My Wishes to You {Seasonal Breeze}

Credits: Invisible Studio

My Children's World on Steller {Geeky}

There are only a few visuals on the walls of our nursery, but the kids love them and refer to them, each of them in their own way: our eldest knows now that one is a shrimp, another one a crab and that the decoration hanging from her sister's crib is a star; our youngest points at them and smiles or shouts or both - her way of acknowledging the details' presence. Their world, they present to you in delicate and joyful touches via Steller. What is your children's world?

Credits: TheDaydreamer

Les Borgia investissent Paris {Discover}

Le bruissement textile de leurs lourdes et riches robes se faisait entendre dans la ville depuis quelques semaines. Les pavés de l'élégant 7e arrondissement de Paris se tapissaient dans le sol, humbles serviteurs devant tant de faste et d'ambition dévorante.

Les Borgia, la famille de tous les scandales et mystères, ont investi le Musée Maillol et ses salles feutrées. Le fils de Rodrigo Borgia, César, aurait bien voulu prêter son visage à l'affiche de cette exposition familiale, pour une fois magnanime, ou peut-être orgueilleux de connaître encore une fois la gloire !

La chance des Borgia (devrais-je utiliser leur nom d'origine espagnole, Borje, avant l'ascension sociale, religieuse et politique qui les a éloignés de leur vie rurale ?), c'est de vivre au 15e siècle : découvertes (l'Amérique en 1492), arts, ingénierie, imprimerie, philosophie, papauté ... Ce monde est en ébullition, offrant ainsi leur chance à ceux qui trouvent les moyens d'exploiter au mieux tout ce que ce chaotique foisonnement a à offrir. Pour cela, l'ambition, la ruse et l'opportunisme sont de puissantes armes de guerre à l'image de celles mises au point et à leur service par le génie de Léonard de Vinci. Dans cet arsenal, n'oublions pas les femmes, à commencer par Lucrèce Borgia, fille de Rodrigo Borgia, soit Alexandre VI (1492) : actrices consentantes ou forcées, elles sont l'instrument privilégié des stratèges, des alliances et de leur dissolution.

Les visages de la famille Borgia, les cartes retraçant leur parcours de conquêtes, les murs de leurs palais, les créations artistiques de leurs protégés se succèdent de pièce en pièce. Ils affinent le portrait de ces esprits hardis et tumultueux ancrés dans leur temps, batailleurs et mécènes ayant su se servir de leur alliés et ennemis pour asseoir leur pouvoir su ce monde jusqu'à atteindre la tant convoitée papauté avec celui par qui tout a commencé : Alfonso Borgia, futur Calixte III (1455).

Et maintenant, c'est au tour de Paris de succomber, car "Le temps n'attend pas".

Credits: Love from Ginger

Infos pratiques :
"Les Borgia et leur temps, de Léonard de Vinci à Michel-Ange"
Musée Maillol
59-61, rue de Grenelle
75007 Paris
01 42 22 59 58
Du 17 septembre 2014 au 15 février 2015

The (Blonde) Quote {Page-Turner}

Magic in The Moonlight {Drive-in}

There is something about Woody Allen... The moment one of his movies starts, I am trapped into his world, drink every word, relish every sentence and utterly enjoy the discovery and analysis of each and everyone of his characters. Don't ask me why, but he reminds me of Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot: one to understand people's acts by studying their personality.

Aside from the fact that I have also enjoyed every Agatha Christie's book I have read, I am also quite fond of our dear Hercule. And now, I have come to realize, I am a fan of Woody Allen's. There is no other way to put it.

The period piece Magic in the Moonlight is not as darkly tragic as Blue Jasmine - probably my favorite at this stage - but it managed just as efficiently to drag me into the story, into the late 1920s and the into the world of a famous illusionist, the starting point of the clash between reality and illusion. The main character is as arrogant and self-imbued as he is cynical and pessimistic, which makes him sort of enchanting.

Learning that he is a specialist for debunking a possible swindle embodied by a rather charming young medium, Sophie, is as ironical as it gets and sets the tone of this smart, quick-paced movie that has lifted my heart with its witty (neurotic?) dialogues. The challenge here for illusionist Wei Ling Soo, or rather die-hard materialist Stanley Crawford, is going to plunge him in the realm of some very optimistic and easily gullible characters. The two worlds collide.

And as  you sit there in the movie theater and enjoy the show, you cannot help but wonder: "Isn't there a middle ground between magic, illusion and reality?"

I, for one, cannot help but ask myself this question: I am fully aware of being rather cynical in life, how could it be otherwise? However, I indulge very often, and with outspoken relish, into daydreaming - this blog is a tangible proof, if you need one. And why is that? Well, I tend to live with my feet firmly on the ground, I enjoy controlling every aspect of practical life but, you see, my mind and heart do need to wander and take in a bit of fresh and sparkling air in order to gain renewed energy. Daydreamer enters the scene.

Are you a pessimistic or an optimistic person? Do you cross borders sometimes...? I would love to hear how the two world join (or don't) in your life...

The Precious Blond Doll {Page-Turner}

Blonds have always had an aura about them, so much so that even now heads turn whenever a blond mane sways by. Just try and have a look whenever you have the opportunity.

When on top of the starlit hair you are endowed with the perfect body and a doll-like face, you are in for stardom. Or hell.

Marylin Monroe did not even get a glimpse of heaven in her earthly life: her deranged mother was all she had to start with, followed by her life at the orphanage and then from one foster family to another, carried by the scorching Californian winds.

She survived the madness, the fires and the greediness in her own way, understanding from the beginning that she'd better play the part others expected her to play than show her real feelings, her intelligence and unique sensitivity. And so Hollywood builds its very own blond doll to toy with, to stage in movies, act in life and accept their every diktat - ridiculously low wages included for every smashing hit movie she played in.

The book by Joyce Carol Oates starts with cruel words and devastating facts about babies; it continues, on and on, with babies - they appear and vanish, always there, never materialized to the point that they take their toll on the blond mother-to-be. So much so that she will never be.

Never a mother, never a free woman.

That's the price to pay to gain attention and unconditional love from the masses and the media. That's the high price to pay to do the job that makes you feel alive, on stage, on the big screen.

This book is a difficult read: harsh, hard, intricate and demanding. It has helped me find my way - the hard way - into the subtleties of an actress assembled piece-by-piece with a goal: fame. An actress everyone has talked and written about for year, and therefore completely unknown and misunderstood. And this is why this book is precious. Like the life of a one-of-a-kind Blonde.

Les brumes de Pen-Hir {Look Around}

Plus de sept heures de route et 650km avalés à fond de train, fort heureusement accompagnés par le soleil et quelques rares voyageurs comme nous, cap à l'ouest pour atteindre le bout du monde, ce finis terrae qui tombe à pic dans l'océan, cet espace entre terre et mer, brodé de criques, falaises et végétation sauvage.

Toutes les légendes de mes livres d'enfance se sont donné rendez-vous ici, au pied des menhirs, points d'encrage de notre monde, vestiges bien vivant et décidés à nous regarder passer, insignifiantes créatures que nous sommes à l'aune des siècles qu'ils ont traversés.

Au bout de la route, un ensemble paroissial, une fontaine de dévotion, une petite maison en pierre, des volets en bois et le mystère commence : à la pointe de pen-hir, le soleil est prêt à plonger dans le bleu, mais juste avant il nous envoie son dernier message de la journée, ces rayons orangés qui allument la falaise et nous font plisser les yeux. Il faut faire vite : il ne nous attend pas, le spectacle est fugace. Il est parti.

Quelques mouettes planent, virevoltent et filent vers un ailleurs encore plu vert, encore plus bleu. Nous restons, cherchons de blancs champignons à admirer, quelques escargots à caresser et des lapins qui refusent prudemment de se montrer. Les brumes nous recouvrent, offusquent notre vue et annoncent le soir sur ces terres posées sur l'eau. Il faut rentrer dans notre longère, allumer le feu, les bougies et les lumières.

Photo : TheDaydreamer

The (Flavia de Luce) Quote {WorldWiseWords}

-- Speaking from Among the Bones by Alan Bradley

Back to the past {Look Around}

We did it: one day we returned to Le Touquet. It was unplanned, spontaneous, messy, lucky. It was made possible by a friendly, generous act.

We arrived late in the morning amid peaceful wanderers, breezy air, horse riders (the horse riding club itself is a well-equipped facility where visitors are welcome to stroll, pet the horses, admire the riders as they warm-up their beautiful animals), bikers, seagulls, joggers, fallen leaves and lapping waves. The hidden house was quietly waiting for us, niched between the dunes, coveted by the brilliantly green nature all around it. The small but welcoming terrace was whispering the sweetest invitation to us, but first things first, we headed for the local market in the city center to buy crabs, oysters, salmon, whelk... Fresh produce from the shining sea, the quintessence of iode, salty, sweet, melting. The city exhumes holiday spirit, easy-going mentality and energy.

Being sure not to miss the beautiful sunny and incredibly warm Fall day, we headed for the beach stretching lazily at the feet of the sea, welcoming screaming children, playful dogs and sports lovers willing to take in every single breath of freedom. While building castles in the sand, collecting shells and pebbles for our future creations, the wind started blowing - violently -  and brought onto us menacing, rolling clouds. Rain hit us. We ran for cover, wind gusts pushing us around. 

Back to our wooden shelter, the heat of the candles and their cozy flame made us feel better in no time: our minds cleared, our souls sank under a wave of inspiration and our babies into a soothing sleep.

How refreshing can it be to go back to these blissful, if whimsical, days of the past?

Credits: picture taken by our friend, Kiki.

Friends and Unicorns {Roll the Dough}

Our Italian friends love to talk at the beach; you would love to lie down, listen to the sound of the lapping waves, let the sand flow through your fingers and engage in a monologue with the smiling sun or even take a nap (sacrilege!) - nada.

In less than five (Italian) minutes, you will be surrounded by energic, talkative and smiling Italians and without even noticing you will find yourself engaged in all kinds of invigorating conversations: food, parenting, traveling, baking, reading, designing, doing sports, cooking, shopping...

Food.

Baking.

Cooking.

In Nigellissima (p. 182), Nigella Lawson refers to the Italian tradition of baking ciambella (ring shaped yogurt pot cake). Really? Even though I cooked this marvelous cake a dozen times in the past, I had never heard of such a thing in Italy, but it is undeniable that it might take an external eye to find out about yourself, your country, your people.

Guess what? Nigella chatted with me at the beach. One of our friends mentioned quite naturally that in the evenings she bakes so that her (oh so lucky) son has his breakfast cake ready the next day. (No wonder Italian men stay with mommy for so long.) 

There, with toes deep in the warm and silky sand, I was holding my unicorn.

Funnily enough, and as though I needed the confirmation of a native, only after this conversation did I embrace the possibility of baking my very own breakfast ring cake and shine in a new kitchen tradition.

Guess what (again)? No sooner had I returned home to a working Internet connection that I stumbled across an inspiring recipe by one of my favorite bloggers (I talked about Barbara Toselli and her talented friends in one of my previous posts).

Blueberries are part of our September stock (not for long, I am afraid) and the rest of the ingredients as listed here are regular staples at The Daydreamer's.

Thanks to real and virtual friends this how this dense, delicately fragrant and curvy ciambella came to   be about a week ago - a myth come true.

Note: I religiously followed Barbara's recipe, so instead of copying it here, I think this calls for a jump directly to her ridiculously beautiful and interesting blog (written in Italian, if you need help, you know where to find me).

Credits: TheDaydreamer

Torments and delights for the heart {Discover}

What better way to come back to the hectic urban life announcing Fall than to sit at the opera and reconnect with music and lyrics at their best?

Do not get me wrong: I am no opera connoisseur, but I can sing a few airs with naive delight and with my dad's leading voice ringing in my head, he who has always loved the opera.

Here we are, on a date night with hubby, at the modern Opera Bastille in Paris to enjoy the latest version of Verdi's La Traviata - and what's probably one of his most famous operas. The introduction and its delicate first keys softly puts a smile on my face: how many times have I heard dad hum it? How many times have I played the CD my brother offered me many Christmases ago?

Act I is quite unsettling and somewhat representative of my overall impression: it is supposed to stage a party with courtesan Violetta, but it looks rather gloomy since all the participants are dressed in black and stand still  in the background. Are they here to embody the stiff rules of the bourgeois and the upcoming drama with Violetta's sacrifice and death? The choices made by French film-maker Benoît Jacquot are surprising, if not my favorite since they seem to take away the initial liveliness of the opera.

The lead singer playing Violetta Valéry, Ermonela Jaho, is the actual drama for me: I do not manage to understand a single word she sings and need to resort to the translation appearing on the screen above the stage. Her beautiful voice is impalpable despite her impeccable technique; it lacks intensity and makes her presence on stage somewhat subdued.

Frustration starts creeping in.

It settles definitely in when Violetta's array of expressions and emotions seems to be pretty limited: where is the passion, intimacy, love...? The father of her beloved, Alfredo Germont, Germont père (Dmitri Hvorostovsky), crushes her in their fascinating and cruel exchange: he suddenly adds a deep presence bringing just as cruelly her airy frailty to the foreground.

I do enjoy a touch of humor in classic operas (remember the Barbiere di Siviglia?) and have to say that this Traviata managed to become inspirational with the whimsical and playful scene of the gipsy dance at Flora's grand party: the bearded ladies were an unexpected nod to the Spanish Eurovision winner, Conchita Wurst. Why not?

However, it is also my belief that you can allow yourself this kind of crative digressions only if/once you've mastered the key points perfectly, leading role included.

I have left the opera house with a sour-sweet taste in my mouth and the certainty that this version brings both "torments and delights for the heart".

Have you seen this opera? Do you think I am being too harsh?

Credits: TheDaydreamer

Instagram Digest II The Green Land on Steller {Geeky}

The Green Land Cover on Steller

Just a few days ago I tweeted about the last #blesssummer series post here on the blog. I now realize this second post about Instagram Digest on Steller could have been the final post of the series because it is the green quintessence of my summer spent in this part of Italy. 

Literally on every corner of my daily walks and itineraries I felt like taking out the phone and its accompanying grains of sand and snapping pictures at will. On every single corner.

The colors under the fierce sun are vivid, alive and fascinating in all their hues. The sweet perfumes of flowers, trees and fruits just permeated my every thought and step. The combination of the two, made my head spin in sheer delight.

Hopefully, a drop of summer happiness will seep through The Green Land flipbook and come to rest in your hand. 

Credits: TheDaydreamer

Bless Summer Series: 9 On Stage {Look Around}

Medea by Frederick Sandys

Vengeful Medea was to be our guide in the small village of Roca, just along the Salento coast. The village looks serenely onto the sea, but is also doomed by the costal road - the only one - that cuts right through it and takes part of its charm away. Travelers tend to follow the road and not to stop into the village.

I am one of them: for years, I just passed by, headed north or south, but never to Roca itself. Not looking to the portion of village to the right or to the left of the dividing road.

It took a cruel Greek wife and her evil plot to make me stop and open my eyes: Medea was to stage her ravenous passion and anger in the old square of the village. Greek tragedy was to unveil to us the mysterious charm of old stones and locals, while underlining once more the historic ties between Apulia and Greece. While thanking Euripides for the opportunity, on we drove and - for once - we stopped in Roca. 

The only problem was: we did not know where to stop. Where is the square ("la piazza"), the agora that still hosts a few silhouettes and debates? A lovely couple, all dressed up for the play to be staged, kindly showed us the way. We followed them in eager cultural anticipation, while pondering on the absence of a crowd - the crowd you would expect on play night.

Instead, the square is home to a few olive trees safely grouped and sparse buildings with no charm other than that of the local, easily workable limestone, the "pietra leccese"; to the left, the land sinks into the silent and dark sea; on the stoops, the carved silhouettes of elderly people stand out - most of them are wearing plain black dresses or loose trousers and shirts. This is no cliché; this is their life. And as we drive very slowly by, their heads turn, their eyes are riveted on us and show no expression. 

The play and its actors are nowhere to be seen. There is no stage, no lighting. No tragedy.

We ask a couple of elderly ladies crossing the piazza: one of them mentions that the village next door is celebrating its patron, so obviously Roca is not up for any challenging event like a play. We meet again and exchange a few polite words with the first couple we had met just earlier; they seem disappointed.

I am not: the play and its actors are everywhere to be seen. Roca is their stage, the moon their lighting. 

This is their comedy as they watch us getting lost, looking for Medea and reading on a sheet of paper taped to a lamppost: the actress who was to play the princess part has had an accident. 

Credits: here (painting by Frederick Sandys)

Bless Summer Series: 8 The Voice {WorldWiseWords}

"La sua era una voce morbida. Decisi che me la sarei portata dentro come un tesoro, per ritrovarla ogni volta che avessi sentito venir meno le forze lungo il mio cammino."

-- Andromeda Heights, Banana Yoshimoto

Credits: TheDaydreamer (book cover detail)

Bless Summer Series: 7 Ephémère sieste {Fairy Talk}

Depuis que nos filles sont nées, la sieste est devenue un moment incontournable de nos journées (comme le goûter, mais ce dernier ponctue nos journées depuis la nuit des temps, nuance) ; dormir au cœur de l'après-midi pour moi n'est pas toujours synonyme de bien-être, alors je prends mon mal en patience, surtout depuis notre retraite méridionale et ses heures brûlantes qui invitent sérénité et somnolence au banquet du repos quotidien.

J'observe. J'écoute.

J'observe l'air immobile qui se fait dense, les feuilles qui soupirent, le vent qui s'agite et le blanc qui s'embrase de mille reflets et aveugle passionnément.

J'écoute la nature faite de milles soupirs et voix qui en chœur s'élèvent et chantent un hymne au soleil et ses serviteurs.

L'heure est propice à la sieste, au recueillement, au repos des guerriers et à la lecture réelle ou virtuelle de quelques pages. Les mots scandent les minutes et les pas muets et soyeux à la plage, la respiration se fait lente, cadencée et hétérée.

Le temps, lui, fait une pause et retient sa course au zénith pour mieux rebondir alors que le soir glisse, timidement encore, ses premières notes, douces et bleutées. Elles ricochent sur le profil endormi d'une sculpture éphémère pétrie dans mille grains de sable par des mains habiles et néanmoins inconnues.

...Leurs légères paupières frétillent alors, leurs cils s'étirent et leurs pupilles chatoyantes s'ouvrent, prêtes à voir venir l'heure suivante.

Photo : TheDaydreamer

Bless Summer Series: 6 La Nuit de la Chouette {Page-Turner}

Les cigales se sont tues.

Le silence plane, la Méditerranée s'essoufle, calme et accueillante.

La nuit tombe et ouvre ses bras aux guerriers, c'est l'heure du repos.

La chouette se pose habilement au-dessus de nous, ombre furtive et aguerrie. Son chant commence alors à s'élever : aigu, précis, candencé.

Dans la chambre plongée dans le noir, fidèle à mes habitudes nocturnes, je m'active et accompagne chaque nouvelle note du petit rapace par une nouvelle page délicatement tournée ; éclairé par la petite veilleuse à la forte lumière, un mode vie et un monde de décoration d'intérieur peuple mon univers. Le Salento, cette région méridionale des Pouilles italiennes, est rude et authentiquement proche de la terre, de la mer et de leurs riches racines ancestrales, tout en sachant s'exprimer dans le luxe et l'aristocratique.

Les couleurs apaisantes, les matières brutes et nobles et les murs de chaque maison dépeinte dans Salento Style (Congedo Publishing) sont un hymne à cette terre fouettée par le soleil, modelée par les vents. Derrière l'apparente simplicité des habitations se cachent une dure réalité et une harmonieuse complexité où la rusticité effleure parfois la modernité de façon surprenante. Le point commun de tous ces intérieurs réside dans la maitrise de la lumière : indomptable et impitoyable dans les espaces extérieurs, à commencer par les champs d'oliviers, elle nourrit amoureusement figuiers de barbarie, lézards, hybiscus et rongeurs et elle n'est que rarement invitée à inonder les pièces des habitations.

Celles-ci prennent des allures de clairs-obscurs où les rencontres et les intrigues se lovent dans chaque recoin, où la fraicheur tente de l'emporter aidée par les fibres naturelles du lin et du coton et par les volets souvent mi-clos... le mystère plane, le mysticisme aussi.

Tandis que la chouette chante, je visite à pas feutrés ces demeures, rencontre leurs propriétaires, échange deux mots avec eux et tisse des reves en pleine lumière.

"(...) The Salento Style is  (...) is the fruit of good polishing, simple and extremely sophisticated, farmer and aristocratic, precious and delicate, antique and new."

Photos : TheDaydreamer (pages du livre)

Bless Summer Series: 5 Instagram Digest on Steller {Geeky}

Visit The Daydreamer on Steller: Bless Summer Series- Instagram Digest

Stars are shining over (and into) this blog lately: they are a most recurring theme and their latest visit into my blogging and virtual life comes via a precious find in the app universe: Steller.

 

The logo of the company behind the app says it all already under its peaceful starry sky in line with the ease of use of the app and the pleasant final result - a flipbook to share. The iPhone-based app allows you to put together a booklet made of pictures, text, video - you name it. It offers a rather limited but well-chosen array of editing tools to have fun with and turn it into a stylish final story matching your wishes and dreams.

 

In addition, and in a more traditional fashion, Steller is a social network where you can follow users and their storytelling feeds based on given topics (think Pinterest kind of boards) and build up an exchange network. 

 

What you see above is the cover page of my first Instagram based booklet; the story is the reunion of three precious elements: Instagram - my favorite netwok thanks to its users' friendly tone and responsiveness, visual pearls and user-friendliness -, Steller, and summer - a sunlit period of the year surrounded by family love. My favorite time of the year.

 

Waht do you think? Have you used Steller?

 

Wishing you beautiful discoveries in storytelling land and many warm nights under the sky.

 

Credits: TheDaydreamer

Bless Summer Series: 4 Le Petit Poucet {Roll the Dough}

 

 

Le Petit Poucet de mon enfance a laissé de belles et alléchantes miettes blondes et chocolatées sur son parcours entre champs, rues pavées et plages, jusqu'à notre bord de mer ; de temps à autre il me permet de me retrouver dans mon univers du tendre groûter. Attention : pour une fois, pas celui pétri par d'aimables mains, mais bel et bien celui tout fait, à l'interminable liste d'ingrédients dont certains plus avouables que d'autres, et reluisant à souhait sur les étalages du supermarché.

 Il faut de tout, aussi, pour faire un goûter et former le goût. D'ailleurs, je ne suis pas certaines que ces sucreries étaient admises dans notre foyer quand j'étais petite ; ce qui est sûr, c'est que leurs noms et leur marque évoquent sans faute une enfance italienne.

Cette petite pause de l'après-midi est incontournable, hiver comme été, mais a fortiori au cœur de la saison estivale et de l'air d'opérette des cigales de la pinède qui nous accueille. Cette pause est devenue le prétexte d'un voyage à rebours main dans la main avec nos deux petites gourmandes.

Alors oui, les fruits et autres fraîcheurs sont là, mais l'indulgence porte aussi vers ces biscuits aux noms évocateurs : Cuore di Mela (cœur de pomme), Pan di Stelle (pain d'étoiles), Mooncake, celui de la photo ci-dessus... (Amis d'Instagram, vous savez de quoi je parle !)

L'été toutes les folies douces étant permises, notre écart très gourmand nous mène vers de nouvelles saveurs tombées de la Voie lactée dans notre assiette en porcelaine, souvenir de la vaisselle de ma grand-mère ou dans notre bol contemporain. Ces petits dômes chocolatés, nouvelle version des historiques Pan di Stelle, renferment en leur cœur de la poussière d'étoiles sombre et voluptueuse, tandis que les plus sobres mœlleux à la pomme ont un petit fond acidulé qui a ravi les grands-parents pris en flagrant délit de grignotage sans complexes sous le ciel du soir.

Qui a dit que le goûter était réservé aux enfants et se limitait à l'après-midi ?

 

 

Photo : TheDaydreamer

Bless Summer Series: 3 Summer Quote {WorldWiseWords}

 

"Non ero né emozionata né nervosa, mi sentivo esattamente come quando ci si immerge nell'acqua alla temperatura perfetta. O quando ci si bagna in un mare tiepido, mentre si guarda il sole scendere lento all'orizzonte. Nell'acqua limpoda del mare svanisce la stanchezza, le spalle si alleggeriscono, e si abbandona il corpo al ritmo delle onde, più rilassante di qualsiasi sorgente termale."

-- Moshi Moshi, Banana Yoshimoto

Credits: TheDaydreamer

Bless Summer Series: 2 Splash! {At the Spa}

The unpretencious green bottle and muslin cloth arrived via regular mail, all the way from the UK. The moment I unzipped the handy bag it came in, the blend of fresh and familiar scents hit me: chamomile, cocoa butter, eucalyptus and rosemary.

That's when I realized the parcel actually contained a message in a bottle; I like to think it is a mermaid dressed with glittering and precious scales who sent it to me: a serene message, one of purifying routine that screamed for splashing fresh water onto my face and feeling truly awake while using gentle ingredients closer to nature. I am not fully ready to prepare my own concoctions, even though I do like to read a post here and there about homemade beauty products and certainly relish the greedy idea to be able, one day, to mix my own creams.

The latest beauty trend calls for leaving water aside to avoid aggressive skin treatment that would in the end damage the derma. I find the workaround interesting as a new spin in beauty, but I cannot imagine washing my face - or my hair, think about "dry shampoo" - without the good old splash of cold or lukewarm water. It is for me the finishing touch that makes me feel truly clean and ready to hit the day.

The message in the bottle I just picked is full of inviting promises for my summer trial while I momentarily stray away from my regular and richer products and textures - tried and tested and unbelievably reliable for me. Summer is a good season to try something new as I feel more adventurous and ready to take on the world with recharged - and refreshed - batteries.

What beauty message did you receive this summer? 

Credits: TheDaydreamer

 

Bless Summer Series: 1 The Excess {Look Around}

 

The Summer Series has become a tradition around The Daydreamer's Diary and it should really come as no wonder that despite the difficulties linked to erratic Internet connection on my side of the European world, I still manage to put together posts about my favorite season of all: summer.

The summer months are all that I crave for all year around. In winter and Fall, I hibernate. Ahead, I know there will eventually be the earthly rebirth of nature and souls, urged on by the warming and comforting rays of our nurturing sun.

In the summer, everything goes full force, pedal to the floor: the light, the wind, the temperatures, the colors, the flavors, the scents, the sea, the waves. It is the season of Mediterranean excess.

I am only too ready to embrace it in real and virtual life (#BlessSummer) alike.

Mimicking nature, I want to dive over and over again to see every little fish, bite into every peach and fresh fig around, pick up a full collection of pinecones for the evening fire, smell every jasmine flower I happen to meet during my ecstatic wanderings around the village - I just feel like there isn't enough time to happily take in all the bountiful wonders around us.

How do you feel in the summer? How do you celebrate the summer months? What are your favorite activities in the summer?

Credits: TheDaydreamer

 

True gems {Look Around}

The Base nautique & By's Café and Restaurant

Open air parties are a different thing altogether: that BBQ smell pervading the air around the KBH Home - a simple yet stylishly solid wooden vessel anchored in the pine wood - and flying away to knock on the neighbors' door and ricochet on every tree trunk to call everyone to join the easy-going feast - now THAT is something to look for all year round and to enjoy like there is no tomorrow, as the saying goes.

When the sun sets on the elegant Le Touquet and lets the cool breeze fly in from the nearby Atlantic ocean, bringing along messages in lost bottles and mesmerizing mermaid songs, it is time to let the birthday party DJ step up and play his tunes, from the highly commercial ones to the unknown voices that will be impossible for us to find once the night is over. The colorful disco lights are free to play wildly against the dark night sky and pine silhouettes: my head spins as I try to follow each of them in their frantic dance, in vain.

That is why they are - and will remain - gems.

Baie de Canche

At least until the next morning, when my fuzzy head full of the night rhythm and the sore feet from the dance floor flurry scan the sun-bathed horizon for a new, breezy destination and invigorating activity: the Baie de Canche. Following the coast path, crossing runners and bikers, we walk peacefully surrounded by nature: dunes and coastal flowers are our natural companions all the way to the base nautique where colorful flags flap playfully in the air and white benches and tables are an invitation to contemplation.

On the way back, we take the less traveled road and go through the pine forest to look for benevolent shade and fragrant pinecones. Precious sand is everywhere, and its every grain permeates my skin to remind me of the beauties of the time spent here in nature's arms and surrounded by friends.

These moments too are gems.

Credits: TheDaydreamerDiary

Les étoiles dans ses yeux {The Look}

L'été, dans mon royaume des fées marines, le ciel nocturne est une carte étoilée. Elle est facile à lire , accessible et hypnotisante avec ses astres ; je les touche presque du doigt grâce au télescope de mon père : ils dévoilent sous son œil puissant leurs rides et cratères, leurs rires et leurs secrets. Il est vieillissant notre cher télescope, mais il tient bon malgré l'air marin qui lui mène la vie dure et tant d'inventions tournées vers le futur.

Sur terre, les petites étoiles habitent et crépitent dans les tiroirs de l'une de mes filles - la grande, celle qui crie sans retenue lorsqu'on lui annonce une virée à la plage où elle part à la chasse de la "stella marina" ("étoile de mer") ou le pétrissage à quatre mains de la prochaine pizza maison. Celle dont les yeux scintillent d'un éclat enfantin ; celle qui porte depuis le début de l'été du coton blanc ou gris ponctué de menues étoiles bleues. Du jean, de la toile fine, un petit débardeur d'un blan étincelant, un collier d'ambre ou un cœur de cristal d'un rose laiteux, délicate attention de ses grands-parents. Et pour laisser une traînée aérienne de poussière d'étoiles magiques, quelques vapeurs florales dont on asperge sa tenue.

Pour rêver et voyager cet été, mieux vaut s'habiller léger et se fier à sa bonne étoile.

Et vous, quels motifs rigoureusement magiques ou poétiques avez-vous glissés dans vos tiroirs ou ceux de vos chérubins ?

Photos : TheDaydreamerDiary

Blog Community: Getting to know you {Geeky}

The latest show I attended was The King and I (my Twitter followers have read all about my glittery reactions regarding the entertaining show at the théâtre du Chatelet) where not only did I enjoy myself with childlike ingenuity and happiness, but also where it stuck to me that getting to know people is a real adventure, a trip full of bumps but also delectable discoveries. What's more, getting to know others is possibly the best way to know oneself.

The famous "Getting to know you" line and its supporting (and addictive) music made me think of the blogging e-course I just attended: during the lessons I had the pleasure of meeting other bloggers from different paths of life, with different specialties, dreams, ambitions and talents. I would say  with no hesitation diversity at its best.

Among the numerous topics of the course (writing from the heart, establishing your image, writing travel/fashion posts "etcetera, etcetera, etcetera" as the king would say) a few ideas hit me with the kind of wake-up call suddenness that I need exit my beloved and dangerously seductive comfort zone. 

The idea is that of ⭐️ blog community ⭐️.

The perk is that it is deeply related to a question I popped in one of the course forums and that came back as the wrap-up lesson of the course: what about the future of blogging? This is a vast question and I am not going to pretend I know the answer (and, dear king of Siam, how do we know what we know is true, hun?) or even that there IS an answer... 

What I find engaging and fun is to try and develop a blog community; this can be achieved by writing engaging posts - the classic approach, you might point out - but we can also leverage a few tools and ideas to take one step further, the Internet offers a wealth of solutions to test, don't you think?

This is how the idea of using readers' comments to build an ever developing network of comments  came to me. You may have noticed, among other changes around here, that the comments you now post are managed via Disqus. The tool recognizes a commenter and creates a web of comments posted on the blog and the web at large by that same user. Returning commenters will fuel the community every time they share their thoughts.

In the end, we will hear our virtual echoes around the web...

If I think about it for a minute, I do this all the time: reacting to a post on the web and then thinking further about what I read and moving on to writing a related post. Obviously, using a tool such as Disqus raises questions and has many implications, starting with practical ones: what if they shut down, for example?

I am curious to know: how does commenting work for you? Can you detect a trend in your comments? What do you think of a comment-based blog community?

I'll be thrilled to hear your voice about the topic - and about Disqus. At least, we can try building our very own truth then.

Credits: TheDaydreamerDiary

Messy Anniversary {Roll the Dough}

Hubby and I just celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary. Wait. No. We did not.

And that's the whole problem. 

Coincidentally, just a few days back I wrote a comment on Effie's blog telling her how I would follow her example and make sure we honor important dates, those that actually make me who I am and shape the events and evolution of my life - and that of my family.

Failure followed a couple of days later: on a rainy and dark day, we let the date pass out of... What? I find there is no excuse despite hubby's defense: "But there are so many to celebrate!"

Well, once we are in our graves, there won't be, no. Those will be peaceful days, for sure.

This just did it for me: I stood up and started foraging in the fridge. What has the fridge to do with it, you might wonder? As I see it, and it's probably just cultural, food is celebration and gratitude.

This was our chaotic way to the anniversary celebration and I find it intriguing that out of a couple of ingredients came orderly food redemption, inspired by Nigella's recipe, - and a smile to my face:

The Recipe

Credits: TheDaydreamerDiary

A lire et à manger {Page-Turner}

Un livre de chevet, c'est quoi au juste ?

Un livre qui, physiquement, habite sur ma table de chevet ? Oui, certainement. Mais aussi un livre qui se penche à mon chevet lorsque je suis à court d'idées ou l'envie d'une découverte perpétuelle et rafraîchissante au détour de tant de pages pourtant connues et tournées à l'envi se fait sentir.

Vous savez quoi ?

Je le tiens, mon livre de chevet ! 

Je le mange des yeux et je le lis et relis, comme on revient vers une recette qui a fait ses preuves et reste néanmoins toujours un peu facétieuse et surprenante, soumise aux aléas des ingrédients disponibles ou du four à disposition.

Ti Mangio con gli Occhi de Ferdinando Scianna.

Ecrit par le journaliste, écrivain et photographe italien Ferdinando Scianna, c'est un condensé d'aventures tant culinaires que philosophiques et physiques. Un recueil d'histoires, de vignettes, de mémoires de voyages, de rencontres pétries de saveurs et sensations, variées et complémentaires. Un recueil d'un autre monde aussi, celui des souvenirs heureux ou pas d'une enfance passée dans le sud de l'Italie, en Sicile, à courir après la glace l'été (sans système de refroidissement, sinon c'est trop facile) et les beignets frits convoités tant par les enfants que les mouches du coin tout au long de l'année.

Chaque histoire est une perle façonnée à partir d'un plat, d'un ingrédient, qui me rappelle tant les Pouilles ; je sais, les spécialités ne sont pas les mêmes, mais le vécu, ce histoire personnelle pétrie de poussière, de couleurs, de terre couleur de brique, de visages plissés et de facéties enfantines, elle n'a pas de frontières et me ramène vers la traditionnelle promenade estivale sur la calèche de mon oncle à travers les champs de figuiers de la famille, dans un univers méridional si pauvre où chaque coup de sabot retentit sourdement sur la terre avant d'étouffer dans son propre écho.

Un seul regret : l'auteur étant photographe et prenant comme point de départ ses visuels, je regrette que les photos soient souvent très petites, peu claires et certainement insuffisamment mises en avant. Je ne comprends pas ce choix éditorial et je le déplore. Il manque une pièce à ce puzzle pour qu'il soit parfaitement cohérent et harmonieux...

Les imperfections ont leur charme, vous en conviendrez.

Le format de chaque récit, bref et percutant, est idéal à la contemplation tout au long de l'année et à une lecture décousue ; quand l'envie me saisit, je tends la main vers ma table de chevet, je saisis l'ouvrage, je l'ouvre au hasard. 

Je baisse alors la tête, consensuelle et prête à lire et à manger à volonté.

Photo : TheDaydreamerDiary