Room for imagination

In a month's time I would be back at sweet old London, plummeting into the midst of autumn - moving into a room with a panoramic view of Hampstead Heath and the best yet, no internet. So I will be spending my evenings reading, chatting over wine (a half bottle Burgundy pokes out from his Barbour's poachers pocket as he hurries upstairs), listening to vinyl, unmaking beds, tendering to my plants - which co-habituate with my books and picnic basket on the top shelf.

1. Some inspiration, all images from milk & mead
2. Tiny apartment tips from reading my tea leaves
3. Note to self: small room = promises of big mental space

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Cinematic Writing XI

my own | quentin de briey

Poetry is made in a bed like love. Its rumpled sheets are the dawn of things...

- André Breton

Away but available at

http://electivelyhanoi.blogspot.com

For the next few weeks - for travel & medical stories in Vietnam.

(no instagram I'm afraid - iphone wifi has failed)

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In the mood

In a blink of the eye we floated from April to July. I am now reborn; soaking up the sun, swimming in the ponds (supremely cold, but invigorating), reading books, waking up to humming jazz and wild landscapes (and sometimes on a chilled summer's night we wore a woollen jumper & started a fire), slowly and steadily falling in love. I am never so sure before - this is really all I need. An inner joy and peace that stays, a skirt that floats like butterfly while I bike.

In summer, I -
wear: either a white or breton shirt, navy skirt, chestnut brown leather loafters, a singular dainty gold bracelet
listen to: the sound of the sea, various Spotify playlists, Louis Armstrong Five
read: Roger Deakin's Waterlog, Miranda July (but most of the time I am just lazily watching le tour de france)

look forward to: travelling and trekking in Northern Vietnam, wearing a straw hat and eat pho at dusk

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Cinematic Writing X

Brian W. Ferry

And still the mad magnificent herald Spring

assembles beauty from forgetfulness

with the wild trump of April: witchery

of sound and odour drives the wingless thing

man forth into bright air,for now the red

leaps in the maple's cheek,and suddenly

by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress

ascends the golden crocus from the dead.

- e.e. cummings

The Bachelor Girl

We were having bacon and pancakes at the Breakfast Club Spitalfield when my friend asked me - 'How would you describe your style?' Without a hint of hesitation I blurted -

em, a boyish girl who wears skirts?

Only until this evening I realised this is probably the singular, most succinct sentence that summarises what I wear/like as of late, be it the reliable combo of breton tee + skirt + top knot, or shirt + black trousers + braids (for short-medium hair), plus my good old Masculin Féminin tote. There is a certain liberation in mixing anything in the wardrobe and the permutation would just work together (although there is always room for a yet-to-be-found pleated skirt and tweed jacket). For me, the way you dress is not only an important facet of self-representation, it is also a manifestation of your aesthetics and how comfortable and at peace you are with yourself. I like to evolve and be influenced every day by more unlikely sources of fashion inspiration such as art, literature, music and nature; and what matters to me the most will always be simplicity, authenticity and consistency.

All images from woolsilk.

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Clare Grill

She is interviewed in Lula Issue 16.