My Marrakesh

Marrakech: and a tale of Moroccan kilim cushions & poufs

I remember when I went to the Mousem of Tan Tan -- the largest annual gathering of  bedouins and nomads. I remember their beautiful peaked tribal tents.  Within the tents, the furniture was kept deliberately minimal.   Instead, they were furnished with Moroccan tribal carpets and Moroccan striped blankets.  Of course, there was the ubiquitous smattering of Moroccan kilim carpet cushions and colorful Moroccan carpet poufs.  

It was a setting meant for lounging in the original sense of the word:  ie half sitting, half reclining, a glass of Moroccan mint tea in hand, casually chatting and laughing, a game or two played.  It all seemed so relaxed.  

I remember thinking to myself, these could be my people.  Or perhaps, these are the people I wish I could be.

Now I'm thinking that these could be your people, too.  Or at least their stylish  tribal design sense.

Now for sale in Red Thread Souk......piles of one-of-a-kind Moroccan carpet cushions.  Such ethnic chic.  Many of the backs are entirely different than the front, getting you two great built in options.

Oh, and see my gorgeous black sequinned wedding blanket cushions - just the right modern day Moroccan touch -- on their own or as a counterfoil to the Moroccan kilim cushions.

 

And of course the Moroccan carpet poufs....such a graphic statement in pairs........

 

More, please, more.....

PS Now if only I had a beautiful Moroccan tribal tent that I could also pack up and strap to my camel...... Now come to think of it, if I only had a camel........ 

The Marrakech Marathon: and a sort-of tale of running

When I met him, he had run a marathon and was training for a triathalon. And after we got married, he continued to run despite knee surgery and a bad back.  Nothing serious, nothing dependable.  Just on and off  -- the same way he played basketball and baseball, and the same way he golfed, skiied, climbed, rode and surfed.  It was all now and again.  He was sporty but he wasn't consistent.  Life got in the way and he did less and less.

And then a friends husband, in his 40s, had a heart attack.  Just (with a snap of the fingers} like that.  And it was months later, my husband began to run again.  Not a lot but routinely.  Another friend's husband also in his late 40s, began to run, too.  

You both should run a 10 k, I said, excitedly.   Maybe we will, they replied.    

My son watched his sister -- a girl who tried out for every sport and made every team.  A girl who rode a horse year-round.  With his headphones on, my son mostly looked away.  A little surfing, some skateboard camp, a week or two of track.  But that was it, really.  

Three days before the Marrakech Marathon was to begin, my husband and his friend registered to run the half-marathon.  

The night before the Marrakech Marathon was to begin, my son said, I'm going to run it, too. 

And so they showed up that morning with thousands of others.

My husband and his friend ran.  They ran fast.

 My son, wearing sweatpants and fake Converse shoes ran too.  And he finished, too, ahead of hundreds of others.

I think that there's a lesson here --- a lesson for you and me.  Remember the key word for the New Year? No?  Remember it here again, then.  Foncez!

Kabul: and a tale of remembering yet again

It's so easy not to look.  It's so easy to stay in our own little worlds where dramas revolve around broken appliances and children with the flu, and alarm clocks that don't go off.  It's so easy to live in a way that's safe and sanitized, away from the Syrias, away from the refugees, away from the child soldiers.  

We can pretend that it's not happening.  We can sweep it under the carpet.  We can turn off the nightly news.  We have those choices.  Lucky, lucky, aren't we?

I wrote this blog post from the restaurant that was just bombed in Kabul Afghanistan.  How ironic that I was writing about remembering a different war when I was there.  And now I will remember this restaurant and this war  and ponder the inexplicable nature of inexplicable things.  

Terrible. So so terrible.

I will also try to remember that when small things go wrong that seem so very tiresome in my own little world, to snap my own fingers in front of my own face and snap out of it.  I've disappointed myself in that department lately.

And so to mourn this sad event in Kabul, let these words be my own moment of silence without the silence.  And let them also be a reminder to me to do better at doing better.  

PS I'll leave you with the series I did on finding beauty in Kabul:

Kabul and the quest for beauty: a tale of music

Kabul and the quest for beauty: a tale of the miniaturists

Kabul and the quest for beauty: the tale of the woodcarvers

Kabul and the quest for beauty: a tale of Zarif Design

Kabul and the quest for beauty: a tale of the Afghan jewelers

Kabul and a tale of beauty's uncertain future 

Marrakech Morocco: and a tale of Femina magazine fashion photo shoot at Peacock Pavilions

They were Swedish and Danish.  They were mostly blond. They were Femina Magazine.  

A team of 6 - a fashion editor, 2 models, a stylist, a makeup/hair artist & a photographer - came to Peacock Pavilions to shoot not 1, not 2 but 4 fashion stories (and a magazine cover!).  I couldn't have been more excited:-)

They came with bags and bags of clothes that they hung here and there. 
  They came with shoes arranged in rows and rows.

 They came with pairs and pairs of sunglasses.

And oodles of jewels.

{The latter displayed for selection in interesting ways like on our Moroccan mobile sink from the 1940s.}

 There were flowers and herbs from our garden to weave into the hair of the models. 

Peeking through the blossoms, there were looks for consideration.

The hairstylist/makeup artist did her magic. 

And finally....there was shooting!  The camera was enormous!

German model Claudia Raba by the pool....

and in the Medina Pavilion.

And Swedish model Ingrid Wrisley in the Atlas Pavilion.

and with all eyes on her....

in the main Pavilion....

There was furious photo editing......!

but we'll have to wait for the final images in the Spring issues of Femina!  Many many thanks to the sweetest fashion editor I've ever met, Sarah Thornqvist.  We loved working with you and your adorable team!

PS  With blooms in her hair, Ingrid perused my book, Marrakesh by Design.  She may be Swedish, but I hope she won't soon forget Marrakesh....

PPS Photo shoots are one of our very favorite things to do at Peacock Pavilions.  Fashion, jewelry, handbags, bedding, homewares -- we love it all. Our rates are super reasonable even for new brands, and we can help you with everything from models, to photography, to flowers, to props, to camel rental {really}.  Or just come with your goodies and we'll be the most charming shoot location, while providing you with yummy meals and cocktails.  Bookmark us and contact us here to inquire.