Tagged: yoga

Urb’ Chic Yoga

Finding my center in the urban buzz.

Contrasting the seemingly black and white has always been my thing.

The boat on the right homes a spa – urban meditation at its yu-OM-miest?

Ballet keeps accompanying me in my quest for serenity.

Life has been quite good lately. But then, a blue moment sticks in. Again.

If only I could be totally free from lurking sadness.

Montreal stirred me. A combination of London clothes’ cockiness, NY eateries and cafe vibes, topped off with some Parisian bygone flair.

My little company is getting more and more on its feet. Tangible tiny steps.

This is life. Lately.

Camaieu top, La Halle pants, Old Navy belts, Gap ballet flats, H&M earrings

 

‘Tis Is the Total

My Xmas chic… sweetheart sushi dinner and kisses in abundance!

Are you contented with your year gone by? I am. It has been a period of profound changes. Early 2011, I traveled to Finland. Practiced being free around food again with cream and jam filled brioche.

My journeys choo-chooed along as I hopped on the Eurostar and whisked to London. Staying at my cousin and lovely Kate’s was an absolute treat. Hubs back home in Paris. This chick free to indulge in art and Camden vintage shopping. Yoga in the park.

Plus these chic bloggers … Sherin and Susie, in the atmosphere of the Tate Modern looking over us! Later, Stardust coffee with the vogue-cultivated Sabine. Fash’ friends forever.

Equally, I met Rita in Paris – my Aussie La Clinica organic cosmetics Business Bee and a role model – for some pink cake and beauty talk – inside out, you know me by now.

Then this fairy was off to her maman-in-law’s on the French Riviera. Some inter-generational bonding around a glass of champagne. Nicely counterbalances the sniffy saddy times that I skilfully whip myself into alike.

Meet Marie-Claire the chic sweet belle-maman of mine. I love her dearly, and have learned so much from her about Simone de Beauvoir and French bra burnings. The wedding band I proudly carry is inherited from Marie-Claire. To me it symbolizes a Frenchwoman accepting me into the circle of real life. A la française. What an absolute honneur!

Summer went enjoying Paris, knowing that soon our home would be elsewhere. Had brunches with my gals –  the crème de la strawberry crème of my Paris decade – Leesa, Sarah, Sarah and Aurelia. My sweethearts. Forever silver-tattooed on my soul.

Waved au revoirs to Paris… “am I really leaving the city now?” would ask myself for days. Stopped over in the Alps, then waited for visas on the Riviera.

Chic-hopped to Italy for some Bacardi and turquoise dress shopping.

And now… Canada! Entered the new wide open on December 1. Such a clean, clear start.

I sense a feather blown onto fresh fields. My inner world settling down. Me being able to take things with increased serenity. I have battled cramps and chest sentiments – crisping, hurting, bone aching, fist-striking sensations in the diaphragm for two and a half years now. Presently, I feel that those feelings have lessened, and I am able to better distinguish real physical sensations from somatic, panic-fed sores.

Life is swinging back into me. It never left but got teeny-tiny with me eating less and less. Controlling out of fear of being fat – meaning failure. But flesh around us is continuity. Soft curves symbolize gentleness.

My challenge for the new year: to let my imperfections come out as well. So that I no longer have to beat myself up on them so intensely. Beauty is in real, honest life. Speaking in true terms. If I open up, I believe that I can inspire others to do the same. W e can be wondrous and humanly blemished at the same time, non?