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March 03, 2007
Morocco: and the art of rest
Oh, it's a beautiful day. Shall we, perhaps, have some grapes and tea, take a little walk, and take a little nap? That's a lovely idea, you say?
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Wishing you a truly relaxing weekend,
Maryam in Marrakesh
Image by Barbara Cole
March 02, 2007
Morocco: and DIY design?
BBC Homes has a Design Inspiration site that provides suggestions for a range of decorating styles and budgets. The reader can search by room or design style (traditional, minimal, modern, global, etc).
Under the global style category, I noticed that one of the entries was about how to create a Mesmerizing Moroccan bedroom. The room was designed by Graham Wynne and features a back lit fretwork headboard. The page provides ideas for spicing up a boring bedroom to create a modern Moroccan mecca using traditional materials in a contemporary way.
I love fretwork and grew up in a house filled with antique Persian mashroobiya. The idea of using it in new and creative ways appeals to me. We have a few large old pieces that we are hoping to incorporate into our guest houses. Hmmmm... a headboard? Maybe... Cabinets? Possibly....
Take a stroll around the site and see what design inspiration you might find. Do let me know what you think. Be forewarned, however, that the quality of what is provided can be quite uneven. For example, for the Moroccan bedroom it is suggested that you create your own Moroccan relics by smashing a patterned brick into chunks and placing it in box frames to look like original museum pieces. What?! Promise me that you won't do that, okay?
Technorati Tags: BBC Home, Interior design, Morocco, Moroccan bedroom, hoom, decorating
February 28, 2007
Morocco: and first signs of Spring?
Dear friends,
Buoyed by your comments and emails, I headed to the library early morning, carafe of simmering coffee in hand. I stared at the empty page and it stared back at me. But then a most amazing thing occurred. I began to write. And write......and write.
Thank you for helping me look to the skies. I am so very grateful.
With love,
Maryam in Marrakesh
Image by Agatha Katzensprung
February 26, 2007
Morocco: and if only cotton candy
Dear friends,
I am not well. I do not mean to burden you with my problems -- you don’t come here for that --but I find myself in a most difficult situation. I have a critical deadline looming, you see. While that usually goads me to action -- the adrenaline spurring sharp thinking and creativity -- this time I find myself listless before the blank page. The minutes tick by and are gone. And what do I have to show for my efforts? Pitifully little.
My husband, seeing me in my stupor, insisted on taking me out. To the circus of all places! It was our version of the Cirque du Soleil here in Morocco. And I’m so glad he did because for that brief hour or two, I felt the weight lifted off my chest. If you have ever been to one of these shows, you will know just what I mean The feats of the performers! And with no nets! I can only imagine the training, the discipline that was required. And oh, the costumes! Nothing less than inspired, with a certain zen-like purity to them. The music was complex – rather hard to describe but almost like the beguiling harmony of songbirds set to a musical backdrop strangely similar to the rustling of tall grass. There must have been some incense because I swear I smelled wildflowers. (But then again, perhaps I was imagining things.) Thankfully, I had my wits about me because I managed to take a picture when the two senior performers were in mid-air. Of course it can’t capture the magic of what I saw but it might give you an idea, nonetheless. Do let me know what you think.
Yours, as ever, in Marrakesh,
Maryam
PS. And if you don’t mind, could I please ask you to send my way – even if it is just for a few moments – some strength and some inspiration to make it through this rough patch. Because right now things are looking a bit dark here. Thank you.
February 24, 2007
Singapore and a Moroccan love story
A Moroccan beauty in a strange and mysterious land. If she felt a bit out of place at first, it was only because she wanted someone to love her for her specialness. Someone who wouldn't try to make her into something she was not, putting up ugly curtains and taping posters of kittens to the walls. But instead, someone, who upon seeing her, would feel something like the fluttering of a sparrow's wings and would hear something like the humming of a hundred humming birds. And who would know that he had come home.
And that's just how it happened. They now live together with so few quarrels that their friends are all secretly envious - but in the nicest possible way.
It's a true story. It was told to me by a woman named Hajar with a face like a painting who lives in Singapore. Her website is filled with houses and apartments - each more beautiful than the last - which now spend their days in anticipation of that knock on the door or that ring of the doorbell. Perhaps - could it be? - it is you that they are waiting for?
But for now, let me share with you pictures of the Moroccan beauty living in Singapore who got away.
February 22, 2007
Morocco: and photographic inspiration
Morocco is unquestionably a photographer's paradise. Veteran American photographer Larry Broder has been under Morocco's spell since his first trip in 2003. Indeed, when friends ask him what has changed his photography the most, Larry answers with one word, Morocco.
It was the omnipresence of color in Morocco that had such an influence on Larry's photography. He explains, I remember clearly the excitement of having my eyes flooded with the unfamiliar intensity of color in clothing, buildings, walls, windows, and even a basket of rags. Everything seemed more vivid to me - - colors, lines, angles - - and it seemed that everywhere I turned, there was a photograph.
He adds, I love the sights and sounds, the light and the abstract things I can photograph there. No other place in the world has so much color and movement---I just love it.
Larry practices a natural light philosophy in his photography. This means that he does not "boost" the color in the computer, nor does he use a flash. He illustrates this example for me by referencing his photo of an old building with light streaming through the shaded roof.
Larry advises travelers and photographers to go to Morocco with an open mind and an open heart. He stresses that the people in Morocco are very friendly, and says that he never felt uncomfortable at any time. He suggests bringing a a short telephoto lens, as well as a wide angle lens, if possible.
You can see Larry's portfolio here, including his photographs of wildlife and nature, as well as those from his different travels.
Technorati Tags: Morocco, photography, Larry Broder, photographer
February 21, 2007
Morocco: and tale of the ugly duckling?
Shhhhh…..don’t startle her. But the walls of the smaller of our two guest houses are..... up. She’s more than a little self-conscious, especially since she has nothing stylish to wear, her hair’s not done and she’s not wearing any makeup. Just brick and bare concrete. But -- being the way that you are – I thought you might be able to overlook all that and see the makings of something special. See her potential. Can you?
February 19, 2007
Morocco: and design reinterpreted
Canadian designer Bev Hisey was kind enough to send me this picture of her beautiful handmade Moroccan rug. Clearly inspired by Moroccan tiles, this is modern interpretation of Moroccan design at its very best. It would look stunning in a glamorous Hollywood Regency style decor -- very Kelly Wearstler. I think Hisey's background in fashion is evident in her clever choices of color and patterns. Moroccan influenced floor cushions coordinate with her rugs.
Hisey has many lovely things in her collection. Her impeccable crafstmanship incorporates techniques of hand tufting, hand knotting, die-cutting, and silk screening. Visit her online to see her full collection.
February 17, 2007
Morocco: and beauty inspiration
I found this article in Australian Vogue.
DESERT BLOOM: Under a hot Moroccan sun, make-up artist Houda Remita creates a sultry look.
INSPIRATION: Taking her cue from the sumptuous clothes, exotic location and the colouring of our model, French make-up artist Houda Remita set out to create a rich, sultry look. Just like “a chic, European woman [vacationing] in her riad in Marrakech,” the look is resplendent in colour and texture. Houda says it is reminiscent of the late 70s and 80s, but with an elegant feel.
I am imagining Houda sitting in Australia and dreaming of Marrakech. Houda is a name common in Morocco and Algeria. Even though French, I can't help but wonder if Houda has some Moroccan blood and is pining for home.....?
Do you have a secret home, somewhere? Is there another place where a part of you belongs, too?
Photographs: Andrew Cowen, Blaise Reuterswärd
February 15, 2007
Morocco: and are you dome yet?
I never thought that I would own a dome. And certainly not own more than one. It’s not that I had anything against domes. It’s just that having my very own seemed rather implausible. I mean honestly, I had never owned as much as my front door, much less a house with a dome. My house dreams were modest -- they usually involved four or more walls, paintings and a stainless steel refrigerator. That was as far as I got. Besides, no homes I knew had domes -- I imagined that that was just for people in Los Angeles, and having never been, of even that I was unsure.
So picture moving to a country where domes on houses were not uncommon. How very fanciful. How very exotic. How very movie set. I began to think it might be rather fun to have a dome. My own. I was willing to share.
And so I whispered in the ear of architect husband who then took his magic pencil and began to draw -- a place with not just one, but two domes. The spare just in case: one always has to plan for contingencies, after all.
I thought I would share one of my domes-in-the-making. Far from done but isn’t she pretty? My husband added a little jewelry to the dome design – small glass peep holes. So you can lie on the couch and see the dome decorated with points of blue sky (by day) or random stars (by night). Because even a dome likes to dress up for guests. And I can tell already, that this one is particularly vain.
February 14, 2007
Morocco: and secrets of the heart
I met my now-husband, Chris, when I was living in the land of the broken hearted. Perhaps you have lived in that bleak land yourself – the place where you awake feeling hopeless and fall asleep feeling hopeless. Where your hours are consumed by thoughts of the person who has rendered you see-through and fragile. Where every song, every book passage holds tragic and poignant meaning. Where your head is filled with imaginary dialogues (polished to perfection) with your former love. Where you weep. And then weep some more. Where you wonder, seriously, if you can ever love - like that - again.
I had been banished to that dark place when Chris found me.
He was a man of few words but numerous gestures. on the outskirts of that cheerless land where I was living, Chris took me for walks in the woods and canoe rides on the river. He taught me how to hit golf balls and how to catch fish. He packed me picnic baskets and picked me wildflowers. And despite my very best attempts to send him away, he stayed and loved me even when I was incapable of loving him back.
Slowly, the deep fissures in my heart began to mend. The blood pumped, the skin flushed. And when, on one unseasonably sunny day, Chris proposed a forever with him, only one response seemed possible. I packed my bags, and without informing the gatekeeper of that joyless place I had called home, I left.
So it’s Valentine’s Day. And to my dear husband Chris, I offer not chocolates but thanks. For the one-way bus ticket that took me away from that sad and terrible place– the land with no sign posts and little hope. I have never forgotten.
And to you, friendly reader and keeper of secrets, I wish a very happy day, with or without a valentine.
Image by Jenny Holzer
February 12, 2007
Morocco: and wood pixies find a new home...
Well, here it is. Tristan and Skylar's new lair, custom built after a design of dear architect husband. Very Kasbah looking, wouldn't you say? Detailed discussions are underway for admittance, involving passwords (chocolate chip cookie is one contender, banana peel is another). Secret handshakes also are being tested - unfortunately so elaborate that they can never be repeated twice. Plans for decorating are underway. After a first inspection, Skylar looked at me gravely and asked whether the house might not be painted a rosy pink (over Tristan's strong objections). Overheard interior design discussions have bandied about rainbow stripes and the possibility of murals.
It's difficult to break it to our small children that this structure -- soon to be stuccoed -- is actually the gate house at our beloved olive grove. It is here that friends and guests will have their first glimpse of our place. So I was wondering, how might you feel about being greeted at a pink gate house with rainbow striped detailing? Would it be off putting at all? Might it dampen your expectations of a stylish place to stay within?
PS The sky is very beautiful here in Marrakesh, isn't it?
February 11, 2007
Hand-some?
Oh dear. I think I am with Manolo on this one. As much as I love hands of Fatima, I think that the placement of these might be more than a little off. I do like the dress/coat in the bottom image very much. Perhaps with just a little alteration...?
February 09, 2007
Morocco: and in search of the hidden metrosexual
I love my husband. Really, I do. But I do wish….yes, I do wish….that he were a bit more stylish. Is that so wrong?
Truth-is-better-than-fiction illustrative scenario:
Date: Two nights ago. Event: Dinner with friends at suitably chic restaurant in Marrakech. Company: one interior designer and one beautiful, new wife (15+ years his junior)
My grooming: tousled hair, lip gloss/mascara, perfume. The outfit: the ruched top, the long legged jeans, the high heels, the chandelier earrings. Outer gear: the Italian fitted jacket, the French micro-pleated scarf. Overall look: not-in-league of designer wife but presentable and appropriate.
My husband: no where in sight. The wife: in hot pursuit of missing husband.
Dialogue: Me: Chris, we need to leave in about ten minutes. Don’t you want to get ready? Him: I’m all set. We can leave any time. Me: You’re going like that?! Him: Mmm hmmm. I look fine.
His grooming: face unshaven, sideburns unkempt, hair in desperate need of a cut. The outfit: the wool stretched out sweater, the baggy pants, the topsiders from LL Bean. Overall look: New England preppy meets lumberjack.
Me: *Audible sigh. Audible sigh again.*
Did I tell you, I love my husband? Oh yes, I do, I surely do. But if only… yes if only… he were just a bit more stylish…
Image from Paul Smith 2006-7 Winter Collection
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PS. My two dear blogger friends, Tara from Paris Parfait and Corey from Tongue in Cheek are finalists in the Share the Love Blog Awards. Not only are they fantastic bloggers and role models for me, but they are also *amazing* women. Please, please take a moment to look at their blogs and if you like what you see, vote right here. They are both nominated in multiple categories, so keep clicking! This kind of stuff means so much to bloggers. So do share the love... And thank you from this little olive grove in Marrakesh.
February 07, 2007
Moroccan inspired bingo and photo competition
I was busy lurking on one of my favorite blogs, Design Milk, yesterday, which recommended a visit to Plantation LA's online store. I dutifully clicked over and was strolling through the cyber aisles when suddenly, BINGO. Moroccan-inspired design. Can I tell you that I just *lurve* when that happens! I'm especially excited when it's not traditional Moroccan export items (although that can be lovely, too) but when Moroccan design is reinterpreted in new and modern ways. I find that fascinating. It gives me a whole new way to think about Moroccan decor.
I thought you might enjoy this glam Casablanca Lamp. This Bohemian Screen caught my eye, as well. And I found most intriguing this Four Nomads Ottomans and Table, inspired by furniture used by Moroccan nomads. It's made of padded black rubber stretched over wood frames. Rubber!
PS Helen and Paola at the Year of Living Gorgeously blog have asked me to be their guest judge for their February Photo Competition. Yay! Can you help me make this month's competition truly gorgeous? We need your photo submissions! This means you, Susanna, Annelisa, Alex and Intisar, and all the rest of you who have gorgeous photos to share. Please hop over and see what's required here. And while you're at it, take a peek at Mirror Mirror, their online boutique!
February 06, 2007
Morocco: and the little weekend getaway place
Hello there, dear. So glad you could join me. I thought I would take you shopping for a small Moroccan palace today. Now don’t just stand there with that look on your face. You know, places to go and people to meet....
Well, here we are at the palace -- it's a 4 and half hour drive from Marrakesh. Just pretend you're someone important. Uh-oh….no drawbridge. I suppose that’s okay. A moat is really so inconvenient in this day and age. Besides where would you find the alligators to fill it?
Hmmm...this is not very Moroccan looking -- just proving that there is something for everyone in this country. And for a palace, it's not really palatial (where are the domes? the spires?), although it is enooooooooormous. The gardens are looking quite nice; I can see the potential for outdoor mint tea parties. But let’s not dawdle, let’s go inside. Oh my, three salons (ahem, those would be living rooms or lounges to you) which total 10,000 square feet. Imagine, each salon is bigger than most houses...! The fabulous soirees you could have – salsa! belly dancing! I’m not so sure about these gold chairs everywhere, however.
But no worries -- they can be swapped out for suede poufs in muted colors. You could have the world’s most hipster palace -- just think of it! Not sure what you would do with all these bedrooms but I’m rather fond of this white bed -- so see if you can keep it when you negotiate for purchase, will you?
And what do you know -- there is even a separate three bedroom mini-palace on the premises for when those irksome in-laws arrive…How very convenient.
Eeek, they’re kicking us out. I'm not sure what that "inappropriate attire" reference was all about. Next time, maybe we shouldn’t wear T-shirts and flip flops. But never fear, money talks. So good luck with the realtor. You can chat with him about this property and others right here.
And let me know when you move in, so we can meet up. You could even come to Marrakesh for a long weekend – I’m sure you’ll need a break from wearing that silly tiara all the time, after all.:-)
February 04, 2007
Tiles by the mile
Morocco is famous for its tiles of all varieties. It’s especially well known for its intricate mosaics, with tiles painstakingly hand made and assembled like puzzles, piece-by-piece, in an art handed down for centuries. So lovely, so decorative, so mood-setting.
Over the years, I have seen my fair share of Moroccan tiled fountains, tiled columns, tiled walls, and tiled ceilings. I’ve always taken the point of view that a little goes a long way. Less is more, so to speak. But while that may be true of Moroccan tile, that may not be true of all tile. The January-March 2007 edition of swanky Moroccan magazine, Prestige, did a spread on the Italian tile company Bisazza, which has a showroom in Casablanca. Yowza. Over-the-top tile and drop dead glamorous. I can just imagine a whole room covered with glass tile, all glimmering around me -- it might feel like living in my very own jewel box.
I dare not ask the price because I’m sure they cost a fortune. (And a tiled coaster just won’t do for your penniless Marrakesh friend.) But spectacular to look at, if not to own. And one day, when I’ve inherited millions from a long-lost uncle somewhere, I’ll consider buying tile by the mile, rather than by the yard…
February 03, 2007
Morocco and true confessions
Another day here in Marrakesh. Another secret to tell. I think some of you might have guessed already. My secret is this: I’ve had plastic surgery. (This is the part where Geraldo Rivera moves the microphone closer…)
Yes, it’s not right for everyone but it was right for me. I suppose I could have chosen to live looking the way that I did. But really, why? Why try?
I didn’t rush into this blindly. I did my research. I knew there were risks; I had heard about the botch jobs. But I looked at countless “after pictures” before I picked my surgeon, Jenifer Altman. And I felt comfortable with my choice.
I could tell, she wasn’t in it for the money -- she asked some tough questions during our first consultation. Our conversation went something like this:
Her: Why do you want to do this?
Me: I just don’t feel very good about the way that I am – about the way that I look.
Her: Do you believe that if you are more attractive that you will be more loved?
Me: I am not sure what you mean. I mean, it’s not really about that for me.
Her: Have you told your husband?
Me: Yes.
Her: What did he say?
Me: He said: “Honey, if you really want to do it, I will support you. I think you look fine, personally. But it’s your choice to make and I will back you whatever you decide to do.” (Okay, he didn’t say that exactly but that was the gist.)
Look, I’m not going to get into all the nitty-gritty about what happened. The surgeon asked me about the look that I wanted. I had brought in some pictures to give her an idea. (And no, as lovely as they are, none of them included Angelina Jolie’s lips or Elle Macpherson’s breasts.) So after a series of consultations, we scheduled the surgery. It went pretty smoothly. Honestly, there was very little recovery time. And I have to say, I just love my new look. My husband thinks it looks gorgeous. And I just feel prettier.
But let me ask you for your opinion about it: don’t you think my blog looks better now? I just disliked that old Typepad template -- that blog banner was highly mediocre and the fonts just weren’t very me.
You know, if you’re a blogger, maybe it’s time that you asked yourself whether you couldn’t use a little nip and tuck, too. You could walk out of the operating room looking like a whole new blog….And I promise, it won’t break the bank.
So if you’re in need of a face lift, contact blog surgeon Jenifer at Fieryeyed Studio right here. And drop me a line if you do – that way I can bring you some flowers after surgery. I pride myself in being thoughtful that way:-)
February 01, 2007
Morocco: and the search for inner peace
Many years ago, when we lived in Kathmandu, I took a guided meditation class twice a week with a Buddhist monk. Ten of us would sit for an hour together on floor cushions, our backs straight, our legs crossed, our palms upward. Our thoughts would follow the words of our teacher, and we would breathe in…….and then out….. Then in…..and then out…. Then we would chant, our voices bouncing off the walls, making deep patterns of sound. These incantations of sorts managed to bring us a quiet within, leaving us serene by class end. Our hour together over, we would bow to our teacher, gather our belongings, and scatter into the Himalayan night, wrapping our cloak of tranquility around us.
My meditation instructor was a special woman. Italian by birth, she brought to her practice a kind of joy and energy that was unusual. She would laugh frequently and with her shaved head, blue eyes, and crimson robes, she made quite a picture. I still miss her today and pine longingly for that inner peace that she once taught me.
Marrakesh, as you know, is famous for its saturated color. So when I saw this Marrakesh home of interior designer Romain Michele-Meniere in the November-December 2006 Maison du Maroc I blinked in surprise. All white, in a city of color. So quiet. So still. Just looking at these pictures I could almost hear a pin drop. I thought to myself, how very nice to have such a place to escape to. And I imagined myself with legs crossed and palms upward, breathing in…..and then out…..And then in….and then out….
January 31, 2007
For Gavin
Some 15 years ago, I was in an accident. A rather bad one. And I was disfigured for months.
Yes, the casts came off and the wobbly teeth settled. But the stitches left a jagged scar and most of my face was covered with what looked like a port wine stain birthmark. Although the emergency room doctors had done their best to pick all the gravel out of my face, my skin had been abraded so badly, that there was just not that much of it left. In fact, during my time in the hospital, I was not allowed to look in the mirror until the last day. When I finally peered into that looking glass, I saw that I had disappeared and been replaced by someone else.
Unable to care for myself and with my hands in casts, I went to the people whom I knew could look after me best - my parents. When my mother saw me in the airport, all broken and oozing, she hugged me gingerly and told me how happy she was that I had come home. She said nothing about the way I looked; she's not unkind. But that night I heard her crying quietly in the kitchen, whispering to my father that she feared that no one would ever marry me. And so it began, My Year of Living Ugly.
My Year of Living Ugly taught me many things, both about myself and about others. I saw how I had changed in people's eyes. Young children looked at me with a sort of fascinated curiousity. Young men didn't look at me at all - or if they did, it was with disdain. My value on the open market had plummeted. Always slim, I began to view the very fat woman differently; we shared something in common now - we were both outcasts. I made an effort to smile at my fellow outcasts in the supermarket checkout line. But it didn't just stop there. I worked harder at being kind. I tried to be funnier, more engaging. I always remembered birthdays. I offered a good shoulder to cry on.
I worked on the inside - that was all I had left.
It took a long time -- months -- to heal. But then, slowly, I started to look like my old self again. The scars faded, my skin returned to as it once was. It seemed like my foisted-upon sociology experiment was coming to a close. The data was in, the tabulations had been done, the conclusions had been drawn. It was time to lock the laboratory door and throw away the key. But I slipped the key into my pocket instead and there it has remained. Every morning when I look in the mirror, I still see some of that girl that I met during My Year of Living Ugly. And you know what? I still always smile at everyone in the supermarket checkout line. And if you tell me your birthday, I will send you a card.
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PS Many thanks to the lovely Ronda at All the Best for her interview of this little blogger. ag
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