Photos and Text by Corey Amaro
Driving along the striking blue, coastline of Marseille, my focus was distracted. It wasn't the sunsetting, nor the liquid blue that stole my thoughts, no I was distracted by the invitation in my hand.
I peered inland, knowing that the party we were going to, was behind one of those many walled estates. Many times, I imagined the homes behind those walls, and the sheer pleasure it would be to wake up, open the shuttered window, walk out on to the terrace covered with bougainvillea, and greet the Mediterranean with Chateau d'If on the horizon. Dreamy.
We parked our car along the seaside, and walked up to the iron gate, where a taxi awaited, taking the guests up to the estate.
We were let out at the main entrance, an iron gate opened, and the path to the estate was lined with farolitos, with that simple touch of elegance, my expectations were sated.
The estate sits on five hectares, on top of a hill, overlooking the sea. The nineteen century home is vacant. The owners do not live at the estate, but share the estate for large events… (I wonder if they would like me to live in their house, I could easily do that for them?)
A side note… if you need a tool to plant seeds, just walk along the area where you want to plant seeds with your high heels. Holes are easily made, without getting your hands dirty.
Large modern vases stood guard at the beginning of the staircase. That was the first clue that maybe the Secret Garden theme was not going to be a feminine-floral-romantic sort of look.
Waiters met us at the top of the stairs with spiked cocktails in test tubes. It looked hyper, new-age, chic, though looking back at this photo it makes me wonder if it weren't some sort of magical potion… maybe that is way I danced the night away?
French Husband took this photo of me, I kinda like it.
The black enormous pillows, black over sized, beds and large lamps were strewn throughout the park. They were the perfect spot late in the evening for intimate conversations, and some would say fireworks.
Black is black. And baby, it was the color of the night. 99 percent
of the clothes I own are black… and wouldn't you know it last night I
wore white.
Most of the women's clothing had to do with chunky lace, flowing short dresses, ruffles galore, High high heels, and ribbons.
The men, I noticed them, who here doesn't??? I checked out what they wore. This year their suits were very fitted, highly tailored, made of silk, with a sheen to the fabric. The jackets' interior, (yes I checked out the interior of their jackets), were lined in flashy silk colors, hot pink, cobalt blue… and their dress shirts also in flashy color. French Husband fit in… but I think he could go naked and fit in. I asked a man what he thought of the new fashion and he said, "This year it is all about: flash, show off, the new 70s sexy." I nodded, he go that right.
The man above was not purple, it was the colored lights. His shirt was lavender, note the dark blue inner trim, the two button collar standing up, and the button hole to his suit jacket trimmed in purple. Too cool.
(I think I missed my calling as a men's fashion designer.)
Silver sofas lined the old, stone balcony, with glass vases holding a few, baby, calla lilies.
Isn't this just the coolest idea?
As the evening fell, colored lights lite up the facade in hot pink, then lavender, then burnt orange.
Black with a splash of color, it was the style of the evening.
Tomorrow I will show you the edible delights, the scent of the evening, and how I danced my feet off.
Until then this is how French Husband and I ended the evening….. on those pillows, under a cloudless sky, with a nearly, full, moon and… well, the rest I will leave to your imagination.
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