Sometimes I mentally group some of my things together. I don’t know why; they just seem to have a natural affinity for each other. I saw these sitting together on my couch the other day and felt like they were going somewhere, and that they were going to take me with them.
1 // Foca Sport II: I love shooting on film. I’m horrible at it, make no mistake, but I love it anyway. When I have a film camera on me, I view everything differently, even when I don’t have the viewfinder to my eye. With a finite number of frames to shoot, I start looking more carefully for the beautiful or interesting moments around me, rather than indiscriminately clicking away on my digital camera. This particular model is a French camera from the 1960s with a rangefinder (i.e. there’s a second “ghost” image when you look through the viewfinder that you must match up with the first “real” image by turning the focus ring, ensuring that your subject is in focus — it’s quite fun to use). I’m on my first roll, but I’ll let you know how the photos turn out. (more…)
I have mentioned at least five times on this blog how I really wish I had a heavily but impeccably edited closet, the kind that can be displayed on a single garment rack and look like a thoughtful collection instead of random nonsense. I thought that moving to France for the medium-to-indefinite term would be a good occasion to test my wardrobe editing ability and I gleefully anticipated breezing through winter, spring, and summer in the City of Lights with just two small suitcases of wardrobe essentials.
As it turns out, I’m not so good at editing my closet. Or rather, I’m not very good at it when packing under hungover duress (New Year’s Eve! Last night in New York! etc.) and extreme space limitations. A day of frenzied eleventh-hour packing, an emergency suitcase purchase, and a one-way ticket to Charles de Gaulle later, I unzipped my bags eager to discover what had actually come to France with me. I did a more or less competent job, but there are a few items that I’m kicking myself for not bringing (confession: Some days I palpably miss the clothes I left behind. A deep, sobering yearning. For clothes. Sometimes I disappoint myself.). (more…)