her biggest challenge

Marsha at Splenderosa has invited us this month to write about our biggest challenge ... well you know me ... not so happy talking about myself, so I have dreamt up a little tale.   As always I beg your indulgence!

Happiness and success had come easily to Simone.   She had sailed through school, popular and with good grades.  At College she emerged with flying colours; in her first job she quickly moved up the career ladder and was poised to take on important responsibilities.

Then of course Jack came along.  He had swept her off her feet with his dashing looks, his caring nature and his strong broad shoulders.  They had dreamt together and achieved those dreams.  The house, the friends, the children.  Jack's career was as  steady as it was brilliant, and he provided generously for his family.

So what was she doing now?

Why had she come to this point in her life when she needed a challenge?

She could feel the pressure that she was creating for herself.  At night she sometimes woke with a start and turned things over in her mind.  Surely it would be easier to just continue in her role as mother to their three  teenagers; wife to Jack and accomplished hostess to their friends.

Why was she rocking her boat?

She first talked about the project to her Mom.  Fully expecting her to dismiss the idea of creating an art gallery as foolish.  But no, her dear  mother had simply poured them both a coffee and sat down to listen to the whole project - from one end to the other in the tiniest detail, without interruption.

And when, once everything was explained, Simone had asked "Mom, am I crazy?", she just smiled and said "Honey, I think this is the wisest thing you could do.  In a few years time your children will have left home and you will feel at a loose end.  Remember the position you were in when you still worked?  All those decisions you took single-handedly!  I've always been amazed at the way you slipped into the role of stay-at-home mother and wife.  With drive and personality like yours, anything is possible.  You just get out there and do it.... and you know what?..."

Simone turned around, wondering what Nancy was going to add " ... you know honey, if you don't seize this opportunity, if you don't run with this idea, I believe you'll regret it for years to come".

The initial steps were relatively easy.  Finding  a space for the gallery; checking out the different sites in town; working out the website .. all that was fun.

The first surprise came at a fancy dinner.    Simone found herself seated next to a sharp looking man called Ted, they enjoyed a few minutes of casual chit-chat, then the conversation moved on to art, and it would have been the perfect moment for Simone to mention her ideas for her gallery.  But instead of simply stating the facts, she found herself fluffing her lines.  It was so difficult to find the self- confidence to talk about her project.

Ted was a gentleman, and was patient as she tried to explain what she hoped to achieve.  He watched her, silent for a while, then said quite seriously  "You know, you've got a great idea here, but if you want to pull this off, you have to believe you can do it".

"You have to believe you can do it", those words stuck in her mind and kept her awake that night.  Where had her self confidence gone to? 

What was it about the fact that she had been at home for the past fifteen years, that suddenly meant she didn't dare stick up for herself?  Why would a working situation be more difficult or more challenging than raising her children and managing her home?

The following week she had planned to reach out to an artist whose work she loved, Luke Siro.   She rewrote the email to him twenty times, and when his answer came quite simply "yes, sure, when can we meet?!" she nearly fell off her chair.





They arranged to have a coffee in town, and for him to bring pictures of his work. 

It took her an hour to dress:  not too smart, not too young; not too old; not too serious Aaargh!  In the end she pulled on a pair of white stretch jeans, a belt from her daughter's wardrobe, with a blue shirt and a pair of tan flats.  Sunglasses holding her hair back, nails freshly painted ... she looked cute, and yet mature .....

Luke turned up on time.  Slightly older than she had expected, he carried a portfolio, and was wearing a sexy pair of jeans splattered with paint.  The meeting didn't get off to the best start when she knocked over her cup of coffee and dropped her phone.  Luke looked at her smiling "What are you so worried about?    You have a great spot for a gallery, you know where you want to take it, and you have any number of artists like me who are glad of the attention!  Let's just relax..."

Their meeting was the first of a series to start off nervously and end so positively.  But as the weeks went by, Simone's confidence grew and she  was able to tick down her list :

 

bank - on board; 

lease - signed; 

artists - sourced;

publicity - designed;

renovations - completed;

and finally .....

opening cocktail party - invites sent!

The great day arrived.  Her name was up on the façade of the gallery in bold blue letters.  She had thirty canvases hung on the walls, and a dozen sculptures carefully positioned.  She had sent out invites to everyone she knew, she was wearing a new LBD and high heels, and she hardly saw the evening go by as she floated around the show, having her photo taken, answering questions, smiling ... happy.

And that evening as Jack drove her home, and her children rode behind, he reached over and squeezed her knee "We're all so proud of you Simone.  We could see it wasn't easy, although we didn't know why.  And I think that even though you have achieved so much in your life, and shined  in every way, .. well, I think this was your greatest challenge ... and that you rose to it!"

That night, she fell asleep happy.  Sure of herself, secure in the idea that she had indeed risen to her challenge, and that in the months ahead she'd come across many other hurdles and challenges ... but now she knew  she'd be able to handle them too.

If you would like to read about some of the amazing challenges faced by other bloggers then pop over to Splenderosa, .... and if you would like to tell me about your biggest challenge, then leave a comment below, you know how much I'd love to hear!

what she really wanted to do ....

Marsha at Splenderosa has asked us to talk about "something we really want to do"  - I beg her, and your, indulgence as I tell you about a young girl with greater ambitions and courage than myself and who managed, against all odds, to make her dreams come true  ......

The scene is set in 1895. 

As a 12 year old orphan , Gabrielle's prospects were not good.  From a poor family, her mother had died and her father had abandoned her and left her in France while he set off to seek fortune in America.

At that time a young girl, without any family support or money could either go into service in a big house or learn a simple trade.   The nuns who run the austere orphanage decided their girls should know how to sew, and after six years at the orphanage, Gabrielle is sent to a convent in central France to discover the  needle and thread

But she wanted more.  She was pretty and she had dreams.  Her nature was to shun popular opinion and to seek to create her own luck rather than wait for a young man to marry her and expect her to keep house for the rest of her life.

She tried her chance on the stage, singing popular songs in music hall cabarets.  Young officers visiting the show were quick to notice the slim girl with her dark mysterious eyes, and she found herself  drawn into high society on the arm of a rich  beau called Etienne.  She could have married into his family, but she knew she could only be  unhappy and bored and she ran away from his château.

Quickly she found herself on the arm of a new suitor.   Together they were seen at the races and attending sparkling soirées along with the French high society.  Gabrielle preferred not to depend upon her amoureux to dress her at  the grands couturiers of the moment, she started to make her own clothes and hats.   They didn't go unnoticed!

She had no training as a milliner, so she bought the hat bases and dressed them up to her taste, wearing them perched forward, low to her brow.  They were simple and discreet   alongside the heavy, feathered and huge hats worn by other women.   She also decided to wear her hair short.

She rejected the traditional dress styles; tight waisted, boned corsets, made from heavy silks and brocades.  Doubtless influenced by her years of simple living with the nuns, and her longing for liberty of movement and choice in her own life, Gabrielle designed and sewed free flowing dresses and tunics in soft supple jerseys and linens.  Even her colours were sobre and simple compared to the fashionable rich designs.

Her accessories were also noticed, strings of pearls and  costume jewellery that she designed and made for herself.

She opened a small shop selling hats in Paris, but in 1913, shortly before the outbreak of war, she opened her first clothes shop in Deauville.  The war got under way and women of high society found themselves sent to the coast, out of harm's way, but without their domestic help.  They needed clothes they could move in, that didn't require a maid to button or to lace.  They needed to be able to walk more easily.

Enter Gabrielle with her supple fabrics, loose cuts, hemlines above the ankles, and even trousers for women.  She was an immediate success.  During the war fabric was hard to come by, but she was happy to use the jersey hitherto reserved for mens underwear.

She was soon able to reimburse her lover, Boy Capel,  who financed the first shop, thus fulfilling her dream of independence. 

And when in the 1920's she raised the hemline a little further and created her first LBD, she became an international star and her success seemed to know no limits.  It was in the twenties that she created her perfumes, and opened her door to her Parisian clients on the rue Cambon, next to the luxurious Place Vendome.

The rest as they say is history, her name in Paris became synonymous with good taste, fine fabric, and  perfectly cut tweed suits.    By 1939, at the aged of 56, she was at the head of a company employing 4000 people.   Not bad for a penniless orphan.

You know of course that I am talking about Coco Chanel.

She never owned a home in Paris, preferring to live for almost 15 years at the Ritz hotel, where she passed  away in 1971 at the age of 87.

A girl who knew what she really wanted to do  ...

then did it.

And to see what other bloggers are dreaming of doing, just pop over to Marsha's blog and take a tour!

 all pictures from google images

you may enjoy a video interview of a strong minded  Coco Chanel here

hopes and wishes for 2013 .....

Do you have a list of new year resolutions drawn up and pinned to your kitchen wall?!  Not me!

I'm not really wild about the word "resolution" ... mostly because I have a pretty pathetic track record when it comes to sticking to them.

So to protect myself from accusations of failure a few months down the line, I'm joining in with Marsha from Splenderosa's monthly party who is inviting us to think about what is right and what is wrong with the world.

Since one of my all-year-round resolutions is to be positive, I don't really want to list what is wrong with the world, but rather to pin up my wish list for the new year.  Some practical ideas that I can realistically adhere to, and hopefully improve the world a little at the same time

 laugh more - moan less

waste less - live in a more eco-friendly manner

more generosity -  less selfishness

more open-mindedness  -  less prejudice

less deciding for others - more listening to them instead

more time with real people and less in front of a screen!

and finally, if you don't mind, one very personal wish 

... that this year I find some time to paint!

Thank you for reading me, if you would like to see what other bloggers wish for, then pop over to Splenderosa and take the tour!

Mistress of the chateau - a fantasy Christmas

Dear Marsha at Splenderosa, has invited us to write about  christmas for this months By Invitation Only blog party.  We had an option for a fantasy Christmas, so with your permission,  I have imagined a short tale of a christmas party in a big chateau, that doesn't go quite as planned ....

Julie so wanted her first Christmas dinner as mistress of the château to be a great success.  She had ordered the finest food, the best champagne, supervised the laying of the table with the family silver, picked out the christmas decorations and pondered long and hard over the seating plan for her eclectic mix of guests.

....what could possible go wrong?  

Of course it hadn't helped that Bertha,  the cook, had reported sick that morning.  There was no dinner without a cook; Julie  called her friend Sophie in the morning, desperate for a solution "Don't worry my sweet", came the reassuring reply, " I'll send you over Grace, you'll see she is an angel.  Just keep her away from the bottle and she'll do you proud"  "Away from the what?!"  Julie had called down the phone, but it was too late, Sophie was gone, and anyway Grace was the only solution

 ...  it would be fine .....

Early afternoon she summoned the  housekeeper.  "Jeanette, I want you to check that the fires are laid in the green salon and the dining room, everyone will love to see roaring fires when they arrive"

"But madame",  " No, no Jeanette, no 'but madames' thank you very much!  I want my first big party here to be a great success, I know that I may not be doing things the way they have always been done, but you'll see it will be lovely"

Jeanette was ready to reply, but before she had time to express her misgiving the phone rang and Julie dismissed her with an authoritative smile.

Her husband Charles-Henri didn't return home until early evening "I'm so sorry darling to have left you with all the preparations for our little christmas dinner, but I'm sure that Jeanette and the cook have told you what we usually do"

Julie smiled "Don't worry darling, I wanted to surprise you with a very special Christmas dinner". Charles-Henri stopped in his tracks, he was about to say something, but thought the better of it.  He knew that his young wife had been doing her best to fit in.  And even if she had already managed to annoy his mother and the cook,   he was proud to have a young, dynamic and most pretty wife to drag his ancestors' home into modern times.

"All that you need to do, dear Charles-Henri, is change into your evening suit, and fasten this clasp  for me"  she smiled sweetly as she passed the necklace to her husband and turned her back, leaving him to gaze thoughtfully at the wisps of hair on her neck.

By the time Charles-Henri came downstairs, Julie was no where to be seen.  He noticed  the large number of champagne glasses prepared and ready for the evening,   nodded his greeting to the housekeeper and moved through to the kitchen.

Julie was talking in an animated manner to a woman dressed as a cook, who Charles-Henri  had never seen before.  "What do you mean, you don't know how to make a saffron sauce for the coquilles st jaques, how do you normally prepare scallops?!  For heaven's sake, Sophie told me you were an experienced cook",  Grace did not reply.  "Very well then, just a white wine sauce will do, but please don't make any other changes to my menu".

Julie turned tail and stormed out of the kitchen, Charles-Henri following to greet his first guests. But as he left the kitchen he had the most unnerving impression that the  new cook was swaying slightly from side to side.

Charles-Henri surprises had only just begun.  He found  an unusual bunch of guests.  Among them le Comte Joseph, a prominent member of parliament, and known to an elite circle as the greatest womaniser in Paris.  Behind him was a  small crowd, eager to come into the warmth and soft light and shed their elegant shoulders of perfumed cachemire and fur coats.

Gradually everyone moved into the green salon where a fire was blazing, music playing and champagne frothing into tall elegant glasses.  "Yes" smiled Julie to herself, "this is going to be wonderful."

And the first part of the evening was indeed wonderful.  Loud and happy conversation filled the château, as champagne chased down the finest amuse-bouches.   At nearly ten, Charles-Henri approached his dazzling young wife.  "Ma chérie, is it not time to start dinner?", 
"Oh my! yes, you are right",  she turned around looking for Jeanette and was surprised to find the housekeeper standing right behind her.  "Ah Jeanette, there you are. Please tell cook we are ready to dine".

Jeanette looked grave,  "May I have a word Madame", and without waiting for Madame to reply, Jeanette turned tail and left the room.  Julie looked at her husband perplexed.  He smiled reassuringly,   "Don't worry my dear, I shall handle this, you stay with our guests".

Charles-Henri followed Jeanette into the next room "Really Jeanette, I know that Madame is doing things differently, but I don't think she merits this rudeness".

"Monsieur, I am afraid there is a problem in the cuisine" 
 "A problem?!  well why are you telling me, let the cook sort it out"

"Monsieur, the cook cannot do anything about the problem:.... the cook is  the problem. I am sorry to tell you that she is drunk.  The meal is only half prepared, and the cook is asleep in your wine cellar!"

"Oh my word!  We have all these guests to feed!    Do your best Jeanette.  Find some other members of the staff to serve the meal with you as best you can.  I shall return to our guests."

He left Jeanette and strode back towards the dining room, where he found his darling wife trying to persuade the Count to take his allotted seat and to release her arm.  All around the table guests were searching for their places, "Ah mon dieu!'  he heard an elderly duchess gasp " she's placed me next to that dreadful man - so vulgar", Charles-Henri looked over her shoulder at the handwritten place names and understood that the elderly duchess was seated beside an actor of uncertain reputation "please excuse me, dear Duchess, I think there was a mistake, come over here, you will be more comfortable"

After fifteen minutes of shuffling guests from one seat to another until each and everyone seemed happy, Julie finally reached for the little brass bell beside her plate.  It tinkled gently, and she smiled confidently.

Into the dining room came Jeanette and two young maids, carrying trays heavy with white and gold plates.  They progressed slowly around the table, leaving a plate in front of each guest, while a waiter followed pouring wine.

When everyone was served, Charles-Henri raised his glass "Welcome my friends, bon appetit and a very happy Christmas to you all!"

There was a murmur of satisfaction as glasses were raised, then quiet conversation struck up as guests tasted the delicious looking scallops in a creamy sauce.  As the first morsels were raised to pouted lips, there was an audible gasp, then silence.

The meal was lukewarm and the scallops practically raw.  Julie leapt to the rescue,  "I'm so sorry, we had a problem with our cook today.  Please leave your plate to one side, we'll move straight on to the main course"

"What a shame my dear not to have lit the fire", pronounced the duchess loudly, " at least that could have made up for the cold meal!" 

"Of course, Madame la Duchesse, you are right, I wanted this fire lit."  Julie signalled to a maid to light the fire, already laid.  The maid hesitated, but Julie insisted, visibly stressed,  "straight away please",  a match was lifted to the paper and kindling wood;  the  flames took instantly, and there was an audible sigh of pleasure at the warm light from the fireplace ..... followed immediately by startled cries as smoke started billowing into the room.

Jeanette came running into the dining room "Madame, I tried to tell you, this fireplace cannot be used, there is a big birds nest .....", By now all the guests were coughing and spluttering, and moving out of the dining room while Jeanette stifled the flames and managed to extinguish the fire.

The doors were pulled shut on the dining room, Julie looked close to tears and Charles-Henri could not help but smile.  He picked up a bottle of champagne from a nearby table, and collected a handful of glasses then turned to smile to his guests.

"My dear friends, My darling Julie wanted to give you a memorable evening and that is what you will have; this evening you will experience a Christmas dinner like no other.   The dining room is out of bounds, the dinner is not yet completely ready and  the cook lies snoring in my wine cellar!"  There were murmurs of delight and disapproval to be heard around the room.  

"I invite you all to follow me into the kitchen.  We have all we could possibly want to eat and drink, there is a warm fire burning and a long table for us to sit at. We shall prepare and eat and enjoy the meal together,  we shall simply move our party from one end of this old château to the other!"

A split second of stunned silence was broken by the booming voice of Le Comte Joseph "Madame la Duchesse, let us lead the way"   The duchess peered down her nose at the Count, and everyone waited for her to answer.  Her face broke into a broad smile as she  took the arm of the Count, and lent over to whisper in his ear "I am very good at blending sauces; what dear Sir is your speciality?"

From that moment on the evening was a wild success: one fine course followed another.  With different wines for each dish, a magnificent venison stew, a positively royal cheese board and desserts to die for.  

The last guests left in the small hours of the morning, swearing this was the only way to celebrate Christmas.  Indeed I have heard that at the Château, the christmas 'diner dans la cuisine' became a house speciality that  friends would beg to be invited to.  I know I would!

October - her favourite month

Although her spirits were lifted by the first signs of the spring,

 and although she was quick to abandon herself to the warmth of the summer, 

the truth was that she loved the autumn most of all.  

And of all the autumn months, it was October she preferred.  

 For it marked the start of her comfort season.

 It was also the month of her birthday; as a child   a month to anticipate, with tingly toes and starry-eyed hopes of special gifts.  Today her birthday gifts were fewer and smaller, but her pleasure only heightened.

After the heady summer days, so full of entertaining, and dressing up, and eating and drinking well,
 she discovered, with the passing years, that October came as a welcome relief.

Her summer wardrobe had become tiring.  With age  the lightweight skirts and shirts of summer were less easy to wear.   Gone were the days of perfect long brown legs, and easy-going hair tied back in a pony tail and left to hang down a bare back.   These days dressing required more planning in the summer, but somehow became easier again once October showed its face.

High heeled sandals were put away, and flat comfortable boots retrieved from the back of wardrobes.   Strappy dresses gave way to long sleeved soft tops, and gentle jumpers.

In October she could pull on her favourite jeans or slim line trousers, slip on a cashmere jumper and a sleeveless jacket, a pair of flat shoes and she looked great.

 "From now on I shall only go out during the month of October" she had joked to a friend, while secretly surprised at how good that sounded.

Entertaining at home also felt easy.  Spontaneous invitations given and received,   no pressure to produce startling displays of complicated food.  Autumn eating was about quiet conversation in front of an open fire.  Friends seemed happy with home made soups, fruit tarts and stews that perfumed the house while bubbling all afternoon on the stove.

There was no urgency in the air.  Christmas was far enough away to think about later.  The children had gone back to school and even the start-of-school-year frenzy had died back and made way for a steady peaceful routine, that augured well for the serenity  of the year ahead.

And in her garden, there reigned a deliciously dishevelled display of dahlias, asters, zinnias and sedums.  Happy to give their best without requiring extra water, or even any pruning.
  All that could wait for November. 

 So when she wanted to be outside, she could wander into the forest, happy to enjoy the pumpkin orange colours and quiet in the knowledge that this month of October - above all others - was a time to relax, to be kind to herself  

.... and find new energy for the months to come......

Probably more auto-biographical than I would care to admit, (although my birthday is not in October!) but this is my contribution to Marsha's monthly party 'By Invitation only'.  If you would like to read what other bloggers feel about the month of October then click right here!