I’ve always liked when small things connect to each other.
Moodboards that float around without a pulse never interested me much.
What gives me ideas is usually very simple.
A film I once loved.
A piece of music (even if that was rubbish) from a particular year.
Marie Storm Satin Skirt, Stormlight Blue
Looking at the Marie Storm satin skirt, I immediately thought of Marie Antoinette.
This scene.
Or this!
Or just this kind of random picture!!!!
I loved that film the moment it came out.
Back then I was quite devoted to Sofia Coppola.
I even listened to her husband’s band, Phoenix, more than I probably needed to — something my husband still refuses to listen.
Their album Ti Amo came out in 2017, the year I left my job and moved to London.
I remember walking through East London and seeing posters for the new Phoenix record everywhere. Small streets, brick walls, shop shutters.
Somehow their blue album cover made the grey city feel romantic.
So did the words “Ti Amo.”
Marie Silk-Light Tassel Scarf, Banila Sky
From there my mind wandered again, this time to Faust, which I once saw at Opéra Bastille. An unexpectedly powerful night.
Thinking about it now, I can’t help but smile a little at some recent commentary from Timothée Chalamet.
Nights like that remind you why the classics are still here.
Earlier today I was sitting at Café Michelangelo in Daikanyama, drinking milk tea with a friend.
We ended up talking about taste. When everything is equally beautiful and polished, it becomes a bit dull.
It’s more interesting when something slightly awkward carries a real story.
High and low, mixed together.
A good opera, and a questionable band from a back alley somewhere.
Maybe that’s where the more interesting dreams begin.
Recently I’ve also been thinking about bringing a sewing machine into our Tokyo home.
I used to enjoy making clothes and small things quite a lot.
I wonder if my hands would still remember what to do.
Also, a practical note. I may need a pair of comfortable sneakers.
My husband has a pair from KEEN that look extremely practical.
I’m not saying they’re cool, but if you’re someone who walks twenty thousand steps a day, I would probably endorse them. I’m considering getting a pair myself.
Lately I’ve also been rereading a little Roland Barthes. He once wrote that what stays with us are fragments — images, phrases, small details that linger.
March feels a bit like that.
A handful of fragments, loosely connected, but somehow forming a season.