Showing posts with label flamenco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flamenco. Show all posts

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Dreaming of Polka Dots

My friend Mitch loves Polka Dots.
  

The reason?

She lived in Sevilla and 
fell in love with flamenco 

and polka dots.




I love this about Mitch so much I am encouraging her little one to have the same love (via gifts in the mail).  But don't worry, I'm subtle about it.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Dreaming of a Caravan Holiday

Remember Bruce Weber's 'Gypsy Soul' story

from Vogue's April 1992 issue?

Of course you do!
It was in the 100th Anniversary issue.

One day I'd like to take a restored Gypsy caravan to a field somewhere (that has running water of course) and just live in it for a while. And by 'a while' I mean 3 days.
I'd have to rent some children for my excursion,
but that shouldn't be a problem.

Too bad I don't live in the UK -
you can rent caravans so much easier there.

Like Gregs Gypsy Bowtop Caravan -- theirs are lovely.

Of course the ones from Gregs are not as refined as the original wagons -- so understated and classic.





If I'm going to be honest I don't want to rent one for a weekend. I want to own one and keep it in my background and tell people I camp once a month to sound adventurous even though I'm just sleeping in my backyard. That way I can outfit it in any linens I want. And if this is a dream post, then I choose all Kerry Cassill,

and not just because she's from Laguna Beach. Her sheets are softer than a cloud (if clouds were a bit more tangible) and I adore all the prints.

My bow top caravan is not going to be subtle.


Which brings me to my next point of order: wardrobe.
I could go the vintage route:
This approach is nice because I do love scarves and gold. And thanks to an eBay addiction I have most of these dresses already.


Then there's the modern take:

Which melds Romani style with Victorian English and a touch of 'nu de vie' (I made that up because it sounds better than 'slutty Grecian'). Well, this is according to V Magazine.


But really you know I would choose Galliano's
take on a flamenco dancer: