#Combray

[postcard-from-the-past]

Railway station of Illiers-Combray, Beauce region of France

French vintage postcard

[felixcloud6288]

Does Tumblr have a post tag limit?

[fashionbooksmilano]

Armani

testo di Richard de Combray

introduzione di Arturo Carlo Quintavalle , Postace di Anna Piaggi

edizione a cura di Gini Alhadeff e Graziella Buccellati Piaggi

Franco Maria Ricci, Milano 1982, 224 pagine, 25x37cm, con cofanetto, ISBN 88 216-25931, 6000 copie numerate , copia n.2010

euro 1400,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Il libro raccoglie in 121 disegni le creazioni di Giorgio Armani, seguendo l’evoluzione di questo grande astro dello stile. Lo scrittore Richard de Combray ne traccia l’itinerario umano e professionale.

La prima collezione ufficiale di Giorgio Armani, con la sua “griffe”, nel 1975, ha segnato un nuovo capitolo nel modo di vestire contemporaneo e oppone allo stile romantico del periodo un nuovo “tailoring” contemporaneo. Mentre da un lato George Sand ritornava alla ribalta, dall’altro, come omaggio al suo stile “coraggioso”, l’uomo riprendeva, per un momento, una sua storica flamboyance. Questo volume presenta una ricca selezione delle sue invenzioni di stile, raccogliendo disegni nei quali la posa frontale dei figurini è abolita, e abolita è anche la costruzione articolata del corpo secondo modelli proporzionali un tempo accademici, e quindi, a seconda dei tempi, riprogettata secondo formule diverse: figure allungate, figure slanciatissime, figure senza seno e senza natiche oppure con sento e natiche accentuate. Attraverso queste prove grafiche sarà evidente come Armani lasci per strada il rituale stereotipo della “recita di moda” per intraprendere una via personalissima e originale.

01/01/25

[umbrx]

Can you write the beginning of Doffy and Viola's relationship? I often wonder how their relationship started after everything Doffy did to her and Dressrosa. I also want to see how Viola's feelings are mixed feelings of hate and love. They're really interesting.

Doflamingo was a private person. A VERY private one. Still, he was a public figure, and his passionate people SPOKE, especially about their beloved king and his possible love interests. ❝ How do you think it would have started? ❞ Not a confirmation, merely an interest (short-lived, so it better be used well) in one's speculation. Fingers tapped against the desk to a personal tune and lips pulled into a smile at the memories of initial hate. What was there not to hate? Viola had been brought up as a PRINCESS, as someone who was promised to LEAD her kingdom. To become a QUEEN. He could only speculate on the number of plans she had in her mind since young age. Plans to make Dressrosa a more comfortable kingdom to live in, plans to empower it, and most importantly, plans to make her people HAPPIER. She had, unlike Doflamingo, been SELFLESS in her SELFISHNESS, while he had always been selfish in his benevolence. There was always GREATER GOOD in her mind, regardless of the choices she made and how those could've been interpreted or judged. Then, before she could even ascend to the promised throne and reform the kingdom she so dearly loved, it was taken away. Eight hundred years of Rikus' rule stripped away by a descendant of those who had abandoned their rule and ascended to the status of GODS. Her family name soiled and bloodied in the eyes of the people she cared for. Hundreds of years of peaceful rule to be murdered by Riku Doldo's sword slashing away at his own people. The HUMILIATION. The ridicule. All caused by one mastermind and made worse when he gave her an ultimatum. Gave her a chance to SERVE HIM and be degraded from a future QUEEN to a mere SERVANT. What was there not to hate?

Yet, there was a fine line between love and hate. They were contrasting yet complementary emotions. Both concentrated on the object of its desire, and both able to suffocate. In very rare cases, they could create something new. Something interesting, THRILLING even. ❝ Would you place a bet on sexual attraction? ❞ He leaned further into the armchair, raised his legs onto the table, crossed the left over his right. ❝ Intellectual conversations during the night? Clash of wills, perhaps? ❞ Few could keep up with politics the way Doflamingo did. Even fewer could predict or understand his trajectory of thought. His manipulation of the black market, involvement in external affairs, the narrative he dictated across the world and the understanding of the level of POWER he held over those most ruthless. No one held the power of Viola's devil fruit either. A power to GAZE into someone's mind, to HEAR its thoughts — a powerful tool to possess. He knew she had used it more than once. It gave her INSIGHT, it gave her something to WORK WITH. She was only nineteen when he took over, and just like anyone willing to get ahead in life, Viola had to ADAPT. Viola was a rose, Violet her thorns. She knew if she wanted to get anywhere, she had to play the game by his rules and terms. She LEARNED. The more she did, the more she could calculate her next steps. The more she could subtly aid her people from the shadows. He was aware of it, very much so. He also found it AMUSING, at first. He wanted to see her struggle. He wanted to see whether the POTENTIAL he saw when she was offered a position was up to the task. She made sure it was.

She made it worthwhile to engage in conversation. She wasn't one of his yes-men. More often than not, she was his verbal opponent. She would make her opinions known, whether he'd ask for them or not, but she knew when to get the right TIMING. She never did it publicly in front of the Family, she didn't want to seem DISRESPECTFUL (he didn't need her Devil Fruit to know how disrespectful in her private thoughts she was). She would show her disagreement with a subtle condescending sigh, a short-lived frown on her lips, a glare thrown his way (most often). She patiently waited for a chance to catch him ALONE, most often when he was in his library READING, knowing that she could have his attention — if he was willing to give it. Sometimes he'd dismiss her entirely, sometimes he'd indulge her thoughts for his own AMUSEMENT, and sometimes he DESIRED a debate. Mental chess against someone who could peer into his thoughts if she chose to play that hand. The stakes and the need to think ten steps ahead were much higher in such a game. It was a game of POWER. Sometimes her concerns were considered afterwards, sometimes an exchange of favors occurred, but he always, ALWAYS, did what he wanted regardless of the final decision.

The wine in his glass was refreshing on the tongue, well-balanced with an elegant mouthfeel, sweet with hints of spice. It trailed down his throat, red as blood, leaving its IMPRINT. Dressrosa’s produce was unforgettable, much like its women. ❝ Would you bet on the effect I have on people? My deceptiveness? ❞ The charismatic pull NO ONE was immune to. Enemy or not, lover or not, his genuine ALLURE was undeniable. Well-spoken and well-read, he always had numerous topics at his disposal. He was a man of power, and people, whether they admitted it or not, were ATTRACTED to power. He knew Viola was attracted to those same qualities. Her attraction was even GREATER because she saw something no one else did. She got to see far BEYOND what anyone else has ever seen. She had gazed into the abyss, he had gazed back, and she never averted her gaze. She stepped right towards it.

Lips stretched into a grin, a chuckle left his lips. ❝ I'll ask for the last time, how do you think it would have started? ❞

There's a thin line between love and hate. Maybe they were simply confusing their emotions. Maybe he'd make an exception and let her call him Doffy.

[camera-worker]

Self-portrait at The House of aunt Léonie-Musée Marcel Proust, Illiers-Combray, 2018

#07-032-08

Confession: I still haven't finished all 8-volumes (currently in the middle of Volume 4), but this was still one of the highlights of my trip to France in 2018. Covid, weirdly, through me off my literature game and I have a lot of catching up to do.

[maxschwoelk]

Bodas de Estanho da Korina Fracalossi do Gabriel Fonseca Barni no Combray

[gacougnol]

Elger Esser

Combray (Echanney II) France, 2008

[look-sharp-notes]

Alexander Nurulaeff. Dandy Shoe Care.

#alexandernurulaeff #dandyshoecare #The Best #horweenleather #bespokboots #Italy #Parma #Patina #Art #Painting #oldcarpet #oldschool #menswear #gentleman #Dandy #AlexanderNurulaeff #fromrussiawithlove #Elegant notes #Look Sharp #Gallery Inspirations #news #shoes #shoemaker #colors #shades #patern #Spring #fall #dapper #combray #adventure

[museoparticular]

"Un interior iluminado por el sol" Herbert Davis Richter, (británico, 1874-1955) El aire de esas habitaciones estaba saturado con el fino ramo de un silencio tan nutritivo, tan suculento que no podía entrar en ellas sin una especie de disfrute codicioso, sobre todo en aquellas primeras mañanas... cuando podía saborearlo más completo... esperando un poco de tiempo en la habitación exterior, donde el sol, un sol invernal aún, se había arrastrado para calentarse antes del fuego. ' ― Marcel Proust en 'Swann's Way', Combray

[chthonic-cassandra]

Teas currently making me happy:

Raspberry rose oolong iced tea!

Art of Tea's Orchid Oolong

August Uncommon's Combray (green tea with cardamom and vanilla) and Cult of Demeter (herbal tea with barley, anise, and cocoa)

Tea fiori's white tea with rose

[postcard-from-the-past]

Château de Combray, Normandy region of France

French vintage postcard

[plurdledgabbleblotchits]

"No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory – this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. ... Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it? ... And suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it. And all from my cup of tea." Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

[lesser-known-composers]

Peter Mieg (1906-1990) - Combray pour orchestre à cordes (1977), oeuvre commandée par Paul Sacher

1. La salle à manger (allegro) 2. La Vivonne (adagio - presto) 3. Le pré catelan (allegro molto)

Polnisches Rundfunk Symphonie Orchester Krakau Leitung: André Froehlicher

[umbrx]

Hi! I love the way you role play Doflamingo and it inspired me to want to write as well. I just turned 18 and this would be my first role play blog. Any advice for a newbie?

Oi, oi, oi! Welcome to the rpc! I do hope you have a good time.

Basic things for the start: do have a rules page (otherwise people aren't likely to follow you back) where you'll state general rules, your age, triggers if you have any, anything important to note to your fellow rp partners, etc. You can go around blogs to get the general gist of it, but don't feel pressured to write extensive and long rules unless you want to. Short and concise is as good as long and detailed. Secondly, an about page about your character. You get more leeway with this if you're roleplaying a canon character, but it's a must if you have an original character. Thirdly, not a necessity but trust me makes life much easier, is a tagging system. It will help you filter out things you want or don't want on your dash, as much as help with looking up things and headcanons on your own blog.

Everything else, icons, headers, aesthetic as people refer to it, carrd, is not mandatory and is personal preference and desire. If you want to make all these things, by all means go for it, if you don't want to spend hours on it and just enjoy writing, avoiding all of this is more than fine. In that case, make your rules and about page as posts on your blog and link them to a pinned post on your page. You're all set.

Now, darling, here comes the part many won't actually tell you about but I will, just so you're prepared. If you take anything from this post, take the things below.

Do keep in mind that you're dealing with people, not fictional characters. What I mean by that is not the fact they have lives apart from tumblr (goes without saying), but the fact social interactions here are the same as in real life, but with the veil of anonymity and distance between you and others. In real life, you can sort of tell what someone may think of you through their body language, interactions with others, etc. Online, that's much harder to estimate. You will have people pretending to be on good terms with you while talking behind your back with their clique. The more influential they are, the more likely they will turn others away from you. They will project their own insecurities on you (without telling you, of course) and will see you as a threat to their status in the rpc. Highschool drama behaviour but make it adult version, I'm not joking. I wish I were.

Granted, there are people who don't fall into that category. Those people are kind, genuine and will remain friends with you for years to come. Some of them you'll meet in person, some of them will be continents away but you'll hear with them daily, some of them will get to know the real you and you'll get to know them too. I hope you have as many of these encounters as possible.

Goes without saying, but treat others the way you want to be treated. However, do know when to draw the line once your trust has been betrayed. You're worth more than suffering someone's betrayals over and over again. Forgive them like Doffy does (block their ass don't use bullets). Additionally, don't let others and especially tumblr to determine YOUR self worth. I've seen this way too many times over three years I've had this blog, but people (much like with any social media) get focused on number of likes, notes and comments on their posts. If they have more, they're instantly worth more, and if they have less, then something must be wrong. Some people even post about the lower activity on their posts as if it's a big deal. Point being, don't seek validation through something as small as notes on a website. That's the most insulting thing you can do to yourself. Do your thing, write your posts and headcanons unapologetically, without worrying if there are notes or not. You make posts for yourself, not others.

This may all seem harsh and as if you need to guard your heart and not let anyone in. Keep a safe distance, so to speak. You can do that, for sure. However, I'm not trying to make you distrustful and paranoid of everyone here, just to be able to evaluate situations before they escalate (because you will find yourself in one of many mentioned scenarios. You just will, this is tumblr) or to properly evaluate people you're in contact with. Social media is messy, you will get a fruit basket in which you'll have good and rotten fruit alike. You just need to sort them out and throw away the ones which are bad for your mindset, ergo the need to not be naive.

Also, remember that you're easily manipulated. Age has nothing to do with that, people are easy to manipulate. Just like that someone might influence people to not write with you, or get to write with people they want because they've noticed you're friends with someone they like, the same can happen to you. You might be someone they'll try to keep away from those they paint as problematic. You might be someone they'll want by their side. You might be someone they don't want to share with others.

Keep a cool head on your shoulders, think critically, remember that screenshots they share with you are carefully chosen bits of conversations that can be interpreted the way they want, remember there are two sides of the story. I'm not telling you to go and play detective to find out the truth, that would be a waste of your time. My advice, stay out of it. Don't put one over the other, don't pick sides. It's not your mess to clean.

Final last piece of advice, don't trust blindly. I'm not saying to not trust others, just to not do it blindly. There's a difference. Trust is built over time and everything you read is not bulletproof. Good people will invest in the relationships with you and build that trust (source: trust me).

To demonstrate my point: your question. You hold me in high enough esteem to ask for my opinion and advice. You don't know what type of person I am, you don't know my motivation for answering it either. I may be doing it out of kindness of my heart and wish to make sure you don't suffer from tumblr trauma like many people before you, maybe I actually want to spread paranoia online and enjoy the misery, maybe I just want to feed my ego because I know some of my mutuals will read this, leave likes and comments and maybe agree with me. Maybe it's none of the above and the reason is a mystery.

Truly, darling, who knows? Only I do.

[devosopmaandag]

Op zoek naar de verloren tijd in een café te Buenos Aires

Het alfabet maakt dat enkele delen Proust onbereikbaar hoog in mijn boekenkast staan: een paar oude exemplaren, met de wat broeierige omslagen van Wout Muller (van wie ik als prille kunststudent les heb gehad), en enkele nieuwe uitgaves met hun nietszeggende, frisse uiterlijk. Dat zegt iets over mij en Proust op dit moment: of verstoft of maagdelijk weggezet. Ik las maar een paar delen, nooit 'de hele Proust'. Vorig jaar deed lezende vriend P dat wel, vierentwintighonderd pagina's lang. Maar hij is verslagen door een lid van een Argentijnse Proust-boekenclub. Die las Proust drie keer, en daarbij heeft hij een dochter die Albertine heet én die ook nog eens in Parijs woont. Nou jij weer, P!

Ik zag in Utrecht de documentaire 'El Tiempo Recuperado'*, over een boekenclub met oude, enkele heel oude leden. Al zo'n twintig jaar komen ze samen in een café in Buenos Aires om steeds enkele hoofdstukken voor te lezen en af en toe commentaar te geven of vragen te stellen. De film was behoorlijk uitputtend, maar ook ontroerend, vrolijkmakend en op enkele momenten ongemakkelijk. 95 % van de tijd wordt er voorgelezen en met Proust in het Spaans in je oren en in het Engels de ondertiteling lezen is een hele inspanning.

Af en toe schuiven er mogelijk nieuwe leden aan. Een vrouw die nooit iets van Proust gelezen heeft, vraagt of het er in het boek om gaat wie de moordenaar is. Oh nee!, roepen de andere leden lachend in koor. Ook in de bioscoopzaal stijgt er gelach op. Ze wordt niet zozeer uitgelachen; het is de lach van het absurde. Als haar dan even later het vuistdikke eerste deel wordt voorgehouden, deinst ze bijna achteruit op haar stoel. Een passage over de glimlach van een overleden vriend in het boek herinnert een vrouw aan de glimlach van haar overleden man, die zij steeds weer kan oproepen. Alsof hij bijna oplicht in haar geheugen. Ook klinken er zuchten van bewondering en verrukking. En als de vader van de Argentijnse Albertine maar weer eens aan een nieuwkomer vertelt dat hij Proust drie keer heeft gelezen, dan zijn er soms blikken van de anderen. Wat een prestatie, wat een onmogelijkheid!

Voor mij wordt Proust niet opgeroepen door lindebloesemthee maar door de de bloeiende meidoorn. Al zo'n dertig jaar lang laat ik mij ieder jaar voor een bloeiende meidoorn fotograferen. Ook een soort op zoek naar de verloren tijd. In 'Combray' beschrijft Proust de herinneringen van de kleine jongen aan de bloeiende meidoorn: … ze boden me tot in 't oneindige dezelfde charme met een onuitputtelijke overvloed, maar zonder dat ik dieper in hen kon doordringen....”.** De bloesem had iets ambigues voor hem, zoals voor mij de geur het zelfde heeft: verleidelijk van verre, een tikje afstotend van dichtbij. Maar de kleine jongen houdt zo van de meidoorns, dat hij snikkend afscheid van ze neemt.

*'El Tiempo Recuperado' | Maria Alvarez |Argentinië 2020 | zwartwit documentaire 120 minuten

Trailer documentaire : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iER-3qonZJs

** 'Op zoek naar de verloren tijd' – De kant van Swann – Deel Een – 'Combray' | Marcel Proust | vertaling C.N. Lijsen | Uitgeverij De Bezige Bij | 1977

[mauvais--sang]

« L’intérêt de la lecture, magique comme un profond sommeil, avait donné le change à mes oreilles hallucinées et effacé la cloche d’or sur la surface azurée du silence. Beaux après-midi du dimanche sous le marronnier du jardin de Combray, soigneusement vidés par moi des incidents médiocres de mon existence personnelle que j’y avais remplacés par une vie d’aventures et d’aspirations étranges au sein d’un pays arrosé d’eaux vives, vous m’évoquez encore cette vie quand je pense à vous et vous la contenez en effet pour l’avoir peu à peu contournée et enclose – tandis que je progressais dans ma lecture et que tombait la chaleur du jour – dans le cristal successif, lentement changeant et traversé de feuillages, de vos heures silencieuses, sonores, odorantes et limpides. »

—Marcel Proust, Du côté de chez Swann, 1913