Design Interlude - Candy Pink Palaces

This post is a personal design indulgence of mine and a little vanity project in progress, amongst my many areas of interest. I have a thing for good design and more than a casual appreciation for 'olde worlde' interiors, exteriors, homestyles, graphics and the likes. The last time I did a 'Design Interlude' was over 5 years ago, where I featured sublime Cheshire residential façades from my then neck of the woods (Hale, Bowdon and Altrincham). I had taken snapshots of candy-coloured façades, that looked like they had escaped the confines of a 3-tiered tea-time cake stand, and eloped in their delicious robes of custard cream, buttercream fancy, chiffon cake and marshmallow, taking me down a cottage industry journey of delicate mint cake, lemon truffle, deep caramel, old-fashioned violet and rose creams, candied ginger, strawberry truffle, butterscotch, coconut macaroon and vanilla fudge… Are we under the spell of a sugar high or are we not?

(pict source)

When Wes Anderson's critically-acclaimed film The Grand Budapest Hotel came out and its majestic façade rose upon our screens and graced the glossies in its wedding cake strawberry meringue colourings and piped lettering, I knew straight away that I was faced with an art that I loved. Anderson's quirky formula is sublime in my eye: the nostalgia-ladden cartoonesque naïve art visuals in candy pastel graphics and the surrealist art direction which both celebrate vintage to an artform are a great fit to my all-encompassing design passions. I had to extol this proud and loud in my blog, no matter how long it would take me to get round to it, which ended up being more than 12 months after the movie release (eeek how responsive is that?).


Finally the moment has come to be enjoyed, as I am looking at the façade and imagining the stories and dramas and quid pro quos that lie underneath the apparent sober tranquillity and contained gracefulness of the place. Meanwhile I invite you to go backstage and find out about Wes Anderson's Grand Budapest Hotel graphic designer, Annie Atkins, via an insightful article by Camille Styles, or how she met the visual feat challenges raised by such a high-profile project brief for a sought-after dream job!

(pict source)

Talking of candy pink palaces, how could I possibly resist other gems, especially if they are no fiction, but rather a sweet and welcome part of our reality? Hawa Mahal, otherwise known as Palace of Winds (Jaipur, India, completed 1799) springs to my mind, as immortalised herein by Studio Yuki in all its intricate beauty and timeless charm:

Hawa Mahal (pict source)

Some candy pink palaces out there in India are crumbly around the edges, like this one in Benarés. We may nonetheless appreciate its fading glory. The top storey certainly looks well kept and - since we are in a sweet-focused mood - I would say that its ornate décor reminds me of some girlie birthday cake decoration piping. If sweetness is bringing you sickness, we'll steer the façade analogy clear of sugar and steer it towards bejewelling instead.

Benarés, India (pict source)

Anyway if nostalgia tastes like a cream cake from childhood baked with tender loving care, I wonder what a whiff of nostalgia would smell like? I shall dispense with a spray of pure musk from L'Air de Panache, found lingering on a bedside cabinet at The Grand Budapest Hotel. Maybe I'll go for a drop of Guerlain instead.

L'Air de Panache (pict source)

Field Day in the Garden

I'm living it up in the garden right now, and more specifically in that little spot at the back of my parents' land, a patch that includes a patio where I organically 'grow things' mostly in pots, a tiny potager next to it where I grow tomatoes and courgettes (zucchini), and an adjacent plot where... things, errm, grow by themselves.

English rose bush from a Cheshire garden centre

But let's start off with the potted garden... I have resurrected my dear old classic English rose bush (see above) that I brought back from Manchester in 2011 (I flew it back locked in my suitcase!). Admittedly the rose bush has had its ups and downs, having to adapt to Mediterranean temperatures, but this year it has finally rewarded me with a bumper crop of flowers!

Potted hydrangea

Aside from that, I'm looking after my mum's potted hydrangea, lavender and thyme (which we keep for purely decorative purposes). I am experimenting with cuttings (fig tree, myrtus) and seeds (Eriobotrya japonica and lemon), without success so far, except for the baby avocado tree, grown from a stone. I've also set up a miniature potted mint nursery. I've got some succulents too (aeonium) and a couple of paltry cacti from England that oddly enough used to thrive better in the northern climes than closer to the Sahara latitudes, fancy that?

Wispy lavender swaying to a light breeze...

Small and perfectly formed thyme...

Baby avocado tree, grown from a stone...

Arty aeonium!

The wild plants that grow by themselves do so to my folks despair, since to them a wild garden equals uncouth and neglect – oh, and I'm giving up trying to convert them to permaculture! That little patch of wild is - surprise surprise! - my favourite spot in the whole garden, as much for the kid in me revisiting that TV classic from childhood - Little House on the Prairie - everytime I amble across the tall grasses, but also as an opportunity to satisfy the botanist side of my personality and gauge what grows, what might be tamed, and how rich the soil is.

A male Philaeus chrysops (a curious jumping spider, check out his eyes!)

A cricket playing hide-and-seek!

Fibonacci in action!

The soil is dark, crumbly and fertile and teeming up with life forms (worms, tiny snails, ants, arachnids, bugs and creepy-crawlies of all sorts). My parents estate is located in the plains, hardly a mile off the coastline, on former agrarian land enriched by a compost of sorts, naturally made up of sediments deposited by the nearby mountain chain and aggregated with those from the nearby brook, and kept in fairly good ambient humidity levels, heavy morning dew, humidity from the sea rising at night to the back lands, and moisture trapped in the plains.

XXL Zucchini!

Additionally, the underground water reserves are plentiful, as testified by the plethora of stone wells that the elders built during the 19th century and which only dry up in Summer. My parents have salvaged three of those wells in the garden and all of them have been dredged and are in working order. I've had a few pleasant surprises around the wild patch: wild and lush passiflora, the incredibly fragrant garden mint and other aromatics (melissa, aniseed), chard, bird feed (plantago), cornflower, Queen Anne's Lace (a.k.a. wild carrot), rumex, thistles, bramble (sigh!) and more.

Wild and lush passiflora

Wild fragrant mint

Wild chard

All in all, I do find the gardening a pleasurable experience and a stress-buster. Likewise when I lived in Manchester. Getting physical takes my mind off the nitty-gritty. And sometimes I will just sit quietly in the grasses and observe life at work, butterflies, bees, roaches, ants - fascinating! And for me to keep busy around the garden is also an incredible fuel to my creative inspiration! Maybe you should get down and dirty too (if you're not already)?

Those don't drive me potty!

Hey Gorgeous!

If the object of your affection hasn't yet plucked up the courage to utter them magic words to you, then I'll double make the point of saying them: I Love You guys and thanks for your support and following! Happy Valentine's, you gorgeous things!

Sources: (1) Zing it with a 'Classic Lemon Zest' bouquet by award-winning Cheshire-based florist The Black Rose! (2) Be a hoot like the 'Adorned Owl' illustration by my friend and French artist Isabelle Duvignon! (3) Bring it to the crunch with a medium tin of love chocolates by British confectioner extraordinaire Biscuiteers! (4) Oomph it with 'Chocolate Wafer' from San Fran-based Miette Bakery!

Want more? More V Day frolics over at our sister site Mirabelle Design Inspiration!

Hotel Review - The Village Hotel Cheadle

I had planned a trip to Manchester at relatively short notice and was looking to stay in the South of the city for convenience (within easy reach of the airport, and because most of my engagements would take place in South Manchester) and personal choice (historically South Manchester had been my homebase for the best part of 16 years).

Last time I was in the UK (back end of August 2010), I had booked a room at the City Inn Hotel Manchester (now rebranded as Mint Hotel) bang in the centre of town, halfway between Piccadilly Gardens and Piccadilly Train Station. Although it was convenient in certain ways (mainly on the retail and catering front), it proved rather tricky in relation to my South Manchester-based appointments. So this time around I was determined to give the city centre a miss.

Mum's ready for action and The Village Hotel has it!

Last time I took my brother with me and now I was taking my mum. I was hiring a car, which would give us that much-needed freedom of movement, as you end up wasting a lot of time and money juggling taxis, trains, buses and the likes... We could therefore afford to be off the main parkways and out of town centres.

The temptation for anyone looking for a hassle-free booking would have been to resort to one of those budget hotels within the immediate airport area. The Travel Inn was priced at an attractive £29.00 a night, but in terms of attraction I was looking for something else. I wanted our hotel stay to have a bit more oomph and drama. Previously I had stayed at the Village Hotel Cheadle, even had dinner there a couple of times, I even had insider knowledge of the place (my partner had worked there), so this was going to be my natural choice. I wasn't taking a risk, neither was I prepared to take one.

The 117-bedroom Village Hotel is located in the leafy suburbs of Stockport, a Cheshire town touching the South East Manchester boundaries. The hotel is a good 15 minutes drive away from the airport (on a quiet day) and within easy reach of the motorway, a half-hour drive from Manchester city centre off peak hours. It enjoys a good reputation and attracts a wide array of demographics, from business people to families, wedding parties, week-enders or friends/ couples on a city break.

That statement dark entrance! (picture source)

The hotel is set in a landscaped environment of mature trees, with ample parking space, and refers to itself as a hub, for it is not only a hotel, but also a restaurant & grill (Verve), a pub (Victory), a Starbucks café, a conference destination, a function venue, and a very popular leisure club complete with swimming pool. There is a buzz about that whole place, no doubt about it! The Cheadle hotel is part of the 25-strong Village Hotel group. The group has been under the umbrella of the prominent De Vere portfolio (Malmaison Hotel, Hotel du Vin, Liberty (dept. store), Searcys etc.) for a couple of years and each of the 25 Village hotels are being repackaged up by the De Vere guys into 'an affordable, design-led hotel with an individual vibe of its own', aiming for trendy boutique hotel status at a reasonable price. 

I booked the hotel only a few days ahead of the trip, via Booking.com and got a 50% deal straightaway: £250.00 for a twin room for 4 nights (buffet breakfast included). Not bad when you consider that rooms are typically 3 to 4 times the value of a Travel Inn room!

Last time I had stayed at The Village Hotel was in a suite, and my current expectations were a tad warped by the experience. The twin room seemed cramped, certainly not as roomy as an average De Vere twin room. It was also quite dark (some hotel reviewers have gone as far as describing their room as dark and dingy), which wasn't helped by the dark accent wall.

Lightening up the sombre mood of the room!

One of the perks of hotel guests once they step inside their room is either to raid the mini-bar or the complimentary breakfast bar. In our case, there was no mini-bar. As for the breakfast bar, the choice of beverages was limited to coffee, decaffeinated coffee, and that strong builders brew (tea) that even the milk pod and sugar sachet wouldn't soften the strength of. No biscuits, tid-bits, fancy/ herbal teas that you would otherwise expect from a boutique hotel on a par with 'The Mal'. And I have to say I was a bit bothered by this.

Same in the bathroom department. Hotel guests love those sample-size shower gels, shampoos, creams and cutesy soaps. Here you had to content with the basic Cussons dispenser in the bath, and a (faulty) liquid soap dispenser by the sink. The toilet paper was cheap and nasty. These are little things but hotel guests pick on them. I saw no hairdryer in the room, although I am sure I could have requested one from the reception desk. The door knob looked like it had been replaced but you could see the markings and holes from the previous one from a different design. There was a fine sprinkling of dust over the desk lamp and the standalone lamp (easily noticeable as soon as those lamps were on). The window glass needed a clean and so did the flat roof that we overlooked.

Besides the hotel was noisy on two levels. It is on the flight path and those of you used to the peace and quiet of the countryside or the sleepy towns might pick on this straight away. However the flight noise is bearable and no aircraft activity could be heard roughly between 12:00am and 5:00am. The second type of noise came from the function rooms which happened to be underneath our room. Noise subsided after 12:00am (possibly around 1:00am to 2:00am, I couldn't say for definite). One night we had a 1980s disco to content with. Duran Duran and FGTH didn't exactly lull us to sleep, although for the music's sake I would have preferred something edgier from back in the day although then I might have joined the party!

Rise and shine!

I don't mean to sound like a grating episode of The Hotel Inspector. Maybe I should indicate in passing that I worked a short stint in the hotel industry, which has made me more naturally attuned to some of the details I have mentioned here. Having said that, you get the clear message that the company is on a cost-cutting mission and the first casualties are the little touches, which is most unfortunate when you aim to position your brand as a boutique hotel. (After writing this review I had a look at the Village Hotel website which funnily enough mentioned 'little touches' at the hotel... At least we are on the same wavelength, except poles apart!).

At least the food didn't let us down. You could taste that it had been freshly prepared. My mum and I dined at the Verve restaurant on the evening of our arrival, and enjoyed the Salmon Fishcakes which we had ordered as a main course. We were each presented with one haggis-sized fishcake, but once we got over the odd presentation, we loved the melting combination of salmon and potato purée, served with a light vinaigrette and Tartare sauce. For dessert, we had a heavenly (and filling!) Bread and Butter Pudding served with Chocolate Sauce and Orange Marmelade. I was a bit taken aback by the waiter bringing us a pitcher of tap water when I asked for water (I meant a bottle of still water, like Evian or equivalent)...

Breakfast was a moment we looked forward to: a buffet-style eat-as-much-as-you-like feast that encompasses all tastes, from the continental breakfast (fresh fruit, juices, yogurt, milk, cereals, muesli, Danish pastries, croissants, toasts etc.) to the typical Full English Breakfast, all presented within the Nantucket design style of the Verve restaurant. The temptation to linger over breakfast was strong as it was really cosy there!

A few supplies from Sainsbury's to get us going!

The staff were friendly, although the reception manager did look a bit harassed one time, and on our very early departure on Sunday it would have been nice for the night porter/ hotel manager or whoever that middle-aged guy was, to thank us for our stay and wish us a pleasant journey, rather than blurting out in a huff from a distance: 'Have you paid everything?'. Not exactly a parting good-bye, but then again this hotel sadly lacks in places what it should be all about: the little touches!

The Village Hotel Cheadle, Cheadle Road, Cheadle, Stockport, Cheshire SK8 1HW, U.K.
Tel: (+ 44) (0)844 980 8033

The + sides: conveniently situated, young and vibrant atmosphere, comfy bed, Verve restaurant fayre fresh and tasty
The - sides: room décor a bit cheerless; noisy room; not as spotless as should be; lack of little extras and lack of attention to detail; toilettries/ hot beverages in the room to the absolute minimum; a hairdressing/ beauty salon would have been handy for those guests short on time. That night porter guy/ concierge, not a happy bunny!

Read my review published on Booking.com.

Hop & Shop in Candy Shades!

A couple of weeks ago I took my mum to Manchester (U.K.) on a four-day trip packed full with appointments and commitments, but we managed to squeeze a spot of shopping in between!

The mugs are from John Lewis

We visited two familiar retail haunts which also rate high as personal favourites: John Lewis (Cheadle) and Kendals (where my mum took advantage of the amazing sale to invest in Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein nightwear for my dad). I took my mum to Lakeland (Handforth), the British kitchen domestics equivalent to Mathon (the Mathon catalogue is virtually my mum's bedside read!). She loved it there in Lakeland, and amongst other items, purchased individual 1950s style enamel oblong pie dishes, with the promise of culinary delights to come!

We whizzed down to Sainsburys to stock up on crumpets, custard creams, golden syrup, cake decorations, tea cakes, Battenberg cake, organic white tea and we even pushed the button further by purchasing... flour! This is in fact so that I can recreate the 'perfect' Victorian Sponge back in Corsica using the most appropriate ingredients! How British was that for a shopping list, by the way!

Every cloud (made of chocolate) has a silver lining!

Our tight timetable was such that there wasn't any time left for wandering or exploring further shopping venues (apart from the obligatory trips down to the local DIY store as this is developed further down this article). Meanwhile I had been looking forward to a cake shop & tea parlour in West Didsbury called And The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon which I had found out about via Twitter, but had to cross it off our list as we were defeated by time... Instead we stumbled across a Costa Coffee down the Altrincham high street and that one had to do!

To be fair, it would have been nice to add an extra couple of days to our schedule and dedicate that extra time purely to shop and treats, but with a new job looming on the horizon of our planned return date, this would have been impossible for me to honour.

Coconut ice from John Lewis

We stayed at The Village Hotel Cheadle, which I will talk about in more detail in my next article. Cheadle is a Stockport suburb located in South Manchester, and the hotel was a handy base for our to-ing and fro-ing around the Cheshire fringes of Timperley-Altrincham-Handforth for most of my scheduled appointments. Last but not least, our Cheadle base was also within accessible radius of my little house which I am currently renting out via a property agent.

My mum and I had taken advantage of the fact that the tenancy had come to an end, in order to go down to the house for inspection, replace a couple of bathroom fixtures, and add a few touches to the property to make it even cosier. We also took up the task of tidying the garden: three bins worth of cuttings, dead leaves, overgrown branches and weeds! Although my elderly tenant looked after the house beautifully, the garden clearly wasn't her cup of tea, although I had offered her (via the agency) the services of a gardener to help her keep on top of it but she had declined...

Easy does it at John Lewis!

Anyway I'll let you swoon over a small selection of the sweet nothings in candy shades that my mum and I brought back from the UK (further evidenced by the excess luggage charge that we incurred from the EasyJet desk on the day of departure)... But in the end, it was all good and we loved every minute of it! Now I can't wait to return, if only for the shopping fix which I will never get out of my system, especially now as a 'recluse' islander in the Med, in a place that is a galaxy away from the fast-lane premium shopping experience that any major UK city hands you over on a plate!

On these pictures I am sure you'll agree that not only are the sugary colours covetable, but those amongst us with a soft spot for packaging design, typefaces and typesetting will be equally sensitive to the charms they exude. Looks so good, you don't want to spoil the fun by cracking open the boxes to raid their contents!

Ready for Fathers Day!

So French yet so British!

Our candy theme all the way down to menswear!

(B)Rambling On (Part 2)

Roll forward 17 months and migrate almost a thousand miles South East of South Manchester. I've now spent enough time in a totally different countryside league to venture a disillusioned sigh before rolling up my sleeves. For this is no domesticated rambling countryside as in the Cheshire set playgrounds, nor is it the Cheshire countryside from the farming communities that spread beyond the aforementioned playgrounds.

'Autumn view of Shutlinsloe' (Cheshire) by © Ed Rhodes Photography

Here in this part of Southern Europe where I now reside, farming, agriculture, peasantry, cottage industries (where I would be tempted to include small-scale family fisheries and the likes), and the foundations of the pastoral lifestyle that they all support, are dying a sure death and falling prey to the trappings of the all mod-con urban lifestyle, real estate speculators  and the pressure of tourism. The sort of countryside I am personally faced with is the result of decades of utter neglect.

Society is changing and it would be extremely tempting for someone like I to point the finger, lament and criticise. Family elders like Claire (my grandma's auntie who I have mentioned a few times in this blog), did their absolute best in their day to work the land, in harsh conditions and with very little financial reward in return. Who can blame the next generation for giving up altogether on agriculture and land management, and instead move to the towns and cities, where they would embrace a modern lifestyle, with prospects of a 'real' job and a regular wage?

In France like elsewhere, and for centuries and centuries agriculture has suffered cyclical ups and downs, not only in tune with the economy, but also as a result from other factors like disease or weather; the 19th century Irish potato famine is a fitting example. Small farming concerns are often first to pay the price and go bust, but larger farms are not exempt: John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath describes it in 1930s depression-hit Oklahoma farming belt.

In a strange paradox, despite the fact that worldwide population is growing exponentially, new markets emerging and existing ones expanding, the malaise is set to carry on across the farming industry. This is an industry that has become heavily reliant upon government subsidies in order for the farmers to survive. Add to that the law of supply and demand which puts tremendous pressure upon the farmers, further emphasised by supermarkets driving costs down en masse, in turn weakening whatever's left of the supply base bargaining powers. Those who feed the world are not necessarily the best fed.

Against this far-from-joyful overall land context, I have set myself a challenge over the last few months, involving two land management projects that I have been tackling single-handedly, this giving me a tiny insight into the challenges that await whoever tackles land with minimum equipment, support, knowledge and physical preparation... Oh and no cash. One project involves a former vineyard gone wild (so wild that oak trees and maquis are thriving in there). You get the picture: this is no Château Margaux... I have been clearing brambles, cutting wild grasses, sawing down small diseased trees and generally working towards rehabilitating the land's ecosystem, with the unwitting contribution from some existing wild plants and bushes for the landscaping bit: green oaks, asphodels, honeysuckle, cistus, boxwood, etc. Alongside this rather ambitious project, I am trying to save a small 19th century stone shed from further decay (see picture above).

Apart from the tight scrub (maquis), you are also faced with a rampant case of brambles known to take over a whole one-storey house in less than twenty years if left unleashed. Other pests of the vegetal order involve a variety of parasitic ivy that creeps up trees, lives off them, suffocates them till they die. Right, left and centre, high and low, I have been battling all sorts of invasive plants like bramble, thistle and co. They seem to grow back even more vigorously after they have been hacked or pulled. I could pretend to be clever and use radical chemical methods, but that would be cheating and anyway that just wouldn't be me. There is enough pollution in the world as it is.

So guys, be ready to rock, and welcome to the jungle! All in all, since living in this part of the world, I have never seen so much bramble around. It is even encouraged by locals who allow it to thrive unchecked around land strips as some makeshift hedge/ land boundary. We are as far away from those charmingly romantic hedgerows from England as can be! Another reason for despair when you like your countryside upkept, not unkempt. Here the wilderness from the abandonned countryside is spreading upon your doorstep if left unchecked. That wilderness is unforgiving to whoever tackles it. You end up covered in scratches, nicks, blisters, cuts and you can also say bye-bye to that flawless complexion...

Friends and relatives from across the shore who imagine that my Corsican stoppover is a life of leisure in the sun, where I have no other worry than unpack my designer purchases, before sipping frappé Mint Juleps poolside with Paris Hilton en route for Portofino, couldn't be further from the truth. Enough rambling on, someone's got 'brambling' to do!

(B)Rambling On (Part 1)

When you have been a hardcore urbanite all of your life - except for the last 17 months - chance is, the countryside will still hold some secrets to you and still take you by surprise. No disrespect, but my (rather remote and sedate) experience of the countryside for the 16 years preceding the last 17 months (are you still following me, btw?) erred (tottered) on the posh side, and I shall only drop the name: Cheshire.

Property for sale in Prestbury, Cheshire (POA), at Jackson-Stops & Staff

'Nuff said, I lived on the wrong side of the Cheshire county border, yet only a hop away from the coveted plush pads of Hale & Hale Barns, Knutsford, Dunham Massey, Woodford and Alderley Edge. I'll bypass Wilmslow on this one, as Wilmslow is too obvious an option, Wilmslow is brash and nouveau riche (in my opinion). Anyway, the Cheshire countryside I was aware of was nothing to do with the deep, middle-of-nowhere, muddy, dusty, back-breaking farming heartland countryside, I must concede. Rather it was Manchester's extended Southbound spread of charming little satellite towns and villages flirting with the outskirts of suburbia and stretching just over the green belt that circumnavigates our marvelous Northern city.

Me and my mates would nip across to Cheshire like one would nip down the corner shop, whenever we felt like it, as a pick-me-up, with no particular reason, for a wander mostly or even in search of lifestyle inspiration. We 'targeted' the trendy bars (where we liked to be seen), quintessentially English pubs (where we felt cosy in Winter), and stylish restaurants (only if we felt flush that month!).

Sweet talking at The Rams Head, in Disley

You get it, we'd nip across to Cheshire mostly to kid ourselves, pretend we were one of them, and try blending in with the beautiful crowds, even passing judgement like only a bunch of girls would, from the safety of their group and assurance gained after that first glass of wine: 'That one over there, she can't be from round here, you can tell from that dress, and look at that hair, is she desperate or what?' - we'd quip with a frown (as if we shouldn't have known better ourselves!) and then we'd giggle, like a bunch of silly teenage girls, 30 going on 13!

I slummed it a notch when taking Tickle to the parks and country parks of Cheshire (mainly Styal and Dunham Massey), on those long lazy Summer week-ends, even later in season. I felt safe, rested and incredibly inspired there, cut off from the stress of the city. I'd go for a drive down the narrow country lanes of Cheshire, just to reconnect with myself and with my thoughts. I'd clear my head, solve problems, find brief contentment. Me and a friend would sometimes make a whole day out of our Cheshire trip, visit the odd boutique and succumb to purchase temptation, visit an antiques dealer for inspiration, on a whim and on a daydream, then down to the garden centre, or the local tea room for a treat.

'Dunham Massey Mill in the Snow', by © Ed O'Keeffe Photography

What fascinated us was that those 'little towns in the country' boasted virtually all the conveniences of the bigger towns (maybe minus good transportation links), with the added advantage of quality, originality and exclusivity, which in turn resulted in the distinct disadvantage of the price tag. When down in Knutsford, which virtually consists of two parallel and narrow high streets that you can walk up and down in less than ten minutes (excluding window-shopping), we'd marvel at those designer kitchen showrooms, glamorous hair and beauty salons, trendy wine bars and bijou designer boutiques.

At the estate agents windows, we'd coo at the rows of noughts sitting within the price of the 'For Sale' properties from the Cheshire set. We'd wow past those handkerchief-sized character cottages with their neat topiary box hedges, doll-house picket fence and expensive-looking plant tubs from Heal's or Barton Grange, with elaborate colourful arrangements spilling out of them. Those houses had kerb appeal by the bucket-load.

Source: Marie Claire Maison

We'd think, we'd hope: 'One day, it will be me!' We'd live the daydream while we were there, then head home and land back into the reality of our financial situations... Anyway this was the kind of countryside we liked: polished, civilised, designer-led... and townie. And fake - let's admit it. (to be continued)

Spring Snapshots

Of all four seasons, Spring is my all-time favourite. And although each season holds it in the charm stakes, Spring holds it together better in my heart. In fact, if the four seasons made up a perfume, Spring would be its basenote.

The sweet smell of (Spring) success: hawthorn

For me, Spring signifies the true commencement of a new year, unlike 1st January, because it symbolises birth - rebirth even - renewal, nature waking up. It symbolises life and a new beginning. It encapsulates the anticipation of exciting things to come, it heralds the end of Winter drab, and the longer milder days and shorter nights. It holds the promise of Summer, those long lazy vacational Summer days that fill us with simple carefree joy: picnics, gathering with friends, garden parties, music festivals, pottering about in the garden...

Spring is promising on many fronts, and it is also a floral revelation - be it in the garden, the local park, the countryside around us. Simple little moments of happiness in my experience, like witnessing a sprinkle of crocuses across a lawn, a bright yellow sparkle of daffodils down the grass verges of nearby Mobberley (Cheshire), the beautiful white lilac in my front garden making me proud by displaying its floral scented best to all and sundry, trees getting dressed up in a variation of tender green leaves, wildlife busied up chirping, building nests, raising youngs.

The poppy patrol: papaver

Spring provides some of the finest, most delicate garden produce: asparagus, artichoke, lettuce, radish, herbs, strawberries, cherries, rhubarb, medlars... And of course those fine Jersey new potatoes that make up the best salads! You can't get bored in the kitchen in Spring thanks to all those fine cooking possibilities!

Spring makes us ladies yearn to be prettier and lighter, discarding scarves, shedding clumpy attire, instead revealing dresses, sporting shorter sleeves, showing off bold colour schemes, daring bright patterns, flaunting floaty/ see-through fabrics. Spring is simply inspirational. It gets us out of houses and out and about, out there in the open.

Part of Ralph Lauren's Blue Label womenswear collection

Spring by name and Spring by nature. It is, in my eyes, like a metaphorical springboard, filling me with energy, with ideas, with enthusiasm. It is invigorating and regenerating like a citrus-fresh fragrance.

Everything seems possible in Spring, everything looks rosier, lighter, smoother, happier. It sounds terribly cliché to say but Spring makes me spring into action, it's when those long-forgotten foggy New Year's resolutions from weeks and weeks ago suddenly rush back to the forefront and enthuse me to act on them. A good Spring clean, not solely in domestic terms, but also as regards matters of the mind, addressing those things and people and actions that bug us and delay us and drag us down. And to get on top of the tedious long put-off paperwork and those other chores at large.

Christian Dior's Escale à Portofino: so fresh!

Ideas pop up, start coming together as by magic, they materialise, see the day of life. Spring gives me strength, it clears my head. And my favourite month in Spring? You might have guessed, it is right now - May!

And by the way, what is your favourite season, and why?

La Baguette in Ten Bites (Part 1)

To mark La Baguette's 150th post, why not reminisce our blog's achievements to date while revisit its best bits in ten scrumptious bites!

For the purpose of the exercise, our measurement reference data tool is Blogger's in-built Google Analytics interface (although in our free time we would also refer to Sitemeter for cross-reference purposes, Sitemeter boasting much more in-depth measurement capabilities). Let us bear in mind that the G.A. statistical records made available to us do not cover the whole longevity of this blog (i.e. from 01/09/2009) but 'only' span May 2010 to date.

1. The Reckoning: According to G.A. this post has garnered the highest number of hits since its origins back on 01/10/2009. Statistically The Reckoning is a clear all-time winner and interestingly the only 2009 post to make it in the Top10 popularity league. I wouldn't have predicted such success for that particular post, but its topics (ecology, food import dilemmas) dig into the essence of La Baguette and the 'Intelligent Food for Thought' fibre that it is ambitiously seeking to promote.

2. Fashion Review - Doc Martens: Our second most popular post in terms of hits, it is forecast to more than trebble that of The Reckoning by the time it reaches the latter's current lifespan. With Doc Martens I certainly generated a short intense buzz, with over 30 unique hits within 24 hours, mostly relayed via my Twitter feed. This really tells you one thing or two in terms of product placement and branding.

A blog is a personal affair. But if you make it too personal, generating a following and keeping your audience interested can prove a challenge, unless you are - say - Dooce. On the other hand, talk about a product, a brand, especially a youth-orientated, high-street and/ or fashion brand, and you get up there in terms of exposure. Don't need a marketeer to figure that one out! In terms of hits, this could have been tricky in itself, considering Doc Martens is a much more alternative footwear brand than Gina, Manolo Blahnik or even good old H&M. But with La Baguette's mission statement being about 'taking one step back in order to stay ahead', we are clear about what we are about...

3. City Fizz: A post off the Top10 radar should still deserve a mention of course, especially if it is dedicated to Manchester, U.K, no less because the author spent a big chunk of her life there, i.e. 16 years. A city influences you, shapes you somehow, it can even change you. Manchester did just that. It certainly was an experience of contrasts and contributed to the person I am now. I have grown as a woman in Manchester, got my first proper job in Manchester, bought my first high heels and fell in them in Manchester, had some of the best times of my life in Manchester, and purchased my first home in Manchester. In an upbeat tone, City Fizz captures a city in motion, a dizzily changing cityscape that pushes you forward with the changes.

Wedding Cupcakes from The Hummingbird Bakery

4. Sweet Nothings: One of my personal favourites is a quirky and light-hearted praise of all things cupcakes and will still return as one of the Google results 14 months after being written, if you search for 'cupcakes'. Funnily enough I can still picture the day I uploaded the post onto the blog. It was a Sunday, the weather had been reasonable all day (no rain for once!) and I'd just returned home from Bruntwood Park (Cheadle) with Tickle.

I was immensely proud of this post and was amazingly serene at the same time (despite the fact that I was preparing for my move from Britain). Meanwhile I was daydreaming about the big guns from London's Fleet Street turning up on my doorstep with an offer I couldn't refuse, after stumbling upon Sweet Nothings online... I have since recovered from such a naive expectation. (But if you are indeed a media representative reading this, do get in touch!).

5. My Californian Psycho-Babble: I wasn't sure about getting too personal on my blog, but circumstances at the time got the better off me. Writing this article was cathartic too as I was trying to make sense of my new life in France and come to terms with all my reservations towards it. Not a favourite on the Google hit scene, but worth reading by any expat wannabe. Those types of musings have since spawned further articles, like this one or that one... (to be continued)