Tokyo Night Walk

I was bitten by the travel bug long before I ever got the chance to leave South Africa thanks to my Grandmother's stories, and books. I was convinced that the world out there was fascinating, amazing, wonderful and full of crazy weirdness that would make me feel thrilled to be alive! I became obsessed with books about Japan and fell in love with all the imagery I conjured up in my mind through those written words. My Granny, (thought not the biggest fan of Japan for British reasons...) told me that I would have to, one day, go there to fulfil the love I developed for it. And she was so right!

I finally got to travel after school, to America, to the UK, to Switzerland and Italy and Thailand and other parts of asia, but my very favourite country that I have had the pleasure of visiting thus far is Japan. I finally got there with Husband in 2010. We spent the holiday traveling, skiing, seeing the snow monkeys and visiting loads of Buhdist temples and traditional gardens.

But Tokyo at night was something special. Having never experienced anything quite like it before, it stood out in my mind as the highlight of the trip (ok, that and the snow monkeys)

After seeing an article on Twitter entitled 'Tokyo Night Walk' which brought back a flood of wonderful memories, I was inspired to make my own little photo-blog of my Tokyo Nights.

Having arrived after hours, the first thing we did was find someone to make us a late late dinner of sushi. This was easier said than done, and the only place we found was in the hotel. The chef was very obliging and treated us like royalty - after all, we were his only customers. We weren't able to order different kinds of sushi like we do here at home, but rather were told 'Oh, sushi? You want sushi? You get sushi.' - and boy did we get sushi! 

Not that we knew what half the stuff on the plate was. One or two pieces resembled recognisable items, but the rest was fear in a fishy form! Raw sea urchin anyone? Slimy lumpy something grey? An eel? We smiled and grinned through it all, but learnt our lesson: Don't eat sushi in Japan. Our chef was wonderful though. He gave me a tea mug as a gift to take home too because I loved it so much :)

I found a KAWAI (Japanese brand) baby grand piano in glass that played by itself! I have an upright KAWAI at home, but mine is a manual, not an automatic.

The city lights in down town Tokyo kept me mesmerised and even though I couldn't understand most of the signs, I enjoyed watching the colours light up and flash intermittently. If I was a bug or some kind of flying insect, lets face it, I'd be toast.

Hello Kitty, who I know to be the Ruler of Japan (general knowledge according to Gilmore Girls) had many shrines in her honour. And being part kitty myself, I had to stop and worship.

Some images appear on the walls or store windows as you pass them by, and follow you enticing you to shop! It was futuristically ghostly and I LOVED it.

They had vending machines for everything under the sun, and a few things you would never expect too! (I have heard horror stories of used ladies undies...) This was a cake and ice-cream street stand. Too bad I was full after the sushi debacle.

And there was plastic food lining tables outside many restaurant to show you what they offered inside. Plastic. But looked SO GOOD I could have eaten it all right there and then! The plastic food industry is booming in Japan, apparently, and to buy even the smallest piece for display is unbelievably pricy. I think we'll stick with real food after all. (though I strongly considered getting plastic banana's for our kitchen - a little Japanese art-du-fruitbowl)

Dessert was rather interesting too, ranging from this gluey green stuff (which was quite good as it turns out) to jellied teenager 'boobs'. WTF right?

After giving a few other delicacies a try (or not!) I found the food I loved the most: Ramen. Good old ramen. Pork broth ramen specifically. Mmmmmmm - just thinking about it makes my mouth water!

But we eventually embraced our western innards and found ourselves a Mc-Knock-off. Delish.

We also found the New York Bar, made famous by the movie 'Lost in Translation', and treated ourselves to duck-fried chips, drinks, live music and an incredible view. The city is truly spectacular from above!

I found a few words I did understand - all too well - Dior and Gucci and Louis Vuitton, Oh My!

There was a Japanese showing of our own movie 'Invictus' at one of their local movie houses - we never went to see it but I would have loved to watch it in translation. Sigh - what a missed opportunity.

I found a smokey side alley which of course I had to go down. Because it was a smoky side alley. (which is basically 'Come Hither' in kitty speak)

And some more Ramen joints. (This may or may not be a picture of a  ramen restaurant, but I like the piggy mascot

)

We found a night market where I bought my now favourite silk gown with pink cherry blossom all over it. Most of the stalls were filled to the brim with useless trinkets, cheap plastic nothings that lit up or sang or whirred - and had it not been for Husbands steely guidance and a time limit, I could have been there all night! 

Pity he didn't let me buy the Hello Kitty alarm clock. Sad :(

Japan, Tokyo, you and I shall meet again. I am sure of it! This romance is far from over.

Love, lust and fairy-star-dust

Cherry Blossom

A Cinderella Moment

Could the glass slipper have been flat?

As any well-seasoned high-heel enthusiast will know, there comes a time when a girl needs to step down from her perch and set her feet on solid ground to take a breather. It does wonders for the soul, not to mention gives you a break from all that fabulousness. But just as veg’ing out on the couch does not necessarily mean you have to wear grease-stained sweats and Crocs (eww!), the more discerning of fashionista’s need not come down to earth in anything less than utterly gorgeous foot attire.

Up until now, my usual uniform of trusty south-of-the-ankles non-heel wear has been a combination of sandals and ballet flats. But by chance, something far more fabulous came to me in the form of Coast and Koi, much like fate leading the princess to the ball where her sole-mate awaits.

And my fairy-god-mother? The elegant and stylish Caryn Wilensky.

When I met Caryn, she whisked me off to her chandelier-lit treasure trove of a showroom with roof-to-floor, wall-to-wall racks of hand-stitched shoes. I tried on everything in my size. And I mean everything. I couldn’t not – each one was more alluring than the last!

Once on your feet, the look and feel of these gems are a testament to Caryn’s background in the fashion, and footwear, industries. Starting out as a buyer for Holtrenfrew overseas where her days revolved around top international fashion brands, her eye for design is evident in every pair of proudly South African shoes she now showcases. But the perfect fit and comfort comes from her time as the CEO of a ballet-shoe factory. Once she saw the need for well-designed flat foot wear in South Africa, her mission was clear, and Coast and Koi was born.

Each shoe is hand made locally and stitched together with the utmost care. They are unique, all designs being a once off and only in a few sizes, and there is something for everyone. They range from pointy to stripy, Mary-Jane to moccasin, sling-back to slip on, Henry the 8^th to the girl next door. From the sensible ballet pumps to the knee-high leopard print boots, to the cute cat-faced slippers, this range kept me occupied, entertained and trying on for ages.

I have never been so excited by flat-soled shoes before! Caryn invited me to the Cape Town Design Indaba where all her best was on display. One pair could only be described as ‘The Dorothy’, bringing visions of the Wizard of Oz skipping to the fore of my mind. Just down that yellow brick road, a pair of capped ankle booties that would go beautifully with a little floral-print dress revealed themselves. It was hard not to get distracted by the baroque inspired lace-ups or the baby-pink boots with satin bows, but my heart settled on the ones that, for me, were the belle of the ball: a pair of coral slipper-style beauties, as unique as they are comfortable.

As much as I am trying not to over-indulge in my materialistic nature right now, I am pretty sure a pair or two of Coast and Koi’s will find their way into my wardrobe over the next few months. After all, why wear plain black synthetic flats for a night out dancing when you could wear classically styled, genuine leather two-toned delights inspired by Coco Chanel? Am I right? Right.

Love, lust and fairy-star-dust

Cherry Blossom

(go check it out at www.coastandkoi.com)

The Science of Shoes

It's no secret that I love shoes. From childhood dreams of ruby slippers to my most recent purchase of Steve Madden boots, shoes have been a constant source of excitement and pure idolatrous happiness in my life. But not all shoes are equal.

When standing there in the Steve Madden store, purse in hand, contemplating buying this latest pair, I wondered to myself: Why these boots? Not that anyone should ever need a reason to buy something as fabulous as these tasseled beauties, of course, but I couldn’t help stop and go: Wait a moment. You always said you would never wear such high heels. So why these? They are 15cm's high! Is it the fact that they are Steve Maddens? (A brand I was introduced to by one of my favorite New York bloggers, Gala Darling, and who's picture of a particularly gorgeous pink pair has been the screen saver on my lap top for the past 3 years) Or is it because they are genuine suede, dove-soft, and have tassels? (I have a weakness for tassels - starting with a pair of boots bought a decade ago where I spent my rent money on them.) Is it simply that when presented with an image for long enough, even the abnormally insane can become acceptable and normal to the one perceiving it? 

(Jellies, anyone?) Or is it just a simple little bit of self-medication on a sad day?

 Let's backtrack shall we? Heels have never been a problem for me. Even in all my 6 feet of glory, I have loved the elevation and lift a pair of heels can give a girl’s physique. I feel that this boost has the ability to move beyond the physical, and acts as a sort of mood enhancer on any given occasion. But being 6 feet tall does add some complications to the wearing of extremely high heels. Doorways pose a problem. Even though making an entrance is always important, doorways are only generally so high, and I sometimes walk with a natural little bounce in my step. Bounce at the wrong moment with the 'wrong'/higher pair of heels on my feet and that is one entrance I don't want to make.

I saw these boots on a display with a lot of others. There were others that also had perfect arches, elegant compass worthy curves, decedent finishes. There were others a little lower with amazing scoops at the ankle line with the very best ankle to arch ratio, lovely stitching, sweet smelling leathers and colours. There were even others with tassels. But these particular boots spoke to me - almost reached out with invisible tentacles and drew me to them, as though casting a haunting mermaid song. 

This doesn't always happen. Sure it probably happens to me more often than most, but it doesn't happen with all shoes I ever come into contact with. And that is what got me thinking. Here is a pair of boots I don’t know that I will ever be able to wear out in public (for fear of concussions/breaking an ankle/intimidating Husband to the point of marital detriment) but I simply have to have them. I tried them on and they fit like a glove. Snug all the way up to the tip of the very last tassel! They were mine even before the gold card had a chance to swipe.

Some people say that angels speak to them or they hear voices in their heads? I hear shoes. There is an undeniable, underlying, otherworldly pheromonal attraction that happens with particular pairs of shoes that simply does not happen with others. 

That is when I realized it. Shoes must have an aura, something magnetic on a chemical level. It must be science. So not quite like gravity, but more specific – like the pheromones of a woman attracting a partner. Chemistry attracts us to people at all levels, makes us more comfortable with some and less with others. We choose friends based on this. We choose lovers. Doctors. We even choose teachers, when given the privilege to do so. It’s an invisible world of chemical attraction out there, and we are almost helpless to its currents and tides.

And so when presented with an invisible galactic wave, call it electrons and protons or what-have-you, of glorious tasseled suede Steve Madden's, I grabbed onto those babies and rode for all I was worth.

I am sure there is a scientist out there who can very eloquently disprove everything I have just said, but for now, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Love, lust and fairy-star-dust

Cherry Blossom

A Little Piece of Abroad

It's been awhile since I posted, but I have an excuse this time. I was traveling!!! I did, however, manage to write this post for another blog last week, so thought I might just copy and paste in an attempt to re-jump-start my territory. After all, it's not plagiarism if it's your own work :)

A Little Piece of Abroad

It's been three weeks since my return from England and Scotland. People keep asking me what the highlight of the holiday was, what moment stood out amongst them all to be The One, the Shining, the Most Awesome. I have to say, it has been a very hard question to answer. There were so many moments that I loved! Catching an Atlantic Salmon in the Scottish Highlands; Whiskey bar hopping (and subsequent tasting) in Edinburgh; Watching The Phantom of The Opera from the balcony at Her Majesty's Theatre in London; Visiting the Jane Austin museum in Bath, and also her grave site in Winchester; Sunset at Stonehenge; Seeing buildings that Kings walked in; Sitting in rooms where Mary Queen of Scotts fought verbal battles with John Knox; Walking through the ruins of historical clergy; Visiting side streets and train stations and school yards where the Harry Potter books were envisioned and created; Slumming it in SoHo; Attending the Highland Games just in time to see the hammer throwing and kilt-clad wrestling; Becoming an actual Lady; Sniffing the little Greyling fish that I caught to try catch a whiff of thyme (I was told they smell of the herb) and fly fishing in the rain alongside wild swans, pheasants and my fabulous Husband...

And of course a legendary shopping trip down Oxford and Regent streets in the fashion district, resulting in a very particular pair of Jimmy Choos...

They were all such amazing moments!

But now that I'm home, it's all calmed down, the jet lag is long gone, South African Cape Town winter is settling in and I am no longer 'getting back into the swing of things', I have had the chance to just be. And today it finally hit me: My highlight was the bluebells!

The glorious bluebells! Of course they were the best! They mesmerized me with their scent, so much so that I went into every soap and fragrance shop I saw to try find a bottle of bluebell-smell. No one sold anything bluebell at all and I was devastated. But still, everywhere I went, the bluebells were growing in clumps and were anointing me with the most heavenly scent, so beautiful and unique it was quite a striking theme. You see, I noticed all kinds of spring blossoms everywhere, from Winchester down south, all the way up to the highest parts of northern Scotland that we visited. Timeous, given that it was meant to be spring, but spring had not so much 'sprung' as had slithered forward, and so had it not been for the blossoming trees and bushes and lawns everywhere, I would not have believed there had been a Spring at all! But there they were, the blossoms, and my most favorite of them…the bluebells.

When I got home to Cape Town, I took myself off to Jo Malone at the V&A Waterfront in one last attempt to catch hold of this bluebell-scented memory of mine, and lo, they had it! I parted with a staggering R600 for one bluebell candle, and it is now next to my bed, a little piece of Abroad here at home for me to treasure and remember :) Happy!

Love, lust and fairy-star-dust

Lady Cherry Blossom

Topshop, or not to shop...

I went to the opening of the new Topshop store at the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town today. This is the first time in my life that I have had to queue to get into a store! Not queue as in the new iPhone has just been released and people have been sleeping outside to be sure to get one before they are all gone. No, this was a different kind of queue all together. This queue was orchestrated.

The kind of queue that brought me back to my clubbing days, in fact. Loud thumping music emanating from within it's shiny mall-lit wondrous plains, luscious merchandise hanging on bright new hangers, all gloss and glam in the giant window displays, designed specifically to lure us queuers. You WANT to come in. You MUST come in. You will be BEAUTIFUL if you come in (and spend all your money). 

And I kid you not, there was a rope. All that was missing was a couple of broad shouldered bouncers at the door intimidating people as they waited their turn to be let in. They even had a door lady with a guest list! No they didn't, I'm only kidding, but they could have. The store security guard who let me in was dressed all in black and she had a spirally ear piece connecting her to the gods of consumerism, I can only imagine.

As I stood there amongst 30-at-any-given-time fashionista's, all adorned in the cool, the funky, and the fashionably comfy-cas(ual), I was transported to a movie moment in Sex And The City, in Confessions of a Shopoholic, feeling all mod and hip in my fab self for being there. One of them! One of the first. One of the privileged, the shopping chique, the girl with the LV on her arm.

I suspect the atmosphere had gotten to me. Yes brethren, I drank the coolaid.

There were cameras outside, reporters reporting, paparazziesque, capturing this momentous occasion, this New York moment on a Cape Town winters day. I was enthralled.

Even though I am fully aware of my own silly bamboozlement, I have to take my hat off to the cleverness of this 'event'. TopshopSA were truly crafty in the planning of the entire thing. Setting the all too familiar scene of an independent woman out for a night on the town, it created the perfect mood: Prowless on the Hunt; All the single ladies with one thing on their mind: The Perfect Match.

And that got me thinking. Shopping is a lot like dating. (especially when the store you are about to grace with your wallet has an actual DJ playing!) And as with all budding romances, there are a few key do’s and don’ts in meeting that one, lasting soul mate.

• Don't stop at first sighting.
• Don't accept anything just because it's pretty.
• Do look deeper to the inner stitching.
• Accept compliments, 'these jeans make my a$$ look great', 'that dress slims down my torso perfectly'...
• But don't make lasting decisions based on whimsical flirtations. The tantalizing. The tasseled.
• You are young. You are free. You may love those leather hotpants right now, but really, can they be taken home to meet the folks?
• Enjoy the glittery garments, but make sure they treat you right. No one wants to wake up with the remnants of last nights rhinestones undone and stuck to your smeared face. How well are they attached? Is it going to survive the first wash?
• Don't settle for second best.
• Don't short-sell yourself for a ‘here today gone tomorrow’ flash in the fashion pan.
• Do smile sweetly, and then hold out for that shy but impeccably tailored piece of style in the corner.
• ALWAYS have your way in the shoe department. Own it! Get those shoe elves to bring you your size in this, in that, heck in those too! Get your Twerk on, girl!
• Get giddy on the feeling of the sky scrapers. Enjoy your moment in the stratosphere.
• But even if the shoe fits, be wary of glued seams and nearly-leather look-a-likes.  
• Repeat after me: You don't want it just because she does.
• Be your own woman amongst the mannequins. Choose wisely through the intoxicating haze of freshly tagged skinny jeans. Take your time. Don’t rush. Try them all. Boycuts, bootlegs, high waists, glitter cuffs… 
• Do check out all their moves in the dressing room mirror.
• But above all else, do NOT go home alone!*

Of course we all make mistakes and what is the point of a credit card if you can’t buy the leopard onesie pajama suit and glitter kitty-cat ears?

Well played, TopShopSA. Well played

Love, lust and fairy-star-dust

Cherry Blossom

* OK so that last one only really applies to shopping, not dating.