Polaroids from Paris: {Behind the Scene; The Chair Scene}

I like design duos. Charles and Ray Eames have an entire following, mainly as a response to their innovative designed chairs.  They wanted to design a chair that offered the comfort of a glove.

I can understand. Having three brothers; two of them which were very involved in playing baseball, and had an emotional bond to their mitts. I recall the times when their well-worn gloves had too much wear and tear in them. With a necessary replacement, they would invest so much time and effort in forming it to their sense of comfort. After contemplating those memories, the Eames duo design concept makes so much sense.

Within this modern designed building at the Vitra, there is a center work space where one can purchase one of these thousand-euro chairs. One can choose the wood, the material, color, etc. And then watch as the man in the center assembles the wood, and the woman sits behind an industrial sewing machine sewing up the upholstery. I am certain it would ultimately be quite an investment.

 The unique thing about the environment is that everything is right in front of you, and you are encouraged to interact with it all. To feel the types of material or the smoothness of the different types of curved wood. The actual patterns to the sewn pieces are hung up, and completely removable from the wall. The images of it's history shown a pleasant light on the couple. They seemed quirky, innovative, intelligent, and together. Ray Eames died ten years to the exact day of her husband.

Moving along successfully as two.

Bisous,

Reba

Polaroids from Paris: {Goal in Mind: Eat Cake, and then some}

It was my birthday today.
It was low-key, pleasant, and most importantly it consisted of indulging in a slice of black forest cake.
Layers of chocolate, separated by cream, with a layer of cherries to give one a sense of "healthy"
But I am a personal believer that a birthday completely justifies any amount of chocolate with cream, sense of "healthy" really doesn't seem necessary. Regardless, it was wonderful along with the captured images of the day. The many, many images that need to be scanned in.
tomorrow.
Bisous,

Reba 

Postcards from Paris: {L'élégance du hérisson, and a parallel wonderment}

 Though it has been out for sometime, I have been recently inspired and anxiously looking forward to getting my hands on a French version of L'élégance du hérisson.

I think about the guardienne in my building and the possible secrets she may be withholding from the people she delivers their mail to, the people she sees from day to day. 

I wonder about the possibilities, but feel perfectly at ease with the thought that I may never really know. I could leave my building with these continuing curious assumptions and never say anything more to her than a mere "Bonjour" or "merci" for holding the door open, but the thought that she has more on her mind than delivering addressed envelopes or taking out the trash fills me with unpursuing ambition.

I have yet to read an actual novel in French.
I have Le Petit Prince crossed off my list, and various titles of children's book which I can say that I have fully comprehended, the pictures help. With my list of New Year's resolutions being compiled,  I am up for a new challenge. There is comfort knowing that the movie looks like a well-done representation in the case that I need a subtitled reference.

Bisous,

Reba

Polaroids from Paris: {Shopping Second-Hand with Bundles}

 I find that at times I am a spoiled shopper, in the sense that I only want objects if they come in bundles.

I do have visual enjoyment seeing such objects grouped together waiting for a home. I can relate to a dear friend; whenever she is forced to choose one between several objects she finds herself feeling guilty for the ones left behind. Plus, objects seem happier when they have "friends"

My daily adventures continue as I finish up this year in Germany.

Bisous,

Reba

Polaroids from Paris: {German Snow Scene}

We bundled up in layers of heavy knits and fur caps with leather gloves to keep from the snap of the cold winter air. The snow has kept it's appearance, and what more can one ask for after waking up Christmas morning to an ideal winter scene.
Our stroll through that particular scene seemed surreal as we walked from one German village to another, and the satisfaction of knowing that an indulgence in something sweet and warm once we arrived home seemed completely justified. The moments of walking uphill and avoiding unintentional spills was hardly a burden to bare whenever I thought what was waiting for us at home.
I needed that walk and most of yesterday to take everything in.
I overheard the two boys discussing Christmas day as "sensory-overload"
I avoided being obvious, and just mentally agreed.
My hopes are that everyone had a day of sensory-overload.
And a day after of just taking it all in. 

Bisous,

Reba

Polaroids from Paris: {village allemand, rideaux de dentelle}

We all slept around the Christmas tree, all seven of us bundled and and very much on top of each other. Our grown-up bodies more prone to the pain caused from the hard wood floor, a discomfort that as children, we'd hardly make mention of it in order for the opportunity to have the scent of the pine needles so close, and the magical glow of the strung-lights reflecting off the ornaments.

Though last night's sleep was an act done just to keep up with childhood tradition, there was something rewarding with waking up together to the snow falling. 

With the father of the house singing, "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" in a familiar dad-voice to wake us all up.

Pretzels, and other German pastries for breakfast.

Along with other small delights that keep embellishing and embellishing the overall scene.

This German village of Kandern houses sweet little residences with small windows and lace-crochet curtains.

It kills me to watch from my bedroom window the home across the creek; snow-covered tile roof, the chimney sputtering out puffs of smoke, and those windows with those curtains imitating patterns of snowflakes.

I wish everyone little moments of pure delight for the rest of the year.

Merry Christmas!

Reba

Polaroids from Paris: {Mon arrivée en Allemagne}

Though I feel as though I will forever love the Parisian architecture, I am re freshened by the styles of this region. Quaint and comforting. The home cooking only adds to the comforting. When asked by these dear friends what I want for Christmas I am far satisfied with their company and their family traditions they welcomely share with me.

Once more, the food always is a plus.

Christmas away from family has moments where I do not recognize the holiday, but I find myself fortunate.

Though I am only a three hour train ride away from Paris, and France and Germany touch.

The differences between the two effect all my senses in the most appreciated way.

Bisous,
Reba

Postcards from Paris: {Ma Nuit Chez Maud, 1969}

Sometimes Christmas movies are not so direct, but it seems nice having a holiday scene in the background to French philosophical discussion.
With an appearance of a Christmas tree embellished with little white lights, I cannot help but categorize this film, My Night at Maud's, under holiday seasoned movies.
Spending cold days inside to reassure one's health is simply better while watching black and white french films. Christmas shopping can wait until Germany...

Until then...
Bisous,
Reba

Polaroids from Paris: {Mamie Gateaux}

Delicate lace curtains offering a friendly welcome and liberty-print table cloths for the place settings outside.

I am charmed by Mamie Gateaux.

Being an avid reader to several Paris-based blogs, I cannot claim this quaint little restaurant as my own discovery.

 But I can emphasize that every simple little element that makes up this establishment, is a treasure. From the sweet Japanese girls working in the kitchen, to the friendly older man taking orders, and the lovely white-haired woman with red lipstick who smiles often.

Oh, how I wish it were nearer to me in the 17th.

Alas, it resides on the left bank on rue cherche-midi.

Several smiling steps away from Le Bon Marche.

Bisous,

Reba