Femme et chatte (dient adéu 2011)

Que ningú em malinterpreti i es pensi que m'identifico plenament amb el poema de Verlaine: ni sóc una femme fatale, ni la meva gata és blanca. Però sí que m'ha donat l'excusa perfecta per ensenyar-vos el meu vestit de cap d'any des de fa cinc caps d'any. Potser ja aniria sent hora de canviar, però el trobo perfecte  i no me'n sé cansar. Així que, al costat de la meva gata i a recer del vent que a fora sembla que s'ho emportarà tot, dic adéu a aquest 2011 tan estrany i ple de contrastos. Que el 2012 sigui millor.

Don't let me be misunderstood. I am not a femme fatale and my cat's not white. But Verlaine is the perfect pretext to show you my dress for New Year's eve since five New Year's eves... Maybe it would be time to change, but for me it's perfect i I don't know how to get tired about it. So, beside my cat and safe from the furious wind outside, I say goodbye to this 2011 so strange and full of contrasts. 2012 must be better.

To listen: Mariee Sioux - LOVESONG (Perfect as cats: A Tribute to The Cure) 

 

 

Elle jouait avec sa chatte,
Et c'était merveille de voir
La main blanche et la blanche patte
S'ébattre dans l'ombre du soir.

Elle cachait - la scélérate ! -
Sous ces mitaines de fil noir
Ses meurtriers ongles d'agate,
Coupants et clairs comme un rasoir.

L'autre aussi faisait la sucrée
Et rentrait sa griffe acérée,
Mais le diable n'y perdait rien...
Et dans le boudoir où, sonore,
Tintait son rire aérien,
Brillaient quatre points de phosphore.

Vestit H&M

Mitges Asos 

Sister winter.

To listen: Sufjan Stevens - SISTER WINTER.

Aquesta fada borrosa de cabells d'or llarguíssims és la meva germana. Aquesta foto que va ser una mica accidental (volia retratar el pany d'un armari antic i el mirall la reflectia) s'ha tornat una de les meves preferides perquè és càlida i torbadora, i perquè representa per mi una gran metàfora. No és que la vulgui tenir reclosa com una princesa encantada, sinó que m'agradaria tenir la clau d'un lloc on resguardar-la de tots els mals, perquè ella porta l'alegria, és pura, és sincera i és esverada, i fa que el món sigui millor. També és la que guarneix 6 avets, fa 3 pessebres, i sembra la casa de boles resplendents, figures gracioses i llums de colors per tots els racons.

Suposo que més o menys tots tenim una persona a la nostra vida que ens aporta aquesta llum. Us desitjo de tot cor que passeu un Nadal molt feliç i amb muntanyes de regals (encara que això és secundari) amb els vostres àngels particulars. Així que.... MOLT BON NADAL!!!!

This blurred fairy of long golden hair is my sister. This picture was taken accidentally but it has become one of my favourites because it's warm and confusing at the same time, and because it represents a great metaphor for me. I don't want to lock up her like an enchanted princess, I would like to possess a key of a place where I could protect her of bad things. Because she brings the joy and she's pure. She makes the world a better place. It's also the girl who decorates 6 fir trees, that makes 3 cribs and the one who sow our house with gleaming balls, funny figures and coloured lights everywhere. My sister winter.....

I wish that everybody has a person like her in their life. I wish you a happy happy Christmas with your particular angels!

Oh my friends I've

Begun to worry right

Where I should be grateful

I should be satisfied

Oh my heart I

Would clap and dance in place

With my friends I have so

Much pleasure to embrace

But my heart is

Returned to sister winter

But my heart is

As cold as ice

Oh my thoughts I

Return to summer time

When I kissed your ankle

I kissed you through the night

All my gifts I gave everything to you

Your strange imagination

You threw it all away

All my friends, I've

Returned to sister winter

All my friends, I

Apologise

And my friends, I've

Returned to wish you all the best

And my friends, I've

Returned to wish you a Happy Christmas

To wish you a Happy Christmas

Pockets full of stones

 

To listen: Florence & The Machine - WHAT THE WATER GAVE ME

“When the Day of Judgment dawns and people, great and small, come marching in to receive their heavenly rewards, the Almighty will gaze upon the mere bookworms and say to Peter, “Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them. They have loved reading.” 

Potser Virginia Woolf s'havia cansat fins i tot de llegir quan el març de 1941 es va summergir al riu Ouse amb les butxaques plenes de pedres sense cap mena de vacil·lació, fins a ofegar-se. Fa poc que he redescobert els seus llibres (estic tornant a llegir Orlando). És difícil no fer-ho després de la vibrant cançó de Florence and The Machine (sí, aquesta pèlroja de gran personalitat que sembla una musa prerafaelista grunge), que per mi ha sigut una de les millors d'aquest 2011 que s'acaba:

Oh, my love, don't forsake me.
Take what the water gave me.

Lay me down,
let the only sound
be the overflow.
Pockets full of stones.

 Jaqueta de pell Mango (old)

Faldilla vintage

Mitges Asos (FW 11-12')
Diadema H&M (old)

Sabates La Redoute (FW 11-12')

At last the secret is out

 

To listen: Carla Bruni - AT LAST THE SECRET IS OUT.

 

At last the secret is out,
as it always must come in the end,
the delicius story is ripe to tell
to tell to the intimate friend;
over the tea-cups and into the square
the tongues has its desire;
still waters run deep, my dear,
there's never smoke without fire.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir,
behind the ghost on the links,
behind the lady who dances
and the man who madly drinks,
under the look of fatigue
the attack of migraine and the sigh
there is always another story,
there is more than meets the eye.

For the clear voice suddently singing,
high up in the convent wall,
the scent of the elder bushes,
the sporting prints in the hall,
the croquet matches in summer,
the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
there is always a wicked secret,
a private reason for this.
                            (W. H. Auden)

Vestit Pineapple (?)

Mitges Asos ( AW 11')

Bolso Luna Llena (old)

Sabates La Redoute (AW 11')

Winter winds

 

Song of the day: Mumford and sons - WINTER WINDS

Un dia, fa molts i molts anys, en una visita excepcional, el rei Alfons XIII va pujar per aquestes escales. No sóc gaire mitòmana, i molt menys monàrquica, però em resulta divertit i curiós fer les sessions de fotos en llocs que temps enrere han tingut una significació molt diferent, i que els seus aristòcrates constructors mai varen pensar que acabarien servint d'escenari a una blogger aficionada.

Els fantasmes d'aquells aristòcrates decimonònics em miren per les finestres. Encara hi són, (muts, pacients, orgullosos) per molt que hagin restaurat mínimament la mansió i li hagin pres l'aspecte amenaçador i lúgubre dels palaus abandonats. Sembla que el vent fred que bufa i que em fa tremolar el provoqui la seva ira al veure com la seva mansió és ara objecte d'aquestes frivolitats (que si el vestit blau marí i el jersei vermell, el mocador de puntets negres al coll, que si les sabates de color de sorra...També una diadema amb un enorme llaç vermell que m'he acabat traient)., però m'agrada pensar que encara que s'escandalitzin els diverteixo. Benvolguts fantasmes, d'ençà que van marxar els paletes, m'estàveu esperant...?

A long, long time ago, king Alfons XIII came up this stairs. I don't tend to adore old legends and I am not a monarchist girl, but it's pretty funny and curious doing my sessions in places that years before had a totally different meaning. It's sure that it's aristocratic builders never thought that their magnificient houses would be a stage for a amateur blogger.

The aristocrate phantoms are looking at me throught the window. They are still there (silent, patient, proud), however much now the mansion has been restored, although it's ancient menacing and dismal appearence has been taken.

It seems that this cold winds that makes me shiver are "only" their anger. The navy dress, the red cardigan, the foulard, the brown shoes...And also a red diadem with a big ribbon that I ended up to take off. What a frivolity! But.. I like to think that, although they are shocked, I entretain them.

My dear important people's phantoms, did you wainting for (someone like) me since the bricklayers left?

Vestit  La Redoute

Cardigan Pull & Bear

Bolso  Mango

Mitges Asos

Sabates Pull & Bear

The melancholy days are come

 

Song of the day: Johnny Cash - HEART OF GOLD

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.
                          (William Cullen Bryant)

Vestit Zara (old)

Mitges H&M

Cinturó Mango

Sabates Pull & Bear

Bolso Parfois (old)

One perfect rose

 

Song of the day: Françoise Hardy - MON AMIE LA ROSE

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
'My fragile leaves,' it said, 'his heart enclose.'
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

                                          (Dorothy Parker) 

Vestit H&M.

Mitges Asos.

Penjoll Misako

Ballerines Asos.

Your private garden.

Song of the day: The Bright - YOUR PRIVATE GARDEN.

Vestit / Robe / Dress: Asos.

Mitges / Collants /Tights: Asos.

Sabates / Chaussures / Shoes: Asos.

Poets alone should kiss and tell.

Song of the day: Arcade fire - ROCOCÓ.

Daily I listen to wonder and woe,
Nightly I hearken to knave or to ace,
Telling me stories of lava and snow,
Delicate fables of ribbon and lace,
Tales of the quarry, the kill, the chase,
Longer than heaven and duller than hell-
Never you blame me, who cry my case:
"Poets alone should kiss and tell!"

Dumbly I hear what I never should know,
Gently I counsel of pride and of grace;
Into minutiae gayly they go,
Telling the name and the time and the place.
Cede them your silence and grant them space-
Who tenders an inch shall be raped of an ell!
Sympathy's ever the boaster's brace;
Poets alone should kiss and tell.

Why am I tithed what I never did owe?
Choked with vicarious saffron and mace?
Weary my lids, and my fingers are slow-
Gentlemen, damn you, you've halted my pace.
Only the lads of the cursed race,
Only the knights of the desolate spell,
May point me the lines the blood-drops trace-
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
                                                  (Dorothy Parker) 

 Vestit negre / Robe noire / Black dress: Zara

Vestit torrat / Robe marron / Brown dress: Asos
Penjoll / Pendentif / Necklace: Misako

Mitjons / Chaussettes / socks: Asos

Sabates / Chaussures / Heels: Zara.