A Little Addendum... And Some Big News

I know I'm meant to be semi-retired from The Library. And I am. However, I felt it would be courteous to say 'thank you' to all those wonderful commenters who have been kind enough to leave a note, either via email or the Comments Box. Thank you. Thank you. You are truly lovely people. I have tried to respond to everyone's gracious and thoughtful comments, and will certainly finish replying by tonight.

I'd also like to explain why the blog is having a hiatus. You see, a few of us are working on a little project. Actually, it's quite a big one. An international one.

It all started with XX magazine, that dubious bit of tabloid entertainment that we all love to loathe.

A few months ago, I was browsing through either Vogue or Elle Decoration in the newsagent's when a woman came in, picked up XX, flicked angrily through it and then paused, in shock, at page three. "Oh. My. God.," she said out loud, looking at a certain celebrity in hot pants. "She is JUST HUGE!" Then she tossed the magazine down (creases and all), and walked away. I peeked at the creased page. (Terrible, I know.) The 'huge' celebrity was a singer. Who is NOT huge. In fact, she is incredibly beautiful. I looked at The Critic flouncing out the store, and noticed she was wearing gym clothes. Her own butt was as far from Zahia Dehar's pert behind as the Pope is from Kim and Khloe Take Miami.

Talk about kettle and pot.

Welcome to the new world of 'Bottom-Dweller Media', as a witty friend of mine has dubbed it. A world where we are all being encouraged to read shallow tabloids and be nasty about others' derrieres. 

I don't know about you all but I can't take another snarky Twitter remark, or indeed another tabloid spread. Our family is a broadsheet family anyway, but I'll pick up a gossip page at the check-out, like everyone else. The problem is, we are dumbing down our society with all this 'lowest common denominator' media. Please God, don't let me suffer another Kardashian chapter. And what's with that new TV channel '7 Mate'? I had to sit through Gator Boys, Rat Bastards and Swamp People the other night. I swear, I needed serious therapy by the time we got to the Wormwood Scrubs doco...

Here's something else I've noticed. What's with all the page spreads promoting sofas and cushions*? We're all intelligent people, with first-class degrees, successful careers and smart minds. Why are we browsing cushion-filled product pages and buying them by the baker's dozen? I love cushions but we have 30. THIRTY. I think I've lost the dogs underneath them. Are we all breeding them?

{* For the benefit of our American friends, cushions in Australia are the decorating item that sit on sofas. Pillows are the longer things we sleep on. I realise it's different in the US.}

Why is it that media and magazines have softened over the years? I'm not sure if you remember the grand glamour of Vogue and Harper's in the 1990s, and even before then, with the vintage issues of the 1950s and 1960s? (Which many of us are now collecting from vintage dealers for huge prices.) Magazines back then were things of beauty. The covers. The content. The creative mastheads. They were also interesting. Even the dull stories were clever. Truman Capote. Cecil Beaton. Nancy Mitford and her sisters. 

Whatever happened to personalities like those?

The new anniversary issue of Australian Harper's Bazaar with the different celebrity-conceived covers is inspired publishing. But wouldn't it be great if the innovative spirit continued all the way through the industry? What has happened to us? Where is our sense of style, and adventure, and creativity? Where are the great stories? The wit and whimsy? Where are the insightful, delightful, aspirational, glamorous, relevant and – most importantly – celebratory stories, with a positive, Jonathan Adler-style philosophy on life, rather than a critical, derogatory one. What has happened to us all? Why are we settling for cushions?

Whatever would Diana Vreeland say?

And so, dear readers, we are working on a new project. A new online international magazine for women of The Glamorous Age. As we've now dubbed it. 

A friend has described it as "a sexier, wittier, more glamorous version of The Huffington Post", but I think it's more like Harper's or Vogue in the heydays of those titles. The days when magazines were magnificent. 

(NB These titles are still beautiful, don't get me wrong; but just look at these covers I've posted. Aren't they incredible?)

I can't tell you more about it yet (forgive me), but it will be full of things you love: books, fashion, gardens, people, a bit of travel, interiors, cities, shopping secrets, and just those old-fashioned glamorous things we all miss. It's going to have lots of humour. and whimsy too. I'm not working on a dry magazine. 

The good news is, we're rapidly gathering together the MOST amazing group of magazine people, many of them big overseas names. And the content is going to be like nothing you've ever read. Trust me. These stories are amazing. Insights into extraordinary historic homes in LA. Stylish new hotels in New York. One of the original Great Gatsby mansions on Long Island. Interviews with people we love and admire. Exotic destinations off the beaten track – the kinds of far-flung, glamourous destinations that make us remember why we love travel much. And of course gardens... Secret gardens. Grand gardens. The original Versailles-style garden of France. We hope you'll really love the gardens. They're so beautiful they'll make you weep.

So please do bear with me. And when we manage to get the first issue our – hopefully by summer – we hope you'll put down those cushions and come celebrate with us. As the Edwardians used to say: "It's going to be a grand summer..."

Love this last cover. No wonder these vintage issues now sell for a small fortune...

Living The Life You Want, Stevie Nicks Style...

Exactly forty years ago, twenty five-year-old Stevie Nicks sat down, picked up her guitar and started strumming some lyrics. She was holed up in the Rocky Mountains, during a particularly jagged part of her life. Her partner, singer Lindsey Buckingham, had left to go touring on the road with the Everly Brothers and she was lonely, sad and disenchanted. All she had was $40, a Toyota that had frozen the day she'd arrived in Aspen, and her dog. 

Then Buckingham returned to Aspen. But they fought and he left again, taking the dog and the semi-frozen Toyota with him. He told Nicks to use a buss pass to find her way out, seeing as her dad was president of Greyhound. So she said: "Fine, take the car and the dog." Not long after he'd left, Nicks heard on the radio that Greyhound had gone on strike all across the USA. She was alone.

I took my love, I took it down

Climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills

Till the landslide brought me down...

To add to her pain, her father was ill, and about to be operated on, and she had no way of getting home. Fearful of her father dying, and even more fearful of her musical career  going nowhere, Stevie Nicks did the only thing she knew how to do. She sang. 

She picked up that worn-out guitar, looked up at the mountains, and sung until her heart broke.

Oh mirror in the sky, what is love?

She sung about her life, her dreams; her struggles to reconcile the two. She sang about Aspen, and the weariness of existing. She sang about the inner turmoil of making the most important decision of her life: go home and pick up the pieces of her years and carry on in an ordinary career, or brave the elements and find the courage to follow her dreams.

Stevie Nicks sang for her life.

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Then she called her parents to ask if they'd send her a plane ticket to get out of Colorado.

The song 'Landslide' went on to become Stevie Nick's defining moment in her now-incredible career, and one of the most successful songs of all time. It was her impasse: the point in the mountains of life where you face the wall. The point where you take a good hard look at the elements around you, and, with a deep breath, find the mental strength to tackle them. 

"I realized that everything could tumble," she later said. "When you're in Colorado and you're surrounded by these incredible mountains, you think 'avalanche'. And when you're in that kind of a snow-covered place, you don't just go out and yell, because the whole mountain could come down."

So Nicks sang instead.  

Well, I've been afraid of changing

'Cause I've built my life around you

Then she found her way off that mountain, and followed Buckingham to LA. Two months later Mick Fleetwood called them both and offered them the chance of a lifetime by joining the Fleetwood Mac band.

Everybody has a Landslide moment. Everybody has a day when life seems too much and the peaks build up and you think you're never gonna make it. These moments are the winters of our lives. As Stevie Nicks knows, they are the ones that make us who we are.

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

So this is my offering to you all, dear readers, on today, my 44th birthday. If you're facing your own Landslide, whether today or at any time in your life, know this: you can weather it. Weather it, you will. 

Because what else are you going to do? Stay on top of that mountain?

We all have an inner strength we don't realise we possess. We can all achieve the lives we want. Sometimes it takes time. Sometimes it takes many long years of hard work, exhaustion, and sometimes even tears, too. Sometimes it requires being true to who you are; faithful to who you want to be, and rising above others' constant criticisms, with dignity and grace.

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older and I'm getting older too...

So get out there. Grab those dreams and lives. Grab them with two hands and shake the them with all you can.

I wish you all the very best of luck. 

But really, you're not going to need it. 

Because you'll do just fine.

Formed in 1967, Fleetwood Mac have released 17 studio albums and sold more than 40m copies of their 1977 smash, 'Rumours', making it one of the bestselling records of all time. 

Fleetwood Mac's World Tour kicks off on April 4, 2013 and will travel to Europe, the US and Australia. This year also marks the 35th anniversary of the release of the 'Rumours' album. 

{Images from Fleetwood Mac publicity archives}

Karise Eden, winner of last year's The Voice giving her rendition – Karise | Landslide. This makes me cry, every single time. How many foster homes did she live in as a child? And here she is, on national television.

Steveie Nick's version of events – www.inherownwords.com/landslide.htm

The Glamorous Age...

Have you noticed there are very few magnificent magazines anymore, particularly for women of 'The Glamorous Age'? (As my friend calls it.)

The Glamorous Age is the age between 35 and 70. It's the second part of our lives. The great, glamorous, dignified, wise, do-what-we-like-cos-we've-earned-it deuxième part of our lives. We get thirty-five years of this. And by god we're going to enjoy every minute. 

The Glamorous Age, you see, when we women start feeling confident. When we start dressing the way we want – and usually the way that suits us, whether we're wearing a sexy frock, a business-like suit, or simply dog-walking attire. 

It's when we start dating proper men. And I mean gentlemen, rather than those scruffy, slovenly, perpetually poor, drunken-ass ratbags we hung around with in our twenties, simply because they owned a Ducati, or knew how to kiss, or came from some obscure aristocratic English family. 

The Glamorous Age is the age when we finally make headway in our careers having worked our asses off for ten or fifteen long years. It's when we start to afford designer labels, and travel, and nice houses. With gardens we can potter around in, wearing Hunter wellies and planting hydrangeas. 

It's when we stop accepting nonsense and bulls**t from other people (terrible word but really, no other phrase for it), and when we start considering that we might just make it in life. And not just make it either, but really tie a bow around the whole thing and make a bloody great celebration of it. 

The Glamorous Age is when we realise we have an entire wardrobe of beautiful shoes – I mean spectacularly beautiful shoes, having learned where to buy them cheaply in the world – but we're just as happy to wear lovely casual ones, usually with lovely casual tops and pants to match. (A very French look.)

But The Glamorous Age is also when we've acquired pieces like a proper winter coat (Max Mara, if we can afford it), a proper 'opera coat', a proper Parisian trenchcoat, a beautifully designed handbag, proper luggage, proper lipsticks (Chanel, or YSL), proper fragrances, elegant leather gloves (some of us even have driving gloves: not me; but I want some), and sometimes even a spectacular collection of glorious chapeaux. 

The Glamorous Age is when we splash out on expensive bedlinen because it reminds us of the time we stayed in that five-star hotel in New York. And because clean, starched, ironed, high-thread-count white linen is SO much nicer to sleep on.

And The Glamorous Age is when we know how to garden, cook, keep house, wear slips under dresses that need them, write thank-you cards (or emails), place our cutlery on an empty plate the right way, be courteous to our neighbours and strangers, and generally live a life that is kind, gracious, and full of compassion and humour in equal measure.

According to the ABS, there are more of us in The Glamorous Age than any other demographic. We are the masses. The median. The generation with the biggest population. 

So why are there so few magazines catering to us?

Whatever happened to all those fabulous ones we used to have?

For vintage magazine covers (a sliver of sentimentality) try:

paperpursuits.com

www.vintagemagazinecompany.co.uk

www.condenaststore.com

http://designtaxi.com/news/353331/Vintage-Vogue-Magazine-Covers-From-The-Early-20th-Century

Vintage Vogues, Botanical Whimsy & Other Miscellany

Just in time for the weekend comes this quietly beautiful image. It's a vintage Vogue from the 1950s, framed by our wonderful local framer. (Our framer is incredibly cheap: email me if you want his details.) It was part of Santa's kind Christmas stash.

I asked my framer's assistant if anyone ever brought in... you know... prints that were so awful they weren't worth framing. "You mean like the black velvet Elvis someone brought in last week?" she said.  (BTW I love Elvis. Don't want to offend anyone who may have framed a black velvet print of him...)

The Vogue and a gorgeous old New Yorker magazine from the week I was born (another gift) now sit on our hall table. With my collection of shells from around the world. Which are apparently contraband, according to my partner who used to work in the Federal Police. 

Don't you love the Wish magazine that comes with The Australian newspaper on the last Friday of every month? I love a freebie. Grab it this weekend while you can people.

I noticed India Hicks has redone her guesthouse. Look at this banana yellow. Who knew yellow could be sexy in a beach house? Wonder if it was for a photo shoot? (Pottery Barn were there recently.)

Still infatuated with this botanical wallpaper at The Dorset Square Hotel in London. Kit Kemp's taste is impeccable.

Whipped up some curtains for our living room. Only had time to do one, so can't show you the whole room. This fabric was $10/m at Spotlight. It looks just like the Manuel Canovas print that I was coveting in Paris, below... Which was 100 times the price.

This was the fabric. 'Beaurogard'. Beautiful. 

Did you know chintz is coming back in? Yes, truly. 

Best save your granny's curtains, people.

Have you seen Manuel Canovas' new 50th Anniversary collections? They've released new houndstooth. Love the denim blue too.

How about this for a cute fabric? 

Matchbook magazine did a fabulous Downtow Abbey spread in this month's issue. www.matchbookmag.com

Started reading this, on the recommendation of a bloggy friend Paula. (Originally recommended by Slim Paley.) It's set in the South of France. 

Also reading Michelle de Kretser's The Hamilton Case, set in old Ceylon. Thanks for the literary tips Miss Paula and Miss Slim.

Was cleaning up old photo files and came across these, from the Petit Trianon in Versailles. Still can't get over the intricate trelliswork. Wouldn't you love a potting shed that looked like this? {Images mine}

A tent to convert me to camping. By Field Candy Tents. Fabulous. {Images via Field Candy}

Did you see this whimsical interior in Vogue? It's a house in the Hamptons owned by the swimwear designer Lily Madock. 

Am only posting one image as I'm trying not to use too many magazine photos, after seeing my uncredited pix all over Pinterest last week. I always try and credit my pix, but it's still a grey line and The Library is now trying not to use professionally shot photos that have been especially commissioned by magazines. If I do, I will always credit, and will ascertain whether the photographer (like me) would be happy being featured. Usually it's the magazines that are cross, as evidenced by Habitually Chic's having to remove many from her blog. (Although her crediting is not the best.)

On an equally bright note, we've been working on some Lily Maddock-inspired page spreads for a new book mock-up. I can't tell you more as it's still in the planning stages, but you might be able to guess the subject matter from the pix.

Think lavender, wine, olive groves, sweet hillside villages, fields of gently swaying lavender, and charming stone cottages begging to be renovated... Just like this one. {All images mine}

The pix are going to be so luscious I won't even need to write any copy. 

{All pix mine, excluding the cute Citreon, which is my mother's photo.}

Have already made some new friends to see while I'm in this place. I emailed this couple last night to ask about their gardening smocks, of all things, and then complimented them on their house. They were so lovely they invited me to pop in and say hello. I'll do a special post on them soon as they're so interesting, and their architect and design work is so inspirational, but here's their bedroom...

Look at the ceiling! Isn't it fantastic?

Love the interiors of the new Corinthia Hotel in London too. {Image via their website gallery.} Olive and navy are always an elegant combination. But the grey stripes are inspired design.

Doesn't this make you want to have a kitchen that looks like an old general store? It's the kitchen department of Anthropologie in King's Road Chelsea. The old-fashioned cobalt blues and ceramic greens are so gorgeous. They'd even etched 'General Store' into the cabinet glass. {Image mine}

(On a side note, I want to say thank you Anthropologie for stocking my books, both in London and New York. It's thanks to this wonderful store that Chronicle bought 20,000 copies of the latest 'Paris' book, which has set in motion the wheels for doing a sequel. I will be shopping at Anthropologie for the rest of my life now!) 

Another fantastic place, this time a relatively new one. This is quite possibly the most beautiful new hotel in the world. Tall call, I know, but look at it. Pale power blues and emerald greens, with graphic black lines to hold it all together... Traditional and yet distinct at the same time. Look at the old safari hats in the rooms.

It's The Siam in Bangkok. Belle magazine featured it last last year, but I suspect it's going to take off very soon. Here are some more images from The Siam's website gallery (which are available to use)...

Love the greenery everywhere. 

Not sure about The Siam's artwork though. What ARE these people doing?

Shot this in a window near Liberty's in London. Such cute merchandising.

A wider shot. Don't you love botanica?

And lastly, have you seen the new changes to UK Harper's Bazaar under the editorship of Justine Picardie? Justine is a literary hero of mine; such a lovely person too. She's taking it back to the glamour of the 1950s. Look at this sublime page. Oh! I wish all magazines would experiment with white space and whimsical typography...

Wishing you all a whimsical and irreverent weekend. 

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