French style

 

France is the land of fashion and the French are oh-so chic, are they not? Well, as always, there are two sides to the story. If you only go to Paris, you will probably see a few examples of the famous French style, des Parisiennes dressed up in black dresses and with carefully chosen accessories. Then again, if you go to a countryside fair on an ordinary Sunday, people are prone to have a much more down-to-earth approach to their daily style.

Nonetheless, the French are still famous for their style and quite a few of my friends have renewed their wardrobes while visiting me here in Normandy. I am no stranger to French boutiques either. I confess that I do have a (sometimes surely too) soft spot for beautiful shoes and clothes. However, the "green fashion" that seems quite wide-spread in Finland, is still rather hard to find in France.

Ekyog is one of the rare French brands that propose so-called positive fashion, with traceability and ethical and eco-friendly production process. Last night I was invited to their private soirée to taste mini macarons and other délices and to discover their new autumn collection in advance. Very many pretty things indeed. Some probably worth noting down for Papa Noël.

As for the French chic, I'm afraid I'm still not quite there. Fortunately, my French hubby has by now got used to it. When I came home yesterday, he already knew what would be in the bag. 

Something yellow.

Journées européennes du Patrimoine

 

This weekend it was the European Days of Patrimony, les Journées européennes du Patrimoine. Once every year, during one weekend in September, all the state-owned and even some of the private châteaux, manoirs and museums open their doors for the public. It's a great opportunity to visit some of the most famous cultural sites free of charge and to get more than a glimpse of some privately-owned buildings that otherwise wouldn't be accessible to the common people. And the French do have their choice when it comes to beautiful old houses, monuments and churches...

We spent our Saturday with a few of our French friends exploring the medieval abbey of La Lucerne-d'Outremer. The abbey that was first erected around 1143 has gone through several architectural phases and changes, having been transformed from an Augustinian monastery into a spinning factory and a sawmill during the Revolution and then finally becoming a "Monument historique" in 1928. The restoration works started back in the early 1960's and are still on-going, but, as you can see, the abbey has already regained a lot of its former glory.

  

The dovecote of the abbey.

A perfect place for a moment of meditation.

At the end of the day, my friends who also form an a cappella group called Veni Vidi Canto offered the visitors an hour-long concert in the main chapel of the abbey. Nothing better than a bit of music to finish off such a beautiful day!

La Manche.

 
maggie and milly and molly and may 
went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang 
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles, and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing 
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

may came home with a smooth round stone 
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) 
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea 

- e.e. Cummings 

Barneville-Carteret in La Manche. 

For me, it is the most impressive beach in Normandy. Almost deserted 

(in French standards at least), a bit wild (you need to watch your 

steps for some quicksand and an occasional stranded jellyfish) and 

just enormous. 

A truly amazing place to spend your Sunday afternoon, walking by the 

glimmering waters and collecting seashells. 

Mine were tiny, but full of colours. 

Mer.

I’ve always lived next to the water – be it a river, a lake or the sea. I cannot imagine living in any other way. As much as I love the beauty of the vast plains where the golden fields of corn spread out to the horizon or as much as I admire and respect the impressive forms and the heights of the mountains, I wouldn’t feel at home there. I think that I would even rather live on a wind-beaten and desolate island than hundreds of kilometres away from water. For me, there is nothing more soothing or refreshing than a dive into the blue depths of the water. Afterwards, one literally emerges as a new person. Wetter and happier. Even when it’s September and the wind blows sand into your eyes.

Mûres

Last week we decided to go to the countryside and look for some blackberries. We drove to Falaise where we rented bikes before setting out to do our tour of neighbouring villages. The air was hot and heavy and the sand rustled under the wheels. We had our picnic by a small river that passes through one of the villages and then stopped by the village church before heading back towards Falaise. And there they were, on our way home: the blackberry bushes, full of red and black berries, waiting for the passers-by to come and enjoy the last bit of summer.