Ep: 72 Natasha Lester – The Paris Seamstress

A delightful exploration of Natasha’s journey while writing ‘The Paris Seamstress’. (I am now a fan of ‘The Book Podcast’ and will catch up with all 70 previous episodes.)

The Book Podcast

How much will a young Parisian seamstress sacrifice to make her mark in the male-dominated world of 1940s New York fashion? From the bestselling author of A Kiss from Mr. Fitzgerald and Her Mother’s Secret.

1940. Parisian seamstress Estella Bissette is forced to flee France as the Germans advance. She is bound for Manhattan with a few francs, one suitcase, her sewing machine and a dream: to have her own atelier.

2015. Australian curator Fabienne Bissette journeys to the annual Met Gala for an exhibition of her beloved grandmother’s work – one of the world’s leading designers of ready-to-wear. But as Fabienne learns more about her grandmother’s past, she uncovers a story of tragedy, heartbreak and secrets – and the sacrifices made for love.

Read more about Natasha here

Six word synopsis: Haute couture dreams reveal dark past

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Anniversary

Yesterday:  sorting, saving and adjusting my ‘millions’ of family photos while the memories flood in – and realizing the date.

 

Anniversary

 

Your quiet smile

loud in my head

listening eyes

speaking when

touch removed

sorrow returns

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2018

 

#FMFPoems   #Anniversary #Loss  #OldPhotos  #Memories

‘After Hours’

Once again, I am re-reading favourite poems among a treasury of words from David’s book, ‘After Hours’:
‘Ornithology’ is a stand out, as are every one in the ‘After Hours’ section, lovingly sculpted and so relatable to my own father…
‘Last orders’ – we lived near the Jameson factory in Midleton.
‘Redundancy’ and the name of his dog told me so much more – I feel I knew him too.
“In time, our secrets bleed from the myths in which we
bind them.”
Thank you, David.

Perth Words... exploring possibilities.

Just ordered my copy of ‘After Hours’ by David Cooke, a poet I discovered on WriteOutLoud.  I enjoyed his poem ‘Your Chair’ on his profile page on WOL, it reminded me of my own father and his Irish-ness.  David said his latest book includes more poems about his father so I know I am bound to enjoy them too.

He also operates an interesting on-line poetry magazine ‘The High Window’ which I mentioned in an earlier post about the WA Writers Festival.

If you live in the UK, order your book directly from the Cultured Lama website, but if you live anywhere else, contact the publisher who replied very quickly to offer an alternative opportunity to buy.

Can’t wait to read more of David’s words.

#DavidCooke  #AfterHoursBook  #Poetry  #WriteOutLoud

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Postcards: ‘I Need You’

The painting is on the small tester board included with my very first set of oils, given for my birthday, when I was twelve in 1962.  I am amazed I still have it.

#FMFPoems,  #PoetryPostcards  #INeedYou  #Love  #ReturnedLove

Postcard: 2 Cinquains

 

#FMFPoems,  #PoetryPostcards  #Cinquains  #Love   #Secrets

Poetry Postcards: Perth views

 

#FMFPoems  #PoetryPostcards  #PerthViews  #RottnestIsland  #PerthCity  #Forbidden  #Smoking  #Peacocks

Mum again…

• A couple of years ago, working at our stall, selling our delicious home-made fudge in the sunshine on Mindarie Keys boardwalk,  with the seagulls, boats and water slapping, I suddenly saw my mum.

  She’s been gone for many years, but still, caught unawares…

  This customer looked so like; sounded very similar and her mannerisms – even her stature – she could have been my mum!  I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  Although we were six deep with customers, I took off after her, rushing to catch up before she disappeared – desperate not to lose ‘her’ – again!

  I can’t remember what I said which convinced this lovely lady from Tasmania, to sit with me on a stone wall in the sunshine with crowds walking around us, and let me tearfully explain.

  So many similarities; English upbringing, boarding school, love of books, music, nature, roses and her huge garden at home where she grew a lot of what she needed to eat.

  Probably, she said, why her son turned to cooking – he was a visiting celebrity chef and she had come over to keep him company.

  Needing to hear her talk, watch her eyes smiling at me in gentle understanding, eventually – reluctantly, gave her a hug ‘goodbye’.  (Living down south, I hadn’t been able to…)

  Hubby had to carry on, cope on his own with a rush of Fudge-a-holics, while I cried for my loss, all over again.

  Sleep

  I can
  only consider
  soft eyes
  repose
  calm, sweet face
  small breaths

  ’til I realise
  they’re mine.

  I breathe
  and contemplate
  the alternative
  only when
  someone asks…

  Frances Macaulay Forde © 2006

#FMFPoems, #MissingMum  #Poetry  #Loss  #Strangers  #Fudge