Sometimes I wonder what exactly I’m looking for traveling all the time. Scott was asking me, “Come to Pitti*!” and I was all, “No. I want to get home… What am I going to do there?  There’s no where for me to go. It’s not my scene. It’s not my style.” And he said, “But we’ll be together!”

Aaaaaah… If you’re gonna sweet talk me like that… Of course, I went.

When I got there, I found myself completely lost in an ocean of virility with no idea what to do with my camera. When it comes to guys, ask them for a picture and they tighten up a little. They either try to charm you or they get really timid. But to watch them go by, see how they live, talk among them or even catch them staring at me like some kind of exotic creature, I was beginning to see what was going on there in Pitti… an atmosphere that can’t be found anywhere else.

So I decided that it’s up to me too look at them like exotic creatures. I started to take pictures of them when they weren’t looking.

I like observing men in Pitti. They’re not scared to like fashion. I like how much goes into it, how refined it is, the elegance and the panache that Scott knows how to photograph so well. There’s an attention to every last detail.

Little by little, I started to understand what I was looking for traveling so much. It’s what I love most: a good surprise. To find myself in a different universe, meet new people, learn how to dive head first into a new atmosphere.

Find inspiration: it’s as simple as that. And of course, above all, traveling, for me, it’s to be a little closer to…

my man.

Bonne journée!

——

*Pitti is a Menswear trade show.

Translation : Tim Sullivan

If I never talk to you about interior design, it’s not because I don’t like it.  Oooooh no. It’s because I live in an apartment so small that I could be getting work done while cooking and taking a bath all at the same time, and then on top of that, any new piece I get forces a different one out. Okay, out the door you go. Poof.

Granted, this doesn’t apply to shoes, OF COURSE, which, for some reason, give me a malicious pleasure to accumulate. And don’t even get me started on how I store all of them. Maybe one day I’ll make a post about it and we’ll all crack up. BUT NOT BEFORE I FIND AN APARTMENT, otherwise it’ll drive me nuts. Oh goodness…

If I never talk to you about interior design, it’s also because I have some mega-complexes: I know nothing about it. My sister, who has the classiest house and enough furniture to sink a ship, (It’s in her blood. She bought her first Napoleon III era table at 19) can tell you the designer of any and every piece of furniture including the year and design-house as if it were perfectly normal. Hmmm. Laeti. I love your science.

SO how is it that I can write you thousands of words on whatever subject, even if I’m a total dunce about it?) So. In Rio, I had the chance to get to the hotel Fasano. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in an awesome hotel… But the design there got me particularly excited. I was like a little kid. Wahoo!  So I thought I’d take some photos.

Nope. I’m not even going to start telling you about what this is supposed to be, but you’ll get soon get that I like scandinavian design and wood.

Wild flowers, the kind you’d bring back from a long walk — ok ok ok, So at Fasano, maybe it’s more of the kind of bouquet that you’d put together after you took a long walk in a rainforest. Yeah, that’d help. But I like lilies and roses. Oh and peonies. Yeah, I have no design personality at all.

All you need is to put out some wood, some carpets, something a little rough around the edges, and some scandinavian accent furniture and I’ll be swooning. Oh and some old photos too. I can’t believing I’m sitting here describing my photos to you. Okay, I’ll hush up.

AAAAAH NOOOO! I just can’t. I have to show you the pool. It’s in the dreamiest spot, perched on the roof where the stars frolic and I try to play it cool in my bathing suit scarfing down coconuts. I’ve gotta give you a post about that as well BUT LATER or else that’ll drive me nuts, TOO.

No but seriously, this pool is awesome.

This is the little set you get with your room key. A beautiful little notebook and a map of Rio painted with watercolors and lots of good ideas on where to go. I took 12. What did you expect?

So yeah, I just realized I only took pictures of wood. Goodness, I’m obsessed. It’s not good to be a monomaniac like that Garance. It’s unfortunate because you only get to see a little part of the hotel design. No, damn, how stupid was that?

Yeahhhhh oooooh. That was definitely my downfall. Fasano, my photos haven’t done you justice. Pffffff…

Oh darn, I’ll just have to go back. You coming ?

Translation : Tim Sullivan

So as I was saying, the heat… What’s better than white coton when it’s gettin’ up above 104? I came across a whole bunch of girls wearing these long light blouses. While I was suffocating in my shorts, their cotton shirts, whenever there was even the smallest of breezes, the shirts would fly up ever so slightly.  So sensual.

Then yesterday, I went into a men’s clothing store with Scott (Scott, he’s a guy and he goes to more boutiques than I do)(And he buys more magazines than I do too)(oh and he knows how to sew!)(Okay, enough)(Oh, and I’m in Florence!)(Come see us at his booksigning tonight at Luisa!) and I bought a big white pajama shirt, and it’s so beautiful I’m going to wear it as a dress with a belt as soon as the sun starts shining through. Even if here, errrrrrrrggg… IT’S SUPER COLD OUT!

I guess I’m the girl who never quite left Rio… But you gotta understand where I’m coming from: this is the first time I’ve ever gotten out of the cold in January. And I still feel like I have the sun in my eyes and sand in my hair.

Summer in winter… It really is just too good.

Translation : Tim Sullivan

It was really hot in Rio. Every morning, I had to get my camera ready for the temperature shock between the -10 degrees inside in the air-conditioning to the +104 degrees outside. As soon as you set a foot outside, you’re literally swimming in sweat. Makeup melts right off. Any and every pair of shoes are incredibly uncomfortable and so you take them off and forget them somewhere.

The girls are amazing. It’s totally true. They are sublime. They dress with simplicity and taste. The coolest of them all wear flats. I didn’t come across too many fashion addicts.

But before I go talking to you about style, I’ve gotta set the scene a little. I think that in Rio, you can’t really talk about style without talking about the style of life. So, first of all, Rio in January consists of…

The heat. I love the moist veil that covers the skin after just a few minutes in the heat. I think it’s so sexy.

The beach. Everyone goes to the beach. I don’t really know the dos and don’ts, the ins and outs, but these giant packed beaches are little universes in it and of themselves.

The scenery. Absolutely amazing. I could do an entire post about the trees, the agave, the… Pfff I don’t know most of the names. But my favorite will always be the palms. These trees always bring back my wanderlust. Quite funny as I was pretty much born under a palm tree…

The body. I’ve often heard that in Brazil, body-worship abounds, but being there, I really started to understand why. And yes, it’s true that you want to go jogging right away after you get there (I don’t know why, I haven’t lived this healthy since… well… never really. One morning I woke up and whoaaa, just like that, off I went running. JUST LIKE THAT? Usually, in Paris, I will only get out my running shoes if it’s life and death.) and the lifestyle is definitely more physical than in… Paris, but it’s not only the perfect-body-worship that stuck with me… it was more the worship of the exposed body.

Here you can be in a bathing suit in the middle of the city and no one will think anything of it. It’s completely normal. Even going to the bank in a bikini. Or even at the grocery store… or even skateboarding.

Oh man, I’m talking too much and it’s really late!!! Okay, I’m off to get some sleep and I’ll be back so so so so soon to tell you all the rest!!! Big hugs!

Translation : Tim Sullivan

It’s my first time to Brazil and I can’t believe I’m leaving already. It’s summer here. I left a very snowy Paris in my parka, tights, gloves and my winter hat, and arrived in the 104-in-the-shade in Rio.

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At the time I’m writing to you, I’m sprawled out on my couch, bundled up in a sweater and tights. AND I HATE TIGHTS.

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