The Brooke Shields Project‏

"I'm going to be in New York quite a bit this year" David announced.
I wasn't really paying much attention. "uh hmmm" I said, de-fleeing the dogs 
"I am going to be decorating Brooke Shields' house"

My head shot up.

We'd met Brooke and her husband Chris when she was starring in the musical "Chicago" in London and we'd all gone out to dinner after the show ...... a couple of years later they washed up on the island where we live and we spent the week out on boats and loafing around our house.

At the end of the week they simply said to David, "We've bought a house in Greenwich Village and want it to have the sort of feel and atmosphere of your house - will you help us?"

He describes it as the most polite, and glamourous interview process and job offer he'd ever had.

Although he was in New York a lot, and there is no substitute for standing in the actual space, he said the Internet was really his office. He could stare out of the window at coconut trees and the ocean while negotiating for an 17th century Italian desk on la Cienega Blv.

David also says that Skype and 1st Dibs are the greatest inventions since Bloody Mary's.

That's my boy.

Architectural Digest:

Living on an island in theCaribbean for the past 15 years , most of the houses and the couple of hotels I've done have combined a sort of nostalgia for England and Europe along with a curation of things collected on travels all over the world . Living with the daughter of David Hicks also means that one has one's "homework marked" pretty rigorously.

The decorating of the house has really just been an extension of our friendship ..... it's been remarkably collaborative and much more a case of helping out friends.

 www.architecturaldigest.com

OHHSIT!‏

Have you ever scraped a dead cat off the road? All fat and bloated from being...well, a dead cat. No? Then you can't have spent much time with Brittan.

Actually, I have not spent much time with Brittan either, but the short time we did have together involved scraping a dead cat off the road, under a full moon, with a broken shovel, which we found near a trash can. Not in the trash can.

Brittan is a multi tasking, multi talented creative chick. She came down to the island to photograph me, and the kids, in a frenzied few hours. (We had planned on the shoot being longer but Brittan managed to drive herself to the wrong airport, before realising she was at the wrong airport, and missed her flight and one of our days)

But under a beating sun and compressed time frame Brittan did manage to capture some magic moments (did I really just write that? magic moments? "Puke" as my 8 year old would say)

And just look at what else she did with our magic moment…….

 Have Brittan create something for you: www.ohhsit.com

NOT SO TERRIBLY INTERESTING FACTS

Surprising facts from this week's modeling shoot:
We really did have to model ALL of those white jeans.
Chandra really did believe that Lipton tea bags would help.
Alex Rodriguez's home really does have practice nets INSIDE (not so surprising, A-Rod is hot. Very.)
And we really were comfortably discussing utter nonsense as our photographs were being taken. 

 

YUMBA

Never been attracted to yoga. Not sure why, may be because I thought it went hand in hand with tofu and knitting your own yogurt. I'm a runner, a very slow one but an addicted one. Three full marathons and several halves.

But then Miss. Tamara and her captivating little butt arrived on the island. And with her she brought Zumba. Zuuuummbbaaaaa.

A latin inspired dance fitness craze. So feisty Miss.Tam, and I have been trying to raise the level of my butt back up, after years of running, and a generous consumption of chocolate had brought it fairly far down. And then onto our Zumba we added in a sprinkling of splits and yoga. (and all you yogis out there, laughing at my attempts below, may laugh away, because that's not yoga I am doing. Its Yumba)

COMMUTE TO WORK

On Wednesday I had to pop up to New York for a few days of work on my Fine Jewelry collections. On a Wednesday there is no morning flight out of our regular airport. No matter, I could drive an hour further down the island and leave from Governor's Harbour instead.

Governor's Harbour is an 'International' airport. Clearly not an exceptionally busy hub. I was the only person in there. A check-in lady meandered in after me. She was also the Sweet Shop lady and the Tourist Shop lady. Two other ladies arrived, in tired security uniforms, they shuffled in and sat down to read their bible.

After checking-in I was asked for $7. In cash.

"What's that for?" I questioned.
"New security machine, $7 to turn it on, for each passenger"
"But don't the security ladies just pat me down?"
"New rules"

I paid the $7 and walked over to the machine, put my bag on the conveyer belt and waited. One of the ladies looked up slowly from her bible "It ain't workin', power's off"

I remained the only passenger in the airport. The power also remained off. Some one had put a large rock by the ladies loo. It held the outer door open a slither. I fumbled my way in darkness to a stall and struggled with the lock. It was broken. As I peeed in the gloom with the broken door swinging open I realised there was no loo paper….

My connecting flight to New York from Miami was on time. We boarded the flight. I turned off my phone and closed my eyes. And waited for the engines to start up. THREE HOURS LATER we finally took off, the flat tyre on the plane having been changed. Half way through our journey the captain announced the weather was getting bad. The seat belt sign would remain on for the rest of the flight. We began to bump and lurch our way up the coastline.

I looked at my watch, with my layover in Miami and the mechanical delay and now the storm we would be landing way after midnight. The captain was speaking again. Unfortunately something more serious was now happening, the trim on the plane had failed. We were being diverted to another airport, with a longer runway, which was being prepared for an emergency landing. We were not to panic. NOT TO PANIC? They were making all the necessary arrangements. The runway was being closed off, it would be lined with firetrucks and police. We were to assume the brace position and to remove all high heels. There was a highly trained team of air stewards on board. There was absolutely nothing to panic about. I looked at the overly made up air hostess in the aisle…….there was everything to panic about.

Obviously we survived, unless Ghostly India is writing this from the twilight zone. Our Captain landed our plane safely, the firetrucks and police limped away and we retrieved our high heels.

But I would have been pissed off if we had died. I had just had my legs waxed.