's always a pleasure to meet her in the middle and compare routes.

I also loved Anabela's purse. I did my own purse revelation some time ago (it hasn't changed much!) Anabela's style is always so compelling and completely her, I'm always drawn to it, though I dare not try to reach out and touch it. I'm just happy to sortof revel in it from the sidelines.

It's my dear friend Laura's birthday this weekend (everybody say "Happy Birthday, Laura!") and we have some fun adventures planned. (That's Laura modelling her handknits in the above photo). But as I write, I'm mostly looking forward to a bath and tonight's sleep, hoping it's deep and dream-free.

Have a great weekend!

Comrags

noreply@blogger.com (Jane Flanagan) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 13:15:00 +0000

The extra mild weather these last few weeks has bounced me right into looking at spring clothing. The new collection from Toronto's own Comrags is full of happy-making pieces. I'm very picky about necklines and too few dresses seem to hit that sweetspot of the perfect scoop.

I also recently bought that Toast dress I left behind when I was in England and love it so very much. I think this Spring/Summer will be all about dresses. Hooray!

And thank you for all your sweet comments and e-mails yesterday. They helped a lot.