Even after so many years of living in France, I can't help but be drawn to the parfum d'antan, that ephemeral feeling of the past, one often wafting around me like the scent trail left behind by a beautiful woman. My eye roves towards that sense of time worn, time known.
It is little wonder why I am so taken by such beauty. Only those that are born here seem to be oblivious to it. And yet I wonder if all of this past pulls me by the arms at times, holding me back. My Sister is visiting. One of the fascinating aspects of seeing family members after an absence is that the changes in them stand out as if drawn in bright colors. Robin has been working hard on herself and seems so less caught by the cobwebs of the past than before. She stands clear in the present with an open face towards the future.
So best then to appreciate the past with its style and substance without letting it take roots within. To linger in the parfum d'antan without getting caught under its spell...
PS. As I was about to hit publish, I had a lovely surprise from my friend Virginia in Melbourne. She is a talented and successful designer and yet shares her world generously in her incredible blog, Glamour Drops. Today's post involves me and our friendship. And while the French have taught me not to say thank you for a thank you, what she wrote is just too beautiful not to acknowledge. And it also is very similar in its way to what I have been pondering here. So far away and yet on the same wave-length. There is nothing old-fashioned about that. Friendship lives out of time, doesn't it?