My Marrakesh

Marrakech: and Zara Home tribulations

The blogging girl slipped through the doors of the new Zara Home in downtown Marrakech. She was instantly surrounded by pretty ethnic chic, with bold pops of color.  She made her way through the aisles, stroking a coverlet here, admiring a glass vase there.  Everything so enticing.

On her way down the marble stairs, a large and perfect image loomed before her.    She reached into her bag and pulled out her camera.  Click, click.

Stop! Cried a voice.

She looked down the stairs.  A burly security guard glared up at her.

No photos allowed!  Erase them from your camera immediately!   He said, in a not-so-nice voice.

But I want to post them on my website to encourage people to visit Zara Home,  she protested.

I repeat, erase those photos immediately!   He shouted, threatening.

They wound up before the check out counter where a slight girl who looked no older than 22, listened to the security guard, shrugged her shoulders in a woebegone way, and said nothing.

The blogging girl slid her camera back into her purse.  Then, she looked defiantly at the security guard, and she marched out the store....

PS  See more Moroccan-influenced Zara Home photos right here at Sandman Chronicles.  (He is one of the sweetest bloggers around, too.)

P.P.S.  For Peacock Pavilions three vintage Saarinen tables like the ones in these images were purchased from the Italian Cultural Attache in Marrakech a few months back.  Another story for another time........

Marrakech: and shopping with the disciple of vintage

She had a fondness for things that were old, that were used, that were vintage.  She had an affection for items that were frayed at the edges, that were dogeared in the corners, that were worn on the ends.

No matter the missing button.  No matter the broken zipper. 
No matter the chipping paint.
No matter the wrinkle. 
No matter the gray hair. 
No matter the varicose vein....

Because everything (and everyone) deserved a second chance. 

Because she believed, truly believed, that middle aged and fabulous were words that went together......

But lest you think that she digresses, perhaps you might like to see some of her pre-loved items from the Marrakech souks....

A vintage Moroccan blanket in pink.  How fantastic it would look upholstering a headboard. More importantly, their dog, Rocky, thought it showed off his  complexion to great advantage.

Vintage kitschy peacock trays.  A whopping 75 cents for each.....

Vintage silvered  bowl with hand stamped patterns and blue  handmade resin beads.  (Set against  ikat fabric  for upholstering a chair at Peacock Pavilions.)

Vintage child's hat from high in the Atlas mountains.  Dazzling with mirrors and sequins......

A mixed flat weave and pile vintage carpet in the loveliest colors.

A Moroccan coin headband from the 1950s on a handloomed light -as-air cream wool throw.

Embroidered appliqued peacocks on a vintage velvet caftan from the 1920s or 30s.

And so if you find yourself one day in the Marrakech souks, perhaps you will find her -- the disciple of Moroccan vintage....

Marrakech's Mama Ti Lee: or where to eat in the medina

She loved surprises.  She loved unwrapping presents.  She loved silver linings. 

She liked to walk down the twisty side streets of the Marrakech medina, away from the crowds, away from the noise, away from the bright lights.  It was there that she was likely to stumble upon treasure:  the perfect little store, the darling little cafe, the quiet little riad. Each discovery like the lacquered insides of a plain wooden box.

She was with her friend, the photographer-of-roses, when she first discovered the secret of Mama Ti Lee.  Tucked away down a narrow street, Mama Ti Lee's doors had just opened.   

The soothing greys and lavenders of the interiors were a visual break from the city's saturated reds, pinks and oranges.  There was sleek metal seating.

And a flash of yellow on an open window sill....

The  photographer-of-roses sat with Serge, the  English-speaking French co-proprietor in the cooling interior courtyard.

Then they wandered up to the roof terrace where they found cushions sidled up to low tables.  Oh, to lounge on the leather carpet with cold hibiscus juice in hand! 

But more Moroccan chic was to come......because there were beds (!) on the terrace, too, where evenings could be whiled away, immersed in talk of everything and nothing.

Cecile, the charming chef and co-proprietor made the most delicious light meal.  It really was far too pretty to eat but greedily, they ate it anyway....

And the blogging girl in boxing shoes thought the homemade granita was a particularly refreshing finishing treat.

After they left, she realized that she had forgotten to ask about Mama Tee Li, the mysterious person after whom the restaurant was named.   Hmmm...it seemed she would have to return to find out....Perhaps, you'll come too?

Mama Ti Lee Derb Laarsa, #13, Riad Zitoun Jdid, Marrakech medina, 024.38.17.52, mamatilee@yahoo.fr

Open evenings.

Marrakech: and shopping addict?

You see, she had a shopping problem.  Any day now she would come back home to find her husband, her closest friends and her extended family sitting in the living room with Dr.  Phil.  They would be waiting for her, feet tapping expectantly.......Isn't that the way shopping interventions worked?  The kind where drastic measures were foisted upon you, where they cut up all your credit cards, where they put you on a budget of $42.50 a month, including magazines?

It didn't help matters that she took clients on personal shopping trips to the Marrakech souks, that she shopped for others in addition to herself.  You see, she lived in a state of perpetual anticipation.....of the next purchase.  She was sure that there were medications for people like her.

Here's a little of what she had bought just recently:

Vintage handmade Moroccan tassels in happy colors used to strap bags on to horses or camels.  The ones with pompoms had been used to hold in place women's skirts in the Atlas mountains.  She imagined them tying back white or ecru linen. 

A Moroccan vintage embroidered velvet caftan and vintage hand sewn brocade and velvet platform shoes.  Baby, let's disco...

Heavy bronze tribal jewelery and turquoise mosque-shaped ink pots.  She liked pairing them with modern fabrics and treasures from the garden.  So fresh.

A handmade red wool carpet covered in talismanic symbols and sequins.  Purchased for a room in Peacock Pavilions.  (Do contact her at maryam at mtds.com if you would like one of your very own.)

Old Berber sprocket bracelets against hand loomed fabrics. She had purchased the fabric for a room in Peacock Pavilions she was doing in creams, whites and blacks.

An antique silver and gold brocade saddle from a Moroccan fantasia horse rider.  She had two of these for Peacock Pavilions.

A strange little vintage handmade leather doll with a turban.  He was so darling against her tissu fleuri, wouldn't you agree?

Oh dear, and that's just the beginning.... (muffled background noise.  Yes, Dr. Phil, I promise I will try to do better.....)

PS Speaking of shopping, new stock of beautiful vintage Moroccan wedding blankets can be seen right here.

PPS Thank you darling Joni, of lovely blog, Cote de Texas, for this beautiful post.

Marrakech: and Ludovic's beautiful decay

He had a home in Marrakech.  He had shops in Paris.   He had design projects left and right.  He had 350 embroiderers  embroidering. (Sigh, so refined.)

His name was Ludovic (a Russian prince?) and she loved his lanterns.  She had to have one ....or perhaps two.....or perhaps more....A meeting was called for.

But eek, what if he was terribly snobby?  What if he drank his tea with his pinkie in the air?  What if  he carried a small white fluffy dog with a small white fluffy name? What if his home was oh so Architectural Digest?  In that case, he might not welcome the likes of her.....

With a friend, she set off to meet him anyway.  Nothing risked, nothing gained, she told herself firmly. 

Ludovic's Marrakech home was down an orange (orange!) passageway in the old city or medina .   

A statuesque blond answered the door.  She looked stern and spoke with a Spanish accent.  Yes,  Ludovic was expecting them...... They walked in and the blogging girl learned that she had been wrong -- wrong about Ludovic, wrong about everything. 

Ludo wore faded jeans and a red hoodie. His hair was perfectly  disheveled.  He had a droll French humor.  And his place could only be described as in a state of beautiful decay....  Ludo laughed that although he spent his days working on luxury projects, he had filled his own home with the rejects, with the riff-raff, with the flotsam and jetsam.  How charming he was.

There was a red parasol in the open courtyard. So naughty Victorian.

There was a Moroccan vintage bucket on the brightly tiled wall. 

There were mismatched pillows  on makeshift couches. 

There was a mannequin who doubled as a lamp. The girl wanted one, too.

There was a schizophrenic chandelier rigged up in the plants.  (Well, why not?)

There were surprising still life compositions.

And mysterious bags designed for shopping the souks of  Marrakech or Manhattan.

Just before leaving, Ludovic's cat whispered in the blogging girl's ear that she had been forgiven for all that fluffy white dog nonsense.  So, if she promised to be on her very best behavior, she might just be permitted to come back to spend another afternoon at Ludo's...

PS... and as for the lanterns......look for them at Peacock Pavilions......

PPS Liz and Ted, I am happy to help you with your wedding but your email is not working.  Please do write me with another email address.

Zagora: and hallucinating Le Cafe Bleu...?

They had been lost in the Sahara desert for hours. They were hot, hungry, and harassed, when they finally arrived back in the desert town of Zagora.  It was then, suddenly, that Le Cafe Bleu appeared out of..... nowhere.  Funny, how was it that they had not seen it before.....?

A bedouin princess welcomed them when they walked through the cafe's doors...

And blessings were showered upon them...

They lounged on kilim-covered couches and sipped mint tea...

And sank into comfortable chairs and swapped strange tales...

Le Cafe Bleu's owner, Veronique, was a French artist in psychedelic garb.  Her hand could be seen in the cafe's charming details...

Delicious aromas of couscous wafted from behind gauzy curtains.  The food did not disappoint.

Later, much later, they had drinks on Le Cafe Bleu's roof terrace.  They were told that they were the cafe's first customers -- the cafe was said to have opened only hours before.

After they left that night, they couldn't help wondering if Le Cafe Bleu was real.....or just a blue mirage on the outskirts of the Sahara desert.

Hmmm....you decide....

Le Cafe Bleu

Hay Draa Zagora

+212-24-848496 Ver-O-Rev@hotmail.com
Menus starting at only $10

Riad Zamane: and where to stay in Zagora

After many hours on the road South, they found themselves in a town that rhymed enchantingly with aurora.  Yes, they were in Zagora.  Moroccan men in blue turbans and Moroccan women in black sequined shawls, strolled up and down the streets.  It was dusty and it was gritty but it was just right, too. 

The group of them -- three Americans, two Italians, one Belgian, one Brit, one Czech, and one Moroccan, as well as a motley crew of children of mixed origins -- checked into Riad Zamane.  A strange and special place, Riad Zamane was a bohemian respite nestled into Zagora's palm grove oasis. 

The walls were etched with mysterious symbols....

Bungalows were hidden among the luxurious plantings.

And nomadic sleeping tents could be found behind blue doors....

Maharajas had been there before them....

They sat outside and  told  secrets to traveling companions...

They had tea with visiting grandfathers on couches made from vintage Berber blankets.  (The blogging girl had a collection of such blankets for sale for modern bohemians worldwide....)

They savored a lamb and fig dinner in a brightly fringed Bedouin tent with arched windows.

They admired the perfect little Moroccan handmade rugs here and there.....

At night their path was lit by candles and Moroccan lanterns......

The next day, a man in blue led them away to the dunes of the Sahara desert.  But that's another tale.... for another time.....

Riad Lamane Amezrou, Zagora, Morocco riadlamane@menara.ma www.riadlamane.com

Marrakech: and the poetry of Dar Rumi

She was blond, Swedish and beautiful.  She was even more beautiful on the inside (Oh my....).  She had a mysterious name.  She owned a mysterious house.   The house was called Dar Rumi, after the Persian mystical poet.

Dar Rumi was found deep in the Marrakech medina.  A charming pet camel greeted the blogging girl at the door - he was shy but very vain. 

Everything was so tasteful, in greys, blacks and whites.  With a splash of red .

Oh, the prettiest fountain filled with rose petals in the courtyard.  Just the right spot for Valentines day or any day....

Everywhere there were perfect little touches.

The blogging girl had a bite to eat in the tiny kitchen.  Oh la-la, even the sardines were color coordinated.  

And the most ordinary things were somehow made out of magic....

The girl sat on a leather cushion in the living room and read her very favorite magazine -  Maisons du Maroc, of course.

She then climbed the simplest, most lovely stairs.

The railings were made out of harem-like mashroobiya all in white.....

She lingered for a while on the perfect pink.  And imagined what it would be like to have a house this enchanting......Sigh.

Evening came and Swedish stars shone in the Marrakech night.....

All too fast it was time to leave, and the blogging girl was sad.  But she hoped that if she was nice, very nice, she would be invited back soon,  very soon, to Dar Rumi....

* PS More than 10,000 comments so far on this little blog.  Thank you.  I have loved every one.*

Marrakech: Peacock Pavilions dishes out

The details were important to her.  She thought about the small things...about the soap dishes, the trash bins, the key chains.  She wished that everything could be just so at Peacock Pavilions.  She sometimes grew frustrated when she  couldn't find the things she wanted - not the right forks, not the right faucets, not the right fabrics.  She begged people traveling to Marrakech to courier special items for her that she ordered online and shipped to them. 

When it came to dishes, she knew she would have to find a local source.......because, after all, dishes are fragile...they break.  A trip of the foot, a stub of the toe, and replacements are needed.  While Moroccan pottery might be tempting -- so colorful, so hand-crafted -- also soon shabby......the telltale chips, the flaking paint.  Oh no, that wouldn't do........

Then there was white porcelain.....Porcelain.....  so elegant and the white so pristine, so restaurant-like.  And easily replaced.  But Moroccan?  Not particularly.  And memorable?  Not at all.........

Moroccan porcelain was called for.  Finally, after contemplation, she decided on a pattern from Porcelain de Fes........  Classic, in good taste, and so Moroccan with its intricate mosaic designs, reminiscent of Moroccan tile work or zelij.  And the blue...so lovely -- why, even Swedes couldn't complain. 

So bright and early one morning.......she marched off with her checkbook......  She returned with dinner, salad and desert plates, as well as fruit bowls, platters, and the sweetest tiny dishes for butter,  jams, and  honey.    She stacked them up, she packed them in tissue, she marked the large box with Peacock Pavilions in black permanent ink. 

One step closer............ (Pssst.....doors opening October 15, 2008)

Elle Decor: and Marrakech love

Oh, they are chic........without a doubt.  Oh, they are stylish....that's for sure.  He was a film maker, she was a PR honcho.  They were from Los Angeles....They had moved to Marrakech.  Need I say more?

Well, if you insist. ...

Their 18th century Marrakech courtyard home is...... (surprise!) chic and stylish, too.  Oh, very LA in a Marrakech kind of way.  Not only the prettiest finds from the Marrkech souks (and, ahem, the LA souks) but......gasp, the tiles!  Not just vintage tiles but stunning new ones from Popham Design, their very own Moroccan tile company.  Imagine all that beautiful modern Moroccan tile at your finger tips.....Tile on demand....Tile for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Tile now carried at the venerable Ann Sacks.  Why, it's enough to make a tile lover like me jealous, verrrrrrry jealous...............

But  try as I might to hate them for all their bounty.......it appears that I just can't.  Because, you see, they are nice!  They are down to earth!  They are helpful! And they make the most delicious mojitos.  And did I mention that our Marrakech boutique hotel, Peacock Pavilions, features *eight* of Popham Design's tile patterns.... ? (rubbing hands together in glee)

And so I can only be excited, verrrrrrry excited that their lovely home is featured in the always-fabulous Elle Decor this month.  Read the whole article here.

Sigh, I love having style celebrities as friends.....

Wowza photos by talented photographer Roger Davies for Elle Decor.