The Journey Home

Well hello, surprise surprise, I'm still here.
It has been a long and not so easy transition back to the  US, but let me back up… how did I even get here you  ask? Three words: planes, trains, and automobiles. I  remember years ago when Gracie and I were traveling  around Europe via train for the summer...we had six  suitcases, a giant Mac desktop computer for Gracie’s  homeschooling, and a ten week old French bulldog puppy  who wasn’t exactly potty trained yet, and my god, that  summer was a nightmare. But now, looking back at what I  just went through getting to the US, that summer with  Gracie was a piece of cake. However, with the help of my  friends, family and caregivers, I got back to Santa  Barbara, California in one piece. Don't feel too bad for me,  it was rather luxurious.     My sister arrived to Paris July 25 to take me home. (Yes,  I'm talking to her again). I wish I could have taken my  three caregivers back with me but one of them does not  have a passport, one of them has no travel visa and the  other has political asylum in Paris. Trust me, the word  “smuggling” crossed my mind, but I am probably in  enough trouble with the Parisian Palliative Care Center
already. However, I did take them as far as I could, which  was to the private airport in Marseille… but let's back up.   On July 31, David put my two caregivers, my sister  and me on the south bound train from Paris to Provence. It  was a complete necessity that I spend 3 days in Provence  so that I didn’t hate France forever and it worked. My  sister, the caregivers and I were fortunate enough to stay  at Romy and the Apricot’s beautiful villa in the South of  France. If you don’t remember who they are...Click HERE.

 Don't be too jealous… I still have ALS and someone still  has to wipe my tushy everyday :). We arrived in Aix en  Provence to my friend’s house on a perfect summer day.  We were greeted with open hugs and kisses from  everyone… my friends, their staff and the dog, Lupo. Five  minutes later we were seated at the beautifully dressed  lunch table shaded by a chestnut tree. Meal after meal,  breakfast, lunch, and dinner was complete perfection; from  the table setting, the perfect ambiance to the painstakingly  organized menu by their cook, Christina. My friends even  brought their cook, Sao, from their other house near Italy  to make her special pizza. Even though I can barely  swallow, I had a few bites of those pizzas… I didn't care if  I choked to death. If I choke to death in the South of  France in a beautiful villa surrounded by my friends eating  gourmet pizza.. so be it. I can think of worse ways to die.

 
Saturday at lunch, Romy put on her favorite song. It is  a French song called “Eleanor” and the lyrics had us all  balling our eyes out. I thought my sister was going to have  a stroke. I think it was the first time my sister realized how  much Romy and the Apricot and I love each other. You  really cannot find better friends.  It was very emotional in  the very best way. I was so happy to have spent these few  days talking and hanging out with my friends. I still  officially hate France but the three days spent with them  put a little Band­Aid on my bruised soul (more on that  later).

On the third day we headed to the Marseille private  airport to catch my flight back to the US.  This didn't suck either.  My friend G.P. graciously  offered to fly me home on his plane, which happened to be  a 727 private jet. G.P and I have been friends for years  and he is one of the kindest most generous gentleman I  have ever met in my life and he is not fucking obnoxious  about it... he is soft spoken, humble, and a class act. I  wouldn't be so gauche as to post photos of his plane but if  you want to see it (you should) you can see the whole kit  and caboodle in Architectural Digest, Click HERE. This  was the most beautiful plane I have ever seen, decorated  by the lovely Craig Wright who also happened to decorate  my friend Diandra Douglas’ house in Spain and in Santa  Barbara. Wanna see? Click HERE and HERE. Mr. Wright
also happens to be a true gentleman in every sense as well.  Now, back to the plane…  G.P gave my sister and I basically the back living  room of his plane. Carmel covered leather seats, Ralph  Lauren bedding, huge fur blankets, three course meals  (tomato mozzarella basil salad, filet mignon with mashed  potatoes and green beans, and chocolate cake for dessert) but that wasn't all... my sister had about 24 cups  of tea served in an antique 1940’s Art Deco tea set, 14  candy bars, 17 bags of chips, 23 sticks of gum, and a  gourmet breakfast to boot.     The best part about the plane ride was that there were  only 10 people on the plane and I knew everyone of them.  So, it was like traveling with family except no one bothered  me.  Remember Chapter 19 of my book? They were on the  plane and I was actually so happy to see them that I  almost cried. Isn’t it funny how time heals everything?     12 hours later (which actually only felt like 3) we were  back on American soil.  If I could have kissed the tarmac I  would have.  I have never been so happy to see the Los  Angeles smog in my entire life.  I am finally home.  I  survived France. 

I have so much to tell all of you but I have to go slow  because my voice is almost gone.  This is what I had in  mind…. The next few blogs will be about why I left stupid  France, why I moved back to my beloved Santa Barbara,  my new house and the best news is that I have some  more antique sales left in me!  I think you all will really like  the next sale.     Thank you all for being patient with me… I am still on my  last leg but I have so much to tell you...but it is just going  to take me a little time.

   ● Something you don’t know about me?  I shipped back  to the US every single solitary card that all of you sent  me. I am so appreciative of your kindness, your well  wishes, and your friendship. Your cards mean  everything to me...so thank you.

Embracing My Inner Bedouin

You all must think I am crazy…going from Santa Barbara to Annecy to Paris to Provence back to Paris and now…back to Santa Barbara...with ALS. But guess what? I just want to go home and home to me is Santa Barbara. I am all packed and will depart France on Sunday the 31^st and will be sleeping in my own bed in Santa Barbara Sunday night…the exact same place I left 3 years ago…the same address…the same place where I raised Gracie…my home. Who says you can’t go home again?

I will tell you all about it next week when I am settled but until then, follow me on Instagram HERE for all the details.

To all my friends in Santa Barbara, come over…you know where I am. (Bring cocktails).

OMG! Holy Sh*t! Good Lord! Is It Possible? Mon Dieu! Santa Barbara Magazine: The Fall Issue

Welcome to Fall! Summer is officially over and it’s all about Fall. As much as I do not want to close the chapter on summer, I will have to accept the fate of the seasons and welcome Fall with open arms. Paris in the Fall is actually wonderful. Our apartment in Paris is a stone’s throw from the Jardins de Palais Royal where the chestnut trees will start to drop their leaves (and chestnuts) changing from soft verdant green to a crispy ombre okre color. Restaurants will start to change their menus from Tomates coeur de boeuf et burrata to Soupe a L’Oignon Gratinée. Fashion will change from espradrilles to cashmere sweaters. Such is life in Paris in the Fall. I mean, it’s not Syria for God’s sake, so I have nothing to complain about.

 

This particular Fall happens to be rather exciting pour moi. Porquoi, you ask? Because, because, because I have actually done something that I am rather proud of. But first, as they say, “a little back story.”

 

Living in Santa Barbara, the locals rather much never toot their own horn. It is a very demure community. If you live in Santa Barbara/Montecito pat yourself on the back, you’re rich and you’ve made it. But trust me, no one would ever dare flaunt their riches, brag about their spoils, or boast about their successes. Save that for Los Angeles. People live in Santa Barbara to just be… Be amongst the avocado and eucalyptus trees, walk the quiet beaches, savor the weather and live in near anonymity. Oh yes, the neighbors are rich and most likely famous, but no one would ever dare notice. Oprah is at Montecito Market buying bacon, just like you. Rob Lowe is eating meatballs at Mollie's, just like you. Dennis Miller is coaching the children’s basketball team just like your dad did. Julia Child chose lettuces at Coast Village Road farmers market and ordered tacos at La Super-Rica, just like you. Warren Christopher is eating risotto at Pane e Vino, just like you. Bo Derek will be eating Thanksgiving dinner at your friend’s house, just like you. It’s just that no one will talk about it and it will not be any big whoop.

 

 

But don’t get me wrong, Santa Barbara locals want to know what’s up with the community. Who’s doing what, who’s living where, who’s selling what, who’s buying what, who ate where, who went where, and who married whom! One would never ask all of these questions out right, because that would just be rude. So, where do the locals go for all of their information? One place: Santa Barbara Magazine. It is the go to magazine for the who, what, and where of Santa Barbara. Only publishing five times a year according to the seasons and one blowout Best Of issue, Santa Barbara Magazine “celebrates Santa Barbara’s rich and colorful lifestyle with award-winning editorial on Santa Barbara people, homes and gardens, architecture, food and wine, history, arts, escapes and more.” Santa Barbara Magazine is basically Architectural Digest, Bon Appétit, Town & Country, Travel and Leisure, Vanity Fair and Vogue all together.

 

 

But don’t get me wrong, this ain’t no gossip rag. It’s real stories about real people who just happen to be fabulous people doing fabulous things. And by fabulous, I don’t necessarily mean famous. Santa Barbara is filled with unique characters who are under the radar (somewhat) making the most of their lives. Philanthropists saving the ocean waters, chefs opening new restaurants, public gardens hosting charity functions, shop owners opening new antique stores (yours truly), noted authors hosting book signings, musicians playing a gig at the Santa Barbara Bowl, directors producing documentaries, local farmers hosting luncheons to celebrate a new organic crop, weirdos doing weird stuff, and of course rich folk decorating their mansions (my personal favorite).

 

 

Every season Santa Barbara locals flock to the newsstand to pick up their much anticipated issue of Santa Barbara Magazine, grab a soy latte, and sit down and savor the issue cover to cover, word for word, picture by picture. Never ever are these issues thrown away after reading. No, no, no… Santa Barbara Magazine is always saved, treasured and archived. Every decent Santa Barbaran dedicates an entire bookshelf to back issues of Santa Barbara Magazine.

 

But here’s the thing, Santa Barbara Magazine is not just for the locals. Santa Barbara magazine is read worldwide because it is a global magazine. Want to know what the chic celebrities are up to? Read Santa Barbara magazine. Want to know what the fashionistas are wearing? Read Santa Barbara magazine. Want to know the coolest place to travel? Want to escape to a secret garden? Want to discover the most in demand wedding planner? Want to sulk over a fabulous fête you missed? Want to know a unique recipe for tamales? Want to discover the greatest rose farm on the planet? Want to know what a famous novelist’s retreat looks like? Want to get an inside look at some of the world’s most exclusive, elusive estates? Read Santa Barbara magazine!

 

A few months ago I received an email from my friend, Jennifer Hale Smith, the president of the magazine, asking me if I would like to write an article about Paris in the Fall for Santa Barbara Magazine.

 

Would I like to?

Hell, yes!

 

To consider this an honor is an understatement! I have always wanted to work at Santa Barbara Magazine. I think I even offered to work as an intern once. The 40-year-old intern. If I ever had to choose a job/career, it would be working for Santa Barbara Magazine (of course I would sell antiques on the side, silly.) Where else could I be immersed in everything that I love! Nowhere. Being a part of Santa Barbara Magazine is definitely a dream come true. Who knew that when I was diagnosed with ALS and I thought my life was over, I would achieve one of my dreams… Writing for Santa Barbara magazine. Take note my friends: It ain’t over till it’s over.

 

So, without further ado, let’s talk about “the article.” The lovely Jennifer asked me to write an article on my take of Paris during the Fall season. Even though I will never be considered (according to my French husband) a true Parisian, I beg to differ. I like to think that I am a Parisian… Without the attitude or pessimism. I have been coming to Paris for years and years, living here off and on and now full-time, and have always reminded myself to delve into the French culture and avoid being a stupid American tourist. I know where to shop, I know where to eat, I know how to behave, I know what to wear, I know what to avoid, I know the “locals only” spots and if I do say so myself, I know Paris. I have learned from my French husband, my French friends and through my never-ending quest to explore. I haven't mastered the French language however because uhhh... It's hard... but I get by just fine. I also like to think that I know what y’all would like to know when you visit Paris. Restaurants, gardens, farmers markets, antique shops, florists, chocolate shops, clothing shops, perfume shops, museums, cafés… You know, the important stuff!

 

 

So, get yourself a copy of the Fall issue of Santa Barbara Magazine to be in the know of all things chic and to read my article about Paris in the Fall!

Thank you Jennifer Hale, Gina Tolleson, Gina Terlinden, Alisa Baur, Charlotte Bryant and everyone at Santa Barbara Magazine for making this girl’s dream come true. Merci beaucoup!

Santa Barbara magazine is available at newsstands and by subscription.

Subscribe to Santa Barbara Magazine HERE! Follow on Instagram HERE!

J'adore.

 

 

What can I say about these dishes? To say that I love them more than I love my sister would be an understatement. Juuuust kidding! But it’s pretty close. But, I do love them more than my leopard hat collection. But that’s pretty close too. Nevermind, I love all of my stuff equally. Everything is special about these dishes. My mother and I first discovered these dishes on the seventh floor of Bergdorf’s in New York. I wanted to find the manufacturer so I could sell them at our shop, Circa, in Santa Barbara. (Sorry to copy you Bergdorf’s but remember, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.) So naturally, I picked up one of the plates, flipped it over, looked for a stamp or any markings…Nothing! I asked the salesperson who the manufacturer of the dishes was, but I think she was on to me, so she said they were only made for Bergdorf’s. Liar. Now I want them even more. Let the quest begin. This was no easy feat, I learned, because this was seven years ago when there was not a lot of press or exposure regarding these dishes. It took me a few days but I finally discovered the source. Voilà! They come from a woman in Paris who has an atelier tucked away in the 15^th arrondissement. Sylvie Saint- Andre Perrin.

Madame Perrin makes all of the dishes by hand, collaborating with the client in accordance with customizations including size, shape and color. When you work with French artisans who make everything to specifications, things can get a l-i-t-t-l-e bit tricky. Then, you throw in two obnoxious women from Santa Barbara explaining to the artisan that they want the dishes to match their wall color. I am sure that Madame Perrin just wanted to shoot us by the end. However, finally, our pickiness paid off. Our dishes arrived a few months later (with only two thirds of the order broken, wink wink) exactly how we wanted  them. They were the perfect yellow swirl and the perfect green swirl. I think the proper word is marbleized.

 

The process for making these dishes is quite elaborate. Psst…this is why they are expensive. The following is an excerpt from her website explaining her technique…

"Sylvie Saint-André Perrin elaborated a production by stamping in plastercasts made from models of her choice.

Stamped clays are coloured with oxides with which she is able to obtain a whole range of shades. She composes clay mixes with predominating blue, green, ochre, yellow or grey producing sinuous patterns, variously undulated but not happening haphazardly.

Stamping as she practices it reveals itself as a slow and fastidious technique allowing no more than 16 pieces to be formed each day. Clays are prepared for no more than three or four plates.”

 

I also found a long list of color combinations that are available. Here are a few examples…

Fontainebleau (green, red with black, dark green)

Lisbone (white, dark blue, yellow ochre and black)

Belle Ile (white and dark blue)

Pondichery (red, yellow and green with green and celadon)

Arcachon (dark blue, light blue, beige and white)

 

 

Even though these dishes may look sturdy, they are not. They are very very fine and delicate. They can break if you look at them funny. I would not even let Gracie help me set the table in Santa Barbara with these dishes because if she broke one I would have to kill her. We used these dishes once for a big Thanksgiving dinner with friends and I swear I thought about not inviting some of my guests because I knew they had a tendency to be clumsy and/or drunk. Getting a replacement in the exact color all the way from Paris wouldn’t be easy. So, it’s best, I figured, that those certain guests just stayed home and used their own crappy replaceable Oneida dinnerware.

 

Looking back, I kind of wish I had ordered a set in blue. Without a doubt though, I am extremely happy with my green and yellow set. Oh, you thought I bought them for the store? Nope, after a few weeks at the shop, my mother and I agreed that half of the dishes would be better off at her house and I stole the other half. I did not bring them to Paris because they are too delicate so I think my mother stole them back. Now she has the complete set.

 

You can get a complete set at HERE or HERE. However, I recommend going to the source in person. If you can afford these dishes, you can afford a flight to Paris. :-) By the way, I hope my rather brash humor does not offend anyone. Anyway, stay tuned for tomorrow’s dishes. Hint: “The O’Connell’s are stupid.”

 

Sylvie Saint André Perrin

 4 Villa Astrolabe, 75015 Paris

01 47 34 85 91

http://www.ateliersap.com/