Well, let´s clarify that: Unfortunately, I have neither a pout - except when I´m denied the rose-coloured walls in the living room I so long for, an incidence that happens on a twice-weekly basis, mainly because Hubby doesn´t feel the need himself yet - nor luscious dark blond locks (in fact, I might have turned grey completely in a few years, mostly because four kids take their toll.. And there will be a story accompanying each strand). Which is a pity, because I´m quite sure I would be rich and famous if I had.
Nobody would like to see pictures of what I dress like day-in, day-out, unless they are interested in basic jeans and men´s pants and whatever happened to lie beside the bathtub and seemed clean enough.
Anything Eames in my apartment I entirely blame on Hubby. My taste is entirely more baroque, as Hubby would like to let you know.
True, I like avocado toast as much as every veritable fashion blogger worth her Saint-Laurent bag, but my drug of choice would be Boudin Caviar, a ravishing little dish invented for me by Hubby, which makes me almost forgive him his Eames-addiction.
Buy the best blood sausage you can find (we love this), sauté in a pan, spread as much of the best caviar you can afford over it, and serve with a side salad made from bitter greens like water cress and dandelion leaves and a bottle of white wine. Heaven.