Trains, dames and autobiographies

Dear Marc, I just spent the weekend with my mom, son and 90-year old grandma. Now, you may think this post will not be fashion oriented, but I'm not so sure.

We were to be away for 40 hours. Travelling with a toddler, I brought clothes for Joel and myself in a small plastic bag. I had some magazines, a few diapers, a baby bottle and my business papers in another, equally small bag.

I meet up with mom at the bus stop. We're not taking a cab to the train station, because my mom is a scout at heart, and as a woman raised by a scout, I take the bus too. Mom is bringing 1 suit case and 3 bags for our overnight stay. I'm always curious to find out what she brings. She never lets me down.

This is the greatest difference between our generations. Born in 1945, in a Europe scarred by war, mom is always prepared. There is no greater sin than wasting money or food. I've often asked her if I can throw away left overs right away or if she wants me to put them in the fridge for a few days. She always opts for the latter.

I enjoy travel. I like to try stuff I don't eat at home. But well on the train, mom opens one of her many bags, and it's apparent I will eat like I do at home after all. A loaf of rye bread and a Norwegian goat cheese is brought out into the open. A thermos of hot water welcomes the company of a few Constant comment tea bags. Our meal is delicious, dignified and a tad nuts at the same time.

The frugality of it all is endearing and annoying at the same time. Just like mom.

The train is perfect. There's even a play section in one corner. One of mom's bags contains toys and books that appeal to grandmothers and 19-month old boys.


















This post is getting too long. I'm cutting it short by sharing pics from grannys picture album.






















My grandmother spent a summer in France as a governess in the 30's. I had no idea her protégé was Amelie from Montmartre. Or do all Franch women look like this? I'm afraid they might.


















I know grannys friend is not Dovima, and a horse is not an elephant but I love this picture My new fashion rule is: Always wear long white gowns when feeding the horses!

Back home, I dressed Joel in 30's fashion and he managed to spice the look up with a sequined slipper. Tweed and sequins. The boy is a living tribute to Brideshead Revisited. Tweed and sequins. That just about sums it up. With a few tea bags and Norwegian goat cheese thrown in. That will be the name of my autobiography. Sequins and tea bags.

Am exhausted, must go to bed. Will try to dream about sequinned tea bags. To me a dream, to my frugal girlscout mom a veritable nightmare.

What's your most extravagant necessity? Spill it Marc, we want to hear it all!
love
-e