blue door montage

I am completely fascinated by blue doors. I collect photos of them from around the world. It’s a really cool superstition; blue doors are prevalent in a lot of exotic places around the world (especially in the Mediterranean regions) as they are believed to repel evil. The vast difference in structure and surrounding fascinates me. I’m intrigued by imperfections (peeling paint, signs of wear, etc) and architectural detail, and pulled by the allure of the foreign. I painted my own front door to my apartment blue. It stands out beautifully. It brings something unique to something ordinary. I think I will always have a blue door.

I found this fascinating, from

“The ancient Egyptians were furnished with the turquoise-blue stone (cyanus, lapis lazuli) from the Sinai peninsula since the 4th millenium BC. The precious material is found in abundance in Tourkestan where its name originates. It was also known in Cyprus but according to ancient writers, the best quality was the Scythian turquoise, whose origin was most probably Chinese. Today, it is mined in North America (California, Arizona) in Central America (Mexico), in Australia, in North Africa and in Siberia. In North America the artifacts of the Indians decorated with the precious blue stone are well known. In Europe the stone is imported mainly from Iran (province of Isfahan), where the best variation of the stone is found. Its shape is opaque and very hard, but porous, and changes color (it turns to green) and “dies”, when it comes in contact with perfumes and cosmetics.
Its ancient name “cyanus” refers, apart from the mineral stone, to the artificial glass and to the paint as well. The natural turquoise stone decorated mainly jewels and weapons, statues, like the statue of Zeus in Olympia had eyes of turquoise inserted and in this practice the Greeks imagined their Gods and heroes as blue-eyed.
The turquoise paint that the painters used was the product of powder turquoise stone mixed with other ingredients or a mixture of copper from Cyprus and sand. The third and most expensive paint was made with the plant “Indian cyanus” (indigo, bluing). Architectural parts of public buildings, like the triglyphs and mutule of the Parthenon, as well as parts of villas in Pompeii and Rome, were painted in turquoise. In Athens, at Omonia square, on Dorou street No. 1 and on Stadiou street No. 58, blue friezes surround restored neoclassical buildings. Similar friezes are found in the Ionian islands, in the Cyclades, in the islands of the Argosaronic gulf and in Macedonia, in the villages of Mt. Paghaion.
The custom is of worldwide dimension, because even today in provinces of Spain (like in the Mancha of Don Quixote) buildings are decorated with blue bands and designs. Also, houses in Egypt, in the Arab villages of Israel, and entire villages in Moroco, have blue walls. The same turquoise color decorates the houses of Mexican Indians and strongly speaks of common universal civilization features.”

Here, some of my favorite blue door photos from around the world–enjoy.



Sarajevo, Bosnia

Gyeongju, Korea

Essaouira, Morocco (by Linda Mathieu)

Asilah, Morocco (this one is just so amazing, the colors)!


Greece (my personal favorite)!


Absence of Fear

by Jewel

Inside my skin there is this space
It twists and turns
It bleeds and aches
Inside my heart there’s an empty room*
It’s waiting for lightning
It’s waiting for you
And I am wanting
And I am needing you here
Inside the absence of fear
Muscle and sinew
Velvet and stone
This vessel is haunted
It creaks and moans
My bones call to you
In their separate skin
I make myself translucent
To let you in, for
I am wanting
And I am needing of you here
Inside the absence of fear
there is this hunger
This restlessness inside of me
and it knows that you’re no stranger
you’re my gravity
My hands will adore you through all darkness aim
They will lay you out in moonlight
And reinvent your name
For I am wanting you
And I am needing you here
I need you near
Inside the absence of fear

*do you think Ben Gibbard of Death Cab for Cutie is a Jewel fan? Hmm.

in Heidi Klum's bag

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
What type of bag are you carrying right now?
Which items do you always have in your bag?

A wallet with lots of pictures of my children, lip balm, Nars powder in Beach, MAC bronzing powder no. A24, perfume, keys, and Michael Kors aviator sunglasses.
Which fragrance and lip gloss do you carry?
Orlane lip gloss no. 40—and my signature scent is “Heidi Klum.” Check it out on my website,
What should a woman always carry with her?
Breath mints—because you never know…
For women such as yourself who are always on the go, do you recommend carrying snacks in your bag?
Absolutely. You have to keep your body nourished when you’re running around. I always carry protein bars and shakes made by my trainer, David Kirsch.

With Love

Though not new, I’m so in love with With Love, Hilary Duff’s fragrance. Not a Duff fan per se, but her perfume is definitely amazing–I’m always complimented on it. Highly recommend that you smell it; it’s a perfect autumn-to winter fragrance. ♥

With Love…Hilary Duff is an expression of love in all its forms and dimensions: the unconditional love of family, the generosity of friendship, and the breathtaking excitement of romance. Exotic fruits add an intriguing sparkle to the rich woods and sultry ambers of this effervescent, oriental fragrance.

Mangosteen Fruit, Exotic Spice Blend, Chai Latte, Mangosteen Blossoms, Cocobolo Wood, Amber Milk, Amber Musk, Balsam, Incense.

Sparkling. Sensual. Warm.

we ♥ Fiona Apple

Underrated and not forgotten. Nothing drags me out of (or deeper into; when I need to be) a sullen, somber, girl-angst mood like Fiona Apple’s music.

Undoubtedly talented as a pianist, singer, and songwriter, fearlessly agressive yet somehow soft and vulnerable, Apple deftly embodies and expresses so much of what a young twentysomething would go through. Attractive yet imperfect; she confesses to only owning two bras, and during an interview she’s worn a blue quartz pendant, admittedly to cover a blemish on her chest. She’s so specific, but that’s what I like. Fuck the mainstream; it’s about the music, and further beyond that, it’s about the feelings and moods that inspired the lyrics that become the music.

Perhaps this quote from a September 2005 Rolling Stone article sums it up best:

It’s a realization that echoes Apple’s increasing awareness that you don’t have to be miserable to be idealistic. “When I was younger . . .” she begins, her eyes searching the room as she indulges in a pause long enough to be slightly awkward. “How do I put this? I had troubles. I don’t think I was actually idealistic then. I think I was absolutely wrapped up in being exactly the person who did this and did not do that. I had rules about everything, and I think my reasoning behind a lot of it was a little bit kooky. I was afraid of somebody stopping to love me, and I was afraid of making a fool of myself in public, and I was afraid of being misunderstood — that was a big one — and I convinced myself that by living a certain way I was somehow protecting myself. But once all those things happen anyway, and they’re terrible, and you’re not fine for a while, but then you’re fine, you actually come to a place where you like your life. And it makes you go, ‘Oh, wow, I’m really kind of proud of myself. I have some good stories, and I look back and I like what I’ve done with my life. I like the furniture that I’ve chosen.’ When that happens, you can play a little bit more and you can be looser and not worry about falling down so much because you know that, whatever happens, you’re going to be OK.”


by Jewel

Infatuation is a strange thing.
A bony creature thin with feeding on itself.
It is addicted not to its subject, but to its own vain hunger
And needs but a pretty face to fuel its rampant imagination.
It’s humid couch and sweaty palms.
It’s fleshy carpets ablaze with conquest.
But when conquering is complete,
the blood leaves its limbs and it becomes disenchanted.
Disappointed even to the point of disgust
with its subject, who sits then, like a hollow trunk,
emptied of its precious cargo
and left to fade like defeated naval ships.
A seed relieved of its transparent husk,
to dissolve finally on a rough and impatient tongue.