I'm Dreaming of Broderie Blanche

Every year about this time I manage to hide myself away in the South of France to unwind amongst orange trees, blue skies and the antique markets of Nice, Menton, Aix and L'Isle sur la Sorgue. There are always lovely textiles to be found and I never fail to fall in love with white linen diligently embroidered with white monograms. It is beyond me how families can part with these items passed through the generations...but they do. Is it the lure of money? Is it because no-one remembers who exactly MM might have been? Is it because they take up too much space in a modern house? Or is simply because the family rarely gathers around the table for the polite ceremony of taking dinner? I remember when I was at school in France, there was always immaculate linen in the evening for supper, I can smell its freshness even now. And always there was the silver gilt little table-sweeper for hoovering up those delinquent crumbs of baguette.

Here you can see some clippings from vintage broderie blanche magazines I acquire every year - and every year my resolution is to stitch just one napkin with one initial. Maybe this year...

Here is the lively market of Isle sur la Sorgue where sometimes in winter the Mistral slices fingers and noses like a cheesewire. Bargains are hard to find these days, though the joy of looking and small purchases provide a store of pleasure for the year to come.