Hello, Lolla.

breathless.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 00:27:00 +0000

{À Bout de Souffle, captions by Giurassic}

last words.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 21:26:00 +0000

“Dear Lana, By the time you read this I’ll be back home in Lincoln. I’m scared of what’s ahead, but when I think of you I know I’ll be able to go on. You were right, Memphis isn’t that far off. I’ll be taking that trip down the highway before too long. I’ll be waiting for you. Love always and forever, Brandon.”

{boy's don't cry}

miss Birkin.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 21:18:00 +0000

so we're in london.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 20:43:00 +0000

And, by "we", I mean me and my laptop. Though I did see husband briefly on monday, when we got together to eat seafood somewhere around Piccadilly Circus, shortly before he left to Germany. Now my cat is home alone in Jersey and I freak when I think about it (PETA please don't fuss; she's being fed and regularly looked after by my mummy-in-law).

I miss my bathroom, I miss finding bunny carcasses on my doorstep, I miss sleeping on my own matress, I miss the hubby, London underground is on strike, the weather has been rotten and I didn't leave bed today, but no, I do not miss Jersey. I've seen old friends, made new ones, been to gigs, museums, registered impromptu street performances, eaten rubbish, bought colourful uselessness and life looks pretty great at the moment. The world is my oyster and fits inside my new Oyster card (I guess you cannot call yourself a true londoner if you don't have one).

Unfortunately I cannot post any pictures because I've left my USB transfer cable at home. Not that I've taken many pictures. I'm trying to see this town with the eyes of a resident, not a tourist. And this means not always having a camera between my eyes and my life.

So, untill monday, don't expect lots of updates here or here. Though you never know. ;)

For the time being, I'll leave you with this flickr set that has been keeping me amused today. Because airborne felines are made of pure awesomeness and fur.

Lisa Cook

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 20:41:00 +0000

These are not collages, but they could as well be; Lisa sells beautiful ephemera and vintage supplies on her etsy shop. And, not happy enough to provide such delicate treasures, she takes absolutely gorgeous pictures of them. I have been browsing her sold items pages in awe - so much beauty and and inspiration.

la belle France.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 13:56:00 +0000

Do you know when you come accross a blog that literally makes you want to relocate?

Well, Corey Amaro writes one of these. She lives in the south of France and takes daily pictures for her beautiful blog, Tongue in Cheek, absolutely worth a visit.

But have your bags ready. You never know. ;)

P.S.: I also prefer tarte tatin to chocolate. Way better.

My Vintage Vogue

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Fri, 29 May 2009 18:24:00 +0000

Because I love vintage fashion photography almost as much as I love hot cakes.

Claudette Colbert and Bette Davis:

Now allow me some Audrey love:

And girls with umbrellas. What's not to love?

{via My Vintage Vogue, a site to love and cherish}

What's in my bag

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Fri, 29 May 2009 17:40:00 +0000

Everybody's been playing this game since forever; today is my turn. :)

The bag itself was my birthday gift this year. :) And, more or less clockwise, you'll find:

1) iPod 30GB + skull rubber case from Paris + the cutest earphones ever;
2) My favorite sunglasses;
3) Anna Sui wallet (bought on Ebay, possibly fake, but pretty as hell);
4) Umbrella - there's always one in my bag ever since I started going out with my own bag;
5) Sony Ericsson w800i, my beloved mobile. I may have to replace it soon, though, because I want Wi-Fi.
6) Box of gum, my only addiction;
7) A surviving Moleskine (I tend to rip mine apart, don't ask) + pen stolen from hotel;
8) Keys to Jersey and London homes;
9) Memory stick, just in case;
10) Painkiller for my killer pains.

And there's also my cosmetics bag, not picture above but dead sure always in my handbag:

1) The bag itself came as a set with a perfume, gift from my friend Priscilla;
2) Moisturizer, came with the perfume set;
3) Perfume vaporizer, bought in Munich;
4) Labello lip balm, my favorite. I don't like lipstick very much, and this little boy protects my lips + gives a very natural colour (and tastes so sweet!);
5) Estée Lauder face moisturizer;
6) The two pretty little tins are body butter and lip balm from Boots;
7) L'Oreal telescopic mascara - the best one I've ever used;
8) concealer Precious Light by Guerlain;
9) L'Oreal True Match pressed powder - I love that silver, mirrored case;
10) Soap case (with soap) from Hermès;
11) Portable toothbrush, stolen from some hotel;
12) The little green case contains small sheets that will dissolve in the mouth and act as tooth paste;
13) Tiny bottle of perfume, waiting to go into the vaporizer;
14) Paper tissues;
15) My super cheap and shabby hair brush, from Claire's;
16) Girlie pad, for emergencies;
17) Pretty Dior mirror, given to me by the lovely lady from the Dior counter at Au Caprice (cosmetic shop in Jersey);
18) MAC Fafinette lipstick;
19) Dior Addict lip gloss;
20) Lancôme lip gloss (my favorite, because it's not greasy);
21) Bourjois Nude Effect lip plumping gloss - great results, but excedingly greasy;
22) Erm, how are these hair thingies called in english? In Brazil we call it "piranha"(because of the "teeth". lol)
23) La Roche-Posay face sunscream, totally life-saver;
24) Scrunchie-like thingie. I'm great with names, really.

This makeup bag carries way more stuff than I need. I probably only ever use half of all these things; time for a small declutter session.

{you may keep on perusing the contents of other people's bag at "What's in my bag?" Flickr pool}

Sweet tooth.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Thu, 28 May 2009 22:52:00 +0000

Do you like candy apples? Or do you call them toffee apples, like they do in the UK (a bit odd, since there's not always toffee involved). In Brazil we call them Maçã do Amor ("apple of love"), like in France ("pommes d'amour"). I think those are much better names. I took this picture in Hannover two years ago, in one of those delightful Summer fests they have all over the place. And I was happy to learn that, in Germany, they are called "Liebesapfel" and also have "love" in the name:

Regardless of how you prefer to call them, I think they're brilliant. So you can imagine how I felt about these:

So pretty that I don't know if I would be brave enough to eat them. I would most likely just display them in a glass jar.

You can find them at Amy's Candy Kitchen and Double Dipped Sweets on Etsy (US and Canada only, unfortunately... Or fortunately, my diet is safe).

(via nonsolokawaii)

my so-called life.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Thu, 28 May 2009 16:33:00 +0000

This and Wonder Years = two of the very few TV shows that I've ever felt like watching.
Both about people growing up. I wonder what does that say about me.

I loved Angela Chase. Badly dyed red hair, shabby flanel shirts and all. I liked the way her limbs were too long and her nose sort of too big, because she was growing up as unevenly as we all do. And how she would look gorgeous one day, then plain the next day and dowright ugly later. I could relate to that. And I kind of wanted to be like her. Smart, introspective, inquisitive, full of dreams. She was so convincing as a teenager (mood swings, naivety, arrogance and excessive use of "like" and half-witted metaphors included) it almost made for uncomfortable watching. Because so much of what I saw in her I could recognize in myself.

I, too, had a Rayanne in my circle of friends (sexually active, liberal views, small drug problem). And a Ricky (gay, unpopular and lonely, but so sensitive and sensible). And even a Brian (I never realized he was kind of into me untill we both were attending different universities). And yes, a Jordan Catalano (because every girl has to have one). I just didn't have a younger sister and awkward, anxious parents; mine were not very much concerned about my emotional troubles, maybe because I was indeed very good at pretending I didn't have any.

There were times when I wanted to hold her and cry with her. There were other times when I just wanted to give her a slap. But you could almost feel the pain in her growing bones. She was much better than the artificially perfected versions of teenagers I've seen lately on TV. They are what we want, expect or believe teenagers to be. They're not like the rough, painful and beautiful real deal. She was, and there was never a deal as real as Angela.

"My parents keep asking how school was. It's like saying, "How was that drive-by shooting?" You don't care how it *was*, you're lucky to get out alive."

"I couldn't stop thinking about it. The, like, fact that people had sex. That they just *had* it, like sex was this thing people had, like a rash. Or a Rottweiler. Everything started to seem like, pornographic or something. Like, Mrs. Krysanowski has sex. So does Mr. Katimsky. They both have sex. They could have sex together. Like, right now."

(I like this picture of the Chase family. Angela looks almost as if she's been cut out from the others. That's how most teenagers feel about their families, and adult/children in general)

"Sometimes it seems like we're all living in some kind of prison. And the crime is how much we hate ourselves. It's good to get really dressed up once in a while. And admit the truth: that when you really look closely? People are so strange and so complicated that they're actually... beautiful. Possibly even me."

"This life has been a test. If this had been an actual life, you would have received instructions on where to go and what to do."

"Sometimes I think if my mother wasn't so good at pretending to be happy she might be better at actually being happy."

"People are always saying you should be yourself, like yourself is this definite thing, like a toaster. Like you know what it is, even. But every so often I'll have, like, a moment, where just being myself in my life right where I am is, like, enough."

"What's amazing is when you can feel your life going somewhere. Like, your life just figured out how to get good. Like, that second."

Paul & Holly.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Thu, 28 May 2009 16:22:00 +0000

"You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."

Fotografei você na minha Rolleiflex

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Sun, 24 May 2009 13:46:00 +0000

She lives in Tokyo, she travels a lot, she loves her Rolleiflex and she is feeding my passion for square format photography like no other:

There is something special about film cameras that digitals cannot achieve.
Every time I look at her stream, I feel like going to Ebay and fork out the bucks for a Rolleiflex (or any other awesome film camera) of my own. Then I remember I already have a Canon AE-1 gathering dust on my shelf because I can't be bothered to learn how to shoot film, or even how to operate my own DSLR camera in fully manual mode. *blushes*

I fail at photography, but that tiny detail won't stop me appreciating the art. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be a good photographer. :)

* To my non-lusophone readers, the title on this post refers to a 60s popular brazilian song called "Desafinado" and sort of means, well, "I took your picture with my Rolleiflex".

Brick Lane market.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Fri, 22 May 2009 14:54:00 +0000

First of all, sorry for not being able to update here as often as I used to. I've been busy with some personal projects (including my citizenship test), so I can't really spend much leisure time online finding great things to share here as before; but soon these small, boring tasks will be ticked off the list and I'll be right back here.

Second, in response to someone who left this comment, "does your boyfriend never get bored by so many pictures before eating, while shopping and so on...??". Well, dear reader, if he was the sort of chap who gets annoyed or bored with this sort of thing, he surely wouldn't be married to me (and I would never have considered him "husband material" - for he, by the way, is my hubby, not my boyfriend). Sometimes he will even suggest good angles or arrange the food as to make it look nicer so I can take better pictures. Of course, sometimes, we're too hungry for photos and scoff the lot before we realize the meal was not preserved for posterity!

Now my question is for you, dear curious reader - were you concerned about my husband or just bored with my picture spamming yourself and wanted to leave me a hint? If the latter, then the following post is bad news for you, I'm afraid. ;)

One cannot go to Brick Lane sunday market and not to go scavenging the second hand shops.

"Are we finally lost?"

Nope, as long as there are junk stalls, we're still on track.

Fancy a pain au chocolat? Or two? Or several? (none in my case; I don't do choccies)

I feel at the same time overwhelmed and reassured by all this cultural diversity.

We wanted to sit somewhere to people watch - preferably accompanied by a cold beer + a bite to eat - and ended up at this sweet little swedish café called Fika.

Who would have guessed we'd be sitting in a swedish restaurant, having finnish beer in the middle of the East end? Last time I had Lapin Kulta (which translates as "Lapland Gold") I was in Finland, in the middle of the summer, eating reeindeer with my husband's family.

And talking about them... Reindeer sausages!

Now, what about a cappuccino?

After all, "he's so frothy!" :)

Sally Scott

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Fri, 22 May 2009 14:07:00 +0000

I found Sally Scott website on the internet yesterday.
I am not sure about what I love more; the beautiful clothes (don't they look comfortable, good quality and able to be enjoyed in other sizes apart from zero?) or the gorgeous photos.

There's never been an easier way to attract my custom than using great photography to present your merchandise. I can't stand when people are trying to sell stuff and, at the same time, making it obvious they couldn't be bothered to photograph it well.

I don't mean necessarily artistic photos (as the ones above), but people, just let some light in before you snap - I would really like to be able to actually see what I intend to purchase. ;)

At the garden center.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Wed, 20 May 2009 21:00:00 +0000

You've guessed correctly; yet another "flower post". Sorry about being repetitive, but bear with me - this is the time of the year where I go berserk and coo like an idiot over anything coloured coming out of the ground. Direct result from winter floral deadness.

My planters from last year were looking positively empty, just like the baskets attached to our front wall, so I went to Ramsons in order to have our spring sorted out.

Ah, rhododendrons. Some may say you're an evil foreign intruder, too garish in colour and aggresive in behaviour, but oh I don't care, for pretty you are.

And this is part of what I bought; and I had an absolutely delightful afternoon filling the empty gaps on my planters with a bit of life and colour.

Also, they have a very good café and brasserie:

This was my starter, a twice baked cheese soufflé.

And his prawns in garlic butter.

His main course, rump steak with mushroom and vine tomatoes:

And the most awesome piece of rib I've ever eaten. Trust me on that.

I sincerely apologize to any horrified vegetarian that ever happen to come accross this post.

Hope.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Tue, 19 May 2009 13:32:00 +0000

the clever nettle

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Tue, 19 May 2009 11:58:00 +0000

Her clothes, her blog, her pictures, everything is a feast for the eyes.

Madonna, two incarnations.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Mon, 18 May 2009 11:06:00 +0000

Detroit, 70s:

Steven Meisel, 90s.

Liu Jianhua

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Mon, 18 May 2009 10:40:00 +0000

(xxx)

How It Will Happen, When

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Mon, 18 May 2009 10:24:00 +0000

There you are, exhausted from another night of crying,
curled up on the couch, the floor, at the foot of the bed,
anywhere you fall you fall down crying, half amazed
at what the body is capable of, not believing you can cry
anymore. And there they are: his socks, his shirt, your
underwear, and your winter gloves, all in a loose pile
next to the bathroom door, and you fall down again.
Someday, years from now, things will be different:
the house clean for once, everything in its place, windows
shining, sun coming in easily now, skimming across
the thin glaze of wax on the wood floor. You’ll be peeling
an orange or watching a bird leap from the edge of the rooftop
next door, noticing how, for instance, her body is trapped
in the air, only a moment before gathering the will to fly
into the ruff at her wings, and then doing it: flying.
You’ll be reading, and for a moment you’ll see a word
you don’t recognize, a simple words like cup or gate or wisp
and you’ll ponder like a child discovering language.
Cup, you’ll say over and over until it begins to make sense,
and that’s when you’ll say it, for the first time, out loud: He’s dead.
He’s not coming back, and it will be the first time you believe it.

- Dorianne Laux

Blue bells and Red shoes.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Sun, 17 May 2009 11:04:00 +0000

Last week we drove to Jardin d'Olivet here in Jersey for a bit of bluebell spotting.
The light was beautiful and so were the views over Bouley Bay.

{I wear (and love) these shoes so much I dread the day they will simply fall apart.}

the last message.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Sun, 17 May 2009 09:23:00 +0000

‘A young man I met at the Philadelphia Open Studios Tour back on October 11th. I’d noticed the type on his wrist peeking out from his shirt and was astounded to see well drawn typography in a recognizable typeface in a tattoo.

It’s Adobe Caslon Pro, he proudly told me and gladly agreed to let me photograph him. His friend, the very talented silkscreener Tory Franklin had a studio in the building. He posed in front of Tory’s stunning work and told me that the tattoo was a suicide note in its entirety from a psychiatrist in the 1920’s.’

{source}

after the storm.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Sat, 16 May 2009 18:07:00 +0000

“and once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. you won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. but one thing is certain. when you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. that’s what this storm’s all about”

— haruki murakami

Alexander Timofeev.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Sat, 16 May 2009 17:57:00 +0000

{homepage}

Ways to make your life less boring.

noreply@blogger.com (Lolla) — Thu, 14 May 2009 11:45:00 +0000

Put glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling by jumping on your bed.

(grace haney)

Watch movies that you didn’t think you would like.

(Kipourax)

Get yourself a pen-pal even if it’s your next door neighbour.

Put the music up really loud and dance around in your room.

(DottieboBottie)

Sing.

(anyjaz65)

Paint. Paint anything. Remember this.

(Steven Coen)

Get yourself a camera and take pictures of everything.

(Ryan Brenizer)

Bake cookies!

(Amelie)

Get a haircut/dye your hair. Blue, or something.

(cake-eater extraordinaire)

Do stuff that average people don’t understand.
Because those are the only good things. (Andy Warhol)