My Marrakesh

Marrakesh by Design: and a tale of relief

I had told you about the trepidation.  About how it sat in the cardboard box, unopened -- my book, Marrakesh by Design.  

My husband peeked his head through the door.  Well? he said.  

No, I replied. Not yet.

The night passed, the day passed, the night passed.  My book sat in its cardboard box, the seal unbroken.

And then I opened it quietly, with no one around.  

It was bigger than I thought. 

I opened to the first page, and then the next page, and then the next. And then I put it down.  And then I picked it up.  And I opened it again and read another page, and then one more, then several.    Then I closed it and opened it from the back.  And I read it, well, backwards.  

A wave of.... of relief washed over me.  {Why, it was okay.  It was, even, well, good!}

I gave it to a close friend.  A designer friend.  I knew that she would tell me the truth.  

She liked it.  She liked it a lot.

Oh, thank you, universe.

I hope you'll like it, too.  Please, oh please, do.

PS I've been teaching my 12 year old son, Tristan, how to take pictures.  The ones above are his.

PPS My jewelry is from Bouvier.  Rebecca is my favorite jeweller ever.

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The Chloé Vivian Tote: a tale of my mother and a new bag

Growing up my mother always looked immaculate.  Not in a princess-y sort of way but in a it's-so-much-nicer-to-look-put-together sort of way. Persian, she eschewed the conspicuous consumption for which Iranians were stereotypically known, and never liked her labels to show.  But she cared about her appearance and was fastidious in what she wore.  While other mothers came to school to fetch their children wearing just about anything, my mother was always dressed.  Always discreet, always elegant, always ladylike.  Her waist was tiny, her clothes were tailored, her hair was in place.  

I, on the other hand, was not immaculate.  There was my skateboarding phase, complete with knees covered in bandaids, and then there was my too-much-eyeliner phase, accompanied by an unbridled passion for Jim Morrison T shirts.  Suffice it to say that neither were good looks.  

As I have grown older my taste in fashion has continued to evolve and, I hope, improve.  For the last decade or two, I've had a penchant for clothing and accessories with an exotic flair or a slightly rocker edge. But these days I find myself gravitating towards things that are simpler, cleaner and a bit more structured.  In a wardrobe purge that left me breathless, this Fall I gave away no less than 125 pieces of clothing. Left in my closet is less color and pattern, but more items that actually work together{what a concept}. 

A Christmas present to myself:  the Chloé Vivian Tote.  White and porcelain leather, matte gold hardware.  For six months of warm Marrakesh weather and sized for a lap top. 

I think my mother would approve.  

Morocco: and a tale of Moroccan Beni Ouarain carpets

I’m quite sure that in a previous life I was a carpet merchant. I spent my days sipping tea and lounging on the finest examples of my stock, getting up only to furl and unfurl beauties one after another, earning admiring looks from customers and passersby. I come by my love of carpets honestly -- my mother is Persian, and so carpets are clearly in my blood. I grew up in houses filled with all sorts of woolen pile rugs, intricately patterned silk carpets, and tightly woven antique kilims. The carpets were meticulously cared for, and indeed, they were my responsibility in my family. Twice a week I would carefully move furniture out of the way and vacuum them, going only “with the wool,” as my mother had taught me. Each day when we left our home, the curtains would be drawn to ensure that the carpets didn’t fade prematurely.  

You see, some people buy a home and fill it with carpets. Others buy carpets and wait to have a home to put them in. I fall into the latter category.  

So it's no wonder that in this life I've managed to become a carpet dealer, too. (No point in fighting destiny, afterall.)  And I have beautiful new stock of vintage Moroccan Beni Ourains (including some smaller and more affordable ones).  These are investment pieces that make the whole room grounded and more fabulous.  Did I mention that I have new stock of wedding blankets, too?  Well, I should have.... 

 

Moroccan wedding blanket 562, 86 inches long, 56 inches wide (Beautiful at the foot of a bed.)

Moroccan Beni Ourain 310, 55 inches long, 102 inches wide. (So want to keep this one!)

Moroccan wedding blanket 604.  73 inches long, 41 inches wide (Super shaggy fringe. *YES*)

 

Moroccan weddiing blanket 604  93  inches long, 45 inches wide. (Sigh, sublime.)

Moroccan Beni Ouarain 306, 48 inches wide, 84 inches long (Glowy and coveted smaller size!!!)

Moroccan Beni Ouarain 299,  73 inches long, 116 inches wide (Dreamy and shaggy underfoot.  Gorgeous.)

Moroccan Beni Ouarain 309, 72 inches wide, 133 inches long (Hipster preppy with its amazing sideways diamonds.)

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See all my stock right here.  And email me at Moroccanmaryam (at) yahoo (dot) com for pricing on any pieces that sing to you:-)

The world: and a tale of Harabu House's Exotic Chic

In times of confusion, I return to beauty.  It's calming and clarifying some how.  I've always invested in every day beauty, especially small and lovely items that I can enjoy regularly.  I don't believe in just "saving for company".  Because life is really made up of today, and tomorrow, and the day after that.  And after all, every single day deserves pretty.  

For Peacock Pavilions, I ordered these beauties from my now sponsor, Harabu House.  So so lovely in person, with their lacy detailing.  Delicate.  I use these placemats {$30} under handmade white glazed plates.  But they're gorgeous as trivets too to dress up the center of a table or under wine bottles with a few glasses so guests can help themselves.  

I am also coveting these golden  spoons {$11 each} to accompany coffee and desserts, as well as these white and gold bowls {$28} - so perfect to store  jewels on the nightstand or in the bathroom.  Glamorous.

And I love the fine detailing on this beautiful Indian bedding. $115.

See all of Harabu House's goodies right here.