In fine style.

Today, another fashion icon has left this earth for good: Marella Agnelli has passed away, so shortly after Lee Radziwill, all these beautiful swans, dressed in nothing but the hautest of haute couture and the finest of fine jewellery, living their lives of leisure and luxury, so much adored, beloved, cherished and dissected by Truman Capote, are no longer among us, all these women whose impeccable style made it into so many coffee table books, just like the one lying on my coffee table in Zurich, are all history now. Fine history, so to say. But as long as there are still macarons, life is still worth living.

Cake anyone?

Cake. Who could ever live without it? I don’t like to compliment myself but I am said to be a brilliant baker, just to semi-quote one of Jane Austen’s characters from Emma. However, I sometimes have neither the time nor the longing to stir and quirl some dough, peel organic lemons for flavour, go buy organic lemons in the first place, slit vanilla pods open to get some pulp, have the scent of vanilla on my hands all day and make people wonder why I sniff my fingers all the time, and then wait for the cake to finally come out of the oven, and then wait some more to let it cool off so that I can put the icing on it. That’s why I love store-bought cakes. And believe you me, the cheapest ones are the best ones. Anything with lemon, these aren’t expected to be organic of course, but you can’t have it all, or marzipan in it are my very favourites. And they are spongier than my own homemade cakes. I don’t know why though, as I said, I’m said to be a brilliant baker myself.

Christmas season in Zurich.

It’s cold, but it’s so very comfy. The water of Zurich’s fountains may be frozen stiff, but the town embraces you with the warmest of hugs. Christmas is just better at a place without skyscrapers, the old town is like some sort of Disneyland for Lebkuchen nerds such as I, everything is so nice and lovely and if I didn’t feel like the meanest of traitors, I’d say it’s kitsch at its best. Romantic cotton candy for the soul, just truffle your inner child and frolic through the credit card heating shopping extravaganzas, and beware of these hot chocolates with Kirsch, you might loose control over your happiness and giggle to death before Santa Claus crawls through your chimney.

Dieting while at dessert.

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One day, it must have been spring, I decided to lose some weight. You have to be slim for slim cut shirts. So, I had to find a way to eat less, at least for dessert, I had tried to have no dessert at all, but this didn’t work out well, it just made me cranky, and so, in order to keep some of my friends, I tried to eat just half of my crème brûlée or my panna cotta or whatever I was having for dessert, but this didn’t work out either. You cannot stop in the middle of something, can you? What idiotic concept is this? I then tried tiny portions. For instance, these ridiculously small things from Sprüngli. They made me burst out into tears. They seemed to mock me. So I gave up desserts altogether. Cold turkey. Now, I’m unbearably cranky, but quite slim.