Monday, June 6, 2016


Its Singing in the rain...
Just singin' in the rain
What a glorious feelin'
I'm happy again.
I'm laughing at clouds.
So dark up above
The sun's in my heart
And i'm ready for DIOR!!
Its not because its Purple Rain in Paris that I can't think Pink. Take a ticket to ride, follow the yellow brick road and holla at the heavenly home & gardens of Christian Dior.



The exhibition Women in Dior 
1947 - 2016 
is a Tribute to celebrated women or unknown customers without whom fashion houses wouldn't run so smoothly. 
The exhibition curated in a toasty surrounding; the doll like home of the genius shaper; presse's on the inevitable power of dressing and its psychological and social dimension. Treasured archives will narrate you through the fantastical and whimsical portrayal of women from H.R.H Princess Diana to Rihanna and singular "red carpet" moments.

  Granville was built in the XIXth century, and bought by Maurice Dior in 1905; his wife Madeleine Dior designed the gardens.

Tragically, the couple were ruined in 1929 due to the economic crisis, and were forced to sell it. But Christian Dior grew up to be an adolescent in Les Rhumbs (name given to the house). His neighbor and soon his muse and best friend Suzanne Luling lived to see Christian become a visionary. Suzanne would be appointed to the house of Chistian Dior for as long as she lived.

The city of Granville bought Les Rhumbs in 1938, with the intentions of demolishing it to build an artificial lake. However, under the initiative of Jean-Luc Dufresne, Christian Dior's cusin, the home was preserved. It house's treasured donations sourced across the continents from private collectors. Nowadays, it is the museum and the memorial site we have the privilege to appreciate.

The estate of Andy Warhol collaboration on the Dior Diana bag.


The mesmerising mink Eiffel Tower coat...

The shoes designed by Roger Vivier

 Femmes en Dior 
presents strong, artistic and political women who have influenced and inspired Christian Dior. Women who wore Dior morning, day and night - quite literally -
adding a sense of showmanship to their lives when and if needed.
C.Dior created a classification of afternoon dresses, sports outfits, cocktail dresses, informal dinner dresses, evening dresses and formal evening wear for them. First ladies and the wife's of diplomats were the most demanding due to their highbrow functions.

  In 1967 the Miss Dior line was created in order for The Ladies Who Lunch to have their young ones mirror their impeccable style.  Miss Dior line intended to be"practical, modern and affordable."

Thus Christian Dior participated in building the social identity of dazzling ambassadresses of Dior such as Lady Diana, Princess Grace of Monaco, Elizabeth Taylor, The Duchess of Windsor, Marylin Monroe, Rihanna... rendering them even more beautiful.
Marlène Dietrich attending a Dior show 
(And a blasé journalist behind smoking away...;).

Princesse Soraya Esfandiari Bakhtiari in her C. Dior wedding dress, nicknamed The princess with sad eyes.  Second wife and queen consort of Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, the last Shah of Iran.

La Maison de Christian Dior, neighbors the cliffs and sits in the middle of the garden. The air diffuses a poetic and romantic fragrance from the rows of roses. I kept inhaling the incense of the air, wondering if I wasn't the one transporting le bouquet de Milly La Forêt... 
The views from "Le Rhumbs"

Tuesday, May 24, 2016


That "Somewhere over the rainbow" does exist, Oz isn't a fable...And Dorothy hasn't lost her marbles, or else I've picked them up for her... Enough blibber and blabber over the classic tale The Wizard Of Oz, and Frank Baum's genie. There is a reservation on this shredded and beaten up earth where men haven't totally taken over its treasures without asking permission. I'm going to be as vague as possible - I must- in order not to contribute to its ripping.

Because Croatia is too precious and Palmizana is too beautiful. The islands smell sets the tone, the sent of humidity, cacti with a touch of Hermès "Un jardin sur le Nil." The land barely untouched, is preserved by a family going back to the late XIX century who aren't dictated by consumerism and less by greed. Dagmar ( the mother), Romina (the daughter), Marco, Memo, and 35 members of Palmizana respect, and protect the worth of their land. Anyways it isn't news that Croatia has for the longest time preserved a botanical garden worthy of the Garden of Eden.

I headed to Split on a smallish aircraft with turbines for a couple of hours. I had a couple of drinks to ease the worries, despite being used to flying, and always booking a window seat, turbines and I, don't see eye to eye.


Once you're in Split, and when you don't have a yacht, you wait for the ferry. You test your patience at the port, fortunately I'm queen at entertaining myself. Since the journey to Hvar is two hours crossing, and the waiting at the port of Split will be another couple of hours because this isn't - Thank god - high season yet, I used the present time, to live the present, and focus on it. 

You're in a stress-free zone to write, draw the futility of life, take a walk, feel the breeze, meditate, and reason as to why on earth you thought that morning it was OK to wear printed socks with patterned Mocassin's...But you just let it go, rise above it and suddenly notice how you don't give two shit's, everything is amusing.


 Its Ferry time which means cider too. I haven't been on a ferry since I was a very broke ass student, and took the bus and the ferry to head home from London Victoria to Paris Porte De Bagnolet.  Terribly un-sexy, really that journey if you can spare yourself that one - please do - There is nothing to see.

Things haven't changed this much as a matter of fact, I just add a bit of glamour to the art of being broke. I've seen a decent part of this world not to let the illusion of slow cash flow get to me. Through hardships comes training and you just adapt...Ferries are fun, specially when you feel further than where you are, in a country where things are valued in Kuna's it gets exotic.

Sunset on the ferry, I'm curious as a cat and  gaze into everything practicing my humble social/economical analysis. Looking at lorries, advertising graphics of the local beer, to the trucks and all that is charged heading to serve tourism in Hvar.


Relax, sit back, because money can't buy this



And communal commute is fun too.


 Once I arrived in Hvar, its pitch black; not even a full moon to guide me, but a couple of car headlights.
 I can read as I step off the ferry WHITE on the window of the truck, the resort's got my back, they provided me with a ride, which will take me to the other side of the island. At this stage I've lost count of what I've done, where I'm going, as cities in Croatia have  intrepidly complicated names. Anyways the lady driver and Memo (I'll get to him later) is like the foreign minister, she speaks every language  Russian, Spanish, Italian, German, French...And tells me that since us folks seem to love Croatia, so they've got their multilingual skills on point.

We drove through valleys to the other side of the island of Hvar on a one way road for 40mn. We arrive at this tiny village with a little port. Its close to midnight, and I'm escorted to a speed boat, and handed over to another driver, and Memo tags along in the zodiac, we cruise for another 20 minutes.
 I don't know if at that moment I was devided by "Ooooohhh I getting into" or "woooah this is a journey; one you'll remember."  
Of course, at sunrise I told myself "Baby, heaven ain't easy access, otherwise it wouldn't be heaven." 
And I woke up like this...

Literally, like 100% for real - With this geezer showing me his prowess.


Ever since I went to visit Le Jardin Exotique de Monaco, I adore gardens and cacti in particular. I discovered Le Jardin Exotique through the photography of Jacque Henry Lartigue (1894 - 1986). 

I try to capture the symmetry of plants and the abundance of Botanical gardens with the means that I have. The Palmizana art retreat sits in a lush garden that Dagmar's, (the owner and patron of the artists) great grandfather began designing in the XIXth century, importing, and exploring the world for rare plants. 

 To this day, Memo keeps manicuring and preserving the gardens, he's been working in the residence for over 30 years. If he spoke English, I'm sure he'd have to juicy tales. 
I got the " Grazia/Closer" gossip fillers on Queen B, Jay Z, John Malkovich...& Co by the young ones working at Toto's, the infamous bar. The boys and I had a long conversation by the fireplace, and I got the star studded info.

The boys are young, and for the most, they've been working at Palmizana since they're teenagers, a few met their fiancé, mother of their child, or wife here. And explained to me that the shift in popularity in recent years, the logistics they've had to carry out to preserve Palmizana is all that matters.

 Aside from the warm welcoming of Dagmar's family and their humility despite the growing success of the villas, its the cacti standing before my eyes I'm animated by.

Dagmar, the dean of this heavenly place.
 I'll leave the portrait speak for its self.
To quote Oscar Wilde: 
Some people cause happiness wherever they go, others whenever they go...Dagmar is inspiration to any artists residing by her side.

Above is Memo and I and the Jeep that another visiting artist was asked to customize. I was soon put to work. Marco, another member of the solid and tight crew, ensured I'd do the painting job, but with homemade Croatian liquor on hand, just in case I felt like it...I did!


Simba the captain of it all.
Meneghello has so much respect for all animals as it has for human beings.

Collected sea shells buried into the cement to adorn a stunning pathway to the beach.

 In reality its red pillars and golden sculptures.

Just popping by to say hi...

 Kissing Simba as usual..cos I just can't get enough.

Drawing, talking with newly made friends such as my beloved Claudia.

 The path leading to my villa where I dream, draw, drink wine, relax, unwind and contemplate lions, tigers and bears that fill my imagination; where logic has no place, and a smile is all you can give in return. Its natural E.

My villa for a few days, my heaven to love and admire, my version of a Californian case study house, my dream come true, my isolated little peace of heaven...Meneghello at Palmizana, I'll be back you best believe it. 


Romina, tells me once I'm in Split, to sleep nearby the airport and drive to Trogir...And this is why

Trogir is stunning its a UNESCO world heritage site.

I went to Meneghello because I was minding my own business in the Eurostar earlier this month, and I read an article on Meneghello in a very in Vogue women's daily. The article was substantial enough for me to want to cover it. The journalist mentions that the happy few of this world go to Palmizana, offshore their yachts and take zodiacs to the island to lunch at Toto's. 
The journalist also name drops who are the happy few, and underline's that Meneghello is one of Gwyneth Paltrow's fav destination...
When I spoke about this detail to my friend, she said to me that: 
- "This information is a reason good enough not to go." 
Thankfully, I preferred to judge by my own eyes. 
So Gwyneth, a toast to you;
Thank you for the tip.