lingering upon...

My new favorite spot in the house with a lovely photo gallery thanks to @alice_gao ., a photo by cocopuff1212 on Flickr.

 

A formerly empty wall by my desk, now perfectly prettied up with a lovely calendar for 2013 by the New York photographer Alice Gao.

During the month of November, she is donating 25% of the calendar sales toward Hurricane Sandy relief efforts. I've always admired her gorgeous photographs, so I'm very excited to have this little gallery set up, plus contribute my bit toward helping the hurricane victims. She is willing to ship to addresses outside of the U.S.


After I purchased this (in addition to this calendar I had already bought last month), Jenna Park of Sweet Fine Day put this in her shop, and now I want it, too. She is also donating a portion of the sales toward the hurricane relief efforts. This one is a bit more gender-neutral, so perhaps my husband could use it on his desk. I mean, he needs a calendar, right?

memories to take home with me

My last purchase at Les Puces., a photo by cocopuff1212 on Flickr.

I went to Les Puces du Canal for the last time yesterday.

I wasn't looking to buy anything -- my niece was visiting for the weekend and wanted to go to the fea market; I thought it would give me an opportunity to say good-bye to the lovely people I've bought some wonderful things from during the last three years.


I used my very limited French to explain that I was returning to the U.S. permanently, and that I was grateful for the opportunity I had to get to know them. I wanted to tell them that I would take care of the things I purchased from them, but my French failed me there.

I don't think it mattered. They seem genuinely touched that I would come and say hello for the last time. They all wished me luck with the move and with my new life back in the States (I'm pretty sure that's what they said).


Until yesterday, I'd been a little worried that some of my fragile Puces finds wouldn't survive the transatlantic voyage. I thought I'd be heartbroken if something broke in transit. But I realized yesterday that what I treasure about these things are not the things themselves but the memories and stories that come with them -- memories and stories of these wonderful people and the absolutely delightful place that is Les Puces du Canal. Even if something broke, I'd still have the memories to carry and stories to tell.

And there's no price tags on memories and stories. That makes this painted box, for which I paid only 5€, a truly remarkable bargain of the century.

my french kitchen stove

A few weeks ago while I was at Les Puces, I spotted an antique toy kitchen set. It was très, très mignon, but I just wasn't moved enough to buy it.

This past weekend I was back at Les Puces, and as I was walking around thinking to myself, "Maybe I should have gotten that kitchen set....", I came across this one, much smaller and much more affordable.

The oven door opens. There's also a drawer that pulls open. The chalet we rented last winter in the Alps had a beautifully aged stove, with a drawer that opened just like this. This is perhaps where the coals went?

I've been secretly wishing for an antique French kitchen stove, although it was the kind of wish that I figured wouldn't come true. Well, guess what? It did come true -- in the form of a pencil sharpener.

And I paid only 2€ for it.

winter neutrals

I love the gentle, warm shades of these beige, off-white, and grey sweaters. Antidote to all the black I see outside, the color favored by many French people during the already-depressing winter.

from past to present

I brought home some cuties and beauties from Les Puces du Canal a few Sundays ago.

Some days, I go there and I don't see anything I want to take home -- and that's okay, because half the fun is in looking (not just at the stuff, but also at the people). On this particular day, however, I kept finding things.

I fell in love with this serving utensil because of its delicate floral etching detail. It has a slightly irregular shape -- it must have had a very specific function. I would love to know what that might have been.

I love vintage tea towels. I spend so much time in the kitchen, often doing the dishes --I figure I might as well use pretty things that make me happy. The linens in these photos came from four different stalls, and were incidentally all 5€ each. I don't ever spend more than 7€ on a tea towel; otherwise I'd hesitate to use it because it's too precious.

Two pieces of cloth caught my eyes at the stall of one of the ladies in the hangar who specializes in laces and linens.

They are both made of several pieces of fabric, patched together to make a larger piece. The MP one is actually quite small, and also very narrow. I have no idea what it may have been used for -- it's too small to be a tea towel, and too long and narrow to be a dinner napkin. The DM one is larger but isn't even a recutangular -- the fabric used in the corner has a slanted edge, and the whole piece looks like an indecisive pentagon. All the sewing is done by hand, with stitches so small that I can barely see them without a magnifying glass.

I keep spreading them out on my lap, looking at them again and again. I look at the stitches and think of the women who saved fabric scraps and patiently repurposed them. I remember how my mother used to mend our socks when the toes got thin -- does anyone do that any more? People talk about recyling as if it's such a cool, new, green thing, but that's how things have been done for hudnreds of hudnreds of years. Mending, fixing, reusing, upcycling. When did we stop repairing things to keep them in use longer?

This little princess of a plate is about 16cm by 12cm. The lady at the stall wanted 10€ for it; I paid 8€. I can't date it but here are some clues: The bottom is all bumpy, so I'm guessing it wasn't factory-produced on an assembly line. The drawing looks like transfer printing and the color hand-painted (but I'm no expert).

There's no indication of where it was made, either. Does it look English, perhaps? 

The dealer I bought these cups from would not negotiate (he's in La Halle -- under the arcade, toward the western end). I almost walked away but eventually indulged because I was smitten with the patina on these cups.

I love the medieval chainmail-looking design on one, and the sweet way the number 64 is carved on the other. I won't use them for drinking. They'll look pretty with miniature cactus plants in them, or cradling our toothbrushes in the bathroom. Maybe I'll use them to hold a small stem of flowers from my backyard -- once I have a backyard again.



Many of the things I buy at Les Puces are indeed French vintage and antiques. Occasionally I ask myself if it's right that I will be taking them out of the country, out of the context of where their being makes most sense. But I'd like to think that they are finding a new, good home with me. I'd also like to think that they appreciate being used by someone who enjoys their function as well as their beauty.

And if I do things right, they will last 30, 50, maybe even 100 more years. They will find new owners who would do the same as I've done, wherever they are. Then they will be passed on, once again, to someone who will take care of them, so it can be shown to the future generatoin that, you know, people didn't used to just throw things away.

the chairs of my dreams

Last year for our Easter vacation, we rented a house in a small village in Provence called Ventabren. It was a lovely little village situated on a steep hill, surrounding a 19th-century townhall and a 17th-century church whose bell woke us up every morning at 7:00a.m. (we were two doors down). There was a chateau ruin at the very top of the hill, complete with a cemetery where I walked around for more than an hour and took lots and lots of photos.

The house we rented was absolutely delightful. It was an old stone house, and the owners had done a remarkable job of resotring it, giving it modern comfort without sacrificing its quaint rustic charm. It was decorated with real antiques and small -- but great -- art pieces here and there. This wasn't some vacation rental place they bought and furnished with cheap, "not good enough for ourselves but good enough for holiday renters" furniture. It was a French-country-dream-come-true kind of place for me.

What I want to write about today, however, is not the village, nor the house. I want to write about a chair.

Two chairs, actually.  They were in the master bedroom of this house: a pair of Louis XIV armchairs (I think that's right; please correct me if I'm wrong) reupholstered in my favorite flax linen.

I love, loved, loved everything about these chairs. Their form, the finish, the details... I took photos of them from the front, from the side, from the back, and upclose. They were beautiful from every angle. Not only that, they were very comfortable. 

I kind of made up my mind right then that I would find a similar pair before leaving France.

 

 

And I've been looking. I look every time I go to Les Puces du Canal. I look even when I'm traveling and can't possibly buy chairs and bring them back with me. Because, well, I loved, loved, loved those chairs we had in our bedroom in that lovely house we rented during our vacation in Provence.

Oval back, woodworking design that's not too ornate, in a feminine shape, and with arms. I don't care if the upholstery is in a bad shape; that's easy to fix. I don't even have to have a matching pair. I'd be happy to take two in a similar style and have them finished in the same fabric (and it's cheaper that way, as anything in a pair or a group commands a higher price).


Still I haven't found them yet. Am I asking too much?

Has anyone seen these chairs anywhere near Lyon?

a little piece (or two) of paris for me

One of the places I was determined to visit on this trip to Paris is a little ceramic studio/shop called Le Petit Atelier de Paris. 

It is located in le 3eme on one of those narrow, endearing streets. It's open just Thursday through Saturday, and only in the afternoon at that. I was so excited that I was finally able to visit the shop -- I've been wanting to, ever since I read about it in Keiko's blog post -- that I got there 10 minutes before it opened.

I fell in love even before it opened, though. The way things were laid out and displayed in the shop window, simple lamp hanging in front of an unbleached linen curtain, sign written in white on the glass -- everything was just so.

Then I walked inside. It's a tiny space of a shop, but oh, what a lovely, warm, calm space. The friendly welcome by the owners' dog didn't hurt, either. I was instantly smitten.

I wanted to buy everything in the shop. After agonizing for a good 15 minutes (it may have been longer), I decided on a cup, because it's something I can use every day.

Inside the cup is the atelier's logo -- loving hands that make these beautiful things.

I also indulged and got myself the atelier's signature house-shaped objet d'art. Mine has a number, but plain ones are available, in two different sizes (second photo from the top).

What made my experience at this atelier even more special is how beautifully and thoughtfully my purchase was wrapped. The cup and the house were gently swaddled in double layers of tissue paper as if they were precious pieces of jewelry, and the paper bag was adorned with a little ceramic star that's graced by the atelier's logo.

If I lived in Paris, I would be visiting this place regularly and frequently, but I don't. I hope to come back before our time in France is up, hopefully soon. Until then, take care, Pompon (that's the dog's name -- isn't it sweet?).

principales spécialités

 

Liqueurs and hard liquor are not my specialties. Well, except for Limoncello and Frangelico, that is...

 

Antique and vintage prints are the specialities of Les Bois Debout in Vieux Lyon.

This store is just steps away from Cathédrale St. Jean in the lovely neighborhood where quaint shops and cafes grace cobblestone streets. I always stop by when I'm in the area, and I always find something that I really like (not necessarily in the price range I like, but that's a different issue).

I was attracted to the vibrant colors in these prints -- there were two of them and no other like them, so I thought I'd keep them together and bought the pair. The note said that they were from the 1920s~30s.

I'll be making a trip to BHV soon to see if I can find inexpensive matting and frames for them. How fun.

buona pasqua (belated)

I bought these greeting cards at Porta Portese in Rome. I buy antique and vintage cards whenever I see them, and I always try to get a whole bunch and negotiate the price down. I use them to decorate the top of the mantel, place them in a little tray on the table, or enclose them in gift packages.

Porta Portese is a flea market, not an antique market. It's quite different from all the other markets I've seen, even different from the great Porta Palazzo Market in Turin. I am tempted to write "You can find everything there but a kitchen sink," but the truth is that I did see a kitchen sink being sold! (In case you're curious, it was an old one.)

You have to be a local market junkie like I am to enjoy Porta Portese -- I had to bribe my husband and son with a gelato and a cold bottle of sparkling lemon water -- but I thoroughly enjoyed the racket that is Porta Portese. It is great fun to see how the locals truly live.

 

very french

I love the clothes these girls are wearing. And guess what, little girls in France do dress like that, even now.

In France -- in Lyon at least -- children are dressed very properly. Girls, especially. They wear skirts and tights with leather Mary Janes (which would be more like girls' Sunday best outfit in the U.S.) as their everyday school clothes.

I'm not completely convinced that they're comfortable, but they do look adorable.

Here are more photos of these cards.

nautical stripes

I'd never been a big fan of stripes and never worn them much until I moved here. But oh boy, French people love them, and you know how easily influenced I am.

Nautical stripes come out in spring -- in full force -- like daffodils bursting into bloom after waiting silently during long, dark, cold winter. Summer is the official "stripey season" in France (and of course in the rest of the world as well).

That doesn't mean I can't wear stripes during the cold season. In fact, I've accumulated quite a few stripey shirts because I've discovered that wearing them noticeably lifts my mood on long, dark, cold winter days. Sometimes I'd be walking outside, feeling bulky and clumsy in a heavy winter coat, and suddenly remember that I'm wearing a marine stripe shirt underneath. Instantly uplifted, now I feel like smiling and skipping on the sidewalk (you know how easily influenced I am).

I'm wearing a stripe shirt and channeling Pablo Picasso, Coco Chanel, Jean Paul Gaultier, Audrey Hepburn.

I feel stylish, but more importantly, I feel happy.

treasure, treasure

Can No.1: Top

One person's junk is another person's treasure.

Can No.1: Bottom



Not too long ago I took someone to the flea market with me, and she kept making comments like "Why would you want to pay money for that?", "You're not going to take that back to the U.S., are you?", "But it's all bent and rusty! So ugly!"... and my favofrite of all: "You can get a new one at less than half that price!" (She is absolutely right!)

Can No.2: Top

It's really fun to see what others at the flea market are buying. Occasionally I see people carrying something very unusual-looking and think, "What the heck is that? What is that person going to do with it?". Once in a while I see something in someone's hand and think, "Now that's ugly."

But hey, it's one person's junk, another person's treasure.

Can No.2: Bottom

I'll keep my mouth shut because they keep theirs shut. While on the subject, I should publicly thank my wonderful husband for keeping his mouth shut every time I come home from the flea market.

I want you to know, honey, that not everything I bring home from Les Puces is useless junk. Some of the stuff has found work in the apartment. Have you noticed????

Can No.3: Happily occupied.

from a hundred years ago...

A bit of an update -- see bottom of post!

I've long had a policy of not buying portraits at flea markets. But that doesn't mean I can't browse, and if there is a stack, I always flip through it. 

Yesterday at Les Puces, this group photo made me violate my own policy. I know I'm transfering the blame... think whatever you want to think... but I asked the people in this photo if they would feel bad if I took them out of France (eventually, I mean. We're not moving just yet), and I heard them saying, "No, no, go ahead and take us with you. We're glad you found us."

I swear.

I think it's how these people are standing, some of them looking almost relaxed, instead of standing stiff looking scared (or scary!) and uncomfortable. It didn't feel like a crime to "buy them" and make them mine.

At the bottom is a line of captions that says:

Ecole de Medicine Paris 1910
Mr le Docteur André Castex (The first word looks like "Mr", but the second letter is so tiny I'm not 100% sure it's an "r")
Lucien Wormser Phot 45 Rue du Cardinal-Lemoine

This address is in Paris 5eme arrondissement, not too far from Île de la Cité, just one block from Cardinal Lemoine metro station. I'll keep a few images of this photo on my iPhone, so I can look this place up next time we're in Paris.

Update 18-01-2011: I forgot to note that, between "Ecole de Medicine Paris 1910" and "Mr le Docteur André Castex", the caption also says "Oto-Rhino-Laryngologie." Sure enough, I got a quick note from a friend today telling me that Dr. Castex was a famous ear-nose-and-throat doctor at the time, and that he wrote many books as well. The man in the center in the white lab coat, who looks older than other people in the photo, must be him.

recent purchase

Cookies for my husband and son.

I actually bought them for the tin can. I didn't mean it as a pun, but it IS Tintin!

I thought it was perfectly sized for my sewing stuff, and it really was.

found at le marché de noël de lyon

 

Such a pretty -- and happy -- plate to look at.

I saw that it was from Portugal, and for a brief moment I thought, "But I plan to visit Portugal. So why buy this in Lyon? Why not wait until I go there and select from a wider selection?"

Then I realized that things like this do not travel well, especially on airplanes. Plus it was really, really calling my name. So it came home with me.

The (Happy) End.

qu'est-ce que c'est? (2)

Added 25-Nov-2010: Scroll down for an update!

Can someone please tell me what this is? I found it at Les Puces du Canal.

Here's what it looks like upclose (you can click on the photo to enlarge it):

It says in the upper left corner "Quittance d'Entrée". What is a "bill of entrance"?

The certificate itself is only 19cm wide, 12.5cm long. According to the writing, the document is from 1750 (see second line from the bottom, "mil sept cens cinquante").

I figured out the "long s" thing, but there is another letter that doesn't exist in modern French: see the 6th letter of the first word in the 5th line (That's a mouthful. Incidentally, the third letter of that word is a "long s")? It's a "c" with a plume. I'd like to know the history of this, too, but it's obviously a French language thing and I don't know how/where to look.


Update -- I received an e-mail message from a friend; here's what she wrote (copied here with her permission):

...as far as I know, that letter that you're looking at is the "old" "c" or whatever letter was used in old French that then became the c.

The document is kind of a receipt from a tax that was charged at the "Ancien Régime" regarding beverages, generally wine. What I know is that "les droits des cinq sols" is the name of a royal tax on beverages from 1561. It seems that the document is a proof of customs tax that replaced the old tax on beverages called "les droits des cinq sols".

The translation would be more or less like:
-----------

Direction (Secretary or Department or Office) of ... Office of ...

I've received from M. Simon ... living at .... street ..... the amount of "four pounds" (whatever they were using as money) for the royal tax on beverages (the droits d'anciends cinq sols), charged at Boiffons, and then it gives the standard (2 fols per pound) just to explain the law, what basis to charge him 4... then says that he paid 4 based on the weight, or measure, then specify the measures of the product, coming from (can't read the place) because the Office of the place that is suppose to be was on holiday (congé), making M. Simon have to detour and pass by this city and have to pay tax on the product that he was carrying & M. declared that he was going to Rue de .... (that's why there was a customs tax) without causing damage to others, or rights or any kind of actions.

Place, date, time and signature.
--------

Basically you had customs tax to transport products from one place to the other, M. Simon from the document went to his usual place and they were on holiday so he had to go to a different place and pay the "entrance fee" to be able to cross that place.

 
Isn't this wonderful???
 
Here's an old -- really old -- piece of paper. Someone bothered to keep it, or perhaps it wasn't meant to be kept for more than five years or so, but it happened to be kept somewhere. Then someone else found it and bothered to frame it nicely. And I, just a foreigner passing by, chanced upon it and get a history lesson and a chuckle out of it.
 
I mean, I can just picture M. Simon cursing and muttering to himself, "Dang! They're closed! Now I have to make a detour! This is going to add an extra day to my trip. And I'm already two days behind!"
 
It is so delicious and delightful.
 
 
On a totally different note.... The source of this information is a young lady from Brazil who's studying law in France. This sentence I just typed makes it obiouvs that she handles three languages at a highly complex level (the quote from her e-mail above is verbatim), and I feel compelled to add that she also speaks Spanish. Please don't tell me Spanish is similar to Portuguese; there are notable differences and she had to learn it.
 
The fact that she can have intelligent conversations in four languages -- that alone is enough to impress me, but now she tells me she had a history/theology double major in college.
 
I'm trying not to feel completely inadequate.

Added note (26-Nov-2010): My friend sent in correction/clarification. Hers wasn't a double major. Her major was theology, and her mémoire (thesis) was specialized in history. Well, I'm still impressed. Wouldn't you be????

spent matchsticks

I find them rather pretty.

found at the pottery fair

I had been looking -- for a long time now -- for "that special tea cup" specifically for Japanese tea.

I found three this weekend.

I puchased them at Les Tupiniers du Vieux Lyon, a pottery fair held every year in September at place Saint Jean. I love the ethereal quality of these two porcelain cups as well as their celadon color. The combination of those two elements, executed with Japanese sensibility (or at least that's how I perceived it), had a very strong appeal to me. I coldn't decide between the two, so I got them both.

They are from an atelier in the commune of Montauban-sur-l'Ouvèze, in the south of France.

The third one, this one is a charmer. I had already bought two and wasn't looking for another one, but it found me. So decidedly different from the other two, it has a wonderfully earthy feel that I love. This cup will be perfect for a more robust tea, like hoji-cha.

It's from an atelier in Caromb, which is not too far from where the other two cups were made. Is this coincidence, or is the soil really good in that particular region?