Let‘s drink and be merry.

Rest and have lots of fluids, they say. Well, I had lots of’em. Fluids galore. I am soaked. Up to today, day three of my flu, I have had so many lemon flavoured doses of effervescent vitamin C from my Lalique tumblers, even Linus Pauling would have disapproved. Luckily, I had also just stocked up on tea, Mangalam, my very favourite plantation in Assam. I am about to empty those provisions in record time, tea gets cold so very quickly in a cup, especially when you fall asleep just after pouring it, you have to pour it all away, litres of the finest tea down the sewer, it’s a shame, it’s of no use to brew an entire pot, really, but when you don’t, rest assured, you will regret that, too, as you won’t fall asleep then, suddenly you’re wide awake and thirsty, and you’ll want more tea with episode 5 of Downton Abbey or whatever series your brain is trying to follow, you’ll need a fresh cup, too, maybe even a fresh pot, you’re already going through all your china as it is, out goes Royal Copenhagen, in comes Meissen, anyway, you get up again from your sickbed, you schlepp your aching bones into the kitchen to brew some more tea, this Mangalam plantation must really be a vast territory, and then empty an entire pot in 7 minutes 46 seconds. Those viruses are drunkards!

Stuff you need, stuff you don‘t.

I once bought these, these being knife rests, I got them at Aux Arts du Feu, my favourite shop in Zurich, they have everything that comes out of the fire, silver, crystal and porcelain, they still had them in stock, from a time when Royal Copenhagen still made fine porcelain, handpainted, handpainted in Denmark, that is, and not the dishwasher safe stuff they produce today, in Thailand, where work is cheap, cheap and deprived of a porcelain painter’s personal handwriting, anyway, I was thinking, with these knife rests my life would be finally perfect, for we all know, life without knife rests isn’t worth living, it shows so much finesse, so much refined taste, a real eye for detail, tablesetting at its most elegant, and what can I tell you, my life hasn’t changed at all, it still isn’t perfect, as a matter of fact, it’s still a mess as I haven’t used them yet, not once, and now, as there’s still time for new year’s resolutions, or not, as most of you have probably already thrown them overboard, but it just so happens I’m always late, at everything, but that’s actually another story, anyway, I wonder if a) I should start using them in 2018, or b) stop buying things nobody needs. I haven’t made my mind up yet.

Hamburg coffee splendour.

One day in Hamburg, I couldn’t wait for lunchbreak, couldn’t wait to leave my desk at DDB Hamburg, that is Doyle Dane Bernbach, the agency famous for their work for Volkswagen’s beetle in the 1960s, Lemon, they shouted, Think Small, they advised, and by this they made it to eternity, advertising as it should be, whereas I, well, I hope it wasn’t too bad what I did on this day in 2012, anyway, I digress, I couldn’t wait to leave my desk, a desk with a fabulous view on Hamburg’s Speicherstadt and the Elbphilharmonie that was still being constructed, splendid architecture by Herzog & de Meuron consuming 866 million euros, but I digress again, anyway, I couldn’t wait to get the cup I had fallen in love with the other day, after hours of course, leaving me to wait for it a most inappropriately long amount of time, like Prince Bolkonsky had to wait for Natasha, a day or a year, where’s the difference, my Meissen coffee cup was even more alluring than Tolstoy’s Natasha, it had a green dragon on it, green being a favourite colour of mine, spitting little orange flames, embodying riches, chinoiserie at its best, as ornate as a cup could ever be, and most importantly, it was on sale at John Montag on Ballindamm, a store that had to shut down some time later after it had burned down, anyway, being on sale meant that it was still way too expensive but it made me think I was about to get a bargain, and so I did, in this lunchbreak in 2012, my concentration at work was way better in the afternoon, I can assure you, there’s nothing better than saving money during luchbreak.

Gigantic coffee supplies.

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I need a lot of coffee in the morning. A lot. So I appreciate a big cup that matches my needs. It’s so much more convenient, you don’t have to get up from your couch or your bed or your chair and schlepp your sleeping and aching muscles to the coffee machine, mine is a Braun, plain and simple, designed by Dieter Rams, I have no nerve to deal with Italian laboratories in the morning, I need my peace and quiet, no high-toned gusto with all that steam and noise from shiny technical wonders. However, I do fancy a big fancy cup. KPM, Prussia’s finest porcelain manufacturer (no, it’s not Meissen, Meissen is in Saxony, not in Prussia), came to the rescue with their Kurland “Bürotasse” (Kurland is a design from the 1700s, originally in vivid colours and lots of handpainted flowers, now in basic white), the name’s actually absurd, because I need that much coffee before going “ins Büro”, meaning to my office, not after, what am I to do with such a monstrous cup at the office? At the office, I have nothing but espressos, those from the fancy top notch Italian devices, with all that steam and noise, from really tiny cups, but hey, the guys in marketing never have any clue anyway, have they?

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Think pink. Think Camilla.

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Think pink. That’s what we learned from Funny Face’s Quality magazine’s editor-in-chief Maggie Prescott – Hollywood’s version of Diana Vreeland. Think pink. That’s what I learned from my mother. My life is quite unthinkable without her Pink Camilla china service, designed by Spode in the late 1700s. I grew up with it, took parts of it to my very first apartment, bought additional pieces myself, smashed dozens of cups and plates, some teapots, too, replaced it all, well, not all, only the pieces I smashed after making my own living, after turning 27, so to speak, I still have tea from a broken bouillon cup, its handle broke years and years ago, my doing of course, never anybody else’s, why that is I don’t know, I’m not that clumsy, believe you me, anyway, I had my cornflakes in it right before school and vichyssoise, game and charlotte russe on Christmas eve, lamb was served on it at Easter and strawberry extravaganzas on my birthday, it witnessed tears and laughter, the entertaining of dear friends and social obligation dinners, small talk and passed on top secret information, all over breakfast, lunch and dinner, over coffee, tea, wine and champagne, in summer and winter, in the kitchen, in the dining room, in the garden, in a nutshell, this china is part of my life, and however much I love my own Royal Copenhagen, Pink Camilla will always represent my home, my parents, my background. God bless her.

So, here’s a potpourri of pictures I took over my years on Instagram.

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Interiors.

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Some people have an inner child that they allow to, well, come out every once in a while and play, just to make sure they stay human, these guys are to be congratulated, for their wisdom, humanity and charm, I, however, whose inner child has never been locked up, whose emotional intelligence might be the one of Methuselah but whose behaviour is rather Calvinistic, and I’m referring to Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes here, not to that repressed guy from Geneva, what am I to do? You cannot let out what’s already out, can you? So I had to come up with an alternative: I let my inner interior designer out, and I pamper him well. I frolic through stores, buy bowls, vases and pitchers from Royal Copenhagen or Lalique, overpriced flowers from fancy stores, those way cheaper tulips from your grocer won’t do sometimes, fruit and cookies and other stuff that just has to be remotely decorative to give me a thrill and there I go, a new arrangement on my Regency table, I’m happy as a child, sorry, as an interior designer and ready to cope with life, business and deadlines.