You might notice I've been on a Burroughs/Beats kick lately. Me and everyone else it seems, but we'll get to that later.
I blogged about William S. Burroughs and Brion Gyson only just recently because my recent obsession with Burroughs regards his style. I am in awe. All my newfound fascination confuses me because I read "Junky" over a year ago and didn't get so into it then.
What has changed between then and now?
(8h41)
(9h43 - after dishes and cleaning up a little cat vomit)
I still can't answer my own question. Different writer speak to me at different times. When I first read Catcher in the Rye I was bowled over, nowadays I read bits from time to time with mild disinterest. As much as I still have a certain regard for Anais Nin, it is for the quantity of pages she filled in her lifetime rather than for the content of the pages.
I think what I've experienced is a common thing. Monsieur Redacteur gets it too. As you continue to read throughout your life you read better books and sometimes worse books. The ranking queue keeps adjusting below a certain number. W. Somerset Maugham, Colette, Maupaussant, and Murakami seem to be constantly at the top of my list of favourites, but after that it changes with every book I read.
So Junky didn't talk to me, but Naked Lunch did. The Cut Up Trilogy interests me. The style is almost mechanical in its assembly. The Cut Up Trilogy (also known as The Nova Trilogy) is comprised of "The Soft Machine", "The Ticket that Exploded", and "The Nova Express". Burroughs himself considered them a sort of sequel to Naked Lunch.
At the bookstore the other day there were three Burroughs books: "The Soft Macine", "The Ticket that Exploded", and "The Place of Dead Robots". Being interested in The Cut Up Trilogy I of course bought The Place of Dead Robots, which is the second book in a completely different trilogy (which includes "Cities of the Red Night" and "The Western Lands") and doesn't use the cut up method at all.
But that's okay. Maybe it's a fitting method, my reading and discovering Burroughs. One book here, one book there. Cut ups of cut up trilogies (I have Nova Express at home) and whatever else I can lay my hands on. I suppose it helps that Burroughs had such an interesting life.
I'm not entirely disappointed either. The Place of Dead Roads is written in such a way I might not have known it didn't employ the cut up method. It's not easy to read because it doesn't flow like a "story", but it is interesting. I like reading it a few pages at a time.
I don't know when I'll get over my current Burroughs fascination, but for the moment it's helping me write, which is good enough for me.
I wanted to get the history of ADM, the squat I visited, which is to date the greatest squat I have ever seen, but it gets confusing. Or at least it did for me.
On Saturday I spoke with three people associated with ADM. One I met next to a massive pile of rubbish full of things any one could take. It was full of various bicycles in various states, including a rusted up stationary bicycle.
What I learned by the junk pile was that the owner of the property being squatted by ADM was assassinated. Though after talking to the one person who I knew through a friend, they're not sure this juicy tidbit is actually true. Other things I learned by the junk pile but failed to confirm when I talked to the guy who was working security at the front gate is that ADM has been around for 12 years (not 20) and that while they may not accept new squatters, if you have a history with the residents, it's still possible to live there.
(I suppose I should mention now that the guy working security was also tripping on 6 tabs of LSD.)
Now how I got to the Ruimte Festival was interesting (and frustrating). I originally booked a boat through an evironmental agency that squats their boat at the ADM "terrein" (terrain), but although I searched the back of Centraal Station for about 45 minutes I couldn't find it, so I decided to take the other option which was to take the train from Centraal to Sloterdijk and then take the "pendelbus" (shuttlebus) the ADM people had organised for 2,00 euros.
I walked all the way back through Centraal Station to the information center, but the guy didn't seem to understand me. Thankfully the guy right behind me was going to the festival too. Not only did he help me buy my ticket, he also let me use his Dutch discount card to buy it, and hung out with me for a few hours at the festival while he filmed his friends, a boy/girl rapping duo called Fuego, but he also swiped me some apple juice and a stroopwafel from the treats table in the backstage area of the musicians.
I also met some cool 20-somethings from Ghent, Belgium who had come up in one of the guy's grandmother's Volvo. They had to have the car back to grandma by 6 pm on Sunday, but I gave them my mobile number in case they came back. Pieter et Wallit (the name of two of the guys in the band) rocked the house.
Now I cannot possibly explain the ADM terrein to you properly. But here are the highlights in text and pictures:
As if this car wasn't great enough here's the side and the bit inside that first attracted me.
Under the big top.
Pablo & Amelia of Fuego
Pieter et Wallit
Other pictures
All I can say about the ADM Ruimte festival is well, I left at a wimpy hour. It was raining off and on all day and I was ill equipped for the wet and cold. I wish I could have stayed longer, but I didn't have the stamina, so around 12h30, I was back at Centraal Station. Still, despite my inability to party until 5 am I'm pretty proud of myself. I'm not the type to go to parties alone not because I'm rather shy, but I talked to complete strangers.
But that was the vibe. Acceptance, non-conformity, having a good time, and art.
I left wishing the residents of ADM the best. I sincerely hope they're able to keep the place alive, but the only concensus amongst the various people I talked to is that now that squatting has been made illegal in Holland the future may be bleak for this unique space where there is so much beauty to see that it really took me around 3 hours to notice there was a spaceship right in front of where I'd been standing for 2 of those 3 hours.
It being ADM and being Amsterdam, I admit I inhaled inside the spaceship. If Obama can fess up, I suppose I can too. Did I mention the spaceship had banquet seats inside of (David) Lynch worthy blue velvet?
I admit I am not hip, even when it comes to literature. I hadn't ever read Bukowski, one of the major indicators of being literally hip, until this year. I had read some of the angel-headed hipsters; the Beat poet Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac's "On the Road", but until last year I'd never read any William S. Burroughs.
Then I read "Junky" and spent the entire time thinking in the back of my mind that I'd take a bullet over an addiction to H (Heroin) any day of the week even if a man named Keith Richards (now a pirate and sometimes member of the great Rolling Stones) says nicotine is a harder habit to kick than the H. I am basically admitting that I was traumatised by Burroughs frank portrait of addiction and bewildered by his style.
I've been reading "The Naked Lunch" this past week and brough it along to Amsterdam with me. It might have been an odd choice. Hard drug use isn't as common in Holland thanks to the more liberal view on soft drugs such as marijuana and hashish that can be purchased in coffeeshops (by those over 18). But there is a gritty past. A past where Burroughs might have felt at home in this city. He might have appreciated it when he wasn't high on H, but Naked Lunch, if it is about anything, is all about how someone who does H needs to do H and all they think about is getting some H and doing it and when they'll do H again.
Now Burroughs style is what - though the subject matter is often hard to read about because it intrigues me while at the same time scaring the complete shit out of me because of the emotions his writing evokes- really makes him unique in my eyes as a writer. After the first five sentences in Junky I knew I was being played. It reminded me of watching a magnificient orchestra backing a star violinist who plays some beautifully intricate piece so well it seems simple. Pluck, pluck, pluck. . . . he weeds out the flowers . . . the music of their perfectly pitched hums resonate . . . . Burroughs style is rough and heavily punctuated and not only by mere symbols of punctuation. He jabbers nonsense about some pretty heavy shit and in the ramble that we've been told over the years that junkys are supposed to have . . . the scatter and the mess that comes with a life spent a slave to the junk until you .... well, that might be due in part to Burroughs use of cut up.
Wikipedia says,
"The cut-up technique is an aleatory literary technique in which a text is cut up and rearranged to create a new text. Most commonly, cut-ups are used to offer a non-linear alternative to traditional reading and writing."
And in case after reading that you're thinking to yourself what the heck is an "aleatory literary technique" (because I was), it's the "incorparation of chance into the process of creation" derrived from the Latin word alea, which meant to roll the dice cause it's "Vegas baby". Sorry for The Swingers reference but it was such a money moment....
Now Wiki also says that,
"The concept can be traced to at least the Dadists of the 1920s, but was popularized in the late 1950s and early 1960s by writer William S. Burroughs, and has since been used in a wide variety of contexts",
no mention of Brion Gysin in the first sentence of the Wikipedia page? That's a bit weird to me.
The book I have besides me, "The Third Mind" by Burroughs considers Brion Gysin the inventor of the technique.
"The 'cut-up' was in fact the invention of Brion Gysin, American painter and poet, which Burroughs utilised to his own ends, and Gysin is co-author of this book. Burroughs points out that a roughly similar technique, although using different mechanics, can be found in Eliot's "Waste Land" and some of the work of (Tristan Tzara) and (John) Dos Passos and there are many parallels in the other arts. This volume expounds the theory, shows how it was put into practice and gives many examples of the cut-up method successfully used to make discoveries that sometimes merge on the mystic and produce many interesting and poetic results on the page. The Third Mind is an important source book for the expansiion of literature as art."
Tristan Tzara was my introduction to the cut-up technique. Tzara offered to make a poem (Collage) by pulling words out of a hat and wrote a manifesto about "How to Write a Dadist Poem". I remember when I first heard this particular story about Tzara and thinking it was the inspiration for poetry magnets.
I made this Dadist poem using http://play.magpogames.com (Artist Set)
vivid psychedelic impression dazzles
imagination drug deep
to a wasted monument
form rigid
drunk dead
(My review of The Naked Lunch by Burroughs thus far as I haven't finished it yet.)
Brion Gysin accidentally re-discovered the cut-up technique when he placed layers of newspapers as a mat to protect a tabletop from being scratched while he cut papers with a razor blade. Upon cutting through the newspapers, Gysin noticed that the sliced layers offered interesting juxtapositions of text and image. He began deliberately cutting newspaper articles into sections, which he randomly rearranged. The book "Minutes to Go" resulted from his initial cut-up experiment: unedited and unchanged cut-ups which emerged as coherent and meaningful prose. South African poet Sinclair Beiles also used this technique and co-authored Minutes To Go.
Gysin introduced Burroughs to the technique at the Beat Hotel. The pair later applied the technique to printed media and audio recordings in an effort to decode the material's implicit content, hypothesizing that such a technique could be used to discover the true meaning of a given text.
Below is the first part of an interview with Burroughs that is available on YouTube in case you're interested.
The above video is one of Burroughs collaborations with Kurt Cobain of Nirvana called "The "Priest" They Called Him".
I might write more after I read The Third Mind, but in the meantime must take a bath and get myself ready. Today I'm going to this amazing festival at ADM Terrain. You can find out more information here: http://www.admfestival.nl/ (it's in English).
I can't wait! I'm going to try and get a seat on the shuttle boat and see how late I come back home (it goes until 5 am). I have a friend of a friend who is working there, so even though I'm going alone, I should be okay. Just need to get a few provisions namely: 1) something to protect me from the obvious rainfall that is going to occur at some or all of the time today, 2) a smaller bag that closes up because the only thing I brought for a bag is my Goyard tote bag which is pretty much an invitation to someone to try and pickpocket me, 3)some snacks in case the food isn't tempting, 4) possibly a new dress or something equally cute to celebrate what I'm pretty sure is going to be the best festival ever.
See, what I know so far from my Dutch friends who live here is that the ADM terrein is sort of like a no man's land. They don't play by the rules and it's sort of like a little village of squats and squatters full of artists and non-comformists. There's going to be music, theater, art, fun stuff, children's stuff, and god knows what else.
Plus did I mention I get to go there on a boat (maybe....if there's room....please let there be still room) run by http://www.theblackfish.com/ , which is an environmental organisation that protects the oceans so my fare is going to a good cause too. In fact, all the money (tickets are 15,00 euros) is going to various good causes.
Non-comformity, generosity, and a party too? I bet Burroughs would approve.
In case you're at all interested in my writing process (or progress, which there is very little of at the moment sadly), here's a look at what's been kicking around my brain lately.
I also feel heavily inspired by Henry Darger at the moment. I wrote a post about him recently that you can find here.
Robert Louis Stevenson's little book "The Art of Writing". "My First Book", about writing "Treasure Island" has inspired me since the moment I read it, thanks to Monsieur Redacteur who recommended it to me.
Reading William S. Burroughs' "Naked Lunch". The style is just brilliant.
Believe it or not, watching the movie adaptation of L.M Montgomery's "Anne of Green Gables". I saw myself as Anne when I saw it when I was a little girl and it's nice to see I remember what made me feel that way. I am rather dramatic.
Going away to Amsterdam to give my "mad plan" a try.
The Mad Plan
I have concocted this mad plan to write 5,000 words a day during my stay in Amsterdam minus travel days, and three days when people will be coming to visit, though I still plan on getting up early to write as much as I can; which means 5,000 words x 18 days [would hypothetically] = 90,000 words or, a novel. If I can stick to it.
I've decided I won't edit for the entire period. I'll print the entire document in one go when I get back from Amsterdam and just see what I have. I of course will be using several sources to make sure I don't lose copies of this document such as email to send it myself, Google Docs, and a Darth Vader USB key.
Darth keeps my files safe.
In fact I'm going to plan my days like I'm on a retreat. Early morning walks after feeding and cuddling the cat I'm babysitting during my stay, lots of shopping in the markets for fresh vegetables and other healthy goodies, massages and floats at Koan Float, and an evening constitutional will be part of helping me achieve my mad plan.
Now don't think 5,000 words are by any means normal. The only writer I can think of off the top of my head who writes a healthy dose of "words per day" might be Stephen King. Joyce Carol Oates is also extremely prolithic, but I've never found anything on the details of her writing habits. But I think it's important to aim high. I will literally have nothing to do in Amsterdam except take care of a cat, myself, and write.
I'll be armed with my outline, the one that's been haunting me since my first trip to Amsterdam, which I am becoming more and more convinced is the story I most want to tell and am the most capable of telling.
Last September I told myself I was going to write a novel by September 2011. It reminds me a bit of college and being under the wire. It's exciting if nothing else to challenge myself. As long as I'm writing, that's what really matters in the end anyways.
One day I will type the two words I most long to type. "The End". I'm counting on Amsterdam to inspire me.
I've noticed on my blog stats lots of people who find this blog do so because they're looking for Karen Blixen, which makes me quite happy as she well deserves the attention, but on the other hand I don't have so much posted about her - a few pictures, quotes, and a few stories about my own personal discovery of Dinesen as an author.
Here are some other posts for Karen Blixen in case you weren't able to find them:
Now the pictures I'm posting today are all from a little book I found at a library sale printed by Phoenix, an imprint of the University of Chicago press. At one point Dinesen and the University of Chicago must have had an agreement because aside from my first editions, I have reading copies of all of Dinesen's works from the UC press, but "The Life and Destiny of Isak Dinesen" was a seriously wonderful find.
It contains more than two hundred photographs from Karen's artistocratic ancestors to the very last days of her life. I chose a few I thought might be the most interesting and convinced Monsieur Redacteur to scan them for me because I hate scanning.
Unknown to many, Karen was a very gifted artist as you can see from the portrait she painted of her manservant Farah (whom she treated with great respect and affection).
Karen with her sketchbook in Kullen, July 15, 1907. She was at this time studying at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts.
Karen at her desk and her bedroom in Kenya.
Karen and Bror in the study.
Karen with her pet owl that met a sad end as it tried to eat the cord on a curtain.
Now one of the best parts of the book? Well since it was used it came with an inscription -
Barbara,
No matter what happens in our lives it's good. Everything is for our benefit. Some things are better than others. You are one of the best. Thank for sharing your laughter and love with me!
Mark
And then just a page afterwards, a quote from Karen herself; a facsimile of her own writing and signature and the English translation of the words -
We must leave our mark on life while we have it in our power, lest it should close up, when we leave it, without a trace
Karen Blixen
When I give a book as a present I always inscribe it unless it's a rare or first edition book (then I write the inscription on a beautiful card and give the receiver the choice of having me inscribe the words into the book if they would like) and I could never imagine giving away a book that had been inscribed to me, but here it's quite a touching glimpse because it fits.
Karen Blixen was a woman who trials and tribulations managed still to live an excitingly beautiful and vivid life. She also wrote great books. I can say without reservation I have never read her words without pleasure.
She has been a great inspiration to me and if she's a great inspiration to you, I hope you enjoy the pictures and check out the book.
I fell in love with the art of Henry Darger at first sight. It was what the French call a coupe de foudre, a lightning bolt. I had to see more. The more I saw and the more I scoured for information on Darger, a janitor who upon his death left behind a cave of wonders; the more I yearned like I have never yearned before for a book perhaps I will never have, the complete manuscript of his "In the Realms of the Unreal".
It is one of the longest books ever written at 15,145 single spaced pages. Its full title, often shortened to In the Realms of the Unreal is: The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is Known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion. Given the title and the page count it's no surprise that the story is composed of 9,000,000 words in 15 immense volumes.
In my search I got the impression that people are either more fascinated by his art or his life. Darger was orphaned, considered feeble minded, and scraped together a living working as a janitor in a Catholic hospital in Chicago, Illinois. There is a documentary about Henry and his life told by his former landlord and neighbours who knew him while he lived in his room at 851 Webster Street and wandered around collecting garbage pretty much all alone in the world. When he died his landlords the Lerners discovered what Henry was doing with his time; why they heard him often talking to himself; and what all those newspapers and magazines were being made into - perhaps one of the greatest examples of outsider art the world has ever known.
But what about the manuscript? What about the story Henry spent his entire life telling? Not only the story of the Vivian Girls but his own autobiography. Henry is one of the most collectible outsider artists. His former landlords have made money off his art (which is its own story) and yet Henry's story remains untold.
What can you find on Henry Darger's amazing manuscript? The aforementioned documentary by Jessica Yu, "In the Realms of the Unreal" is a good source of information. I've captured some stills including the impressive records and accounting ledgers Henry kept of everything in his world from goods to property and a sort of census of characters.
I want this to be published so badly I even tried to write letters to the Henry Darger Foundation and Kiyoko Lerner, Henry's former landlord who holds the "rights" to whether or not the manuscript might ever be printed whether in part or in full.
In the meantime sadly the only book I can find that has more text from The Story of the Vivian Girls is
Today on Twitter Julian Gough tweeted a link to his blog post titled "Save Civilization by Reading a Funny Book". I was immediately enchanted by this writer's generousity. He's willing to have faith in people and send out a perfect PDF of his book "Jude in London" given that people will read it and write a 150 word review and if they like it, to recommend to a friend that they pick up a copy.
It seems like a slightly crazy thing to do doesn't it, but is it? My immediate response to Gough's post was to implore him to send it to me and a promise to promote it amongst the English speaking expatriate community here in Paris. I wouldn't have done that before maybe. The point is no one ever asked. And so charmingly to boot.
So I say to you Mr. Julian Gough, he of much faith, send me your book "Jude in London" because I am both a lady of leisure and a lady of my word (including an invitation to lunch should you ever find yourself in my neck of the literally woods, the Fontainebleau Forest).
In honour of my dog's 9th birthday, and yes I am one of those people who celebrate their canine's birthday, I thought I would tell you about why I think everyone should have a pet. Especially if that pet might be a dog.
I found my dog when she was begging for food with her brother outside my apartment door when I was working in Rio de Janiero. Stray animals are everywhere in Latin America, but eventually I couldn't stop myself and I fed her. The reason why I didn't want to feed her was because I knew I would be leaving in a few weeks and I didn't think I could take a 5 week old puppy with me as I trekked through the Amazonian rainforest.
Still I made it work and three months later she was standing in my apartment in the Back Bay looking up at me while simultaneously peeing on the floor, but she looked really unhappy to be doing it. I carried her, mid-pee, out the back door and set her down in the garden. From that day forward she was housetrained. We moved to New York.
I thought it'd be smooth sailing from then on because she was obviously a very smart dog, but the smarter the dog the more trouble they can get into. One day I arrived home to carnage. My loft was 2 floors, one of which was covered in tiny little white feathers (she destroyed my feather duvet) and on the second floor were about 20 single shoes she'd chewed up (she never ate them in paris). I of course had a melt-down. I thought the feathers were sort of hilarious, but no one fucks with a woman's shoes. 20 pairs of designer high heels gone. I went nuclear.
I put her on her leash and dragged her out to my car (which I still had at that time because I was a dumbass who thought owning a car was a sensible thing to do in New York City). I was going to bring her to the pound. I couldn't take the chewing through the wall, destroying everything I owned, and the lifestyle change owning a dog had forced upon me. I was going to bring her to the pound and get on with my life as normally scheduled.
I sat in the car for an hour without even starting it and then took her back into the house. The next day nothing got chewed. She sat. She learned to play fetch gloriously. When my neighbours dogs acted like assholes she was a complete angel. Good with kids, a master of finding things, and the worst thing she would do from time to time was sleep on the bed. I'm still not sure what exactly happened, but from that day either I saw she was perfect to begin with or she saw I was in it for the long haul and started behaving better. I prefer to believe she was perfect to begin with and that I didn't see it until I came to grips with the fact that I was though slightly against my will, sort of in love with my dog. I didn't know people could love dogs so much back then.
It's been 9 years since I carried her through the rainforest in a makeshift baby bjorn and trekked from Rio to Quito, Ecuador with her. Since then we've been all over North America (including Alaska), the United Kingdom, Spain, Portugal, France, Italy, South Korea, Germany, Holland, Belgium, Denmark, and Sweden together.
She talks to me in noises still like she did when she was a puppy. She is also amazing at football/soccer and should have been recruited for the French national team. She plays Frisbee like a pro, jumps like a prized thoroughbred, and has outrun a Greyhound. She is the most intelligent dog I've ever met and even people I know who don't like dogs love her. And if that was all she was - just a good dog I probably wouldn't keep going on about it, but she's so much more.
She's more than a dog to me. What was rough and cold about me she smoothed down and softened. She made me a better person. She taught me it's okay to love with all my heart again. She has given me a light heartedness that I didn't have before she came into my life.
A year ago we had a scare that maybe she had cancer and I never felt so much sadness in my life. I thought I had, but I hadn't. Thankfully it turned out to be just a scare and she's actually very healthy for her age. I tell her she has to live forever. No matter what she always will. If there is a heaven I know when I get there she's going to be waiting for me, probably wondering if I've brought her any food. Or if I've got a ball in my pocket.
I won't be blogging anymore today because I'm taking my furry best friend to the butcher's to chose her birthday steak (we even have an appointment) and to get ice cream (I only let her have vanilla, but she's mad for ice cream) and to run around the park and if you think I'm retarded for loving my dog so much there is a small part of me that is in agreement with you except for the larger part of me that wonders how after reading everything above you can still wonder why I do so much for my dog on the anniversary of the day she came into my life because is she not obviously so amazingly awesome?
If I could afford it I'd feed her a 20 euro steak every day. Like L'Oreal says, she's worth it.
Happy birthday to my furry best friend.
Sit.
Stay.
Live forever!
I love you hound., you're my bitch. Or I'm yours. Either way, I'm pretty happy with our arrangement.
As you know I've been using the 9 to 5 (Matin et Soir) lotion cleanser and I'm still quite pleased with it. Especially when I use it with the Herbalism (Herbalisme), though I have to confess I'm still not pleased overall with Herbalism but I think it's because of my skin type because I use it to exfoliate my hands and I love it for that. Plus I got the Love Lettuce (Balancoire) facial mask which is also exfoliating and have been using that for about 2 weeks now. It leaves my face a little red honestly, but if I use the 9 to 5 to clean my face beforehand, then apply the Love Lettuce mask, leave it so that it's still damp, rinse with coolish water, and then recleanse my face with the 9 to 5 again my skin feels amazing.
Now I also tried the Coco Lotion because they gave me a sample and while I do like the moisture it gives to my skin because it's very hydrating and yet light - I hate the smell. I'm going to ask for a sample of the Karma Kreme next time, but I'm really pleased overall with Lush's products. I just wish they were a little less fragrant.
One added benefit of the Love Lettuce mask? It calms mosquito bites. This alone makes it worth buying in my book. Within seconds the itch was gone.
KLORANE
Klorane's Mink Oil Shampoo and Mink Oil Nourishing Conditioning Balm are my new favourite shampoo and conditioner. Since my hair is fairly long now (to the bottom of my back), it's fairly dry and prone to tangle. I bought this because I'd tried Klorane's mango butter shampoo and conditioning balm and was impressed with some of the results, but it still left my hair a little dry. I decided to give the brand another chance and am I pleased I did. My hair felt as clean and soft and well-moisturised as if I'd just been to the salon and all I did was wash, condition, brush, and let air dry.
Now the one thing I can say against it is it's not recommended for every day use. I don't know how often you wash your hair, but I find washing my hair every 3 days works best for me. Since they recommend 2 intensive treatments with the Milk Oil Shampoo and one regular wash per week, it works out perfectly for me, but if you like to wash your hair more often, you might want to try their Oat Milk Shampoo for every day use.
The website for Klorane has a great guide as well to help you better chose what suits your hair type and if you don't know your hair type they even have a little quiz where you can chose what's your hair concern and they'll make recommendations for you.
My suggestions based on choosing repair & strengthen were for the Mango Butter (repair) and Quinine B (strength) because I don't think the Mink Oil is advertised on the US site. Here are some Google shopping results to get you started in case you'd like to track it down.
Celebrities and stylists and make up artists swear by Klorane's Dry Shampoo, and I agree. As far as dry shampoos go, Klorane's is a great choice. I always brought it with me when I went backpacking along with Bed Head's Leave In Conditioner spray - not to look great, but to keep my hair clean and protect it from damage.
Gwyneth Paltrow, Christina Aguilera, and Sarah Jessica Parker swear by it. As do the girls at French Vogue.
But if you have the same hair issues as me - longish hair, split ends, thick, coarse, dry - the Mink Oil Shampoo & Balm are the way to go.
NUXE
Nuxe's Huile Prodigieuse is a dream product. I use it usually from fall - spring as in summer my skin isn't all that dry. I like to use it on my hands and neck as well as on my face once a week as a sort of "treatment". It's amazing for feet too. I also use it as a hair treatment by rubbing it through the ends of my hair and wearing my hair up for the day and washing normally later. If you own either the Bliss hand or foot gloves, this works amazingly well with those as well. If you don't own the Bliss hand and foot gloves it's time to invest. Once a week and your hands and feet with be perfectly hydrated. If only they had something similar for the face and neck.
I also swear by Nuxe's hand lotion. It's perfect for carrying around to apply during the day.
Here's a few other things that might not be available outside of France, but are worth a look.
Roger&Gallet - their perfumes are becoming more and more impressive and cost half of what designer perfumes cost. I have a friend who wears a perfume of theirs and I'm always intrigued. You can find their perfumes in nicer Parisian pharmacies or Sephora.
Annick Goutal - I don't know what it is but whenever someone is wearing an Annick Goutal perfume I love it. There's this workshop you can do at their Paris Avenue Victor Hugo boutique on Mondays and Tuesday. The cost is 25,00 euros, which can be put towards the cost of a perfume (min. 80,00 euros)purchased on the same day. Though I suspect with the right amount of interest, you could probably get the same sort of service in the boutique without spending 25,00 euros as most of the Annick Goutal perfumes aren't 80,00 euros and save yourself a little money.
Actually I find the idea of proposing it as a gift kind of stupid as I'm sure they must try and sell something in the process and that wouldn't be so fun for the person you sent to be possibly pressured into a purchase. I think I'll need to pop by the boutique (which I never went to when I lived just around the corner because I'm stupid) to see what it's like.
If you'd like to buy Annick Goutal perfumes for a cause, stop by MERCI the charity shop on Boulevard Beaumarchais (Filles du Calvaire) where 4 of the signature Goutal scents are available at 40% off the regular cost and for a good cause too!
Doc Martens
I had a few pairs of Doc Martens back when I was in my teens, but what I'm nostalgic for is my first pair of Docs - the 30th anniversary edition that was sent to me by a boy I was dating from Ireland. They arrived 2 sizes too big because I didn't think about what a 37 was in UK sizing, but I still wore them until I got myself a pair that was the proper size. Like many of us who were teens in the grunge era, we probably put them away until they came back last year (as the 90's seems to be doing in fashion now).
The other day my pseudo little sister, 18 years old, showed up to visit me wearing a pair of patent leather Docs and the urge came over me. I went to the Doc Marten store at Les Halles and tried them on. I must be getting old because I don't remember them feeling like they needed so much breaking in, even though I also remember having a friend run over a green pair with his car...
I decided in the end that I didn't want the original 1460's and I didn't want them in patent leather either. I'm going with the Pascal because I like the slight gloss of the leather. I'm going to buy them from the boutique and start breaking them in immediately, though I'll also be bringing other shoes, band-aids, and extra pairs of socks with me. I want to break them in before Amsterdam because one thing I realised (when I pulled a muscle) last time was that I need good walking shoes from Amsterdam.
I figure since I want to pack light I could bring Docs and lots of black clothes so I can just mix and match. I hate when I'm packing to leave from somewhere and I realise how many things I packed but didn't wear. This time I'm packing to have plenty of extra room in my suitcase because I can always shop and do laundry while I'm away.
Just over two weeks to break in a pair of Doc Martens... I suppose it can be done. Maybe I can get my neighbour to run over them with his car...
Is there anything you absolutely love right now? Or crave?
Yesterday at a second hand bookstore I came across an Italian cookbook by region. I was tempted to buy it, but I didn't. It seemed like a good coobook, but how can one tell? What makes a good cookbook and how can you tell just by looking at one?
I don't own many cookbooks. In fact I own three - Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking Volumes 1 & 2 and another cookbook I bought on Provencal regional cuisine. I bought the Julia Child cookbooks in an older edition second hand because they were 4,00 euros for both and I thought why not, but I've never cooked anything out of it. In fact I've never cooked anything out of my cookbooks because I seem to only own cookbooks for French cuisine, which understandably given my French grandmother was a chef I've never needed. My grandma made sure I memorised every recipe she deemed to teach me. I've never learned from a cookbook because I've either learned from someone while cooking with them or I've figured out the recipe myself (I reverse engineer dishes I love from restaurants for example) and knew what techniques the food was going to need.
I've been playing with the idea of making my own cookbook for a really long time, but it's hard work for someone who doesn't use cookbooks. Not only do I have to choose which recipes would make it into a cookbook of mine, but I need people to test the recipes and learn how to write recipes that are easy for other people to follow. Part of this blog was supposed to be about cooking and posting recipes that people might try and then comment on to give me feedback, so I'm going to focus a little bit on that once I'm back from my holidays.
The thing is, even when people compliment my food and tell me I should one day open a restaurant I don't take them seriously. The reason why is mostly because I don't see a particular amount of talent in what I do in the kitchen. In some ways I take my ability to cook for granted because I don't see cooking as particularly difficult. I think anyone could cook what I cook if they practice and like cooking. I'd love to find a way to put that same mentality into a finished cookbook in such a way that people who cooked with my recipes would feel the same way. I cook with passion for people I care about. That's perhaps the secret ingredient to my cooking. I just love watching people I love eat.
My neighbour, for whom I cooked Korean food for his birthday party is still raving about how pleased his guests were. They wanted to know if I gave cooking classes; they asked for recipes and my advice on this or that. And most of these people were French, so I feel a bit more pride at knowing that I got a bunch of French people to try something new (and spicy).
Now I stopped my post here - thanks to Blogger's draft feature - and went back and bought that Italian cookbook. Why? Because I found reviews about it on Amazon that said the author, Ada Boni was apparently a very famous Italian cookbook writer in the 50's and 60's and it had all 5 star reviews by people who obviously loved this book, thought the recipes were truly authentic (not that I don't love Italian-American cuisine because having lived in Boston for so long I really grew to appreciate the Italian-American cuisine found in the North End of Boston), and simple to follow or to find substitutions for certain ingredients (though now that I've looked through the book myself I'm wondering where I'm going to find fresh oregano and beef suet in France).
One reviewer stated that Marcella Hazan, the famed Italian chef that was a pet of the New York Times apparently learned how to cook from Ada Boni's books. This well-loved and well-respected by none other than Marcella Hazan cookbook was a major steal at 10 euros given it's out-of-print and what I like to call an "inadvertent discovery" (books I want for some reason but don't know why, then come home to research only to discover I've somehow wanted that book but just didn't know yet).
More research on Ada Boni turns up a wealth of information that just makes me want to buy more of her cookbooks. Ada Boni started a sort of lady's home journal called Preziosa and that she published a massive encyclopedic volume containing 2000 authentic recipes by region (beating out the former champion of Italian cookbooks Artusi - who deserves his own post - by 1400 recipes) known as the Talismano della Felicità, The Talisman of Happiness. (I found all this information on a wonderful Italian cooking blog you can find here called Memorie di Angelina.)
I'm now terribly impatient to cook something from this new cookbook. I don't know where to start, but I suppose I will start with Venice as I lived there for a year and my memories of Venetian cuisine are still very close to my heart though it's not my favourite overall. Now I love southern Italian cuisine, but in the winter months I crave the type of cuisine one can eat in the north. Osso bucco with saffron risotto is probably my favourite Italian meal. If the weather keeps it up, I might actually be able to justify making it!
Here's the cookbook I purchased which is as I said out of print. You can find copies via Amazon or ABEBooks. Here's a link on ABE which is the same as the one I bought that isn't too expensive.
What are you favourite cookbooks and if you've cooked from one of Ada Boni's books before, what did you think?
I ran across this at the newstand today. Remember when I posted about Amy Winehouse's unfortunate death and the magazine? This is it.
Apparently it was a big topic of discussion on French websites the morbid coincidence that this magazine said Amy was fated to join the "27 Club" because of the align of the planets (specifically Neptune) and how despite only having a few months left before her 28th birthday this "prediction" has sadly come true.
On http://www.whenwillamywinehousedie.com/, 4 people predicted the exact date of Amy Winehouse's death, one of whom did so in December 2007. That person has won an iPod touch, presumably manufactured the same year the oh so lucky winner made their prediction.
I didn't want Amy Winehouse to die. I didn't think it was funny or interesting that she looked all fucked up all the time or that she flashed her crotch when some papparazzi just happened to be there to photograph her most intimate of parts.
When Monsieur Redacteur told me about this magazine I thought it was a humorous coincidence because I didn't believe she was going to die. You can read more if you like about my reaction to the news of Amy's death here.
I was catching up on episodes of The Glee Project, one of my favourite shows and one of the contestants sang "Valerie". It was a sad moment realising that at the time the show aired Amy was alive and perhaps making her comeback. Though there is lots of things in the news about Amy having died because of alcohol withdrawal, it's highly unlikely that anyone dies from alcohol withdrawal, but why would that be better news? It's even more tragic. Not ironic as some many news articles are stating. It's flat out fucking tragic if she died because she was trying to stop drinking.
I haven't been able to get the song out of my head all day. So this is for all of you and her too. It's a song that showed what Amy could do. She could sing.
God she had a beautiful voice. Listen to her live and then a recording and tell me it's not almost exactly the same. Her voice was perfection. Our generation's Billie or Nina.
I'd hear of the book "Go the FOK to Sleep" by Adam Mansback before, but it wasn't until I listened to it read by Samuel L. Jackson that the book came to life for me.
That being said, is this book really for children? Of course it isn't (at least I hope it isn't). It is hilarious though and more so if you've ever found yourself in a situation where you had a kid who just wouldn't go to sleep. It reminds me quite a bit of when my god daughter was young and getting her to bed required diplomacy, patience, and strategic outmanouvering such as heading her off at the bedroom door when she had to go to the bathroom yet again...
Here's the book as read by Samuel L. Jackson. It makes the story better, even in the parts where it gets very repetitive.
Best line? "I know you're not thirsty, that's bullshit. Lie down and go the fuck to sleep".
The book started when Adam Manbach Facebook'd "Be on the lookout for my forthcoming children's book, 'Go the Fuck to Sleep,'". Eventually after receiving positive responses, he sat down and wrote the book (which he insists thankfully is for adults).
Of course I can't go the fuck to sleep since it's 10 am, so I'll be going the fuck to town to run errands and find a way to use up the liters of guacamole I made last night...
Paul Poiret (1879 - 1944) was a sort of childhood prodigy when it came to creating beautiful things. I found a copy of his autobiography and highly recommend it to anyone who either wants to learn about fashion history or loves Paris. It was a fascinating and inspiring read.
Paul Poiret's story starts in the neighbourhood of Les Halles. Back before Les Halles was one of the worst places to have to pass through on public transport or a seedy teen hangout, Les Halles was the biggest market in Paris before they moved it out toward Orly in 1971.
I found this amazing video, unfortunately entirely in French for non-French speakers about the market. Imagine that during Poiret's time the market had been open for a few decades and was in full swing. His own father was a merchant and the Poiret family lived in buildings built especially to house the merchants and other workers of the market.
A book I highly recommend for anyone who might be interested in Les Halles before Poiret's time is Emile Zola's "The Belly of Paris". The book takes place in 1858 and is a must read for anyone who is interested not only in the Les Halles market, but also in the history of Paris or of France's foodie history. You will feel both nauseous and delirious with hunger thanks to Zola's gift with words. You might also ended up having an extreme distaste for materialism and the bourgeois classes, because Zola was also a genius at satire.
Paul Poiret grows up in this market, always surrounded by the wares intended for those who could afford them, and while his family wasn't poor they weren't rich. One thing I truly enjoy about his autobiography is that it is obvious that he not only acknowledges his humble beginnings, but takes immense pride in being "cultivated" through his own efforts. He spends his money as any proper member of the nouveau riche should on lavish parties and as he puts them "extravagances", but Poiret also did a number of extremely charitable things with his money. Les arts decoratifs (the decorative arts) was a movement almost entirely founded by Poiret - something that doesn't even seem to warrant a mention in other books I've read about Poiret over the years. He also bought a great amount of art from friends, took them on inspirational yatching trips around the Mediterrean (at the cost of 100,000 francs which would be 15,000 euros in today's money without calculating for what 100,000 francs was really worth in Poiret's time so imagine what it'd really be in today's money with inflation) and never snubbed les provincals as most Parisiens would.
Being such a fan of Yves Saint Laurent, I can see so many parallels in their lives and careers. Poiret started selling his designs at a young age and worked for Doucet and the Worth brothers until he decided to set off on his own. Saint Laurent was a talent from a young age and beat out other hopefuls (including Lagerfeld) and ended up working for Christian Dior who himself intended to be his successor after he was gone. Poiret was the king of marketing, but Saint Laurent wasn't shabby either. One need only think of the Chinese ship Saint Laurent hired for a party in New York to launch his Opium perfume and realise that he got the idea from Monsieur Paul Poiret, who was the first person to ever understand that the fancy parties, the beautiful models, and living a certain lifestyle were all essential to making women want to wear your clothes.
One interesting thing I learned from Poiret's autobiography is that he was the first to understand that a fashion designer must have his Muses. For Poiret his wife Denise was his greatest Muse. He saw in Denise, a girl from the provinces, but with some potential for more perhaps a bit of himself. He cultivated her with clothes and made her the most fashionable woman of Paris. Saint Laurent has his Muses, both of whom are two of my major fashion icons Betty Catroux and Loulou de la Falaise. It's because of Betty (whom I see from time to time in Paris) that I hunted down a le smoking for years (I finally found one after a search that started when I was 13 years old when I was 29 in my size and I could afford it since it was somehow only priced at 120 euros) and it's because of Loulou that I think it's perfectly okay to wear what my friends call my "Disco Ball" dress (it's a vintage black crochet dress from the 70's covered in 1 euro coin sized gold sequin disks that basically reflects lights when light hits it in a way that requires sunglasses to look at me).
My Muse, my grandmother Juliette, gave me my first Saint Laurent jacket (introducing me to the Saint Laurent shoulder) and skirt suit. I think I've talked about her before, but even now there is a part of me that hopes I will age gracefully like my grandmother and that my wardrobe will some day be as beautifully furnished and my style equally effortless seeming as hers. She inspires me.
Poiret is undoubtedly inspired Saint Laurent's and even if he didn't confess it openly, one could easily see Poiret's love of Orientalism and flare in Saint Laurent's collections.
Poiret's famous kimono coat.
Velvet coat, Paul Poiret
Cocktail outfit, Paul Poiret
Day dress, Paul Poiret
Evening dress, Yves Saint Laurent 1981
Suit, Yves Saint Laurent S/S 1978
Dress, Yves Saint Laurent S/S 1971
Dress, Yves Saint Laurent S/S 1967
Now normally I wouldn't have let anyone usurp YSL from my esteem. In terms of creation and construction, Yves Saint Laurent and Cristobal Balenciaga may be the greatest createurs (a word that differs from designer in that it means someone who truly creates something) the world have ever known.
The "Saint Laurent shoulder" I was passed down like an heirloom from my grandmother is still not forgotten by the women who know of its magical ability to transform the feminine silouhette. Just yesterday when I went into a swanky vintage shop to see how much they wanted for a second-hand calf leather tan Birkin (which I never found out, but they were asking 15,000 euros for a black crocodile Kelly bag) and talked with the Madame there both of us agreed, "One doesn't find the Saint Laurent shoulder anymore and the woman's jacket suffers from its absence." (I translated what the Madame said and my response was "ce type de qualité n'existe plus" (This type of quality no longer exists.)
But reading Poiret's biography was to gaze into the omphalos of why Paris is the capitol of fashion (not just because La Chambre Syndicale de la Couture says so in their marketing campaign). Clothes and other things were always made in other places, but only because some genius who went to Paris like Poiret made them fashionable. We win because of the sheer number of createurs who knew France was the place to have their genius appreciated - Worth, Madame Gres, Poiret, Jean Patou, Cristobal Balenciaga, Chanel, Schiaparelli, Doucet, Christian Dior, Maison Massaro, Lesage, Vionnet, Saint Laurent, Courreges, Ungaro, Alaia...
It has been a long time since fashion has been exciting to me. Poiret's autobiography brought out all those old feelings. It makes me want to get dressed up and go out somewhere wonderful and drink champagne and laugh and live.
Poiret understood women. He knew that there is something beautiful and mysterious and wonderful about each and every one of us. Today I've remembered that.
