Flowery Flow


No Cape Doctor today. The wind that is blowing nearly constantly from the sea in summer is taking a rest. Instead one of the hottest days in Cape Town. I shall have to dress up for a garden party. Thank goodness I bought a whiff of a chiffon wrapper at topshop some time ago in sultry Singapore. A silken underskirt is doubling as summer dress and I am ready to brave the heat.


Fast forward and the same heat a couple of months later at a lunch party in the French countryside. There seems to be no escape nowadays. The wrapper stayed behind in Cape Town and would definitely not have been appropriate for the pasta feast at the Dordogne, anyway. I stick to the flowery flow, this time in the avatar of a vintage dress from a brocante in Marmande.

These charming flea markets are a popular pastime for the French. Every weekend in summer one or the other small town will put out tables and neighbours will bring their grandfather's clock, a shining copper bowl for making jam, a pair of glass flacons and so on. The pink dress with the large peonies caught my eye. The lady in charge was glad to sell it to me for five Euros. It had belonged to her mother in law. My dress will have a new life, said she and I got a handful of freshly picked hazelnuts on top.

© jackmac34, pixabay


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