How Sweet It Is

Parisians, it feels safe to state, love their vices. Cigarettes oft (it's like often but older) haphazardly dangle from lips, wake-up coffees are replaced as the choice of drink no later than the early afternoon by red wine, cheese is bought by the kilo and, of course, macarons are enjoyed for every occasion one could think of. Wedding? Macarons! Baby shower? Macarons! Thursday? Macarons! And a good thing that is, because otherwise Laduree perhaps would not still be around today, some one hundred and fifty years after it's establishment. Laduree is the most famous, and certainly the best, patisserie in Paris for macarons. So famous in fact, that Laduree sells 12,000 macarons a day.


I first fell in love with the delicious clouds a few years ago, in the days when I often spent my evenings leafing through recipe books. It became my dream (well, one of my many dreams) to travel to France and try one of these magnificent looking creations. Of course, regarding myself as a little cook, I made numerous attempts at baking them. Alas, they all failed miserably, leaving me with flattened lumps ofmacaron and bowls of runny filling. Having never tasted or even seen one in the flesh certainly didn't help my exploits.


So, last week, it was with a huge smile on my face that I skipped into Laduree in Paris, and bought my very own box of six macarons. Actually, Bobby bought me my very own box of six macarons. We've already established that I have next to no money. But oh, they're wonderful! They're fluffy little clouds plucked from heaven which melt in your mouth better than M&Ms ever did. Melt in your hand not in your mouth my arse, M&M. Laduree make these macarons in all the colours of the rainbow and enough flavours to have you dizzy. They're made freshly each morning and with each box of macarons comes a little leaflet, containing a brief history and the date you're box of mouth-watering goodness was made. They're worth every cent and, even if you're as poor as I, I absolutely insist that you treat yourself to one (or six) next time you find yourself in Paris. Or get your boyfriend to treat you. Or a stranger. I saw a man put on a puppet show on the tram and, you know, he got a fair bit of money from it. So that's an idea. I'm just saying, given how delicious these things are, I know kids who would go to further lengths.


Paris, if this is what it feels like to love your vice, I'm with you. Just watch out for the withdrawals. You might just end up on the cigarettes and alcohol.

If You're Looking For Love.

Oblivious to the current cash situation (i.e. a lack of) and the masses of Christmas gifts I received over the holiday, the list of things I'm lusting after continues to grow like Alice in Wonderland.


As of yesterday, the New Years dress and white singlet can, thankfully, be crossed off. The dress is appallingly '80s, bright red and more or less a giant sack. And, ecstatically, I am head over heels - or rather, boots as the case may be.


Click for larger images. Clockwise from top left: Headwear - Vintage photo from Agent-Lee; Haircut - Polaroids of Anja Rubik; Swimming Costume - Vintage photo Fishup; Cigarette Holder - eBay; Hold ups with Garter - eBay; Boots - Cannot remember, but if it's you're photo and you would like me to take it down, please contact me; Frames - The Selby; Vintage Collar - Etsy; White Cat T-Shirt - eBay.

Rock n roll suicide

And she said, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette. Puff, puff, puff and if you smoke yourself to death, tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate that you hate to make him wait but you just gotta have another cigarette.

Truth be told, I'd quite like to do just that right about now. Unfortunately, it happens that I'm as sick as a parrot. And as that persistent cough continues to do amazing job at restraining me from smoking any fragrant tobacco, I've been left in a limbo of daydreams. Chocolate and cigarettes, cigarette holders and matches.

The Dreamers by Bernardo Bertolucci

For the interest of those who can, and do, smoke (or even if you don't), the cult tobacconist Sol Levy is an adventure into a world long gone. They sell pipes, delicious tobaccos, cigars and cigarette holders not unlike Eva Green's in The Dreamers. And everything a smoker could dream of. They will even mail order, for those of you outside Sydney.