Morocco: and a tale of Moroccan lanterns

It's been years.  But I still succumb to their beauty.  every. single. time. 

Moroccan lanterns.

 

Made with the tiniest saw blades, with the most careful chisels, with the most precise hammers.  Made by master craftsmen with the most patient hands.  

 

These are no ordinary lights.  Oh no.  This is ambiance hanging from a chain -- the streams of light, tattooing the walls, the ceiling, the floor. 

So you can buy those Ikea lights, those plastic globes, those prefab sconces.  Or you can buy.... Moroccan magic.

 

I side with magic every time.

 

PS There is a Moroccan shopping resource section in my book.  So you can have some Moroccan magic of your very own.

Marrakech: and a tale of Valentine's Day in the Peacock Pavilions dining tent

Ah Lovelies, it's Valentine's Day. Could there be a better reason  for making things pretty? I think not.

I set our table in the Peacock Pavilions dining tent, in honor of the special occasion, with objects culled from around the house.  

A vintage sculpture study in porcelain.

Faceted vases made from Moet & Chandon containers. Branches from our own Moroccan olive grove. Porcelain leaves commissioned from Caroline Douglas.

Vintage German glove molds in porcelain.

Romantic antique Victorian porcelain figurines

Large vintage birds with long swishy tails and old Swedish Dirigold dessert spoons.

Happy Valentine's Day:-)  Here's hoping you're spending it  with someone you love.

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 PS The Instant Love photography retreat is at our place and I set this table just for them!  If you're a fan of Polaroid photography, their book is a must! 

Marrakesh: and a tale of Sofia Coppola's Moroccan idyll - a Marni commercial for H&M

There's something about Morocco that gets under your skin.  It's not because it's all lovely (because there's plenty of gritty, too).  But it has a certain quality that's, well, unforgettable.  Something like that song you can't get out of your head or that perfume that still lingers in the air or that boyfriend who continues to provoke feelings long after you've broken up.  

Morocco stays with you.   

It stayed with film maker Sofia Coppola.  She came back to Marrakesh to shoot a new commercial for H&M and Marni.  Filmed at my friend Freck Vreeland's house in the Palmeraie, with its beautiful pool designed by Freck's wife, Vanessa.  {Freck said Sofia was the kind of person who could hear a sneeze from across the room and always said "Bless you"}.

Listen to Sofia's back story shooting the commercial here.

Cairo: and a tale of a man with {maybe} 2 or 3 wives: Part 2

(The blog post below is a follow on to this blog post, which begun the tale:  Cairo: and a tale of man with {maybe} 2 or 3 wives.  If you haven't already, please read first.)

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How are you, Ahmed? I asked.  We were driving as usual.

 I’m fine. I’m very fine. I’m well, he emphasized {just in case I didn’t believe him}

I’m good up here, he tapped his temple. Because I’ve decided not to marry any of my brother’s wives.

What happened? I asked.

Well, since my brother died, my wife has been terribly worried that I might marry his wives.  She  hasn’t stopped crying.  She cries in the morning and she cries at night.  I don't know, maybe she cries in the afternoon, too.

I like my wife. She’s been with me all these years. I don’t like to make her cry. So I’ve decided not to marry any of my brother’s wives, he explained.

 Well, that’s decided, then, I say.

He went on:  Besides, the truth is that I don’t like my brother’s Palestinian wife, Fouzia. It’s just problems, problems, problems. It’s just talking, talking, talking. If it’s like this now, you can imagine what it would be like if I actually married her, he said, shaking his head at the craziness of it all.

Her parents live in Saudi Arabia. Fouzia needs to go live with them. And as soon as possible, he said emphatically.

Right, I said firmly in agreement.

Ahmed didn’t say anything for some time. Then he continued. Did I tell you… Fouzia is a very good cook? Very! he exclaimed. You know how those Palestinian women cook? Those special things they can make? Chicken prepared in a sauce. The beef….so so tender. And the rice?! {He groaned in pleasure at the thought.} And she prepares everything so quickly! Honestly, she’s a better cook than my own wife.

 Well, I know how you love to eat, I laughed, pointing to his big belly.

Ahmed laughed back. Yes, it’s true, he said. I love to eat. I look forward to my dinner all day long. Fouzia has this way of making potatoes. Small ones. I swear, I can eat them like candy….they’re that good! Next time, you come back to Egypt, I’m going to ask her to make you some, so you can see for yourself, he said delightedly.

But Ahmed..... didn’t you say that you were going to send Fouzia to Saudia Arabia to live with her parents? 

Yes, yes, Ahmed murmured. Then he looked out the window and was quiet.

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Read Part 3 of this tale here.

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