I've moved on...
...to a different domain. Why, what were you thinking? The truth is, I just woke up one day and decided it's time for a change—a metamorphosis, if you will; or, in layman's terms, if Britney can shave her head, then maybe so can I? Nevertheless, it's been a rather handsome 10 years of talking to you, and thank you for putting up with all my moodswings and terrible dad jokes. Fear not! The hormonal imbalance and jokes are more terrible on CUBICLE, see you there.

Chanel AW12, Grand Palais, Paris

Chanel Fall 2012 show, Grand Palais, Paris

The clear glass sand crunch under my feet and my head jolts down to see I’ve passed through the gates (of fashion security, that is) and stepped into the legendary show venue of Chanel. My eyes are drawn up to marvel at the majestic copper-green cage of the Grand Palais, then slide down along the watery purple gradient walls. At the floor a maze of mineral stalagmites create an ambience of hidden power and cryptic weakness; even the white-painted seats look like crystalline overgrowth. Fortress of Solitude? Perhaps, but the fervid show-goer traffic outside seems to disagree, surely Superman would’ve ensured it better hidden.  The stage slowly drains of organic writhing as the audience settle in their hand-labelled seats, and just before the music there is an eerie moment of calm.
The collection trickles out, jewel-encrusted eyebrows and slick ponytails bobbing atop rocky textures – bouclé and heavy wool coats, layered in the most ‘un-Chanel’ like manner (if such manner even exist anymore, as Karl systematically breaks all boundaries each season) one that rewrites Paris street fashion when it involves bare legs. Crystal encrusted sleeves finish a scratchy graphite bouclé jacket,  layered on petrol-slick gathered chiffon… and little boy bags, some painted to resemble guts of agate stones. The shoes too are super-natural, half boot-half mary janes, with transparent stalagmites for heels. Chanel is magic, that has been an undeniable fact since Coco herself sat at the mirrored steps on 31 Rue Cambon and orchestrated her collections, but to be present at a show has truly been a taste of the sorcery behind the designs and philosophy.

Thank you Sarah for being so accommodating even at such late notice.

Paris sunrise

Breakfast through the privacy hatch

Avenue Montaigne

December 2011; HOTEL DE LA TREMOILLE, 14 rue de la Trémoille – 75008 Paris, Tel. : +33 (0)1 56 52 14 00, reservation@hotel-tremoille.com

The 7:30am Eurostar train smells of musk, newspapers and coffee, the second class cabin seats are bustling with men in suits, lodged expertly in positions that ensure least creasing on their trousers. I stand out in my plaid shirt and dark skinny Levi’s, knitting needles in each sleeve and balancing a coffee formula with a little too much milk. The bloke next to me glances occasionally at the snood factory, and flutters open his newspaper to wave off the fluff. It’s a food-trip to Paris for work, and I’m to meet Sophie at 11 o’ clock for brunch at the Rose Bakery on Rue des Martyrs. The train pulls into a foggy opening of Gare du Nord and the doors slide open to spill out the passengers and L‘Eau du businessmen; the morning wind is scratchy but there’s a glow of orange on the roofs. The taxi driver attempts slurred English and ends up ranting in French, and I say ‘Wee, wee, wee’ throughout the ride to the hotel, I think I might’ve said yes to ‘I think I’ll have a Jambon sandwich today’ but I’m not too sure. We weave past Champs Élysées, a strikingly clear view of the Eiffel and the glitter-clad Avenue Montaigne, and I wonder if I’d also accidentally agreed to a mini taxi-tour of Paris and fumble at my phone (comme dictionary), but apparently that’s the supreme location of Hôtel de la Trémoille. My bag is hailed away, straight from the taxi boot to the porter’s desk, and I’m received in a Haussmanninan foyer, complete with wrought-iron doors and rich velvet drapes.

The diffused lights from the enclosed balcony illuminates the room to a dawn-like glow, and as the receptionist flicks the lightswitch on I realise it’s massive, hardly the size of a standard room. There are two doors to the room, but one is a privacy hatch, accessible from the inside so that the breakfast deliverer isn’t assaulted with a door-full of bedhead and morning breath. The bathroom is colourful with Molton Brown liquid and I momentarily confuse myself C (Chaud = Hot) tap as the English short for Cold, and dip my hands into scalding hot water. And what do you know, a box of Ladurée macarons as a welcome gift on the bed. I rush out to meet Sophie but glad that at the end of the day I can come back to this.

Hôtel de la Trémoille is offering a Valentine’s package until the end of February, including an evening of Maison Kaviari’s l’en-K de Caviar© with a bubbly to share with a significant other, and a tailored culinary walk with guides around the area. Check their official website for more information.

Thank you Hôtel de la Trémoille for the hospitality & Mango PR for the organization.

Creamy cashmere by Eric Bompard

The 1AM Promenade

Cashmere Coat & Scarf – On loan from Eric Bompard, Cashmere blend jumper – Uniqlo, Jeans – c/o Levi’s, Brogues – Office, Clutch – c/o Chanel

If I used ‘soft‘ to describe cashmere, would that put me in the Humour, lack-thereof category in Bloglovin’? You see, ‘soft’ really doesn’t cut it when describing the furry ball of rainbow scrunched up in your hand, slippery and foamy all at the same time. Soft is for sentences like ‘Baby here’s your Gilette, the enchanted forest must go, I liked your legs soft and smooth’. Best not put me in a game show, I don’t stand a chance in explaining the fabric without using words like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious or MAGIC. Isn’t everything MAGIC when it’s sparkly and furry anyway. What’s a Paris visit without a visit to Eric Bompard, the one brand that is understood to have reached the prime shelves of practically every Parisian’s wardrobe?  You should’ve seen this one black 100% cashmere poloneck that would’ve banished every piece but a pair of grey skinnies and black stilettos from my mood-rail for the rest of the season… Lorraine kindly let me borrow a coat and scarf for the night as I’d underpacked for the weather, which probably was a very big mistake – not the underpacking – the getting an unintended taste of the… MAGIC, and having to give it back. See me go my precious with a coat.

Thank you Lorraine & Gabriel for the invitation, and Carrie for helping with the shots!

A few weeks ago I made this small day trip to Paris – some might’ve heard the racket outside your window, that was me twittering on my way to the airport in the morning, so early you’d have mistaken it for a night alley cat giggling. Vente Privee so kindly invited me for a tour of their headquarters in Paris, with the whole trip packaged like a secret mission which I was to fulfil as an agent. The small box I received at the briefing contained a miniature plane, so to the airport it was. Vente Privee, a brand probably most familiar to my French readers, is apparently the pioneer and leader of online sales events, first before everyone decided to open member-exclusive sales for discounted luxury brands for a limited time. Well, here’s a few snaps from my visit! (Feel free to skip this post if you’re not much for a scrolling marathon – again, here’s an exit link)


Huge, correction: humongous HQ building with major contemporary art pieces (including the King Kong sculpture by David Mach and portraits of the Queen & Kate Moss [not of together, duh]) hogging every corner. Not uploading any for the sake of not getting sued over copyright blablas. Legals terms I know not. In the hallways there were hangers and hangers of product to be photographed, yet these weren’t just clothes – BBQ machines, school stationery and even Jacuzzi’s… apparently they even sold cars and apartments in the past. I’d like to say that to someone someday: I bought this flat at an online sale.

Sound Studios

Talk about DIY – Vente-Privee do all sound, motion, concept design for the products that go on sale in the site. Each sale is individually photographed – editorial and product pics; a 3 minute-long trailer is also made in-house to suit the sale. All sounds are created in the 6 studios managed by Jean-Reol Bonnerave.

Motion Design Team

3D, animation, cartoon, film editing, CG… everything motion, treated in the Motion Design studios. (Above: Marielle Devoyon, manager)

The Photoshoot Village

My favourite part, naturally. The photo department was in a whole other building – housing nearly 40 photo studios and one very sexy room full of big cameras and studio equipments – all the photoshoots for the products happen here. Everything that goes on the website is shot and edited in the premises, which I found was very clever as it does keep a solid consistency in quality. (Above: Keelin Tassy, manager)

Webdesign Team

The most familiar setting for me, the WebDesign studios. They deal with the aesthetics of the site, including the site’s ‘door’ theme that changes every month. Right now I believe they have polarbears in Central Park NY…? Always lighthearted and featuring an animal of some sort! (Above: Emilie Veillon, manager)

Jacket – Courtesy of H! by Henry Holland, Sweater – Topshop, Shirt as Dress – AA, Riding Pants – AA, Shoes – Zara, Bag, Belt – Jin Yoo 103684

Overall I must say I was immensely impressed by the work atmosphere and how so many talents are housed under one roof. It’s a bit like that one loft building in Shoreditch where all the artists, actors and designers supposedly live, flat next to another… a bit more purple lighting in this case. It really does make a huge difference seeing what happens behind the scenes in a company, makes you realize how much work is put in for the things we always take for granted.

Apologies for the long post – if you made it down here you deserve a pot roast, or a BIG TASTY carrot for the vegetarians. Thank you always for reading what I’m up to. xx

Thank you Vente Privee for having me over and Simona Saccà for taking me around the entire day!