tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72939988875321651342024-02-02T06:31:53.761+01:00Transition in StyleMusings of a would-be-bloggerMimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.comBlogger109125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-404234011191201712017-08-14T22:02:00.000+02:002017-08-14T22:02:00.020+02:0013. I Crave<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A bit behind with posting, but I was away on a family trip, without internet - almost life-changing ;) The prompt for today is 'I crave' and I immediately remembered these beauties from July last year, from the Greek island of Skiathos - the cherry season in Serbia was over and when we saw these on the market after a busy day swimming and doing beach side stuff, we couldn't get to them fast enough. And they were perfect, firm but juicy, and so sweeet!<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-88247296713128769942017-08-09T11:48:00.000+02:002017-08-09T14:02:31.604+02:0009. Postcards<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The art of postcard writing is slowly dying out... I was once a postcard maniac, nowadays - not so much. Writing instead of texting/mailing/facebooking/instagramming etc. has become so rare, a disappearing art if you will. I was once an avid letter/postcard writer, all throughout my elementary and high school, until I started university. I've written a few letters to my husband since and I take care to always hand write a card when giving someone a present, but that's it.<br />
Today's postcards come from my photo archive of some of the parts/views of Belgrade I like the most. I hope you'll enjoy them!<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-1857267077808896232017-08-08T07:44:00.000+02:002017-08-08T18:29:31.445+02:0008. My Eyes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-53126715935055825642017-08-07T07:45:00.000+02:002017-08-07T07:45:31.225+02:0007. Glass<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I grew up with a mom and a grandma who placed a lot of weight on certain things. One of those was having pretty flowers in the house almost always and displaying the said pretty flowers in appropriately pretty containers. Cue vases! The two on the left you can see on the picture below were gifted to me - the tall one by my grandma, and the round one by my mom. The one on the right was also a present from mom - real Murano glass, from Venice. The tall one I grew up around, it was a stalwart on my grandma's coffee table and as kids, my brother and me were strictly forbidden from touching it lest it should topple and/or fall. The yellow one was the one my mom reached for most often whenever there were flowers to display. I love the colours on all three of them, being particularly fond of the blue/mustard combination.<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-7869833061357398422017-08-06T08:22:00.000+02:002017-08-06T08:22:49.984+02:0006. Favourite Novel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For someone that is an avid reader and studied English Language and Literature, asking me to pinpoint a favourite novel is like asking to pick the favourite out of my two children. In other words - impossible. I read so voraciously that keeping a list of what I've read is a no mean feat, let alone choosing books I like more than others. Certainly, there are some that stand out, and these have changed in different stages of my life.<br />
As a kid, an impressionable, nerdy, nose in a book at all times kind of girl, I reached literary heights by way of William Saroyan's 'Mommy, I Love You', or any book by Jules Verne for that matter. In teenage years, angst and existentialism struck, so it was to Hesse and Mann and Tolstoy that I turned to, engrossed in and impressed by both 'Demian' and 'Anna Karenina' in equal measure.<br />
My university years saw tonnes of Shakespeare with sprinkles of all else that English-speaking authors produced of note in the XVII, XVIII, XIX and XX centuries. Reading was a serious task back then, all my literature exams were huge in terms of books to read and accompanying interpretations and critical reviews, so some of it is indeed a blur due to the sheer volume I was to conquer in order to pass an exam - the point of all high-level education, right?<br />
After university, though, I was back to reading for pleasure. I fiddled with literary translation for a while and enjoyed it immensely, but that is no way to make a living in Serbia, so I've forgone the trade. That also meant forgoing reading any translated literature for quite a while because I would get so hung up on mistakes that the poor translator in question made that I could not continue with the book.<br />
I most predominantly read authors writing in English. These include Ian McEwan, Julian Barnes, Paul Auster, Kazuo Ishiguro, Salman Rushdie, Arundhati Roy, Zadie Smith, Alan Hollinghurst, Hanif Kureishi. In addition, I enjoy Haruki Murakami greatly. I also have a soft spot for the Latin American writers such as the literary heavy-weights Marquez and Llosa, as well as the Portuguese Saramago.<br />
There are a number of Serbian and regional writers that I love whose books have marked my childhood and youth mainly and who are so tightly woven into our identities here in the Balkans that there is no way you can skip them - Andric, Pekic, Selimovic, Copic, ...<br />
Bottom line is - I'll read anything, any time, any where - just give me a book. I can plough through anything and I'll do it with dogged persistence and conviction. Books are to be felt, inhaled, chewed up, re-read, abandoned and then picked up again, savored, devoured, talked to, mad at, cried over, laughed about, shared with friends, kept selfishly for your eyes only - anything, as long as they are read and their spirit keeps going now having become integral part of their reader.<br />
That is why I cannot pick out my favourite novel. No way!<br />
I leave you with my current reading pile (on a stool by my bed posing as a nightstand, holding the inevitable moisturizers for assorted body parts - lips, feet, hands, you name it ;):<br />
1. Quiet: The Power of Introverts In A World That Can't Stop Talking, Susan Cane<br />
2. Men Without Women, Haruki Murakami<br />
3. Lying on The Couch, Irvin Yalom<br />
4. The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-63222593322583298732017-08-05T11:24:00.000+02:002017-08-05T11:24:35.043+02:0005. Bycicle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike! I never fail to think of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncQsBzI-JHc" target="_blank">this</a> song by Queen whenever I think of bicycles ;) However, I'm not much of a biker myself. It's not that I don't enjoy it, it's more to do with the fact biking is not among the more popular means of transportation - or recreation, for that matter - in Belgrade. There are no designated bike lanes, it verges on suicidal trying to ride a bike on our busy streets, and after all - Belgrade is all up hill, down hill, so it requires some stamina to pull it off.<br />
I remember my late dad teaching me to ride a bike. It was this big, scary thing to master, my dad hovering close so that I don't crash land, a few insecure laps around the playground and off I went. Once I figured it out, oh my, it was a blast! But I didn't have a lot of opportunities for doing it later in life. The last time I rode a bike was in fact 10 years ago, on the French island of Ile de Re - a very bike-friendly place, with bike lanes criss-crossing the island as no cars are allowed apart from one traffic route circling the island.<br />
The bike on this picture, though, is not one to ride. A flower-pot of sorts, it decorates the pavement outside one of the best patisseries in Belgrade - <a href="http://mandarinacakeshop.rs/" target="_blank">Mandarina Cake Shop</a>. The guy who owns it is a properly trained French pastry chef and the goods they're offering are just superb. The tastes are incredible, balanced and in harmony, yet unexpected and absolutely delightful. Being a cake person, I just LOVE what they do and how they maintain the level of superb artisan skill while at the same time making you feel as if you are eating cake at your super cool aunt's place. Worth a visit and a bite or three ;)<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-20340772052770283062017-08-04T08:11:00.000+02:002017-08-04T13:51:58.799+02:0004. Where I Live<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Where I live seems pretty straightforward at first. But then, it's also not. Where I live - as in a country, is straightforward enough, at least in geographical terms. Where I live - as in an apartment, a neighbourhood, a city, involves geography, but also emotions. I live in Belgrade, Serbia. The country's capital, Belgrade is a city of almost 2,5 million people, a throbbing, living, breathing organism offering endless fun (there's an abundance of articles in foreign press on Belgrade's night life) but also poor infrastructure, horrible public transport, streets full of tired people with vacant stares as life is relentless with the daily grind, poor, homeless, refugees from the Middle East and others in the permanent state of passing by, hoping for somewhere better than Belgrade.<br />
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Regardless of the bad economic situation, poor rule of law and rampant corruption, Belgrade is also sort of nice to live in. I love its rivers (Sava and Danube); I love its downtown; I love its narrow streets harking back to Turkish times, history literally around every corner, as far back as the Celtic and Roman rule; smell of linden trees in June, the south-east wind, kosava, in autumn, clearing the air of smog, taking cobwebs off long-forgotten nooks and crannies; smell of paprikas roasting from hidden communal yards behind urban buildings; the brutalist architecture of New Belgrade; the end of XIX/beginning of XX century houses - old family villas, some gloriously restored, that have miraculously survived multiple bombings Belgrade has been subject to in the past 100 years... </div>
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But the real sens of 'I'm home' washes over me when I go to Kalemegdan. Belgrade's fortress from Celtic/Roman/Turkish times, it dominates the center of the town with its impressive ramparts and beautiful views. The statue of the Victor is the symbol of the city and the place I love the most in Kalemegdan. It overlooks the confluence of the two rivers, provides beautiful views of New Belgrade, Zemun, Ada, Avala, and the rest of my city's both beautiful and unsettling scenery and in a strange way makes me feel like I have arrived, I am home and this is where I live and love and hope to spend many more years savoring every day.</div>
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-22623358989675490632017-08-03T07:32:00.000+02:002017-08-03T07:32:49.739+02:0003. Roses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am a sucker for roses! Some people find their smell too sweet, cloying, heavy and steer clear of it in all shapes - whether from actual flowers or rose-scented shower gels, bath foams, soaps, candles, perfumes... While I can't say that I have many rose-scented stuff in my bathroom, I adore the flowers. I love how the petals are so neatly, tightly packed into the bud before they open and how the whole process is just gradual and you witness them unfold and reveal the fragrant center and the beauty of the flower in full bloom. I don't mind the thorns either, to me they just make the whole thing even more special, adding an aura of mystery to the flower's attempt to preserve its fragrant secret from prying eyes and hands.<br />
This particular pot of roses I spotted in front of an optician's shop just off Belgrade's downtown pedestrian zone. The actual header photo for my blog was also taken in front of that shop. The lady who owns and runs it uses all things seasonal to decorate her window display and entrance to the shop. Since roses are in season in her garden, she placed them in the beautiful vintage pot at the very entrance to the shop, while the window displaying frames and other eyewear was full of ripe, dark purple plums (also in season and I apologize for the lack of foresight in taking a photo of the window display as well).<br />
The photo with the apples was taken in autumn and at the time she had a basket full of apples at the shop's door, offering a fruit or three to anyone coming into the shop or just stopping by to admire. I make it my business to walk down the street and past her shop often as her ingenuity and creativity, and just overall generosity always make me feel good about the world we live in (which is becoming more sordid by the minute, or so it seems some days). She has found a way to communicate with her customers and passers-by alike without pricey adverts or billboards. She presents herself in a way that would make you consider picking your glasses or buying new frames in her store just because of what she projects onto the world.<br />
Sorry for the wordiness of this post, I'm coming to terms with not having engaged in (creative) writing for a long time...<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-4708920141268843742017-08-02T07:57:00.000+02:002017-08-02T07:59:06.904+02:0002. Gold<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Gold. Wealth. Richness. Abundance. Avarice. So many big words, notions, in such a small word. Even though I'm a Leo, gold was never one of my favorite colors. I steered clear from any gold colored jewelry for a long time. It always seemed so dowdy, matronly. I much preferred the silver, it's coolness, it's blue and grey undertones, the not so conspicuous sheen, or even better - its dark patina. But, as I changed, aged (look at me, touting old age and merely verging on the last few years of my forth decade ;), I discovered that the warmth of gold suited me. It plays nicely with the current auburn shade of my hair, softens my complexion and the first lines by casting a friendly shine onto my face. My mom and my older daughter gave me this wonderful gold-hued necklace as a token of appreciation for sending them away for a nice Greek holiday in June. And the other picture shows a sentimental peace of real gold jewelry: a bracelet my god father gave me on the day of my wedding. It's a combination of white and yellow gold and I treasure it. I used to wheel it out only on special occasions, but I've forgone that silly habit - life is for living, every day, so my best things often come out to play!<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-61633869447527034752017-08-01T11:37:00.000+02:002017-08-01T21:24:45.890+02:0001. Morning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was never a morning person. I do thrive in sunlight and my brain and my body function better when its light and bright outside, while correspondingly winding down with dusk and seeing me hit the pillow around 11 pm pretty much every night. But getting up in the morning - boy, that's always been a tough one. Apparently not when I was a kid - my mom says I was as much of an early bird as they come, calling out enthusiastically from my crib at the crack of dawn (that then came back to bite me with my first kid - karma is a you know what ;) All that changed very soon. I remember school holidays, the dog days of summer, and me sleeping in until 11 am or even noon - something my aging back would not allow me now, no way. That feeling when you wake up and it's daytime, hours of precious sunlight already gone, and you need to catch up. Only, it's summer, it's the holidays, and it doesn't matter!<br />
Getting up for work- a nightmare in my book. Especially in winter. I'm quite the opposite there from my husband who just jumps out of bed when it's time and he's ready to face the music. Me, not so much. I just want to stay under the covers, and steal a few more winks of sleep. I just always feel I need a few more...<br />
All that has changed, however, in the past six months. In addition to getting up to take my older daughter to school, I started going to the gym in the morning in March (the perks of being unemployed). I became a veritable gym bunny! I'm converted! I hit the thread mill for 20 minutes and then workout for an hour with a personal trainer. This happens three times a week, but getting up other days of the week has become much more manageable too. I don't now if it's the exercise or what, but it helped. I look forward to mornings. I look forward to working out. I want to get out of the house (although that's not always a straight forward operation given I have an almost nine and an almost three year old).<br />
The photo below is of what I see when I get up - that chimney in the distance is a landmark, something that speaks to me in a way that conveys the 'everything is ok, you're home, everyone's safe' message. It's tall and sturdy and comforts me, odd as it sounds.<br />
The next one is from my gym's locker room. I like going there, leaving my phone behind locked and just sinking my teeth in a good workout.<br />
For the rest of the August Break participants, all the Insta action is happening under the #augustbreak2017 moniker, while you can also share the joy in the Facebook group <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/325172174601856/" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4AWYmhU-YdAM7AIwTmbs0wYR-uA1iucZTP0Vx3kkuBIZ8oS95XJUtT5ZrVP_kQdQGPZF0lvviqetrOacMM4120BLlkLOPsA8GRgjUt5R_CmrWQCTehGXp2nm4CHfy3XzcTpphx0PaENg/s1600/01+morning+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1600" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4AWYmhU-YdAM7AIwTmbs0wYR-uA1iucZTP0Vx3kkuBIZ8oS95XJUtT5ZrVP_kQdQGPZF0lvviqetrOacMM4120BLlkLOPsA8GRgjUt5R_CmrWQCTehGXp2nm4CHfy3XzcTpphx0PaENg/s400/01+morning+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-62208554317546461762017-07-31T14:15:00.002+02:002017-07-31T14:17:38.600+02:00The August Break 2017<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Oh well, since this space has been completely mistreated and neglected for a long while, let's jump start this blogging malarkey by participating in the August Break. You can see the details <a href="http://www.susannahconway.com/august-break-2017/" target="_blank">here</a> and I'll be following prompts - makes it easier anyway. Some such as One Regret and Sour are already making me think and attempt more creativity... We'll see. Can't say that I'm really back, but who knows, maybe this will be just what I need to get the writing mojo back on track.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.susannahconway.com/august-break-2017/" target="_blank">The August Break - Prompts</a></td></tr>
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-77393408369351149922016-11-05T16:05:00.001+01:002016-11-05T17:07:01.510+01:00Florals and Other Matters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just so I don't forget that this blog also used to be about personal style once upon a time, here are some of the latest additions to the ever growing wardrobe department:<br />
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ZARA print top and not just your plain white shirt<br />
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Two bracelets<br />
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And a nice scarf<br />
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They all say autumn and tie in with the rest of my wardrobe quite nicely. I also got a sparkly tunic top from ZARA, black and blue with an asymmetrical hem, as well as a red sweater from LEGEND with a necklace-like decoration around the collar, very nice, but for the life of me I cannot find decent pictures of them.</div>
Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-62995342243243951802016-11-05T15:33:00.002+01:002016-11-05T15:33:58.308+01:00Rules and Routines<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What's a woman without her 9 to 5? A question I ask myself often these days. Who am I without an office to go to? Without an immediate task at hand? Without a purpose? Without a routine, that soothing and comforting rhythm behind everything I do, that sets boundaries, clear and welcome, that tempers the existence, balances it?<br />
Well, I've learned that I am not much without it. Or, rather, I can't seem to grasp what's beyond it. I feel anxious, lost, highly strung, and about to crack. My armor is pierced. I no longer define myself through what I do as I am currently unemployed. God, how awful! I hate the sound of it. I have not come to terms with it. I can't stop mulling it over and over, wondering if it's entirely my fault that I've found myself in this situation again after almost five years - five years of hard, honest work, and why me? Shaking off the victim mentality does not come easy for me. Also, always finding fault with myself, blaming myself, I excel at that. I'm thinking of adding the skill to my professional resume.<br />
I can fully grasp how people lose it after, e.g. 40 years in the workforce, and then they retire and boom - lost, bobbing on the rough seas of life, left to your own devices to find meaning and purpose, again. To remember who you are/were, before - everything. To reclaim your own self. Whoever that stranger may be.<br />
Why is it so hard to let go? Why are we programmed to cling tightly to the reins of control, however big an illusion it may be? Deep down, I know I could use this free time I am suddenly in possession of much better. I can use it to do all those things I like - walk, read, learn new things, be with myself, breathe, just think nothing, do nothing. But, and there is always a but, I cannot. Because the only thing I am acutely aware of is not how blessed I am to be living the life I do with a happy and healthy family, but how wretched I am to not have a job. I let that one thing that makes the equation of who I am ruin everything else and govern my perception of reality.<br />
I wish I could undo it. I wish I can do better at not doing anything.<br />
When I do give myself some breathing space, though, and let the real me through, this is what comes out - art, or as close to is as I'll ever be:<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-22074282970635002412016-10-27T11:35:00.000+02:002016-10-27T11:38:46.277+02:00Stillness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A big claim, stillness is. I am rarely still. Even if I'm not moving, my mind is not still. It races, it jumps, it overdoes thinking, worrying, planning, work, life, everything. Achieving even a pretence of stillness is hard for me. I'm officially unemployed as of two days ago. Imagine what that does to my head. It does me in. It is not the first time I've been in this situation, in fact it happens in cycles every four-five years as projects end and new ones begin. In all previous instances, though, I was not able to take it easy during the hiathus. I would tie myself in a knot and shrink myself both physically and emotionally to a ticking bomb of anxiety. I have considered changing that this time around. I am thinking of not doing anything for a month and not worrying about it. For me, that's harder than giving birth. Making myself reconnect with the person underneath the worry and angst, listening to myself, feeling the feelings, making time for it, gosh, how am I ever going to do it? But, I'm willing to try. I took a walk yesterday around the empty Kalemegdan fortress and I was almost scared by stilness, peacefullness and quiet.<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-75805654998592853482016-08-16T14:32:00.002+02:002016-08-16T14:33:16.225+02:00And another big one rolls around the corner<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My birthday, that is ;) What's changed? Nothing, no big a-ha moments for me this year, just another birthday. I don't feel older, I don't feel that much wiser either. The past year was a lot in a way, and not that much in other ways. I've come back to work after baby number 2 and my older kid started school back in September 2015 - so these were the big things. Things that caused most anxiety and stress, so much so that when I've finally let up, overcome the first pangs of guilt and worry, it was like someone opened up the flodgates and my body responded by going haywire. It took three months to get me back on track. I strated exercising and kept at it for almost four months, doing pilates for four times a week for the ast two- I felt strong, toned, fit, satisfied with my self and the effort I was putting in. I didn't lose much weight, primarily because I gained muscle, but I just looked and felt better. Summer rolled around and I stopped exercising but I need to get back to it, pronto! Work-wise, uh, I don't know. I slided right back into the groove of things, as if I never left, no one took my place, no one competed for my job, I had no empty desk sindrome, I just continued. I even got my own office - I asked for it, and I got it. And than I felt as if somehow I stole something from someone, like an impostor. Which I'm not. I worked my ass off on this project and I deserve recognition. But, it seems I'm not over my self-effacing days. I want to grow, and be recognized by my superiors and my peers alike, and yet I want to remain invisible, hiding behind my work, happily toiling away, not asking for anything. And I need to find another job, soon. So what do I do? Do I want to continue with the same old same old, do I change sectors, do I start over, do I want a higher position, a better salary, or do I want stability and more time for myself and life in general? Do I pursue a further education degree? Or do I strive for simplicity and balance? I haven't got an answer on any of those questions.<br />
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There are few things that I can describe as certain about me, it seems that a lot is up in the air. I know that I love my kids and my husband; I know that their health and well-being is more important to me than anything else; I know that I thrive in stable conditions with clear boundaries; I also know that the only way I grow is if I take a challenge; I know that travelling is what makes life worth living (Vienna city break in May, hubby and me, all alone, away for five days, for the first time in eight years, bliss); and I know I need to move and exercise more to feel (not necessarily look) better. And that is about it. Other things - I still have to figure out.<br />
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36 - bring it on!<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-90090085451025536512016-08-09T11:37:00.000+02:002016-08-09T16:13:34.904+02:00Summer TV<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just a short one today, with a few proposals for binge watching some of the finest entertainment to be found on line:<br />
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1. Happy Valley - oh how I love me some British crime dramas! This one - two seasons so far - features a brilliant lady detective with a troubled past and complicated family history (Sarah Lancashire) and an easy-on-the-eyes twisted villain (James Norton). The plot is riveting in both seasons, I gulped them in one big delicious slurp. Besides, James Norton is our new British boyfriend - see for yourselves:<br />
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He is the star of a much less sombre Grantchester - a priest with sleuth propensities, with a soft spot for women.<br />
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2. Billions - we've already established how much I love and adore Damian Lewis (our original British boyfriend). So imagine how giddy with excitement I got when I learnt of the Billions - Damian Lewis in the role of the wealthy, greedy hedge-fund manager, with a soft spot for Metallica gigs and putting his name on buildings around town, and Paul Giamatti, a public attorney on a crusade against the wealthy working around laws and rules, with a secret propensity for some S&M on the side. It's a roller coaster, exciting, epic at times. Season two is in the making. Can't wait!<br />
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3. The Good Wife - I know I'm late to this party, seven seasons already under the belt, but boy, goooood seven seasons. And Julianna Margulies is killing it.<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-5330113745514883312016-08-08T11:07:00.001+02:002016-08-08T11:11:39.788+02:00Routines<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Routines are safe. They are life-savers most of the time. When you're stressed, when you're out of your mind with worry, when everything is going wrong, you can count on routines to pull you through. The job sucks, there's too much pressure, but the weekend is around the corner and it unfolds in a reliable, well known set of steps which bring order to chaos. Get up, have breakfast, go out, take the kids to the park, walk, come back home, get the younger one to bed, chill with the older one, make lunch, eat, do some chores, go out again, come home, bathing time, sleeping time, do some more chores, go to bed, wash, rinse, dry, repeat.<br />
Yet sometimes it drives me nuts. It drives me so nuts that I feel I could go out of my skin just thinking about it. I don't want to go to another freaking park, I don't want to pound the same pavements day in day out, I'm so fed up with the same places, same store fronts, same faces... I don't want to clothe, feed, bathe, over and over and over in the same sequence of movements, same times, same way . . . What is so reassuring and welcome at times, becomes so infuriating, insufferable at others.<br />
And I find myself being infuriated more and more so. If things don't go as planned, if any of the routines is harder to execute than usual, if there is an unexpected turn of events, I get so mad. I don't know where the anger comes from, but it surfaces so easily that it catches me off guard at most surprising times. And it is directed at my kids and at my husband most often - the people I love more than life itself. The people I could die for.<br />
I'm lashing out and sometimes it's so bad. I hate myself for it. This creates another spiral, that's bound to produce more anger. I'm sure stress that I've been a lot under recently has something to do with that. But also I think years of not listening to myself, my body, my soul, my needs. Years of not letting go of some things, of not slowing down, of not changing the bad habits, the taking on too much, the having to have everything perfect and no other way, of being righteous, judgemental, wrong.<br />
And, most importantly of not being able to forgive myself for all of it. It all boils down to that. The proverbial guilt and not letting go of it.<br />
So that is what I need to do. Let go. Forgive myself for all the mistakes, the big ones and the small ones, and all in between. And writing it sounds so scary. Let alone doing it.<br />
And I also need new routines. Of the self-loving, self-nurturing kind. Any suggestions?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYPB4wH6s-lSwmLMsuxWgnbZOTq_JQppYK82eAbYVW6is5GZ16-2nKnf1t6DvbHOKUHhFowV55HpE0jca3cXH7uD00fckc3iV1Hgte6hNOSUSvjgtDSEyxQllX5jgEsprLwgWIdLrIBk/s1600/stairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYPB4wH6s-lSwmLMsuxWgnbZOTq_JQppYK82eAbYVW6is5GZ16-2nKnf1t6DvbHOKUHhFowV55HpE0jca3cXH7uD00fckc3iV1Hgte6hNOSUSvjgtDSEyxQllX5jgEsprLwgWIdLrIBk/s320/stairs.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A long and winding road to self acceptance</td></tr>
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-4865869080416291852016-08-05T10:16:00.001+02:002016-08-05T10:16:38.787+02:00Retirement<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Not for me, not yet, not ever maybe - who knows, the way things are going I may just drop dead behind the screen one day and that would be it. My mom retired. She was made to retire. Retire - retire your work, retire your position, retire the way of life, retire your colleagues, retire the rhythm and rituals of your day, retire the habits, retire the workplace presence and appearance... Sounds so harsh, so final, so defeating. My mom is anything but a defeatist, a loser, someone to quit, give up, let go and become invisible, cruising meekly towards old age and death. She will fight it, she will do anything to show everyone she is not affected by it, she's still larger than life, she can do and conquer all. And that's what worries me. I worry that something will be unleashed within, something related to this be all, do all presence that will push her into an overdrive and then into a melt-down of monolithical proportions. I don't want to witness that. I want my mom to be well. I want her to be healthy and content and live her life to the fullest but without hurting herself, burning out and ending before she gets to enjoy her retirement. My kids adore her, I wouldn't know what to do without her on a daily basis, so you could say that it's a completely selfish need. But it's more than that, I want her star to shine on, to continue making this world a greater place with her in it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAyE01pxQZpCKNkVCMyu8z6lakI5Ko7V6bxnibCdjTRJabfXFcHLUTqkVKBsWskJmTnm50fLN_2-XruubfpxbxPtzAV_uEbnXqhVqmg8NO-Pr_xOswa86T5uYWdVdd8NWD-meqyslnI8/s1600/roses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAyE01pxQZpCKNkVCMyu8z6lakI5Ko7V6bxnibCdjTRJabfXFcHLUTqkVKBsWskJmTnm50fLN_2-XruubfpxbxPtzAV_uEbnXqhVqmg8NO-Pr_xOswa86T5uYWdVdd8NWD-meqyslnI8/s320/roses.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">100 roses for my mom on the day she retired</td></tr>
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-87896558065716749412016-08-04T10:20:00.000+02:002016-08-05T19:15:10.114+02:00An Exercise in Focus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This sad corner of cyberspace was languishing untended to for a very long time, a year almost... Although there will be a 'now I'm 36, jeeez, what do I do?' post coming later in the month, this one is just an exercise in focus and clarity. I've become so distracted and so out of focus in my daily activities, both job and home related, that I do not recognize myself anymore. My brain is scattered, my thoughts jump from subject to subject, even when I engage in simple home activities like clearing clutter from the living room. I get tangled in several other tasks simultaneously - and also completely unawaress - and it takes me sometimes as many as 30 minutes to get back to what I originally started doing. I seem unable to go about my business just finishing one task at a time and moving onto the next one. I need to constantly remind myself of this and it is so exhausting and makes completing anything a monumental pain in the butt.<br />
Currently, I am at such a place in the job I do everyday that I need to be so focused and so intense and produce a ton of stuff and I'm just not capable of it. I am not. And it seems there is nothing I can do about it. So. That is why I'm trying to start posting here everyday, introducing some discipline into my daily doings, assigning a subject and writing for 15-20 minutes just to get my brain in a place of calm and logical, analythical thinking that flows freely into ordered words, sentences, thoughts, paragraphs. The plan is I get into work, write here for half an hour and then move onto my daily tasks. Writing other stuff, first and foremost.<br />
We'll see how that goes. That's it for today.</div>
Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-21123353776811163592015-08-17T22:00:00.000+02:002015-08-17T22:02:03.995+02:00The Festival of 35<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Another year, another birthday. I must admit, the excitement was not the same as a few years ago - 35 sounds pretty middle-aged to me. Actually, I was pretty bummed about the prospect of edging closer to 40 and entering what I imagine is the second half of my life. Kiddies, a super-attentive husband and some cake baking sort of dispelled the whiff of desperation that was hovering around.<br />
And then my family came, my mom, my brother and his brood and the house was full of laughter, singing and candle-blowing and I instantly felt better.<br />
My mom brought me the best of gifts - a perfume and an orchid.<br />
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Prada's Infusion d'Iris has been a favorite for quite a while. I love its clean, uncomplicated smell, with some pretty powerful undertones.<br />
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The 100 ml bottle came with quite a few samples and I'm loving all of the Prada Candy varieties.<br />
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Just look at this beauty! It really made my day. I just hope we'll be friends for a long time and she'll bloom again and again - I'm determined to make this one a keeper, despite my previous disastrous record with orchids...<br />
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Having trouble staying away from the sales, I treated myself to another pair of Clarks:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nuji.com/product/080f3fe8-16b2-4ae6-9aee-0fb4ac883924/clarks-bombay-lights-classic-heels-burgundy-dark-red" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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These will be perfect for walking the cobblestones and broken sidewalks of Belgrade this fall while taking my daughter to school and trying to get to work on time. They can be worn in the rain, another bonus, not to mention how delightfully comfortable these are - for me, that's what I get from Clarks shoes. After I got my first pair last summer, I now own four and I have never looked back.<br />
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I have a few drinks with friends scheduled throughout the week, so the festivities continue, an my man has his birthday later in the week as well. Lots of Leo action going on in our family!<br />
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I have a 'books I've read so far in 2015' post lined up, however, I can't seem to get around to finishing it these days. Will have to have another crack at it soon.</div>
Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-58567129400561096162015-08-06T22:46:00.000+02:002015-08-06T22:48:45.362+02:00The Long and the Short Of It<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Actually, I'll aim for as short as possible this time.<br />
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<b>The hairy situation: </b> Slowly, over the past few years, I've slipped into the 'I have to die my hair every six weeks' situation. Putting not to fine a point on it - I'm hopelessly grey! Underneath the layers of L'Oreal die, I'm all silvery white, and while I will for sure at some point in the future give up and go au naturel, we are not there yet folks. Hence, the trip to the hairdresser's every six weeks. It is a nuisance in a way that I do not like when my grey roots show up - which usually happens around week four - but then I stick with them for a little while longer before hitting the salon. However, once in there, it's pure joy. And for the following reasons:</div>
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1. The staff are super nice and, as I have been a regular for the past eight years, they know me well and know what I like, what kind of hairstyles work for me and when is the time to try a new shade of die or a new hair cut. I never protest, I just let them work their magic and I've never regretted it.</div>
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2. There is always a copy of the newest Vogue UK laying around which promptly ends up in my lap, I'm served a cup of the finest filter coffee to be had around here and after initial inquires as to the current situation in the household, I'm left on my own, quietly sipping coffee and reading while the die is being applied and then sitting on my head for whatever amount of time necessary.</div>
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3. The restorative and transforming power of hair color and haircut/blow dry is never lost upon me. I look and feel 100% better after every visit, my head feels so much lighter, both physically and metaphorically speaking, after I'm given a special massage while my hair is being washed and it never fails to give me a special bounce in my step.</div>
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<b>The sales situation: </b>Yes, I've managed to fit in a few visits to the shops, and the latest two purchases made me happy!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1_VCLnhPoGOPublK1ug-xlwb-r56ACoE4gdCgJQ-rxodVxo7NqbIM-tR22T_7G-koks_UO5mnyiqFVI5UyiJbNoKHoO1URktTjurXcGOuEbyqG7s1p7RMvZaj7qZqXrjYf-_mTeZcS0/s1600/white+and+silver+clarsk+flats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1_VCLnhPoGOPublK1ug-xlwb-r56ACoE4gdCgJQ-rxodVxo7NqbIM-tR22T_7G-koks_UO5mnyiqFVI5UyiJbNoKHoO1URktTjurXcGOuEbyqG7s1p7RMvZaj7qZqXrjYf-_mTeZcS0/s320/white+and+silver+clarsk+flats.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.debenhams.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/prod_10701_10001_052010432480_-1" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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The white and silver cap toe flats from Clarks, in wide fit - apart from a very good sales price, it is the wide fit that won me over. These really fit like a glove and have the softest sole padding, as is the case with all other Clarks I own and am very happy with. These come in lieu of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/103964460344/photos/a.10152573720965345.1073741836.103964460344/10152959486570345/?type=3&theater" target="_blank">LILU white and silver pointy toed ones</a> - much as I loved the pink detail on the rubber sole, these are a much better fit and the price difference is considerable.</div>
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This came home with me as well as it was heavily discounted. It was worth a wait as it will combine brilliantly with other stuff in my wardrobe to take me through to fall.</div>
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And to finish this off with some breaking news - the tightest of my pre-pregnancy jeans fit! It was scientifically established this morning, after a quarter of an hour of careful observation in front of the full-length mirror in my hallway. No unsightly bulge anywhere around the midsection, hence no muffin top, showing off the bootay, what more could a girl ask for? Same favorable impressions were gained from trying out a part of my back-to-work wardrobe - some dresses, skirts and pants. I felt like popping something open and celebrating, however, being home alone with two underage children in my care, I settled for a lemonade ;)</div>
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-51627794754097178622015-08-02T22:50:00.000+02:002015-08-02T22:50:25.134+02:00Why Getting All Dressed Up Matters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It seems so frivolous at times to be thinking/writing/reading about style when you consider all the horrible things going on in the world today - the refugees in the Calais, the war in Syria, the economic crisis, the renewed polarization of the world's politics (West vs. Big Bad East all over again), not to mention the environmental issues - or should these be the primary concern? Violence, corruption, poverty are rampant in my own country as in many other corners of the world. I read the papers, I watch the news, I know about these things - I'm not living under a rock. However, as desperate as these make me, I have no solution, no concrete action to take. Focusing on my family, my little universe, a few friends and the everyday is what I can manage and where I'm needed the most, so that is what I do.<br />
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An important part of staying on top of the everyday is organization and routine. I can manage chaos in small doses and at times, but constantly - it drives me crazy. That is why a streamlined repository for clothes, shoes and accessories, aka The Closet, is a must. Wardrobe space is precious in our apartment which means I have to be on top of things regarding the number of items I own. The situation is still a far cry from a carefully curated collection of items I love and enjoy, but I'm getting there slowly. Yet, this post is not about wardrobe organization. It's about why these things matter to me. Or, in other words, why personal style helps save my life in the madness of daily living.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xaUHvas4iswwxFAY6vSOsVTNxbO5-EPHR_ey8X7q1j8FmzZyQsQlO7w2l-n-klw0xLdEb4ZFIG8-szXjasjT-jaL7mCi5I1TVEYOuhCpNid9kDAlnvA_MOWHDtFofEvDf-s7NppkK9Q/s1600/style.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xaUHvas4iswwxFAY6vSOsVTNxbO5-EPHR_ey8X7q1j8FmzZyQsQlO7w2l-n-klw0xLdEb4ZFIG8-szXjasjT-jaL7mCi5I1TVEYOuhCpNid9kDAlnvA_MOWHDtFofEvDf-s7NppkK9Q/s1600/style.jpg" /></a></div>
<b>Structure: </b>getting dressed for the life I live first thing in the morning gives structure to my day. If I'm staying at home with the kiddos, it's the track suit bottoms and a t-shirt or an oversize men's shirt (my dad's), mundane, plane, but if it's clean and it fits, is made of cotton or other natural fabric - it's all that I need. Staying in my pj's past the breakfast time and I already feel anxious. If I'm dressed for the daily activities, then I can get on with them and that helps me stay focused and not just waste away the hours watching crappy TV all morning (although we've <a href="http://transitioninstyle.blogspot.com/2015/07/the-box.html" target="_blank">established</a> that I do that sometimes as well;) Also, doing my face and hair is a part of this routine and even if I don't leave the house all day, I want to feel pulled together. I know this stems from the need to control the often uncontrollable in life, but it helps me.<br />
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<b>Presentation: </b>I work in an office environment where casual dressing is considered a no-no - no jeans, no casual Fridays, none of that. I have to look pulled together and exude a sense of authority as I often participate in meetings with officials where the corporate dress code is to be observed. As I spend most of my time at my job, that means that most of my closet is work clothes. I am, however, not the pant suit lady. My aesthetic is just different, more bohemian, less strict. So I find middle ground in order to comply. My blazers are soft, less structured and certainly not boxy (although I've recently found what represented a holy grail of unattainable clothing chimeras for me - <a href="http://www.zara.com/us/en/sale/woman/starting-from-50-off/collection/blazer-with-combined-lapel-c743548p2431541.html?sharedProduct=true#utm_referrer=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.zara.com%2F%3Fgo%3Dhttp%253A%2F%2Fwww.zara.com%2Fshare%2Fsale%2Fwoman%2Fstarting-from-50-off%2Fcollection%2Fblazer-with-combined-lapel-c743548p2431541.html" target="_blank">the perfect black blazer</a>), but in block colors. My trousers are of a classic cut but with interesting prints. I do wear pencil skirts as these hug my curves in all the right ways, but they are of interesting, textured fabrics. And I accessorize big time - scarves, jewelry, shoes, bags - you name it. This helps me stay true to myself while at the same time presenting the best version of me to my professional environment. I have ascertained in numerous occasions that the way you look may make or break a meeting, a presentation. Done properly, it projects the right image to your coworkers, partners and lets you achieve what you set out to do more easily. Which leads us to ....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZCbyAzlMnTj7Hnha1AXVFlHuhbfJw14HGFvdnE5_21hiwbv5IbIPhRqyOJpimYc_F9Wv6jzmF7uEo4pfbtt4OchqjuXIPlCzc0t3i3k5uwexVjktjKzl_TDUzPk84se0byNWEhan9Jzc/s1600/rachel+zoe+on+style.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZCbyAzlMnTj7Hnha1AXVFlHuhbfJw14HGFvdnE5_21hiwbv5IbIPhRqyOJpimYc_F9Wv6jzmF7uEo4pfbtt4OchqjuXIPlCzc0t3i3k5uwexVjktjKzl_TDUzPk84se0byNWEhan9Jzc/s1600/rachel+zoe+on+style.jpg" /></a></div>
<b>Communication: </b>Getting the right formula with the outfits also lets me show loud and clear to the world who I am without having to explain a lot. If you want to read the messages I give out through my clothes (and people do so, even if subconsciously), you may gather that I'm an open and forthcoming personality with a positive outlook, yet serious and determined when required. You may also understand that I'm a bit quirky with a flare for the unexpected. Or, at least, that is what I would want you to understand about me. That is what I get dressed up for and what I want to project with my overall look. This is an important part of non-verbal communication and I believe a vital one.<br />
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<b>Appropriateness: </b>Showing up so that your outfit matches the situation - the ultimate mastery of social context. It means to not show up over or underdressed, to not show disrespect, but primarily to feel good in what you're wearing and look comfortable. It is only when you're <i>bien dans sa peau </i>that you can really be appropriate and presentable. It's when you are wearing the clothes and your look, not the other way around. And that is the trickiest bit, the one that requires soul searching, understanding of the self and translating that knowledge in your wardrobe. I believe that is a life-long process, wisdom that is not attained lightly. But it is also the process I enjoy and the trial and error part is what makes it fun.<br />
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All this maybe reading a bit too much into what you put on yourself primarily not to walk around naked and protect your body from the elements. You can look at it that way. I prefer to look at it as an essential part of who I am, an opportunity for learning and growth and a process that makes me more considerate, less wasteful and more temperate as well.<br />
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As of mid September, when the real life strikes again, I will have to have this process down pat however. My outfits will have to be planned a week in advance (same goes for my elder daughter), laid out complete with all the trimmings the night before and put on in the morning with a very small margin for error - there will just be no time to change my mind. That means the next few weeks will be spent culling my wardrobe, distilling only the most essential items for the coming season, and loads of washing and ironing. Wish me luck!<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-91846371328085621942015-07-22T13:28:00.001+02:002015-07-22T13:28:48.043+02:00Scarf Magic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm checking in shortly today as tomorrow we leave for the house in the country - my husband's grandparents' place in Croatia, for a long weekend of garden frolicking and barbecues. Sadly, grandma and grandpa left us last year and it will be really strange spending time there without them but in a way it will also be as if they are there still, in spirit, nodding approvingly at the house being filled with children's laughter again. My older daughter remembers them well and all the love and care that were bestowed upon her there since day one. It's sad that my younger child will not experience that but we'll try and keep the legacy alive at least by regularly visiting the place and recreating some of the unique atmosphere.<br />
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I recently stumbled upon the magic that is Laniakea scarfs on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/laniakeasilkscarvesuniverse/info?tab=page_info" target="_blank">Facebook</a> and was blown away by the design and look of these beauties. Designed and printed in the UK with the final touches done by hand in Belgrade, they are silk and glorious with hand-rolled edges and wonderful colorways.<br />
My personal favorite is below, but do check their <a href="https://www.lania-kea.com/collections/" target="_blank">website</a> for the whole collection. The price may seem a bit on the high end, but for silk scarves and with such unique design - they are ending up on my wish list for sure.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.lania-kea.com/product/iwokeuponeasterisland/?size=90x90" target="_blank">I woke up on Easter island</a></td></tr>
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Their FB page boasts the following spirit:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qmGk1Mv5DkadSOaEEaQQejy8NWZNtvbrtcMiofqvrUwbBmdVy9kYCfdNJs4fOWAfcbzh8n04lB3hw5lSsr7hUUGGIV4h_PVxxC6K4-C5UbcI6xRG-neM_qy6myQabgoc2usPyMEeiO0/s1600/laniakea+bohemian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qmGk1Mv5DkadSOaEEaQQejy8NWZNtvbrtcMiofqvrUwbBmdVy9kYCfdNJs4fOWAfcbzh8n04lB3hw5lSsr7hUUGGIV4h_PVxxC6K4-C5UbcI6xRG-neM_qy6myQabgoc2usPyMEeiO0/s320/laniakea+bohemian.jpg" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/laniakeasilkscarvesuniverse/photos/a.336949409835758.1073741829.336834746513891/396412630556102/?type=1&theater" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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Worth checking out. My love of scarves know no bounds, I love them as accessories all year round, but there is decluttering to be done in that wardrobe department as well! For now, though, I'm just going to look forward to travelling and enjoying life with the family - priorities!<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-27088419948743197902015-07-21T18:42:00.004+02:002015-07-22T21:12:01.566+02:00The Box<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As in the telly, gogglebox, the tube, idiot box. I love watching television. There, I've said it. Sounds blasphemous, I know, but I really do, even though I will never, apparently, become a millionaire because of it. You see, millionaires and uber successful people in general do not watch television. Boring!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.scriptmag.com/features/television-drama-series-makes-good-ones-tick" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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I am a child of the eighties and TV was a big part of my growing up. It was truly a window to the world, albeit a very special one. TV was where all the earth's flora and fauna lived (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Survival_(TV_series)" target="_blank">Survival</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Bellamy" target="_blank">Bellamy</a>), where the Greek myths unraveled before our eyes, secrets of ancient Egypt and pharaohs' tombs were explained and few but very good quality children's TV shows provided indispensable information about the world we were growing up in. Oh, and the obligatory cartoon at 19:15h every evening. A pretty simple fare, as you can see.<br />
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The nineties brought the atrocities of civil war in the ex-Yugoslavia live on the small screens and into our homes. I swapped the grim reality for MTV as it once was, with <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Cokes" target="_blank">Ray Cokes</a> shows and cool videos, making my growing up all about the Seattle grunge, a perfect backdrop to the angst of the world and the angst of my teenage years.<br />
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The nineties also honed my taste for TV shows - a good mix of crime and thriller with a sprinkling of a documentary. Feature films - not so much, at least TV is not my go to medium for these. I much prefer the cinema. As you can imagine from the above, I gorged myself on Sherlock, Poirot, NYPD Blue, Law&Order, Homicide: Life on the Street, Inspector Morse, etc.<br />
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Of course, as any teenager, I also devoured shows such as Beverly Hills 90210, My So-Called Life (a clear favorite) and Dawson's Creek. Many a night was spent dreaming of Jared Leto as Jordan Catalano and me wishing for Angela's (Claire Danes) cool hair color and haircut.<br />
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The noughties and the onslaught of stupid reality TV didn't affect my choices much. I just learned to filter, so no Big Brother for me. It was more CSI (in all its incarnations), Midsomer Murders, The Medium, NCIS, and the like. But the noughties also brought us the holly grail of chick TV - Sex and the City, which for me goes on a par with any of the famous sleuths whose adventures I religiously followed.<br />
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It is during the two pregnancies and the ensuing maternity leaves that I've spent many an (odd) hour in front of the box. Cooped up with the baby (both were born in the fall which meant I spent the better part of their first four months indoors), it was one of the things to do without interrupting much of their habits/behavior. The TV also provides constant noise, chatter, illusion of something important happening which saved me from going crazy with a newborn more than a few times.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDbohBFoJ4UHXL1BNP_pXq0KUAo2k5JDebhLKKqz4Il39B8PSFIfu5uYhVLvViIJOU8gdDLFv9NwNpV60xJiQoBE4Yfy_3vWbjmUdOe5z1usi5744zaYQqf94ntJRXXivQE6bsh30Ccw/s1600/dress+my+nest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDbohBFoJ4UHXL1BNP_pXq0KUAo2k5JDebhLKKqz4Il39B8PSFIfu5uYhVLvViIJOU8gdDLFv9NwNpV60xJiQoBE4Yfy_3vWbjmUdOe5z1usi5744zaYQqf94ntJRXXivQE6bsh30Ccw/s320/dress+my+nest.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/media/rm422574592/tt0942469?ref_=tt_ov_i#" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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Interestingly enough, I turned my attention to reality TV in these periods of my life. The first time around, I loved Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, while these days I'm more about How Do I Look?, Dress My Nest, Say Yes to The Dress, What Not To Wear and Love It or List It Vancouver. These shows are really only light entertainment but bring with them a good story and a touch of interior decorating magic (e.g. Dress My Nest). Some of the presenters like Stacey London (What Not To Wear) and Tom Filicia (Dress My Nest) I've grown to really appreciate and like for their wit, insight and useful advice.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqQp-cJZTPjX__4qLNFOFxZEj4QhbDambs-RR-jEfNyJLM67Gato5tMiFAvlA0QGaNKn48o5pK_wLy8XHCXru0WK4fr2iLcTMp2V_eIEBh3ibs_OJxHSx451c8txPzds1KKjoufVUxMg/s1600/claire+underwood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqQp-cJZTPjX__4qLNFOFxZEj4QhbDambs-RR-jEfNyJLM67Gato5tMiFAvlA0QGaNKn48o5pK_wLy8XHCXru0WK4fr2iLcTMp2V_eIEBh3ibs_OJxHSx451c8txPzds1KKjoufVUxMg/s320/claire+underwood.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/media/rm987079168/ch0369161" target="_blank">I want to be Claire Underwood when I grow up!</a></td></tr>
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Recently, it was Homeland, new Sherlock and The Silent Witness, as well as two political dramas - the Danish Borgen and the House of Cards - that rocked my TV boat. I can't wait for the 5th season of Homeland (will the Clare Danes/Rupert Friend thing take off, or will there be a new guy for Carrie?), as well as the follow-up to the House of Cards - Francis finally made it to the White House and who wouldn't kill for Claire's wardrobe and that haircut?!?!?!<br />
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But what I'm really looking forward to is the Sherlock New Year special which will see the detective and his trusty sidekick go back in time as the original Arthur Conan Doyle heroes. Martin Freeman grew a mustache for the role, while Benedict got himself married and with a newborn - that must have softened those steely eyes a bit, right?<br />
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In the meantime, summer days are spent enjoying the latest season of Bones (hello David Boreanaz, you will always be the Angel to my Buffy....er...I haven't mentioned Buffy the Vampire Slayer, have I? Uh, guilty pleasure ;) and Castle. With a healthy sprinkling of the Sex and the City reruns - it's summer in New York and Carrie is cheating on Aidan with Big - my favorite episodes.<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7293998887532165134.post-30188207366795159032015-07-20T15:04:00.000+02:002015-07-20T15:09:55.792+02:00Monday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This God awful heat is doing nothing for me, I tell you, nothing! It was ok for a day or two, but after four days of temperatures not going down below 30 degrees Celsius even during the night, I've had enough. The scorching atmosphere is conducive to nothing - sleeping, getting dressed up, making an effort, styling your hair, just nothing. The only advantage is that it is not conducive to eating either - small blessings ;)<br />
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My brain is working though, even if in a heat-induced stupor. There are issues to ponder, important stuff you know, like - after having decided on the bottoms (trousers and skirts), as well as dresses, for my back-to-school wardrobe, I realized that the one category of clothing sourly missing from my closet is tops! Yes people, tops! And I think I know why: after spending a few years buying any t-shirt, shirt, blouse that I stumbled upon at the sales, and after these have all pilled, sagged or just become ill-fitting (if they ever fitted me properly in the first place), I decided I didn't have the skills requisite for purchasing proper tops and I gave up. </div>
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What that left me with are a few <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marini%C3%A8re" target="_blank">mariniere</a> style shirts with both 3/4 and short sleeves, a bunch of tatty t-shirts and several cotton Zara tops, in navy, peach and dusty pink. Another thing - my body changed a lot after my first pregnancy, going from 'I can't fit any of my clothes', to 'this is soooo big I can hide a horse and a cart underneath' and all the stages in between. That meant that I stuck stubbornly to some of the pre-pregnancy pieces that I liked but that never really worked after the baby, especially in the boobs department.</div>
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Tops are almost like an accessory part of the outfit to me. I like simple bottoms. Whether it's a skirt or a pant, simple cuts, basic colors and no frills materials appeal to me. With the tops, however, I like to see them pack a punch, either with color or an intricate pattern. The real problem is - I don't like tops to cost much! I feel like good trousers or an elegant jacket are a much better investment since they pull an outfit together and make you look more polished. Tops - they are there for the fun of it, they usually don't last more than a couple of seasons, thus - I cannot justify an exorbitant price tag for what is essentially a glorified t-shirt. </div>
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And now we come to the real issue here - if I don't want to blow my budget, what I'm offered is either cotton tops, which just don't wear well and get saggy quickly and have to be washed after each wear, or I have to settle for polyester! God forbid, if you ask me! Risking sounding too snobby, I just don't do synthetics. It itches, it creates static, it goes on my nerves and I don't like the feel of it.</div>
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Difficult much? Yes and no. I am definitely not splurging for silk or fine knits this year, so I got down to business and scoured the net and the sales in search of something acceptable. Here's what I've come up with:</div>
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1. A patterned, viscose blouse which ticks all the boxes for me - fun details, a flattering cut, color that go with much of my wardrobe.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2cXMja8HDRuh1kC6CKVpYqsF5atolPW_3ahzQBGqmvshumEqLH_hAe9WIW_jBdBC4swwrHCReuScBm-c9yVb9o8dCJV5TrpCPNwcQXmv1eQ0QN7JWkm381lYvJ_WOC3cMmcAtZqQdi8/s1600/hm+patterned+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2cXMja8HDRuh1kC6CKVpYqsF5atolPW_3ahzQBGqmvshumEqLH_hAe9WIW_jBdBC4swwrHCReuScBm-c9yVb9o8dCJV5TrpCPNwcQXmv1eQ0QN7JWkm381lYvJ_WOC3cMmcAtZqQdi8/s320/hm+patterned+top.jpg" width="273" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.hm.com/rs/product/84813?article=84813-D#article=84813-D" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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2. A two-tone cotton t-shirt with an interesting pattern and a powerful color.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEreG0Q4fCU5NnZvLTzwoeHvmz943BRSxwGSPtAg6IJHLFklkEEQ9epl0MNLpRHMlFu2As1zyA49rxg4hfpL5O7nBKva9Rk9TPYF9KAQcNKWC4NnT1NoPjpsNN_YsP2q2x9uovWfuWbYY/s1600/hm+patterned+red+t-shirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEreG0Q4fCU5NnZvLTzwoeHvmz943BRSxwGSPtAg6IJHLFklkEEQ9epl0MNLpRHMlFu2As1zyA49rxg4hfpL5O7nBKva9Rk9TPYF9KAQcNKWC4NnT1NoPjpsNN_YsP2q2x9uovWfuWbYY/s320/hm+patterned+red+t-shirt.jpg" width="273" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.hm.com/rs/product/83611?article=83611-A" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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3. A basic shirt, in cream, communicates timeless, summer style.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6EEcd-l2-SsjN_9ImcHB9yhebcoDzRrxF2vPWr0jnJ2w-YXKLrLPKi067cn2J7kGTq-_mr3cMPYQGn-W0u81yjHliWM_9YNIuR4gNa9WNFzTVTBuXaCRM6_xBfpdDPSFUJwSUrObkcg/s1600/hm+camel+cotton+shirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6EEcd-l2-SsjN_9ImcHB9yhebcoDzRrxF2vPWr0jnJ2w-YXKLrLPKi067cn2J7kGTq-_mr3cMPYQGn-W0u81yjHliWM_9YNIuR4gNa9WNFzTVTBuXaCRM6_xBfpdDPSFUJwSUrObkcg/s320/hm+camel+cotton+shirt.jpg" width="273" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.hm.com/rs/product/85535?article=85535-B" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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4. Teal and flowers - one of my favorite combinations.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEArG9zvGkf2MAg8XlwCTdFSeyLqYrQg7WQ5sVE6OrgWqXy8yNhsDskOAwb5Nr6IRk4QL2ISY-0G9voztOKX3g87Z08JgadzRJ8GXPTB-RlcMh5ypNQTJUjGtjcOE5YP3yVt_8nKD0dc/s1600/ctf+floral+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEArG9zvGkf2MAg8XlwCTdFSeyLqYrQg7WQ5sVE6OrgWqXy8yNhsDskOAwb5Nr6IRk4QL2ISY-0G9voztOKX3g87Z08JgadzRJ8GXPTB-RlcMh5ypNQTJUjGtjcOE5YP3yVt_8nKD0dc/s320/ctf+floral+top.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cortefiel.com/en/shop/woman/t-shirts/camiseta-print-flores-6325335" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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5. Again, a pattern with an amazing combination of colors - white, rust, ochre, teal.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAP4aeE-kynXvATDg1uPT3YDCt8lrsteuAAueBk6YTiCDIZ4sK0zW7jy6dokQABwO2xV_rXk-NbZTl8GjQB-CV6zdWy90Idr4n20RXKOCS-JUVyj_FhrvaB3NE9-DFjvauhf6ChYjdfzQ/s1600/ctf+patterned+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAP4aeE-kynXvATDg1uPT3YDCt8lrsteuAAueBk6YTiCDIZ4sK0zW7jy6dokQABwO2xV_rXk-NbZTl8GjQB-CV6zdWy90Idr4n20RXKOCS-JUVyj_FhrvaB3NE9-DFjvauhf6ChYjdfzQ/s320/ctf+patterned+top.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cortefiel.com/en/shop/woman/t-shirts/camiseta-estampada-6325297" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
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5. This is an afterthought, but I couldn't skip it - a perfect, striped cardigan:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cortefiel.com/en/shop/woman/knitwear-cardigans/cardigan-8505268" target="_blank">Source</a><br />
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Now I just need to get to the stores and star trying stuff out - I used to be a hit-and-run shopper, just mindlessly racing to the register with anything that caught my fancy, without bothering to enter the changing rooms and have a proper look at myself. Not any more - no money to burn, thank you very much. Will report back with the results.<br />
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435942710073737943noreply@blogger.com0