This and that from across the wide-wide-web and the wide-wide-world over the past two weeks. Nothing particular in common – just pieces that made me do my ‘discovery’ face and nod sagely.
I have never understood the venom hurled at Gwyneth Paltrow, by the press and bloggers alike. Since she started her lifestyle site, Goop, not a month has gone by without some critic feeling compelled to ridicule her or just be plain mean. Gwyneth happens to be beautiful, talented ad comes across as a decent human being. And no, she doesn’t quite live the life the rest of us do, but so what if most of the vacation suggestions to be found on Goop require a platinum card and most of the fashion on sale is beyond my reach? The woman has style and I sometimes draw some inspiration the same way I do from Vogue – I won’t buy St. Laurent but it can give me ideas. And, this week, I found a couple of interesting things on Goop I felt worthy of a share.
The other day over dinner my friend J said: “The more time I spend in hotel rooms, the less I want to have to take care of at home.” She travels for work all the time – spending a month at a time in hotels rooms – in different parts of SA or the US or Australia or NZ. I could understand what she was saying … hotel rooms are a haven. There is little maintenance, no garden to worry about. No plumbing, leaky roof, geyser, electric fences or armed response to maintain (well, in SA, anyway). It’s all done for you.
One of the (many) great things about going to McGregor is that we seem to eat all the time. More than we usually would at home. And it would just seem rude not to celebrate each morsel with a good glass of something. So we get to drink a little more too. Not too much, just a little. Somehow there always seems to be way too much food at the beginning of our stay – yet we manage to get through it. There is just something about the place that quietly persuades you to relax and enjoy life.
TV – Other than seeing Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin reunited on screen, I had few hopes for “Grace and Frankie”, a new Netflix series on 70-year-old women left by their homosexual husbands who, having been in love for 20 years, finally decide to marry. It’s a 30 minutes fairly straightforward sitcom but one worth watching for so many reasons beside the fine acting (Martin Sheen and Sam Waterston play the husbands): it’s funny; it hurls so many truths about aging while keeping these women (and men) still very engaged with life and it shows an aging homosexual couple outside of the usual stereotypes, and within an intimacy rarely seen on tv. Needless to say, I have been bingeing and am now on the last episode. Hope they renew.
A million years ago I used to stay in a hotel called the Principe di Savoia in Milan. It was (and probably still is) a very regal, proper hotel. With the most wonderful bar/lounge where they had real barmen who poured old-fashioned cocktails and would never have dreamt of throwing bottles around a la Tom Cruise in Cocktail. There was always a piano player, an elderly man – who told me he had played “with Important Orchestras in Each of the Important Capitals of the World”. The Principe would never have considered piped music. People behaved with decorum, there were sofas to sink into and the rococo decor always made me smile. You could exhale at the Principe.