StreetMeat: Prego Venezia! (Part 2)

 “If you’re feeling happy in your career path, you may receive an exciting promotion, a five-star opportunity to see your name in lights, or a plum gig that highlights your “expert” status. On April 10, the Aries new moon could bring an illustrious career victory, an opportunity or recognition that feels like a reward for all your recent hard work” Cancer horoscope at the time

It had been 9 months since I had become an editor in an industry that was always foreign to me growing up. I remember telling my boss during my interview that I didn’t represent the ideals that the magazine stood for, “you don’t need to be holding a Chanel bag in order to be a good editor,” she had replied to me. “It’s your creativity and talent that I admire.” Today, I feel that the reason why i'm doing good in my job is because it is so different than who I believe i am. There's a challenge, a mystery, curiosity to learn more about an industry i was never acquainted with. But no matter where Suki goes, I go with her. 

***

Day 2 of my trip. I headed towards the restaurant on the rooftop of my boutique Venetian hotel for breakfast. I joined the two people with whom I shared my taxi the day before, and as the morning sun expanded in the sky, it became clear to me the kind of history this city was drenched in. Literally. An old isolated prison in the distance, a long-standing glass blowing factory, a famous ancient church and boats criss crossing on the water marking their time in the present. It’s the year 2013, and you my friends have survived the wrath of modernity. Or so it seems.  

My mental synchronized swimming show starring Gondolas on the Grand Canal ended when I was pulled into the conversation on my table. “So what is your angle? What are you planning to write about?” I was asked. Let me give you some background about what press trips are. Brands organize and put together trips for the press, (editors, newspaper journalists and influential bloggers) to cover a certain event or novelty that their brand is presenting to the public. This could be the opening of a new store, an artistic collaboration with another organization, the introduction of a new product or any other newsworthy happening. The quality of the coverage depends on how creatively impressed these editors/writers/journalists are, which is why these trips are tailored to inspire them and feed their imaginative minds. Of course every editor thinks differently since they each have a different background, experiences and perspectives and most importantly, a different audience and readership! 

In my case, here are some of the components of my inspiration toolbox that I would carry around with me during this trip:

- My passion for history
- My culture’s close connection to craftsmanship
- My family’s involvement in bag making, shoe making, and even carving on silverware.
- My background in theatre

At this point, I’m not really sure what my angle would be and but I’m starting to panic because being “under-prepared” is not something the perfectionist in me can ever accept. (p.s apparently perfectionists are strongly prone to procrastination) I always had a habit of over-studying during high school and university and on several occasions I’ve completed more sections on an exam sheet than was required. Wasting both time and energy. So here I was, amongst journalists and fashion editors from the world’s most famous titles, with a two-day chance to stand-out and prove myself to, not just my boss/magazine/city, but to one of luxury fashion’s most iconic brands. Feel the pressure?
I met Mary in the lobby. She was the only other editor from the Middle East on this trip with me, and apparently we were destined to become friends. That’s what the brand’s pr people had told me. “You two are exactly the same! You’ll get along so well!” They were right. We bonded during our car ride to Fiesso d’Artico, which is the production facility where the brand’s shoes are made and distributed worldwide. From the waters of Venice, we had moved mainland. 

Waiting for the cars to take us to the mainland...

On the way, I admired the incredible old houses that somehow reminded me of Casper’s wooden house, with an underground laboratory and an electric chair that would spiral down to get you there on a rusty railway. I told her about my short time spent in Beirut and the blog I had started to keep myself busy. “Oh my God, Café Beirut? Of course, I know it! Lots of people were talking about your blog actually.” My intention for it was to be low-profile, I told her, and a means to an end. It did afterall, lead and prepare me for my job as a lifestyle editor today. I ran after things, I spent an endless amount of hours writing, designing, brainstorming for something that gave me no material benefit. On that day, it had brought me all the way to Venice.
I have mentioned before that my family has a history in shoemaking and repairs. Well, my grandfather was known for that. His shoes, God rest his soul, were always spotless and the habit of exceptional shoe-care was passed on in my family. There was an interesting event I attended during my days in Beirut, called Varbed Createur almost two years ago. There, I had the chance to make the acquaintance of a photographer and a shoe designer with whom I’d later collaborate. During my childhood summer visit to Beirut, I would spend lots of time in my mother’s cousin’s shoe factory which was/is right across from my grandmother’s house and is now almost run by my second cousin himself. When I say across, I mean two meters far. Shoe molds were everywhere, prototypes lined up across the shelves, the smell of cigarettes mixed with shoe wax and polish created the perfect aroma to an absolutely imperfect factory. To top it all off, the generators made an unbearable noise that neighbors complained about and the parrot they had as a pet would scream out insults in Armenian from time to time. I still remember the day they installed an internet connection on the bulky computer they had in the tiny office that reeked of Turkish coffee. I would go over to teach my cousin how to use it so that he can import designs from abroad and try to reinterpret them in his way. “Your style is too eccentric for the people here,” he would tell me. Granted the designs weren’t Gaga heels, but they were enough for the low-income families of the neighborhood. *Mental transportation back to Venice*
The LV shoe production facility did slightly differ in standards from the humble factory in Bourj Hammoud, I must say. Who am I kidding, the place a state-of-the-art shoe paradise and it was designed after the brand’s original shoe box. 

A massive sculpture inside the premises...

StreetMeat: Prego Venezia !

“Monsieur Nicholas, you’ve met Houry right?” yes, of course we met and even accompanied each other on the trip back to Dubai. I was now in the showroom taking a look at the samples from the A/W collection we would be shooting the next day. Our first shoot for the brand and my first big responsibility. “Ah yes, very good job with the article! She was going over her notes on the plane when I last spoke to her!” Of course, the iconic LV logo on my brown folder was highly noticeable, especially to the director of the Middle East. “You got yourself some brownie points, good job!” This meant a lot coming from the brand’s communications director, who was actually a magazine editor herself once. The thing that meant the most, however, came the next day at the right place and at the right time. I was in the middle of a crisis in the morning of the shoot, while I stood hyperventilating in the stuffy and jammed dressing room of the venue, (one that is famous for its freak show let’s just say) my boss walks in with…the Milan team. Baci. Baci. “You know your clippings werechosen as one of the best worldwide, everybody loved them!” Translation: my article/pages were chosen amongst the works of journalists from around the world, (France, Italy, UK, Australia, China…) as one of the best, I repeat. Now I’m hyperventilating even more. 

The first 4 pages of my Venice trip

My interview with the president of LV South Europe and the president of the MUVE foundation in Venezia

This is by far the biggest compliment I’ve been given on my work since I got back from my trip. Forget fans and clothing rails, dangerous props and heavy costumes for a second, and take it in. Time for a flashback.

 I’m in a taxi ride from the airport with the editor of Harper’s Bazaar Australia and the pr girl for LV. I’m way too distracted to socialize since I usually like to be alone in this moment, because the ride from the airport is the highlight of most of my trips. The feeling is very similar to the one you get at the pit of your stomach, when you meet someone from the opposite sex who impresses you at first glance, grabs your full attention and leaves you craving for more. You’re stoked, intrigued and curious but still you maintain a refined demeanor. While you’re planning a trip and anticipating it, you nurture all kinds of fantasies in your mind. This cab ride, and I say cab because somehow taxis symbolize their respective city, becomes the portal connecting your fantasy world to the real one. At this moment, the adrenaline rushes in. 

“Venice,Houry. Houry,Venice.” Nice to meet you. This time my taxi is a boat.

Taxi/Boat ride

We navigated through the labyrinth of canals, passing under small bridges and archways. The water in some areas even reaches the doorsteps to the houses, and the historic city shows signs of old age. This would be my topic of discussion with the Italian journalists I’d meet for dinner that same night. For now, I’m speechless and mesmerized by its imperfections. The Danieli hotel, the most luxurious one dating back to the 14^th century, appears in sight. I arrived before most of the international media which meant I had half a day to kill. And kill it I shall. I first spent some time sinking my eyes into the historic interiors of the hotel, today it would be considered a bit too old bourgeoisie with its golden chandeliers and pink patterned wallpaper But I love it, and I was lucky enough to be one of the few who got to stay in the “older” section rather than the renovated one. The sound of the staircase cracking beneath my feet became a source of joy, and the walk to and fro my room, a loophole into the past. I found myself wanting to run my fingers on the old wood…Now this.is.luxury.

Well Hello There! I love sensory indulgence ...

After indulging in the lovely surprises that greeted me on the dresser, I took to the streets. Oh how I love being lost in translation. Venice is a bit too touristic but if you walk far enough, you will find yourself in quieter calles and campos. I walked around for hours, without leaving any bread crumb trails. Along the way I did some shopping of course. How can I resist genuine Italian leather bags, so cheap yet so damn rich in quality? Or the unique, loose fitted and layered garments that are reflective of a nonchalant yet trendy style? This is my kind of shopping. I don’t care about labels, luxury for me is in the character and attitude that an item conveys. More so, it's about the story behind  it. “Welcome to Italy! Will you be joining us for dinner tonight? We are looking forward to meeting you!” This sms was sent to me 3 hours ago and now I was in the middle of nowhere and afraid I wouldn’t make it back on time! I drained the last bit of energy from my feet trying to find my way to a water taxi. The ticket booth was closed but the lady who operated the one heading towards my hotel was sweet enough to let me on and charge me nothing for the ride. If she hadn't done that, I would have had to walk back for an hour...which was physically impossible.
I put on my newest Italian purchase, a gray dress with ruffles at the bottom and a separate slouching top in macramé with a thick leather belt that wrapped across like a ribbon....

My Italian dress without the belt though...

I met up with the Italian journalists in the lobby and of course began to express my appreciation for Italian taste.  The Milan team, the sweetest duo, made sure I didn’t feel left out when the group got carried away in Italian. Even though I was enjoying it. “Venice is one of those magical places that we never get bored of,” says the Milanese editor at Vanity Fair Italia. “It’s very expensive to maintain these houses that’s why most of them have been turned into hotels and businesses and people choose to live in the nearby towns instead.” This is also why Venice was dead and deserted during the night, because most of the people there were either tourists or employees working during the day. Although they all knew one another from before, it wasn’t long before they made me feel welcomed, over a nice meal, delicious wine and funny industry stories.

***TO BE CONTINUED*** 

StreetMeat: Eat, Pray, Love, and Learn.

Flashback

It’s Christmas Eve and there’s a shopping frenzy at Club Monaco. It’s hard to stay in my “zone” which is the front section of the store, when there are so many customers to attend to. Nights spent meticulously making sure items were hung exactly 3 inches apart on the racks, have given way to piled up sweaters, mixed up sizes and…a blazer laying disheveled on the floor! *say it isn’t so* I snap out of it. This elegant lady is waiting for me to match the ruffled and extremely detailed skirt she’s chosen with the “perfect office party blouse.” I’m on it. I power walk to another zone, I know exactly which corner that God damn blouse is hiding in…I freeze at the invisible border I’m forbidden to cross. “Angela, cover me!” Angela covers my zone as I squeeze my way across the crowded store, grab that shirt, and get back in time to match that lady’s skirt with “the perfect office party blouse.” It's her turn to pay at the counter, everything seems to be moving in slow motion for me. From meters away I stand staring like a “friendly” stalker with that retail smile on my face, holding my breath nervously: “So maam who was helping you tonight?” *Please don’t say Henry, please don’t say Henry* “That young lady over there!” She points at me. *Score!* I exhale. Even though she didn’t remember my name, which was recently mistaken for Henry, I still got the sale!

It’s true that working in retail or in a restaurant during your university years, is the shittiest thing your fate can ever bring your way. However, I’d like to think of it as a stepping stone. First of all, I got to dress up in elegant Club Monaco clothes, in order to embody the brand’s image of course. Secondly, I got to put my styling skills to the test with some of the pickiest and snobbiest customers from whom compliments were never generously given. “If you think it’s so perfect, why don’t you buy it?” a man my father’s age tells me while I convince his wife to match her sweater with a gorgeous necklace I thought would look great on her. “Well, other than the fact that I have to stand around here for 10 hours helping ungrateful people like you shop in order to afford this necklace, it doesn’t suit me,” is what I would have liked to say to him. Instead I just smiled. 

 Back to Christmas Eve. The assistant manager is crying her eyes out, there seems to be a receipt crisis, you know one of those cases where a stubborn customer insists on their undeserving rights while being well aware that they are not allowed to exchange their items. It’s Christmas Eve for God’s sake, go have a gingerbreaded candy caned, frosty cinnamoned latte or something. “I don’t even want to be doing this, she complains to me between her tears, I just really need this job if I want to continue in fashion!” yeah, honey. We all have to do things we don’t want to do in order to get to where we want to be, just hang in there, one day your efforts will be rewarded. The night is finally over, I’m tired and anxious to go home to my brother, the only family I have here, and share a Christmas dinner. But wait, the out of breath team is gathered up for a pep talk. “Houry, since you had one of the highest sales tonight you get the Christmas bonus.” *Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Save the tears of joy for your wedding day* I squeeze that piece of paper in my hand all the way home and it makes everything disappear. The eerie 11pm bus ride home, my heels digging into half a meter of snow, the 15 minute walk in the -15 degree weather and the KFC meal I watch over an episode of Jersey shore with my brother on the first ever Christmas Eve spent away from my family. I had a weird feeling of hope, and reassurance, and couldn't stop smiling like a lunatic having confirmed that the effort we wholeheartedly put into something which we may think is going in vain, is eventually rewarded when we least expect it. How can we ever appreciate good times if we haven’t experienced hard ones?

A day at work 3 years later...

Other than learning the ins and outs of styling, a special asset of mine was highlighted during my time at this part time job. My ability to use my language switching skills to my advantage. I remember my manager being shocked at me speaking Arabic with people from Sudan, then French with French customers and even Armenian with an Armenian shopper! At the end of the day, communicating with someone in their own language gives them a sense of comfort leading them to genuinely trust you.

Mrs. Carrera walks to where Suki is standing on the cocktail bar, and reaches for a magazine. Her eyes follow the older woman's hands as they choose her magazine among others. She mumbles quickly to the waiter, who is dumbfounded by the one-way conversation, then returns to her seat next to her husband. The pr girls stand around quietly until one of them speaks up: “That’s the owner’s wife, she doesn’t speak a word of English.” By owner, she means, the owner of one of the world’s biggest jewelry brands “Carrera y Carrera”(which is pronounced Carrera “ee” Carrera in Spanish and not Carrera “why” Carrera). Soon after, as Suki waits for her colleague to finish interviewing the CEO of the brand, Mrs. Carrera makes her way across the room and sits beside her. Next thing you know, people are awed by the amusing conversation the two of them seem to be having. She was the only non-Spanish person Mrs. Carrera spoke to all day. It was her first time in “grandiosa” Dubai, she had flown in specifically for the store opening. She loved travelling and meeting ambitious women from different countries, she had a Lebanese friend who passed away and she loved her sons and grandkids dearly. 30 minutes and several hors d’oeuvres later, Mr. Carrera joins. With the little Spanish she had managed to learn, Suki was able to carry a conversation with the pleasant elderly couple long enough to have their team offer to show her around Barcelona if she were ever to visit. Her interest in languages led her to write a piece on young mothers and the number of languages their young children could acquire at a young age. The more languages a person speaks, the more perspectives they have in life. Which is why someone who is monolingual is scientifically proven to be a lot more narrow minded than a bilingual or multilingual individual. When you learn a language you also learn to familiarize with the different aspects of its culture. Whether it’s historical or modern. Whether it regards its colonial past or contemporary art scene. “What is Kuwait?” a gorgeous American model asks Suki during their latest photoshoot. “Dear God, do not ask this question to anybody else, for your sake.” You know Kuwait, being the core focus of the Gulf war which American troops were involved in…and also being one of the richest countries in the Gulf. Suki wished the girl had at least used the word “Where.” Speaking of Spanish, the day of President Chavez’ recent passing, Suki suffered from a common editor’s case of O.R.D. or Online Research Delirium, where she spent hours reading about his reign and the future of Venezuela. She wasn’t working on anything related to the topic of course, but she always wanted to know more about the powerful leader. Knowing more isn’t a bad thing when you’re working in this field; this is how you assert yourself in the industry, especially if you want to be taken seriously by the older more established journalists. Interesting small talk is the equivalent of a catchy headline, it’s using a few words or sentences to grab someone’s attention and make them want to return to you for a deeper conversation or exchange of thoughts. When I say someone, I mean, established people who otherwise wouldn’t give you the time of day. Especially if you’re a 24 year old fashion forward magazine editor who looks like a little girl. People judge, it’s natural.

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Suki hardly has time to admire the view from her hotel room; or the tv built into the wall above the bathtub. She quickly rushes down to meet the other journalists at chef Gordon Ramsay’s signature restaurant. She was in town for the opening of one of the region’s most high end dining venues: Culinary travel, her ultimate joie de vivre. “You know you’re the only luxury lifestyle magazine invited on this trip,” the pr girl expresses her fondness of the publication that's quickly gaining momentum. Suki sits on a table of 6 including journalists, and representatives of the luxury hotel itself. Not only am I the only lifestyle magazine, but I’m also the only girl and the youngest journalist to be more specific, she thinks to herself. Wait, did she just call herself a journalist? I like the sound of that.Quickly she notices that the table is divided into Arab and non Arab sides, herself being on the Arab side although she worked for an English publication. She then learns of the western journalists’ tendency to belittle Arab journalists. One of the Arab journalists had gotten sick right before the trip and was a no-show, and the other one was forbidden to enter the country due to the travel documents he had inherited upon birth. Suki was alone in this battle. Although she isn't of Arab origin herself, it would have been too complicated to explain how she had ended up on that side. Regardless, she always had a strong drive to fight for injustice and disprove unfair misconceptions no matter who the victim was, but her weapon of choice was knowledge. Sitting in front of her were 4 targets: An older British journalist from a culinary publication, another British journalist from a financial newspaper, a French reporter from a famous fashion tv channel and a British publicist. They move on to the restaurant to meet all the big people and conduct their interviews.She meets and converses individually with the general manager of the restaurant, the global CEO and the operations manager.
*2 hours later*
“This girl definitely works in fashion.” They all turn their heads to admire Suki’s daring outfit as they leave the venue and she enters.

Amongst the crowd of photographers she spots the general manager who pulls her towards him for a picture. Throughout the night he not only watches over the opening of his restaurant, but makes sure Suki’s having a good time. The operations manager comes by and gives her a tour,as she greets the CEO she met earlier in the day. She makes her rounds and notices all the eyes following her every step from head to toe. Her retro clown pants, color blocked tweed jacket, fur scarf, red lips and straight bangs had managed to make a statement much to her surprise. It was unexpectedly cold outside so she literally had to put on every item she had brought along. Like a mismatched collage....She then befriends the French reporter’s wife with whom she lingers around the kitchen trying the chef’s creations before they leave the kitchen.  

Turns out their daughter studies in Montreal. Score. She also studied in Canada. A point of reference=familiarity=more respect. She eventually lures the rest of the journalists into her circle thanks to her charm, interesting conversations and their intake of alcoholic beverages.By the end of the night she's won them all over except for one who refuses to budge and crack a friendly smile. At the heart of prejudice lie two concepts: ignorance and fear. Come to think of it, in any certain social environment we as human beings are like ducklings who follow one another with a mother duck leading the pack. No duckling wants to be left out and go off on its own. *Do not think of the live duck station* Eventually, having noticed the positive impression Suki had made on the whole group, that one stubborn individual caved in. 

I leave you with one of my favorite passages from Charlie Chaplin, in The Great Dictator: 

"Greed has poisoned men’s souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost..."

Home is where the heart is: when Suki decorates

Take a couple of minutes to think about the house you're living in right now....
Imagine that you've been evicted and you have to pack up and leave in the next couple of hours...what will you envision when you look at every room for the last time? When you walk out and look behind you at the door, after 2,5 or 10 years of living there you realize that everything's been reduced to memories. You might think of the days you locked yourself up in that place to format your mind, the times you would kick back and relax with your friends, the dinner parties or the candle light dinner you prepared for you and your special someone, the breakfast you would look forward to on the weekends with your favourite neighbour, the time you got prepped up and ready for that date that changed your life, or that job meeting that opened new doors for you. While I moved from one house to another during my student years in Toronto, I always spent my last day in each place, reflecting on all the things I had experienced during my stay. Even though they were all temporary homes, my heart would still rush if I were to pass by them.A home is a reference point in your life, because it reminds you of who you were when you were living there. 

Suki has stepped back into the sweatpants she had worn out in university. She is back at her parents' house and there is nothing stopping her from looking and feeling like a bum. After months of waking up early to dress up for meetings and events, she had missed walking around with not an ounce of makeup on her face. Not to say there weren't days when she was mistaken for the janitor at her office, or the "baladiyye" officer, but lately she had become a walking-talking ad machine which is why she had to look good all the time. Her facial muscles were suffering the consequences of all the smiles she's had to hold still...Afterall that's the face that was now reflecting the magazine she passionately worked for, and being the perfectionist that she is, she always made sure to leave an impression on the people she met. Right now though, she was at the comfort of her childhood home and the only obligation she had was setting the table for dinner. She remembers being all dolled up for her 12th grade prom and taking photos in the living room with her date and returning from her studies abroad to a crisp bed and an aura of freshly baked cookies. She left and returned, left and returned, left and returned as a new person each time. But the home remained the same, the comfort was still there. Now she had returned as a working woman, not a student nor a post-graduate, unemployed procrastinator, and the home had welcomed her the way it always did. Being there made her think of  the new apartment she had recently moved into...In a city that can easily suck you into a black hole of meaningless friendships that evaporate faster than you can recover from a hangover...How can she ever recreate the comfort of her childhood home in her current living space? 

We all want to have a beautiful view, a huge balcony, a lovely garden, lots of daylight...etc. but we have to make do with what is available to us right now and build our lives around it. I went from living on the 22nd floor of a luxury tower to the 1st floor of a 22 floor building. I've always liked to have a unique living space, and there's something about the large terrace in my studio apartment, that spoke to me. I instantly imagined lanterns and strings of light hanging from the ceiling, colourful table cloths and large cushions spread across the floor...melodramatic Lebanese folkloric music playing in the background, and my guests mixing and mingling while sipping on wine and munching on treats. New friends, old friends, work friends I want to make an impression on, all gathered at my Bohemian house warming on the terrace for a night to remember.

I'm no interior designer, but i love to decorate and i'm going all out with this house. It is true that Dubai is a transitory place, and many people refrain from spending too much time or money on decorating their homes. I did that during uni, i used a shoe rack as a multi purpose shelf for years and that's because I knew I was only there temporarily and was living a student life. When you start earning money, it completely changes the way you think; as a young professional you now have the privilege toIndulge. Some people indulge in shopping, some in travel, and others in....decorating! The process of "indulgence" itself, is therapeutic especially when you feel you've earned it through your hard work! The energy you put into your work, everyday, is reflected through whatever it is that you decide to spend on.Simply put, if we think of our energy being circulated through money then we won't see that beautiful carpet we bought as a splurge but rather an objectification of our thoughts and emotions. its colours, its shape, its patterns...etc I'm not saying you succumb to the very purpose of advertisers' jobs,which is to touch on people's emotions to sell products, and to spend half your salary on designer purses; I'm saying that a good way to be grateful for the money we have, no matter how much it is, is to acknowledge and appreciate how it came to us and how it's leaving us. Maybe the more thankful we are, the more motivated we become to pay it forward...just some food for thought :) (i will share with you my story in a later post)

My current form of indulgence is decorating my home, and here are some of my observations from this experience:
1- Start off with a base color(s) which helps you find everything else! (mine are white and brown)
3- Recycle--- if you already have an old piece of furniture, either integrate it with new furniture or refurbish it!
4- Go on the lookout for random things you can use as furniture. I.e you might be surprised by what you can find at a construction site! Mix them up with regular furniture pieces, so that they stand out.
5- Consult yourself! I feel like our fashion style is very similar to our decorating one. I, for example, am boho chic, feminine with a touch of edge, and I also love mixing ethnic prints and patterns
As a Cancerian, who are known to be crafty, I like to make things myself. My decor style is that of romanticism and I like creating a garden/cottage aura in my house. We are nostalgic creatures by nature,  and like to keep a connection to the past through our decor and the colors we choose.

6- Look at space from a different perspective..and this is not only related to the space inside your home. It's liberating to think of space as abstract, as something malleable rather than a concrete reality. (that was one of my favorite classes in uni) Just because something is shaped a certain way, or has a specific purpose, doesn't mean we can't play around with it. I compare this to the ideology of "Parkour," we used to practice parkour all the time when we were kids, but as we grow up the way we perceive space changes because we become more and more influenced by the norms of society. Realistically, we don't all have the guts to run around and jump over walls on our way to work but we can, for example, use its philosophy when decorating our home. 

"It is about overcoming and adapting to mental and emotional obstacles as well as physical barriers.It is about the idea of "human reclamation," a means of reclaiming what it means to be a human being." Of course, this topic can be elaborated on ALOT, and it may even be hard to understand. But it's simply about contradicting the space you are in, which is what i tried to do in Canada and Lebanon, in my own way.

Here are some of my decor inspirations:

For the photos i'd like to hang on the wall, I chose this idea. (above) it seems fairly easy to make and would look great with my wooden interiors!all you need is the frame,thread and wooden laundry clips!

I loved this idea of putting your pretty perfumes on a cake plate!! If you like to display them like I do, this  looks very elegant and neat!

I will definitely be putting my magazines on display on a wooden ladder, afterall some of them even have my name in them! (left) and the plant pot (right) hanging in a vintage kettle looks lovely

from funky junk interiors
the bed i've chosen has the same headboard on which I want to hang jewellery and colorful scarves..

from The Decorista
in the cardboard garbage pile below my building I found a round wooden device used for construction (which there is never a lack of in Dubai) so I had the idea of either giving it a great paint job, or adding a round mirror to the surface!

Since my studio has a high ceiling,I have to figure out ways to make it cozy. I'm making a reading corner next to my bed that looks like the one above and putting a chandelier that hangs low to cut through the open space!

from The Decorista
You can find these chairs on the streets in Lebanon, but in Dubai everything is "new" so they're either non existent or cost a fortune. You can get very creative with the simple wood by adding colorful or patterned seating pillows. I'm seriously thinking of getting completely unmatching chairs! 

From the Decorista
I really like the perfectly cluttered wall (left) and the patterns of the rug and pillows (right)

Start the New Year by redecorating your house; it's a great way to reflect on the one gone by, and the things it taught you about  yourself! :)

Street Meat: Meet Suki, the protagonist.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of person who can sit at a desk all day, editing books. It requires a lot of patience, and you have way too much energy to pursue this as a career.” An academic advisor said to me four years ago. It was -15 degrees outside, and one of those days when irrational behavior was completely expected. I wanted to take on professional writing as a minor and couldn’t stand the fact that I wasn’t actively devoting my time to writing. Even though I wrote 15 page research papers almost every week. So I took her advice, and dropped the idea. But it still lurked somewhere inside my head, since the 6^th grade, I wasn’t over it yet. I wanted to tell stories.Whether it was through dance, theatre or writing. How do you get inspired to tell stories? Well, you live everyday as though it were a story to be told. You observe, you take in, you reflect, you connect, recollect, and decorate the final image you have in your head. Everybody has a story to tell, you just have to convince yourself that who you are, where you are and what you are doing at the moment, is all part of that story. Hence, nothing is bad nor good. It just is.  

Take me for example. At the moment, my character plays a high end magazine editor in the city of Dubai. No she doesn’t work for the Anna Wintour type, like in the Devil wears Prada, she actually has a strong yet acknowledging and compassionate editor-in-chief whom she looks up to very, very much. Her boss only met her once, and the union wasn’t planned nor expected. 

Photos from "The Devil wears Prada"...kind of what I look like at the moment.

Suki, (my character) had spent almost two years, doing this and doing that, feeding her indecisive mind with nonsense. Or so she thought. She later would discover that nothing is nonsense, and in fact, everything she did was part of a larger ball of energy that would bring her closer to what she’s always imagined for herself. Until then, she had to master “the art of uncertainty.” Suki arrived at the airport, an all too familiar place that had witnessed the beginning and ends of many chapters in her life, but this time there were no tears. She found herself in the same spot she stood in, 6 years before, comforting a loving mother who was about to send her 18 year old daughter into the world. A lot had happened in the past 6 years, and while it may not seem like a long time to you, it represented a lifetime to her. A brief flashback and a deep breath later, she was in the boarding section waiting for her plane to arrive.

She waited, and waited. But her plane wouldn’t arrive. 5 hours after her initial boarding time, she was still there, waiting. A sandstorm in the City of Life, had caused a delay to her flight. I repeat. Only her flight. During the 8 hour wait, however, she met some very interesting people. One of them was an Australian consultant who ended up reassuring her that if she were to miss her flight and fail to make it to her interview, he would contact all the people he knew at that company, to tell them her case. He proceeded to give her a mock interview, and train her in corporate pr. 8 hours is a long time… That whole week she went to her interviews, dressed up in her corporate attire, pretending to be someone she’s not. It didn’t speak to her heart. Perhaps, their meeting was not a coincidence? A couple of days later, she would be revisited by someone in her past.

That someone had met her only once and was impressed by her enthusiasm, attitude and ambition. As it would turn out, the “nonsense” she had been up to, would open the doors to her future. But Suki had been looking through the window and was hesitant about the sudden U-turn her mind would have to take if she were to change the direction of her eyesight. She trusts her strong instincts, after all she is a cancer, and sits in a café after her interview. She looks down at the stack of magazines laid out in front of her, and glides her hands over the glossy papers. 

My first day at work, flipping through the magazines..

She flips the pages, breathes in the fresh odor of newly printed paper and her 12 year old self appears in her mind. She is reminded of the joy she felt as she organized her Goosebumps collection on her shelf. The sight of her novels lined up according to size which then developed into bulky academic books she refused to get rid of. She was attached to her books, they were her prized possessions. The reason behind her current technophobic habits. *The sound of construction outside obstructs her nostalgic thoughts* Without thinking any further, without planning or calculating she decides to take the job. Discrediting her initial thoughts of irrationality, a newfound belief in herself gives her a rush of confidence.

***

It’s hard to believe that it’s already been three months, and I just closed my second issue. When I first moved to Lebanon last year, I wanted to meet people. Through CaféBeirut, I met Rana and through Rana
 I met my current boss. I put myself out there, and took initiative. I interviewed designers, did photoshoots for fun and promoted artists whose work I appreciated. I got invited to fashion shows and launches, and after leaving Lebanon I was asked to review St.Elmo’s restaurant. Sure, it was fun. But it all felt too small. Never did I think that I would end up doing all those things on a higher more professional level.  Was it possible for me to get paid to write about food, well-being, fashion, society and health? I guess the energy that I put into this blog is what led me to the life I’m leading now….

1 month later..my first issue 

The life of an editor is quite interesting actually. It all starts with laying out an issue and brainstorming on what will go in there. Other than working on the issue itself however, there’s a lot of networking involved. My calendar fills up with events, media presentations and launches for high end brands that I have to attend. This is where the pr comes in. Some events stand out more than others. Many of them take place in malls, and others occur in luxury hotels and special venues. Some of them manage to stand out, others fail to do so.

                                                                        ***

Suki arrived at the media breakfast for a high end jewelry brand. It was in her nature to socialize over a meal, and breakfast was her favorite one. But on this morning she was nervous. Afterall, people were starting to notice the new face and were becoming more and more interested in putting a name to it. Walking into the venue was like walking into a high school cafeteria as a teenager, on your first day of school. Standing at the entrance, glancing around for a spot to sit in, fully aware of all the eyes that are measuring your every move. Trying your best to look nonchalant while hiding your braces and the fact that you’re actually a nervous wreck. You wait for that one smile, one wave, one sign of friendliness that can instantly bring back your confidence. Suki was surrounded by successful people, not 15 year old high school students. Editors and sales managers of some of the biggest magazines in the city, and around the world. But it felt the same. The popular kids sat together, laughing and chit-chatting. And even though some of them recognized her, no one invited her to come sit with them. Holding her dignity very high, she proceeded to the back of the room where she would find a comforting seating with her colleague. Then it comes, the first sign of friendliness. Two people she briefly met before, join her table and express their fondness of her. They go on to introduce her to other people. Although she may seem like a social butterfly, she actually gets very nervous on these occasions. When she senses a positive vibe, she doesn’t shy away from talking to people, introducing herself and making a connection. But it seems as though, that positive vibe doesn’t come around that often in this field. Why can’t everyone just be…nice?  

the media breakfast...just so you have a visual :)

Home is where the heart is: a Cozy ambience

Via Cosmopolitan magazine

I wanted to share with you one of my favorite pages from Cosmo that I had ripped out last year. I love being a good host, having people over, and creating a welcoming mood for people to let loose and enjoy themselves. When I lived in Toronto, I stayed in the student village seen here in Nelly Furtado's video clip actually. One day, one of our 8 housemates (yes, the place was like the U.N) who liked hanging out in our turf (the ground floor which was inhabited by my 3 friends and I) decided to pimp out the house in an attempt to please us. Apparently, he had recently inherited a whole lot of money and he wanted to spoil us with it. So...he bought a pool. An inflatable 15 person pool with a ladder :) We were the only house in the whole area, of about 500 student townhouses, to have a pool....because it was illegal since only one side was fenced up which could lead it to pose a drowning threat. There weren't any children living in the area....but there were drunk 1st-year students roaming around the streets.
Anyway, the pool became a landmark attracting people and students from all over the Village.(it really was called the village by the way) Since sunshine itself was a luxury, having a pool was the equivalent of having a private jet. It was a great attraction for guests, and fun nighttime barbecues.

In Lebanon, there was Pandora. The tent I had set up in my balcony during the whole summer. A beautiful view of the medditerranean sea matched with a heavenly evening breeze, made it a go-to destination, or a come-to destination :) I placed a lantern on the rail, and a large plant, you know to create a natural environment, and decked out the interior with mattresses, pillows and covers. And That's one of the benefits of living alone, you get to turn the balcony into a a camp site...Pandora welcomed many guests over the summer, and everyone loved her. Especially after long nights of partying and interacting with people, Pandora helped us unwind and lay down under the stars to the sound of chirping crickets...It's so easy to complain about Lebanon and all its defaults.Actually, it's fairly easy to complain about any country. Whether for me it was, Saudi, Canada, or Lebanon...
In order to cope with this attitude, I always came up with ways to have certain elements in my home that transport me far away from the stresses of everyday life..Not to say I live in a state of denial, on the contrary, I am perfectly aware of the particular circumstances that can negatively affect my mood..and those that can easily boost it. In this case, it was the silence of the night, the summer breeze, sleeping outdoors, and being surrounded by people who share the same desires...

Of course, you don't need an inflatable pool or a tent in order to feel that way... Here are easy ways to make your home therapeutical and cozy enough to both alter your mood and that of your guests.

1- Go big with candles
To add drama to your place, try placing different colored candle sticks on your candle holder. Pink, red, blue, yellow, orange...etc Put them in "surprising vessels, like eclectic tea cups or clay gardening pots" as seen in the photo above.  
2-Have Scents Appeal
"Boil cinnamon sticks in water for a few minutes to get a warm, homey aroma. or put some lemon, lime and orange slices )with peel) in a cute bowl for an upbeat, citrusy fragrance."
4-Add some playful stuff
"Ambience doesn't have to be about getting intense. A string of lights will keep the tone in your place breezy and fun. Wrap it around a large picture frame, a plain lamp, or your mantle." (p.s use plain ones, not multi colored xmas lights!)
5-Bring nature inside
"Seashells or other natural elements like river stones are unexpected and give a casual feel. Place them in a rough-hewn bowl,where you would normally display a bouquet of flowers." I collected some myself on my recent trip to Dubai!
6-Encourage browsing
"A large stack of books on an end table invites guests to kick back and flip through them. Thrown an old photo album (nowadays, it can be a digital one) or cool picture book into the mix." My heart breaks at the fact that my book collection is scattered between 3 countries...I get a sense of comfort by having them on display, each time I read one of the titles...I get a mental flashback of the book/story/the experience of reading it...
7-Sound it off
"Make playlists for individual occasions and really consider what you're craving in the situation.If you're having a party start with light tunes you can talk over, then move to more upbeat songs as the night goes on..." My recently married friend and her husband for example, have their ipod playing at all times, near a digital album of their months long honeymoon trip...the ipod plays mainly classical (orchestral wonders, piano pieces) and chillout music..it was so good that I would turn it on first thing every morning. 

"May your home be wonderfully wonderful, full of wonders and wondrous things...so that you may wander the world as Alice did" - Me :)

a belated HAPPY NEW YEAR

....FROM THE MOUNTAINS OF LEBANON...

I've chosen this photo above to represent my new year for many many reasons...

Although I am not a pessimist and have a very spiritual outlook on life...from time to time,even the most hopeful and faithful amongst us feel as somber and helpless as this lonesome tree...

We all have to face life's inevitable and unexpected turns, and the worst one I can think of is one that involves the loss of a loved one... but the question is:

How do we get back on track? 

Do we, or should we,  prepare ourselves mentally and emotionally for these situations? 

How do we go to work and attempt to function like any other day?

How do we as emotional beings, gather up the might, to conceal a weeping heart?

How do we keep ourselves from getting demoralized from life itself, and from devaluing our hopes & dreams?

How do we prevent ourselves from living in a state of paranoia when experiencing the worst of the worst? 

Is it by convincing ourselves that it could'v been worse?or by stating the obvious: "This is fate."

Do we just have to believe that this is the cycle of life, like this tree does?

---------------

For this New year, I ask from that Higher power that watches upon us all (or whatever power you believe in) to have Mercy on us all. To give us the patience and strength that we need to be able to deal with life's twists & turns...and to surround us with Love, because as cliche as that sounds, I believe the answer to the questions above are plain and simple: 

LOVE and COMPASSION... And that's the only wish I have for everyone this year... 

From expat, to local - My 1st job in Beirut

So I’ve officially starting working in Lebanon, a country that was a holiday destination for me. I used to spend my days here lounging, partying, visiting family members, then taking off on a plane at the end of the summer; now the dynamics have completely changed! I’m a local! I get stuck in Lebanese traffic, (a 7 min ride stretches out to an hour) and I endure the nerve wrecking electricity crisis. On the flipside, I get to live the good life. Which I’ll be elaborating on in future posts. But right now, I’ll focus on my new job…

In the past couple of years, I’ve taken on this new spiritual moto in life that’s proved to be extremely successful. I’ve acquired this strong belief in the universe and the laws of attraction with the mere practice of consciousness. I have this habit of spending about 10 minutes before I sleep fantasizing. Imagining things I want to do/ accomplish, a lifestyle I’d like to live, a situation I’d like to be in, a place I’d like to visit…etc They would start off as visions in my head, driven by so much passion that eventually they would take form in real life. Sometimes I’m even scared of the things I imagine, in case they come true.

During my 2^nd year of university I began volunteering at the Toronto Fashion Week. I was overwhelmed by the glamorous lifestyle of the fashion industry, as I watched the shows from behind the curtains, when I should’ve been working. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be some hot shot designer, or to work for a hot shot designer, or anything hot shot for that matter. Just out of mere curiosity, as I am curious about many things. And so this is it. The vision has come to life. It's meant to be there, so I will live it with all my heart...

As the new managing director of a very talented designer here in Lebanon. After a long job hunt, and months upon months of interviews…finally something spoke to my heart. The atelier is a nostalgic trip down the roads of a country filled with so much sorrow, that it lives off the memories and stories of a long lost peoples…Armenia…Beautiful Armenia. You come alive through the eyes of your people, through the strong voice of your descendants who hold your name high above their heads and speak of you with such great honor. The antique chandeliers, a grandmother’s sowing machine, a framed photo of Echmiadzin, pomegranade ornaments and framed black & white photographs of an Armenian Grandmother. A vintage atelier situated in the center of one of Lebanon’s most historical sectors.

From the balcony, I’m facing two old buildings, with brick lined rooftops and burgundy shutters. They look minuscule in contrast to the structures around them…I instantly compare them to two old men, sitting on their stools and playing Tawle (checkers) surrounded by young hunks sipping on whiskey and smoking cigars while talking and laughing loudly. Their weakening façade, is engulfed in those plants that stretche across buildings…And one of those days, they will have covered the whole surface and formed a sort of cocoon, sheltering an important piece of history. One that’s been drowning in a sea of zmamir, overshadowed by towering dollar signs. In my pocket sized map book, called Zawarib, I could see that the whole area is dominated by banks and pharmacies. "Maybe if there were more public parks, we wouldn’t need as many pharmacies" words of wisdom courtesy of Zawarib… 

I’m having constant deja-vus, I’ve seen this all before in my head….
Maybe soon it will be time for my “dancing in a musical” vision! Can’t wait for that one!