all photos by Clarice Demory on her blog En Suite, images from Alix Thomsen, Alexandre Thumelle, Tara Meyer and Sophie Toulouse's apartments and Thierry Boutemy's Fleuriste as well as these posts: 1, 2, 3.
My idyllic few weeks spent running up and down from my house to the Chauvel Cinema for the French Film Festival is almost over, with the last couple of movies rolling out over the next few days and I'm a little sad. It was fun to forget all of life's craziness - and there is much of that at the moment - and sit back in velvet chairs and watch movies that were a little quirky, a little bizarre, but totally charming. And so full of French! The film I saw on Monday with my mum - Baisers de Papillon (Butterfly Kiss) - was incredibly moving yet so simple, and since I couldn't see the subtitles I ended up listening to most of the film. It was difficult, especially since my French has enjoyed a steady decline since I stopped taking formal lessons, but I surprised myself by my level of comprehension. It has spurred me into wanting to start French again and commit to it this time. A New Years resolution made in March - we're allowed to do that, right?
The more I think about it, the more I realise that I've been thinking about France - and Paris especially - a lot recently. I don't know what that means. I think maybe it means that I want to go there for a while, not just a couple of weeks, and live there, maybe after uni. I don't know if that's going to happen and maybe I'm just tossing ideas around. Maybe I've been wearing too much Carven, or Isabel, or listening to too much Charlotte Gainsbourg or spraying too much Diptyque and remembering the perfect Paris moments of my last holiday so much so that I feel like Carey Mulligan in an education humming to herself in her room. A couple of my friends have just made the big leap overseas - to Singapore, to New York, to Paris! - and I envy them their bravery and their courage. My friend who is now in Paris is actually living her dream, attending patisserie school and living in a tiny flat with white walls and high ceilings and speaking French every day. When we were at school together we would always have these wild day dreams in French about how we were going to move to Paris and eat croissants and marry Louis Garrel (on a time-share, obviously). I can't believe she's actually doing everything we talked about those incredibly long five years ago. I'm envious, I'm so envious.
It doesn't help that pretty much the only thing I've been doing the past couple of days - instead of uni readings or important and pressing essays - has been scrolling through the archives of En Suite. I found this site through a lovely Australian blog Somewhere, here, and Dee in turn found it through Natalie's (amazing) new blog Magic Surrounds. I can't stop looking at these pictures, so simple and easy and unforced and yet, so full of life. I love how real the apartments are, the rubbish bins are overflowing, there are boxes of unpacked bits and bobs, it looks like someone actually lives there. I love the Selby, but sometimes I get the feeling that these people are just models, hired to pose in an empty space for a few hours. This is the kind of apartment that I want when I'm all grown up and very busy and important. If I move to Paris I have this vie-en-rose certainty that this is what my life will be like; wooden floorboards, clean sheets and breakfast in bed. I'm going to work from home and wear ballet flats always and have fresh flowers simply everywhere. And I'm going to be so, so happy!
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