Split friends

It's a new expression Kenny and I came up with recently. Like split ends, but with friends. Those friends that 'split' over time and who you need to cut out of your life.

Of course, it's a natural process and not even a sad one. Aren't we all just passangers, we hop on and off stations in life? Sometimes we can be friends with people that happen to be in our lives at a certain stage in life and we must let them go when the time comes. Nothing wrong with it. People accept this natural process without thinking. There aren't many main characters in one's life, the vast majority of people surrounding us are extras and secondary actors.

With split friends though, it's never easy. They always like to remind you how much they've done for you during your so called friendship and how much you still owe them. You can't just cut them off - you really have to struggle. They will keep coming back to your life and ask for their money back. As if friendship is something you can measure.

People have different ways of showing friendship and that's basically what it's all about. The meaning of friendship is that is represents a selfless relationship between two people that feel affection towards eachother and share common beliefs, attitudes, styles and opinions. The moment someone puts a price of friendship they split!

I used to fall into the trap of split friends and tried to make a mental list of things that I had also done for them, until I realised that it is absolutely besides the point. All you really have to do with split friends is take a big scary scissors and cut them off!

I take it back...

I sometimes get carried away with writing about something that's on my mind at a certain moment in time. It takes a certain combination of circumstances to make me reach one conclusion or another. After writing my last post, I got to thinking about it... And I realised I got it all wrong...

I got it all wrong when passing judgements about one kind of man or another because the only one who thinks that is... ME. Yes me, I am making this a reality in my own mind.

At the end of the day, the 'didn't feel a spark' guy is probably right. What's the point of wasting one's energy? If there ain't, then there ain't. I somehow always believed that there should be some courtesy between daters. I've always thought about things too much, decided to give people chances just because they seemed nice and that maybe the spark would come later etc etc. And things ended up with me placing them in the first category and not understanding why the second category was acting the way they did. So I kind of want to take it back. There is no such thing as categories of men, there are only bad decisions...

'I didn't feel a spark'

My recent dating experience revealed that there are usually two types of men you are more likely to encounter: those you can't get rid of and those who 'don't feel there is a spark'.

Those you can't get rid of have been quite blessed by nature with the ability to observe just quite how much of a gem you are, what amazing woman just landed in their back yard, how talented and how cool you are, and by associating themselves with you, they hope that some of that 'coolness' will rub on. They are of course intelligent men with a lot of common sense, however, they lack that manly energy that any woman of any kind find irrestible and attractive. They bear no mistery and would do anything they are told. They do not know how to crack a flirtatious joke and they possibly have a slightly lower self esteem than their counterparts. Their fashion sense does not excel but they somehow manage to put on a decent outfit a woman would be inclined to ignore if unable to admire. They can be bearable for a while, until they become exasperating. Eventually, they will have to be let go and do some work on themselves.

The 'I didn't feel a spark' type are even worse. They are usually tall and well built, good looking lads with strong genes. Not necessarily extremely cultured, but quite performant when it comes to body building. Inclined to listen to the instinct of natural selection, the woman would be willing to close her eyes to a flaw or two as long as they act decent and they make her feel desireable. But surprisingly (or maybe not!) these kind of males do not know how to make themselves pleasant. They go by the rule: 'If she ain't perfect, why bother!' and - possibly - feel minimised and emasculated by the woman's intelligence and wit. They always prefer the back door at the end of a date and never ever get back to you after the date is consumated. When prompted, they have the barely minimal decency to reply 'I didn't feel there was a spark'... In these circumstances, some women may feel inclined to carry a box of matches or a Zippo lighter in their purses in an extra effort to bring a spark to a date. It seems that it is not enough for the woman to be reasonably pretty and proportioned, funny and charismatic throughout, always ready with a joke and an adventure story because the 'I didn't feel there was a spark' guy needs a bloody bonfire.

Or at least these are the results of a few months' survey, concluding that rather than going on a date, a woman is better off with a good book and a bottle of Shiraz! Resigned with the thought that clearly there aren't many men who have been endowed with charm, good looks, intelligence and common sense all at the same time, she is better off staying away from the dating jungle for a while. At least until that exceptional person (if he does exist) finds his own way into her life.

I heart London

'If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put foundations under them.'
Henry David Thoreau

It is not for me to judge what happened. Don’t get me wrong, I do judge the people that provoked this abominable destruction - their acts are profoundly immoral and unacceptable in ANY society - but I do not feel entitled to propose a theory regarding why they did what they did.

Some say it’s pure vandalism, some say it’s because the looters come from underprivileged background, some say we should blame the Government for closing their eyes to an ever growing social problem, some say it’s the lack of proper parenting and education or even human rights abuse. Whatever it is, it happened and it did teach all of us a few lessons.

When I first came to London, I was overwhelmed by its diversity. I found it almost scary back then and it took me many years to grasp the fact that despite its apparent heterogeneity, London has a huge soul shared by the millions who chose to live here, in probably the most amazing city in the world. Despite the tragedy we all experienced in the last few days, Londoners came together to stand up to the revolting, senseless riots and looting, cleaning up our streets and standing together to protect the city we deeply love and respect. We all backed up our Police officers in an effort to put a stop to what seemed to get out of rational control and people like the old woman telling the looters off outside Debenhams in Clapham or the Turkish men in Dalston fighting the looters away to protect their shops really brings back the faith in the humankind. I saw hundreds of messages on the Malaysian student Ashraf Haziq, who got robbed when injured, Twitter page: #getwetllsoonashrafhaziq.

And that really means a lot. It means that together, any wrong can be turned into good.

It is not my place to say what needs to be done. There is a lot to be done by the Government and we should make sure this happens. We should all not let this lesson get by unlearned. We should do whatever we can, united, to keep the spirit of London alive. And as Mahatma Ghandi said: 'We must become the change we want to see.'

Last tango in Paris

The (in)famous Bertolucci, 1972, film with Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider.

The story without names. It's all about living the moment, really living it. No need for history and personal stories to take the mind away from the present. The history, the baggage is ignored, it has nothing to do with te liberating (or enslaving?!) power of nameless sex. When names are asked, guns are being shot. It's all about the mistery. Once the veil is lifted, reality doesn't match the fantasy.

I am obsessed with the soundtrack and can't stop thinking of Jeanne's outfits. It was 1972 and her yellow mini dress, her fur collar white coat and fedora hat are more timeless than ever. And so are all her other outfits. There's a sordid and yet alluring sexiness about this film. So very Paris, so very noir...

Exciting new designer: Zelia Horsely

I only came accross Zelia Horsely's jewellery when I was working on one of my styling assignments. I had a brochure from London Jewellery Week and started browsing through looking for inspiration. As expected, not many designs stood out for me - I am quite difficult to please when it comes to jewellery, I have a tendency to dismiss pieces that do not break some kind of rules and yet obey the rule of estethics - but when I saw Zelia's chain collar, I knew I'd stepped over a gold mine.

I instantly used it in my assignment - it was a mood board for one of my favourite characters, Elizabeth Bennet of 'Pride and Prejudice' - and decided to find out more about this exciting designer.

And what I found was to take my breath away. In all her unique pieces, Zelia manages to create a happy marriage between industrial and finesse, between bondage and femininity, between the ego and the alter ego. There is a dominatrix and a Lolita in each and every piece and every single one of them has a story to tell. I have a feeling Zelia has found a way to talking to the woman of today, the woman who increasingly needs to be all in one.

Bitesize Rome

One day

I can honestly say that no words can be enough for 'One Day'. It's made me laugh out loud without embarassment (I always thought laughing on the tube while reading a book can look a bit ridiculous so I am a little self conscious about it, but really it's like pretending you don't like snogging in public until you're with someone you really like and then you don't care who's looking) and it's made me swallow down tears and curse that my station's up and all I want to do is keep on reading, and reading and reading.

I like to think of myself as a select reader. I don't pretend to like a book just because it's a classic or because it's in. I only like books with soul, books that talk to me, that are telling me something, that are making me laugh and weep inside as if I was made or words, and ink and paper.

I also like to think I'm one of the fortunate people who's life has been blessed and enriched by a number of exquisite, beautiful and impactful books. 'One Day' is well high up with the best of them. From classics like Charles Dickens and Dostoyevski, Gogol and Hugo, to wonderful and incredibly talented contemporary authors like Salman Rushdie, Milan Kundera and Khaled Husseyni.

I must confess that despite being reluctant at first to read books that have sold millions of copies worldwide (I am yet untouched by the Stieg Larsson trilogy, the Harry Potter phenomenon or the Da Vinci Code - although mind you I do like the genre as I devoured 'Foucault's Pendulum' of Umberto Eco in a matter of weekly commutes) , I have fallen hopelessly in love with some of them. Probably the best example is 'Shadow of the Wind' which I read with an unsatiable hunger and the thought of finishing made me very very sad. I also really, really loved 'The Kite Runner' but after reading 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' I felt even more adoration for the person capable of putting such a tale into words. I was bewildered by how a story can be so excruciatingly tragic and yet ever so tenderly told.

'One Day' is even more special because in a very deep sense it talks a lot about me. I know we all see pieces of ourselves in the characters we love, but I am still shocked of how much of Emma Morley there is in me...

I've always worn spectacles and dreamt about making the world a better place. I have always been clever and even a bit arrogant about it, but with no confidence in me as a woman, whatsoever. Like Emma, I've been a singleton for almost all my life, but a good friend to have around. I've always fancied being a writer and like Emma (or maybe an earlier version of her than the accomplished writer she became later) I started a lot of projects and finished none. Like Emma, I like to think that I am funny and I believe I was blessed with an excellent self-deprecating sense of humour. Like Emma, I can just decide to go to Paris if I so wish but never do...

Anyway, like I said, we all see pieces of ourselves in the characters we love. But there's more to Emma than pieces of me... So if you haven't read the book yet and decided to sleep with it under your pillow too, get to know Emma. She's an amazing woman and a faithful friend...

Amy, it's not even cool...

When I heard the news yesterday, I was a bit shocked. Just for a split second. It's like receiving some news you're expecting. There's a moment surprise. But then it's gone...

And that's the saddest thing about it I guess: the whole world knew it was going to happen one day. It's not even cool anymore. The world is tired of another talented young person killing themselves in drugs, pills and alcohol. It's so uncool that I am struggling to feel something about her death. I can't... How come other celebrities with amazing voices manage to be successful and lead perfectly normal lives. Being rock'n'roll these days is not a pre-requisite to being famous.

What are these people even angry at? What's the trauma that they are fighting to drown in drugs and alcohol?

I've been thinking about this for quite a while now and it's not a great surprise that our generation is drowing itself in drugs and alcohol. It's because we have never done anything extraordinary, have never been through something terrible, have never had to struggle, fight a war, live in poverty, worry about food and shelter, you know, this kind of things... Our generation is desperate to feel something... Or at least that's my theory. And when I look at Amy's life all I see is a beautiful girl with heaps of talent and nothing but a bright future. How did she get where she did? We all know the story, it's been all over the papers, but the real question is why did she allow herself to get there? Low self esteem, bad influence, the need to feel something?... I don't know, all I know is that this just isn't cool...

I will give her a moment of thought and will pray for her soul. But the one before the horrible tatoos and the bad skin, before the missing teeth and the breast implants, before she lost all her curves and dignity... For the beautiful Amy we would have all loved if only she stayed...

O Roma mia!

It's safe to say (and hardly anyone could argue) that Rome is the most beautiful city in Europe. It lives, it breathes, it's been there almost since the beginning of time. It's almost scarily beautiful.

It's my second time in Rome and I am grateful I got the chance to see it again and still keep my convictions. Despite the 'Roman centurion' tricking me into taking a photo with him for 2 euros or the Romanian woman asking for money on the pavement in Romanian (!!) it didn't spoil it for me. Because I hardly did any of the touristy stuff and I think that's important. Otherwise Rome is reduced to the same thing - a race agaisnt the clock to tick all the sights on the list which I believe makes her majesty the city of Rome frown a little bit down on the little bit too zealous tourists.

Instead I took pleasure in strolling aimlessly when I had the chance and eating. It may almost sound like a cliche (especially since I read Eat Pray Love already twice) but the food really made me close my eyes and imagine I'm in heaven. And the cold limoncello. And the cheap squares of pizza from the take away shop. And the gelatto (did you try the pistacchio one next to Fontana di Trevi - well you must!!), and the espressos and the Monte Negros. And even the tramezzinos from the coffee shop downstairs for goodness sake!

Somehow unexpectedly though, this time I didn't imagine myself living behind one of the windows with a charming display of fresh washing in Trastevere. See, I used to do that a lot. Everytime I went somewhere on holiday, especially in hot climates, I would try to imagine myself how it would be to actually live there. And on my return I would linger a bit on the idea that maybe one day I'll go back there for good. And despite the freezing cold waiting for me back in London, I didn't even get upset. I don't know what happened but I somehow came to the conclusion that every place has its share of misery. At least I got a bit numb to the level of misery I experience in London and that's these days pretty bearable. If I'm honest, the only way we could probably avoid the misery would be living everywhere for 3 months at the time. Before the misery settles in... The misery of rain in London, the misery of being way too hot and the traffing being a bitch in Rome, the misery of being too busy in New York, the misery of being too quiet in my home town... You might as well stick to the misery you're used to. So no, I didn't fantasise about living in Rome this time but I did plan to go back. Hopefully over and over again...

There are many films featuring Rome, but somehow my favourite is "The Roman spring of Mrs Stone" - the old version with Vivien Leigh and Warren Beatty. There's something there: something which starts like a promise and ends up in misery... When I found myself in front of the Spanish Steps I could almost imagine her somewhere on one of the roof terraces embracing Rome with all the heart. Let is be a while until misery settles in...

It's all in the details

I noticed that I write less and less frequent on the blog. What started as a self-therapy and a very personal blurting it has now become something else all together. Mainly because I feel less and less the need to talk about personal issues. Surely because my personal issues have been replaced in time by personal goals and personal interests.

I would love nothing more but to talk about these newly found passions but to be completely honest they keep me very busy. So I find it very difficult to gather some time and write and when I do I want it to be something of substance and something that the readers will benefit from. And that's why I would like to give this space a bit more structure and a bit more thought. It kind of started as a public journal about 4 years ago but I see it now as more of a way to share my ideas, interests, passions, things I like and things I am good at.

So I would like to declare as a kind of manifesto that this blog will still be a journey of public self discovery, but on more levels and layers.

For now, suffice to say I volunteered to help a friend decorate her new house and I am very excited about it. This may actually be my very first project and I like nothing more that browse around for wallpapers, furniture, chandeliers, mirrors, paints and fabrics.

For now I will finish with sharing this amazing wallpaper from Dedar Milano - www.dedar.com - which I just happened to come accross. Will be very happy to share more of my project as it progresses. Keep you posted :)

Family ties

It's been a long time I have been living on my own. It's been many years I have been living in London, away from my country, away from the little family I have left there. All my visits have been usually short and tempestuous, hardly ever benefiting from spending quality time with my closest. But these days I have been reminded about all that I have been missing all these years...

My mother and my cousin (to whom I am so close that I often and fondly refer to as my little sister) visited me for the first time since I took up the challenge of living abroad and granted me one of the most rewarding experiences of my life up to date. Because I have been unable to share the everyday realities of my existence in London with my closest and dearest, I have always felt like a huge bridge that was between us needed to be crossed in order to align the two worlds I have been living in almost simultaneously for the past 8ish years...

I have been given an amazing gift and their visit has been heart filling. From the fact that I saw my mother enjoying every moment of it to the cuddles and the jokes we've shared, from their daily discoveries of a city I adore to the night to the Opera where my mum and I went to see Tosca, I have been experiencing joy and laughter and an incredible feeling of peace. As if they have given me blessing for the life I chose to live. My life and my choices have been validated and all my efforts compensated. But above all, I suddenly stopped feeling alone. If every once in a while I get surrounded by sadness and loneliness, I now realized I am not and will never be alone. I do have a family, I indeed have been blessed and even though the road to getting where I am now hasn't always been smooth, I am truly grateful for everything I've got and profoundly happy that being a daughter is yet another thing I am unable to fail...

I thought it would be stressful but it has been accomplishing. The two of them are getting along so well and have enojoyed their London experience so much that none of my initial worries materialised. In fact, now that they are on the plane back to Romania, I can't help but cry a little, missing them already, and start making plans for when they will come again. And who knows, perhaps one day, I will have my family with me and all these lonely days will have become a thing of the past, a thing of the past I will look back upon and smile... Because everything happens for a reason and every experience is what makes a life.

Womanity

I was recently astounded by how good Madonna looked at the Met Gala this year. Wearing a long figure hugging Stella McCartney dress, she looked amazing. Why was I surprised? After all,Madonna is and has always been a beautiful woman...
Well, because it's the first time in a very long time she has embraced her femininity. Sporting a lovely slightly fuller figure and a beautifully retro curled hair, she showed what she really is: a beautiful woman in her 50s.





There is no shame in that. I love how some women grow old gracefully assuming the time that has passed and taking pleasure into showing the world a few wrinkles, a few streaks of white hair and even a few extra pounds. They wear it all with pride. I absolutely love every time I get to see someone like Sophia Loren or Helen Mirren. This is why perhaps I was so struck by Madonna's last appearance. She has finally decided to show the world who she really is and the world seems to like it.

Back in 2009, at the same event she came flaunting a much younger Jesus Luz and a Luis Vuitton outfit (as seen on the catwalk), which unfortunately, didn't become her in the least. It seemed as if she was trying so hard to be and look younger that it actually enhanced the fact that she is an older woman who ought to act her age.





Perhaps we should all take some learnings from this. Most of the times, it is ok to embrace your womanity, love what you hate about yourself and allow yourself to feel and look what you really are. If you don't believe me, judge for yourself.

Here's a selection of few of my all time favourite ladies:

Christina Hendricks of Mad Men




Always demure Helen Mirren



Timeless Elizabeth Taylor



Iconic Marilyn Monroe




Amazing Meryl Streep





Sensual Kate Winslet



Mediterranean beauty Sophia Loren




Ageless beauty Audrey Hepburn

Easter thoughts

I tried feeling miserable. I really tried. I tried looking at all the loved up couples having picnics in the park and feeling like the one left out. I tried thinking about how lonely I am and how it is Easter again. I tried looking in the mirror and noticing my wrinkles (they are there now, can't miss them even with my poor vision).
I really tried to feel miserable. I wanted to soak in my own misery and feel like the one girl who's never going to find love and happiness because sometimes it's just easy to feel like that. Sometimes it feels that putting on a brave face and constantly repeating positive mantras is just so energy draining. It feels that once in a while it's ok to feel like the ugly duckling and imagine a lifetime of loneliness because you simply can't see how the opposite will ever happen. But you know what - I couldn't! I just simply couldn't! Because feeling good about myself is simply not a difficult task. It's not something I have to force upon myself, but a state of just be. And being by myself is such a blessing that I sometimes look forward to.

In fact, because I do lead an extremely social life, I find myself yearning for some time alone. However, whenever I get it, I become restless and confused. But once the confusion dissipates, I embrace loneliness and just stay with it. Because there is absolutely nothing wrong with the choices we make. It's nothing wrong to want to ditch a party for a night in and a glass of wine, nothing wrong with making mistakes because they are the one who turn you into who you are, nothing wrong with not being who everyone else expects you to be.

Somehow, no matter how much I want to just indulge in self pity, the reality is that this is just not going to happen.

Change of seasons

Spring has made an appearance quite early this year. It arrived with a plethora of colours and plenty of sunshine to already justify the floral prints and straw hats, the jugs of Pimm's and picnics in the park.
This feeling is suprising and refreshing as it feels like only yesterday we were all wearing black and grey and cursing the winter than didn't seem to want to leave.

I find myself these days looking at people on the street and realizing how much better everyone's outfits look. I for one definitely have far nicer summer clothes than winter clothes. For all I try, I can never really pull a jumper right. I am pretty heavy chested and jumpers will never look on me as they do on the catwalk. I also hate cold and will never be able to walk on the street in a remarkable outfit with an open coat and no scarf displaying some state of the art necklace as I risk freezing to death before arriving at my destination. Every winter I get rid of jumpers and buy new ones, always as bad as the ones before. And somehow the only ones I do like happen to be wool ones which inevitably end up shrinking in the washing machine as I have never been the kind of person who follows washing instructions on the label...

Anyway, happy spring is here. In fact so happy that I went on a shopping spree. I felt my wardrobe needed some colour, a yellow tee, a cream mac, a coral dress, a couple of jumpers (a size bigger so they don't make me look fat), definitely a pair of denim shorts (which I didn't buy yet), a couple of scarfs (I happen to have bought nine when in Ethiopia) and many many very important other things.
As it is to be expected, my wardrobe is bursting. I have so many clothes that sometimes I get upset I can't choose which one to wear...
As much as I became really good at not buying bags and shoes anymore, I am still a sucker for buying clothes...Not to mention I really must have the 'it' skirt of the season, the pleated skirt. In fact, if I remember well my mum still has pink one in her wardrobe which I might attempt to steal rather than ravaging through vintage shops...




I blame fashion. I blame fashion for coming up with new things every season that everybody must have. And yet all we do is coming back to old trends. I get rid of so many clothes only to regret having done so a few seasons later. I am honesty pissed off about that. I wish I can just wear the things in my wardrobe over and over again until they can't be worn anymore.
I blame myself for being so much into fashion. I am scrutinising men's outfits/shoes etc. and I can be easily turned off by a pair of unappropriate shoes... I can be also easily turned on by someone wearing a trendy outfit. I am such a fashion whore...

However, this may not be the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I do like wearing nice clothes and I am into image. So I started a Profesional Styling Course which at least justifies my guilty pleasure. And who knows,maybe one day instead of spending money buying clothes for myself that I DO NOT need, I might be satisfying my thirst for fashion by dressing up other people.

For now, I like the change in seasons and will try to take it easy. After all, it's all last season's clothes anyway!...