Peacock Pavilions in Marrakesh: and a tale of inspirations

Feeling inspired by many things at Peacock Pavilions these days.  Here's a few:

Talismanic hands of Fatima from a favorite jeweler. 

Some new bones and Simon Winchester's book on skulls (interesting, perhaps, for only the most ardent skull enthusiasts).

A collection of antique embroidered Moroccan bags from Khalid Art Gallery.

A new chair covered by a Moroccan wedding blanket.

One of the most beautiful design books that I own, The Divine Home by Peter Vitale.

A new but old Moroccan carpet from Red Thread Souk for my dining room.  Can you see that I have also upholstered my chairs in Moroccan rugs, too?

Collections of odds & ends everywhere.  Here some entomology pins from Merchant & Mills, a packet of gold sequins from Figue, a notebook from my friends at Imperial Black, and photography by Alexis de Vilar. I bought the wood arrow in South Africa.

My family peacock, Maurice, at Peacock Pavilions. I'm still in awe of his splendour.  Really.

What's inspiring you these days?  I want to know.

Project Soar: and a tale of the Montague shirt by Imperial Black

I stumbled onto Imperial Black many months ago. I remember thinking that I liked the brand's cool.  It had a certain mystique.  Imperial Black sells men's shirtsmade in Italy and of the buy-less-but-better genre. The company's owners seemed to fly planes, drive fast cars, and travel to farflung destinations.  They were all too handsome for their own good. You know the type--beautiful manners and a little dangerous.  It was all very enticing.  

The problem was that I couldn't figure out how to buy my husband an Imperial Black shirt.  It seemed, I had to have "a passport" to Imperial Black or be "Blacklisted".  The shirts come out in small batches and then they are gone. I wrote Imperial Black and told them I wanted to crack their secret code because I needed a shirt for my guy.  

That was how it started -- the friendship.

In the months since, I learned that all the things that I thought about Imperial Black were actually true. The shirts were perfectly tailored, right down to the saffron colored stitching and the notched cuffs.  The packaging was an experience unto itself - so gorgeous.  

So I was incredibly flattered when Imperial Black told me that they wanted to name a shirt after me:  the Montague.  I was on a conference call with colleagues in Cairo when the email came in and had to muffle my shriek.  I was sent fabric swatches to pick from and chose a stylish small houndstooth.  

 The blue matches my fella's eyes

But beyond the Imperial Black shirts (and the travel luggage, striped socks, horn toothbrushes and Italian shaving cream) there is something much more.  It's a sort of old school integrity in a modern package. Because in addition to the masculine chic appeal of their goods, this is a company with a big heart.   

Ten percent of proceeds of the Montague shirt go to that charity I love so much - Project Soar. Also benefitting Project Soar is the Peacock Pavilions pocket square, reminiscent of the immense North African night sky above Peacock Pavilions.  That's not just cool, it's stellar.

Husband Chris at Peacock Pavilions in his Montague shirt....

 Pick up your own Montague shirt and Peacock Pavilions pocket square.  Beauty, utility, andgoodness.  It's the right combination, yes? 

Marrakech Morocco: and a tale of a Femina Magazine fashion shoot at Peacock Pavilions

When architect Chris and I were designing and building Peacock Pavilions, we knew that we wanted it to be a place that was very personal and intimate.  We wanted it to feel not like a hotel at all but rather like staying at a {stylish} friend's house in Marrakesh.  The idea was for guests to be surrounded with unusual objects, with one-of-a-kind textiles and of course, with lots of texture and pattern.  Not luxurious in that cold way but rather, charming, special, and "worth it" because of the warm feeling that it gave you. 

In that vein, my hope has always been that Peacock Pavilions would have a legacy.  Project Soar is a part of that, of course, allowing guests to participate and interact with their surroundings in a caring way. But beyond that, I hoped to create a place that would become a part of the memory of its guests and that later on that there would be pictures to look at and to remember. 

It all goes by so fast, doesn't it, this life of ours?  It's nice to have evidence that it is and, later on, that it was. When I see photos that others have taken of Peacock Pavilions, I see it through their eyes and with their perspective and I live it myself, in a new way. 

I thought I'd share a few images from the first photo spread from the Femina fashion shoot at Peacock Pavilions.  We were all so very excited when this beautiful Swedish magazine chose our place for its Spring fashion shoots.

Model Ingrid Wrisley is so sublime and photographer Helene Linsjo captured her so perfectly.  Of course, it helps that the clothes picked out by talented fashion editor Sarah Thornqvist are so cool.  I want them all!

 

PS The beautiful black wedding blanket with its night sky of sequins is for sale here at Red Thread Souk.

Philosophy's Amazing Grace: and a tale of how I learned a lesson from a beauty product

I had given her the middle name, Grace, in a fit of gratitude - so desperately thankful that she had been born without the problems the doctors predicted.  

Back then, when they were tiny, I still believed that I could greenhouse my children.  I thought that I could give them just the right ingredients -- the right teachings, the right lessons, the right examples -- and grow them into the sorts of people that I wanted them to be.  I learned fast that parents were important but not that important.  I learned that my children were their own people, independent of me and what I did and said.  That they developed their characters and characteristics largely on their own.  I had to content myself with floating on a wide perimeter of their existence, where I would cajole, encourage and chastise, understanding all the while that their love of basketball and math and drawing really had very little to do with me and a great deal to do with them.  

I continued to try, nonetheless.  Sitting them down for "talks" and "life lessons". They mostly put up with me.  

I was in New York roaming the aisles at Sephora looking at products that promised to restore my youth in a few precious drops.  I also needed to buy a gift for my daughter -- the one with the middle name, Grace.  I stopped at the Philosophy counter in front of their Amazing Grace products.  And I saw it -- the lesson.  

I read it.  And then I read it again.  Then I stopped the saleswoman and asked her if she had read it.  She said she had but she stopped and read it with me, anyway.  We both nodded at the message's relevance.  It was like a song whose lyrics we suddenly paid attention to -- instead of just listening to them carelessly as if they were in another language.

I bought it for her, for Skylar Grace.  But I also bought it for myself. For the reminder that it gave me, for the lesson that it taught me.  

{If I had been duped by smart packaging, so be it.  I had paid far more before for far less.}