Wednesday, December 21, 2011

In this apartment

In this apartment there are in the background the ranges of accordionist which I am now the neighbour, who as if some moments passed here had their own original band.

There is this jar full of shells of Chausey, discovered in a corner on the day of my arrival. A handful of reported shells - I could swear in - years, by my cousin Mr. for my friend b., this childhood friend who lived here at the time. As if it had been forgotten any express to remind me that people that I love lived here before me.

There is this drawing of Penelope, punaisé on the wall of the kitchen by the previous tenant and the sounds of life of the inhabitants who live across the Court.

The neighbour on the other side I welcome my window if our intersect, and this reduced formica table of Normandy, which is not in very good condition. A stack of linen cloths reported from Africa by boat, of large wooden crates, more than thirty years ago this by my grand-parents. This large Vélux who feel me to work on a terrace, even when time is grey like today. Two large armchairs very ugly which I know too that make and on a shelf, a few books that I could not help but ranger color. Two, three cups in metal such as those in which used the coffee on the boat. A grey floor. Thousand recesses for the small cat, for when he will return home. And then this book of Murakami, the elephant evaporates, which gives me the impression of having installed a friend to remains…

Harvest of September

The other day, someone left this comment on a ticket which I spoke last books accumulated on my bedside table: "it makes me evil see Murakami and Marc Levy on the same list of reading". I have a point of view exactly opposed to this idea. It is therefore on this mode completely Center-filled everything that I began this harvest of things read, seen, heard.

I've closed a few days ago the wild camel of Philippe Jaenada. A book which received the award of flora shortly after its release and I have lots of fun to read, in particular because it is a funny book, which evokes me something like the chick bed (well written, one does not preclude the other in my opinion, don't see nothing pejorative here inside), envisaged from a male point of viewwith more areas of shadows but an equivalent lightness in the treatment of the text.

Before that, I finally read the mythical do not pull on the mocking bird (to kill a mocking bird) I recommend you, of course, not because, precisely, is a mythical book. Is, for my part, the character of the father that has me most excited, this man who appears with a kind of absolute knowledge of the human soul and I would like to be among my friends or my family members.

Among my readings, I also think the smell of the ginger does am still not safe to have really loved, but which, obviously, is a good book. This English heroine lost in China, and then to the Japan which confronts all forms of loneliness throughout his life do not left me indifferent. The shape of the narrative (journal, letters) is probably impeding my enthusiasm, I know not why.

And to end with a few readings that have caught my attention, I finished with the best: three horses of Erri De Luca. After you mio, this confirms: I found that one of my favorite authors. To the finish not too fast, I have lent it to a friend while I was arriving in the story (I'm therefore not finished my reading to this day). De Luca has this particular tip of the authors who leave their borrows, you and make your reading something that might look like in lived experience.

Side magazine, I am pleased to find new things that excited me newsstand, the women's press have long since deserted my handbag. My new pleasures are Fricote, Doolittle, Paulette and chat (with some reservations to the latter: I'm rather baffled by their "old feminist" approach on some issues, but more that seduced by their iconography and writing some of their journalists).

Film, little me have really transported these months outside the tales of the night, the great Michel Ocelot. For the first time, it seemed that the use of the 3D film is justified entirely, giving us the sensation of find us in a puppet theatre, rather than before a white canvas. A very, very beautiful success.

Without transition no, I also fell there a few days on the film eat, pray, love that I looked at a glance distracted by something else at the same time. I had read many negative things about the book, but I think that we are too used in France, that simple messages are simplistic messages. I think that the film expresses this idea: the learning of wisdom through the search for simplicity, or even of the extreme simplicity. Essentially, in life, is in few words, and these words would be understandable by a small child.

And, well, why not, will also make a turn on the television. As a sacred people package, I am already a fan of the new short program of Canal +, short, hyper rhythmic, funny, well seen. And then of course, I can't help my promotion: the issue of the time for me (on Teva) continues this year, my column in stop motion also. Filming resumed and I am all happy. I hope that I can publish some on my blog this year, otherwise, go every Sunday morning.

Side music, is, however, the calm dish. I had the opportunity to listen to a few titles of the first album of Thomas Marfisi which should get out a few months and that I loved, but as long as the album did not exited, difficult to say more (in illustration, this.) Then, to wait before new finds, I listen loop of old titles such as Andrews Sister, Colette Magny, The temptations, things like that.

And finally, I wanted to talk about the first book of my friend Virginia, guide the lazy sexo. Virginia, it is, in your group of friends with whom you can talk about everything, which is equipped with a kind of gift of foresight, who intends to perfection that you say between the lines. As, moreover, is armed humour capable of dégoupiller the most difficult to do or hear, confidences while keeping a sensitivity to any test. Found a little of all these qualifications there in his book. And above all, well remember his name because this girl, it is of course, you will hear about it.

List to father Noel...


Dress mango


Pull H & M (size l or XL)


Perfume Zadig & Voltaire


A beautiful black kitten ptit (a daughter is better) to make friend with Tumskaya


Desperate Housewives season 7


Grey Anatomy season 7


Jump of fisherman Topshop (size 10 UK)


Terracota Gerlain


Mascara Helena Rubinstein


Full of pralines "Astrid" chocolatier Neuhaus:)


The cream that benefits lag

Share the article!   Father Noel... list: shoes MANGO Pull H & M (size l or XL)...

Competition Superdry


Girls, I need you!

My friend Laura blog DiscoVery participates in a competition for the brand Superdry. By voting you also have the chance to be selected in a draw to win a voucher of 500eur!

In short, I request you to vote for LAURA! I am counting on you (and I the revaudrai you, so if...)

Click here to vote!


Girls, I need you!

My friend Laura (from the blog Discovery) entered a competition for the brand Superdry. By voting you also have the chance to be selected in a random drawing to win a 500eur voucher!

In short, I requisitioned you to vote for LAURA! (I will owe you!)

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Bidouilles + blue = sky

A few photos, no particular to tell. This is a Polaroid missed, some confetti, a bracelet woven from strips of t-shirt used (it is the subject of one of my columns for Teva.) (We shot it a few days ago, I don't know if it has already been released). This is nothing, I don't even know if it is pretty. The photos, I hear; the bracelet, Yes: I wear often and my backlog is increasing from day to day.

Take these photos, paste the confetti, it was a good time. Wellness really can arise all small things and I feel very grateful that my trade me to grant time to these three times nothing that make me feel so well: tinker, tweak, take pictures, play as if I still had the âge…

Saturday, December 17, 2011

9th Edition trotteuse Second Life.


Dawn Brown

Here are the photos of the designs created in the small aerial parade.

The designs are just guns!

My blow of heart: the girls to Papa

I am a great fan of this Belgian brand. Their creations are osées in the air of time and is exactly what I want to wear. This week I will show you from their collection SS2012 visuals, it's worth the detour!

Here is therefore a retrospective in image of the small aerial parade!


Dawn Brown


Elvis Pompilio


Elvis Pompilio

This parade 2011 edition broke all records: more than 2000 spectators were able to admire the original creations of not less than 38 designers.


Girls had Papa


Girls had Papa

The auction of the evening the small aerial brought together the sum of EUR 28 650!


Jean-Paul Knott


Kim Stumpf


Marianne Timperman


Mr Bul






Van Hongo




Marius Pompon


Team small aerial

For info: The small aerial asbl is a player in the fight against social exclusion and poverty in Belgium. Support psychosocial but also material, the association helps each year thousands of people access to greater autonomy in a resolutely sustainable way and this year the association wants to give this opportunity to young people. The small aerial finance the majority of their actions with their economic activities whose objectives are multiple: · The benefit of the stores finances the actions of fight against poverty. Stores promote access to objects of quality to the most disadvantaged people, as all who is drawn by good business and the pleasure to look. Each year, this sector of social economy is socio-professional insertion platform for more than 450 people on the margins of the traditional labour market. Beyond its social and economic benefit, this activity also has a positive impact to the environment. Reuse prolongs the life of objects and limit the manufacture of new objects.

Small anniversary nightmare

I have never feared the years. Because experience shows me that each apparition ride may correspond to a learned, understood thing, vécue… aging does me not fear, at least to some extent. Each year spent with his lot of events, happy or not, but always builders. I like to experience the sensation of progress, whatever the domain and nothing, better than the days racing, offers opportunities to feel growing up. I should be pleased to celebrate this.

But not. This day suspended between two bridges - that of the past, that of the future - paralyzes me, literally. The anniversary, terrifying time of the balance sheet, awful judgment day.

As if every year, these good benevolent fairies who lovingly looked at my cradle a beautiful November morning, suddenly wonder accounts without the slightest pity. They blow me ear a haunting ticking and questioning me with this way that we see in the movies, you make guilty before you let a chance to defend yourself: what do you do talent we have given you? Should we regret putting all this in your hands rather than those of your small neighbour of room maternity? This beautiful family in which you are born, your ability to write, to imagine, to dream, your nice heart any tendre… do mistake you, small! There is nothing to you: all your chances, all your joys, absolutely all this belongs to us! You are liable for all. Have given you us this mission to grow, in only you was worthy? What do you say to your defence? What have you to show us?

Every aspect of my life is carefully considered. Then, mercilessly, after lengthy chuckled before my small human size, point an accusing finger on my weaknesses, my negligence, my laziness, ignorance, that know-be… Strong of their relentless justice, they houspillent me, they laugh, nothing is ever enough for them. No effort, no decision is through their eyes. Their greed to see me succeed without fault knows more limit.

On each anniversary, good mentors become witches and the formula escapes me, which could bring them back to best feelings. Now therefore, I shaking before the fairies and I am Earth, convinced to earn the ire, persuaded to have committed the unpardonable fault without feel able to identify it. Strongly tomorrow.

But this gloom transient (Fortunately, it does day never that a birthday per year) does not we forget the essential: the gifts. Here are therefore some ideas pretty anecdotal things here and there:

1 Ball of woollen - 2 carpet. Pan in enamelled metal - 3. Mug - 4. Small come - 5. A collection of vases - 6. Multicolor cozy carpet

Sweet November

This month of incredibly sweet November, I retiens…

The long hours spent on this piano where I réapprends each step, a little like a recovering that would gradually end the use of his fingers. In the difficulty and impatience. Now, I wonder how I could design a day to leave the piano aside: this is a strange mystery, this pleasure takes one to engrener the notes, even when it is not very well. Ears are abused, fingers glee and it is the jubilation prevailed each time.

The appeals of Mr. occurring always at the right time precisely. Mr., my cousin twin. It may feel a rage of teeth I would have here in Paris since his Quebec apartment. Always very far and still always there. There is sometimes a need Draper love: speaking of it here, this is what I do, I think.

Blonde, the new Pirate heart album. This girl seems to have swallowed everything the French music was able to produce in fifty years and transforms it into something both personal and familiar. As if it knew the song, without being able to remember from where. With accents of April March, also, and this voice, a nothing annoying sometimes, which only belongs to it. A feeling of freedom, finally: heart of Pirate plays the music she loves exactly. It is the impression that gives the album in any case; and as at the bottom, I always stand with people libres…

These painful hours spent under the hull of the boat, fiber stripper bowling up to melting. I feel well in the discomfort of heavy work. I don't know, it may be this species of silence shared with the other do-it-yourself on boats around me. The advice in the cold. The words covered by the noise of the machines. And then I like watching the progress of the work. Blues in the Palm of the hands, the cramps make me almost pleasure if I am correctly fulfilled my task. Finally, it is the boat of my grandfather: take care of Youk Bé, it is a little take care of him. The two need.

Nights spent in the company of Gabrielle, Adelaide and Florent. The character of this saga of Marie Laberge, the taste of happiness, that I have not yet entirely completed. V. who advised me it is. And this is confirmed, it really has the nose end as soon as it is to apply to my sensitive strings. I found these bourgeois heroes a little of everything which touches me in humanity. All this Quebec that in France is much less known language although are believed; and this period of history that fascinates me: between the 1930s and the mid-1950s, where the Western world is a ball changes, evolutions and revolutions.

The black salt of Lindt chocolate. Fish b. maple syrup which is one of the most succulent things in the world. Should I ask him if it is well that I publish the recipe on this blog. A nice video of FKY on Venice, which gives me want to immediately take a ticket to this city I love so much.

This small ring with a rose that I want to go to my finger. A head of Zebra in wallpaper. This bracelet gives me want to wear, me never clogging me of costume jewelry. And always inspiring images gleaned here and there, which here is a small collection. I read me. It is curious, it looks like a letter to my father.

Photo credit: 1 tree of Christmas – 2. Painted plates - 3. Ring Rose - 4. Wood + embroidery - 5. Bracelet of wood painted – 6. Dog sock - 7. Zebra pink paper - 8. Carpet wool balls - 9. Fungi

The Gleaner

Look for shells on the beach is a gruelling and magical occupation. I found in the paperboard product of some of these miraculous fisheries that I enjoy from time to time to identify and sort - as, no doubt, I would do it if I had a mountain of jewelry available, and with, I guess, a pleasure equivalent - asking me how to take advantage of this treasure without value that sleeps most of the time in small duffel bags and takes in a small box.

I have not yet found the use that I could do, but see them thus stored as inventory has given me some ideas and the opportunity to begin to tame this beautiful light, invites every day at my table from 11 hours of the December…

I want, I think, to exploit this idea of inventory. I don't even know how and these photos are only a brief sketch. I realize also, by watching, that work alongside a great technician of the image for my column in stop motion, makes me much more demanding in photography: these images put me with many questions that I don't know yet how to solve: shadows that I can't hunt, a grain that I do not know how to get, poorly resolved tone, never blurred composition that I the'd This is very frustrating, even though I know that necessarily, all of this I will advance one way or another.

Good going, tracks to improve, a beginning of idea… and under the whining, here I am finally recipient of two very good news.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

September music

And Yes after all: why not a playlist, from time to time, history to share with you what warms this back a little fresh sky? Not on your side, hesitate to send me your selections display on twitter @anneso or cachemireetsoie (at) gmail (dot) com directly. Good day amigos!

Bedouin Soundclash (feat.) (Pirate heart) - Brutal Hearts
Peter Von Poehl - The Bell Tolls Five
Feist – My Moon My Man
Connan Mockasin - Megumi The Milkyway Above
Elephanz - Stereo
Tamara Kaboutchek - Deep Inside The Mind
Metronomy - Everything Goes My Way
the bird and the bee - I Hate Camera
Florent Marchet - Narbonne Beach
Robin Mckelle - Bei Mir Bist the Schon
Stacey Kent - the holiday by the sea
Thomas Dutronc - tomorrow

Or otherwise, you can also directly click here to read on spotify.

Welcome to you

Today, it's beautiful. Time is refreshed, but behind the window, one can not feel these first bits of fall, the show is bathed in light. In a corner, the cat sleeps in his favorite place: under the window, he expected that the first rays come heating with its coat (not the reverse, the cats have their way for them to see things). He knows without doubt that he will soon leave and refuses to watch columns of cartons in the face.

Dear lessees, in a few days, you will be sitting at my place with this strange impression that this apartment is not yet entirely your: it is always like this, a new place to live. Need a little time for to really live it and vanish of themselves last attendance of the inhabitants of before. In fact, I don't know if walls keep track of the passage of those who preceded us. Perhaps everything fades behind a paint stroke.

I will not, be that day to welcome you, but I wanted to let you know that the view from the couch, if you install against the wall of the bottom, left, is always beautiful, including when the time is not, that the walls of this room was lined with joy, especially one where throne the fireplace and that the carpetDespite a task or two here and there, is still with happiness.

Then, only of the demi-rêves

This life is not his own. It always reach the same conclusion. Yet, nothing is missing, there are flowers in all corners: labour, good dinners, parties, friends, free time and outside, the bells Gin cotton caring hours. This month of December in the Sun, Christmas coming quietly.

All is well, is in the right place. Even colds do not last long. The little cat came back, he looks at ease in the Pocket handkerchief, as if it had always lived there. It is full of all ideas, it would seem, about cats who do not like homes. There is happy everywhere provided on life and plays.

No, really, not what to complain. Indeed it is not complaining. It's just to be the life of another, this life. There is something, a precarious in it all. Not made to last thing, it is difficult to explain. It is clear that she argues, it goes to somewhere. She not only knows where.

Then she makes decisions, its way to white in color. Small, to continue to work towards a goal, tack without turning in circles. Launch balls to see where they fall. Create movement without giving in to panic, after all, it's like this it survives a fall in the open sea. Small decisions, therefore, and then, a large: the horizon refuses to show? So be good, will not wait to make. It will draw an itself, and that is all.

Indeed, it is a head kick which was not really a great trip. Some things, it is unclear why keep their form of dream for many years and suddenly this is with a natural confounding, resolution is taken to finally rub them to reality. No, this decision did not have the brightness of head shots: is that the Green point that emerges from a very long time of germination. A seed that thrives to have finally found his land.

Its horizon to it, it is this grand voyage, now. Long, perilous as is always the case when a great dream: with the risk, of course, the shattered.

From only, others were air find it bizarre. She stands up, it goes without saying, but it is true that it looks like a beautiful picture with dust on it, its tip. It's not completely sharp. Yet, it is crazy that she is happy, no doubt about it. But perhaps after all that they the feel, the other, the grief of the beautiful things it decides finally to undertake alone, without a better option.

Obviously that is not like that she imagined him, his trip to the long course. Of course that lacks a soul sister history and shared enthusiasm. Of course that it the measure, this abyssal loneliness there will be to prepare for this great day with anyone. It is almost painful, this joy immense that it must simply reverse it to infinity, this joy never that meeting its ECHO, in part from time to time, politely attentive ear of a friend. Whenever she speaks, she sees his energy flowing into the vacuum. It would be so much better if it had run against someone.

A piece of Sun that radiates for himself, it's a bit of the mess. She knows.

Then it is it, simply it. It may well be all evil in the world to create movement, it must be satisfied for the moment to realize his dreams at half. The absence of another in this life it does not yet quite like his, it is simply that the problem. In this life, the framework is very nice, but everything is a little cut in two.

Dreams come true
Yesterday evening, a few seconds before turning off my computer, I received a mail from L. It is a...Recognition of debts
This weekend, in a marriage, my neighbour of table, Swedish State, was playing to compare the d...Pink cheeks
I like pink cheeks. Without doubt because it those girls who, out of breath...With roses for Dominique
My real life heroes, decidedly, almost always are women. Week last, no....

* Author's note

There is something that I must tell you. If I do not, I feel that I finish by not to write here. I have had very difficult to find my words, so if I am awkward, I hope that it does hold me not too strict.

Writing is a strange thing. Often, author's fire all wood for inspiration. He uses everything it sees, what he meant, confidences, divers… facts To give rise to situations, captivating characters, everything is good to take. I have with this "all", a kind of… moral difficulty I can't exceed.

Thus, I am sorry every day have not kept the anonymity on cashmere & silk. When I think to everything that I could speak freely here, I have Vertigo. But what is done is done. Then to maintain my reserves of ideas, I explore what happens to me, to me. Any new situation opened opportunities unexpected, changes in point of view, of opinion… This is exciting to explore.

It matters little that what happens in my life is sad, difficult, happy, or simply happy. From my point of view of copyright, it's just interesting (from my point of view of Anne-Solange, is, of course not the case). At the time where I decided to make the story here, I do that using a material: I choose an angle, a point of view, a "color" to transcribe. That which follows draws its source of an event lived or not has no importance to me. The only thing that counts for me is to transcribe an idea and this idea reaches print a little something in one read.

This is to explain that, even if most of the time I am speaking here in the first person, even if I speak in General of events that affect me personally, I am very great distinction between the author of this blog and myself. And well, I feel that this is not the way that the small texts I write here are received.

Thus, by reading your messages, following the last tickets, even if I am inevitably touched by so much kindness, I feel also terribly embarrassed. These texts which had not found me indecent (unless so in this case, the second was a pure fiction, and even without going up there, I am writing here in any subjectivity, what makes each ticket, in essence, a form of fiction), these texts that had me indecent appeared to step therefore, became in my eyes, with read messages aimed not to the author of this blog, but my own. What makes a big difference.

But if I cannot leave me the freedom to make also the story of these things here, it's simple: I have more than to close cashmere & silk, that I do not want. The only solution that come me to mind now is to close the comments module.

Even if it is symbolically - each is free to contact me by other means (twitter, messagerie…) if it wishes - cutting this direct link traditionally on a blog between the author and readers, it seems to me that the distinction between what I write (which is a public space) and that I am (which is not) will be more clear.

As of today, the comments are therefore more accessible. I am well aware that this is a rather poorly perceived initiative in General, blogs, and I can already say that the small so sweet words some of you will miss me, and tracks of lectures, addresses or travel advice I only hope that these lines have convinced you that it is in no case a door are you claquerait to the nose.