~* Boho Atelier *~
My friend, jewellery designer Lea (Fine van Brooklyn), has set up a little atelier in Kaartinkaupunki. So charming it was, and so full of Lea's free bohemian spirit, that once I'd arrived I found it difficult to leave.
A further temptation were a magnificent pile of 1920's fashion magazines that Lea's husband had given to her for Christmas. In mint condition, with the most stunning black/white photos of jewel-encrusted evening gowns, flapper girls, tailored jackets and most exquisite robes...
I could have spent the whole day on those magazines. Well, I almost did.
Each picture a work of art...
Each story a little voyage over time and place.
This baby is something that I didn't have a word for, in any language. In Finnish, I was educated, we call it Latomokasti. Anyways, she comes from India, and she is a perfect display shelf for a jewellery designer.
After this little excursion I can thoroughly feel what Virginia Woolf was talking about with the concept of every woman needing a room of her own.
No kids. No mess. No arguing, no screams of joy. Nothing waiting to be fixed, folded, washed or cooked. Nobody to be consoled, scolded, entertained.
Just mood matching music. OR silence. Her own stuff. Her own thoughts. Her own inspiration.
Her own moment.
You can probably guess what I'm thinking and plotting here... I'll keep you posted.
~*♥*~
A further temptation were a magnificent pile of 1920's fashion magazines that Lea's husband had given to her for Christmas. In mint condition, with the most stunning black/white photos of jewel-encrusted evening gowns, flapper girls, tailored jackets and most exquisite robes...
I could have spent the whole day on those magazines. Well, I almost did.
Each picture a work of art...
Each story a little voyage over time and place.
This baby is something that I didn't have a word for, in any language. In Finnish, I was educated, we call it Latomokasti. Anyways, she comes from India, and she is a perfect display shelf for a jewellery designer.
After this little excursion I can thoroughly feel what Virginia Woolf was talking about with the concept of every woman needing a room of her own.
No kids. No mess. No arguing, no screams of joy. Nothing waiting to be fixed, folded, washed or cooked. Nobody to be consoled, scolded, entertained.
Just mood matching music. OR silence. Her own stuff. Her own thoughts. Her own inspiration.
Her own moment.
You can probably guess what I'm thinking and plotting here... I'll keep you posted.
~*♥*~
