*~ A little story of great love ~*

Last week, I organized my first ever fashion show. So much fun, but as it was a very important evening for my little company, there was also stress and rush. I did my best to keep my cool at home as my boys easily worry for me if they sense I’m upset or distressed… Thought I’d managed.

Next day the show was over – I was deliriously happy, and utterly wiped out. Had crawled into bed without even having the energy to take my clothes off. My son was with his father that week and called me with his sweet yet determined voice: “Maman I want to come to see you!” First time for a visit when it’s the other parent’s turn to take care of them… Hmm. “I’m really tired honey I’m in bed, not much fun for you”. His mind was made up “You can sleep, I just want to look at you”. Strange, but you don’t say no to a child who wants to be with you.

He came – alone from one home to another – first time ever, too. His little face was cold from winter and alarmed with worry. As soon as he saw me peek under the blankets and smile at him, his concern melted away.

He had come to check for himself that everything had gone well and I wasn’t feeling low or lonely.

Of course I had told him over the phone that things were wonderful but he knows I wouldn’t easily tell him even if the evening had been a disaster… So he wanted to read it from my face.

He crawled to bed under my blanket, asked if everything was fine, I said couldn’t be better. Now he felt it was true. He played with my hair and hummed away little songs as he’s done since being a baby… I kept on dozing off…

Suddenly he said he wants to run to the store to get something. Another first. A surprise, he said.

He came back beaming with pride… He’d bought me milk for my morning coffee… There’s no getting me out of bed without it, he’d seen the empty fridge. AND he had bought me a bar of my favorite chocolate, placed in on my pillow.

“Okay I must go. Homework.” Now relaxed and happy, he energetically kissed my face all over. “Don’t get up. Sweet dreams ma petite Maman”.

It’s true what they say… It’s the little big things that truly matter. In my book that visit, milk and chocolate go down as the most beautiful display of love imaginable.

Taken at a time I swore to always protect him... And in just 10 years, it goes  both ways. Life is but wonder and magic <3.

Taken at a time I swore to always protect him… And in just 10 years, it goes both ways. Can’t believe how lucky I am.

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*~ Made me feel like writing again ~*


while the early dawn’s cold wind, 
bruises against your lovely cheeks, 
may my longings gently pass, 
through the air, into your waking self … 

for it shall bring along my passions, 
the kisses that I scattered for you, 
looking at the starry night sky, and 
the hugs that I sent looking at the lonesome moon. 

place your palms soft on your restful face, 
let it convey the warmth and heat, 
that my burning body released into the bed, 
while tossing and turning sleeplessly in your memory … 

while you are ready to take on the world, 
gently-softly open the windows of your heart and soul. 
let me reside there intoxicated in your contemplation, 
smiling with you in joys and burning with you in times of rage and pain

- Doni Rimo -

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~* HeartBreak *~

My dear readers, dear friends. I am so sorry for not having written to you in such a very long time. And starting again is surprisingly difficult… Such a threshold there is, almost like a mountain to climb, to reach you again. So I’ve not had the courage to Just Do it.

But now, let me try, even if it won’t be perfect. If it won’t even be good.

Here goes. This past year has been the roughest in my whole life. I’ve lost someone I loved. This broke me down so badly I still don’t know how to get up. Then, divorce. Loosing my home. I lost several family members too, was left very much alone. I’ve been let down by people I trusted; unbelievable yet true, both my money and my identity were stolen… Both by people I had considered as friends. My health was bad, so was the health of my darling youngest son.

I lost my ability to write.

Jackin jooga

But now finally I am in a safer place in life, in my own little apartment, where I feel I can breathe. Where the loves of my life, my two boys, feel at home.

So I struggle to find my words again.

This is my first little step. Thank you for bearing with me.


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~* À la vie! *~


On one Christmas evening, I wandered around our village; a tiny pittoresque Provencal town, sheltered by mountains all around. That night, we were surrounded by thick, soft white fog, clouds hanging so low that the mountains were hidden. There wasn’t a soul in the village, everything was closed. I wandered around the narrow cobblestone streets and enjoyed the total silence, the fog covering me like a blanket.

I was all alone but in that moment, not lonely.

Then I saw warm Christmas lights blinking in the only shop that was open, late at night on Christmas Eve. It was Bacchus, the tiny wine shop of Bagnols. An elderly gentleman, the owner, greeted me as I passed by, and wished me happy Christmas. Why was he working on Christmas Eve, I asked.

But this is not work, it’s my passion, he answered earnestly. Such a great answer.

A warm and charming person full of anecdotes, he invited me for a wine tasting. There was a white wine nicknamed the Ferrari (there was something fastsharpred about it!) to go with oysters, and yet another white characterized as a Rolls Royce (taking it luxuriously slowly), to go with gambas. The Ferrari to be served icy cold, whereas the other should be no less than 9 degrees… How do the French do it, I ask myself, they turn every meal, every event into an artform.

Mais Madame, he explained, vividly speaking with his hands, you could never wear taupe eye shadow with orange lipstick! Wrong temperatures, wrong dry white wines, mixed with the wrong type of seafood would lead to désastre of similar proportions.

He joined me for a tasting. À la vie – to life! – he toasted. AND explained that when you toast to life, you must look at each other in the eyes. Otherwise, it’s bad luck.

Oh well, that explains quite a few things.

Suddenly, we were surrounded by what felt like half the village, everybody gravitating towards the only place open, lit up, lively.

À la vie, we declared together.

A heartfelt toast, a heartfelt moment, strangers coming together at Christmas. Looking each other in the eyes.


on another, way sunnyer day..


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~* True colors *~

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Christmas night is turning into morning and I haven’t been able to sleep at all. But this time, it’s sleepless in Bagnôls, in a good way. Just me, the lights of the Christmas tree and a fireplace, still oozing warmth for having roared all day.

Time for reflection. Totally alone. I miss that sometimes.

My heart is pulling together highs and lows of this past year. If I tell you the truth – and in this blog we speak the truth – my feeling is of deep and profound gratitude, and of equally deep loss.

This year, I have lost two people – not to death but to life – whom I considered family. Eventually, it will hurt less but knowing myself, I don’t just get over people I have loved. For me it takes years. Last time, over three years ago, I lost two familymembers over one day and still, the scar is raw like an amputated arm. I have ghost pain, every day. Sorry for the harsh language, I’m not being pessimist here… But a realist, just this once.

Gratitude is for finding a path to follow. Something that feels right. Something that has reached and touched people. My little company, my very own, has given me such long lost confidence and joy. And the people I’ve found through LadyBohemia – be it company, blog or shop – are nothing short of human angels. Before this adventure of entrepreneurship, I couldn’t have imagined how many people would support, encourage, have faith in me.

The other side of the coin, very strangely, something totally new to me, was being badly let down by people I trusted. Not once not twice, but three times. These things happen and you just pick yourself up and keep going, I know. But this cut is a little deeper than skin. You see, if there’s one talent I know I’ve always had, it is an ability to read people, to instinctively know who to trust and who to keep at arm’s length.

Whenever I’ve gone for the listing of pros and cons, a rational systematic decision making process, I’ve ended up more or less lost. With intuition, never. Until this year, time and again. Now, I’m left questioning and disappointed. Not of the people around me, but myself.

Lastly, yet maybe most importantly, this has been a year of true and real friendship. New soul sisters, deep connections and encounters, or people I’ve known forever, making me feel how much care and love I am surrounded with.

True colors shining through. I think a quote from Cyndi Lauper would summarize my 2013.


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~* Rose de Noël *~


My mother-in-law (Mamie, as we call her) never fails at exceeding herself in kindness and in hospitality.

Last night, I arrived in France after midnight, downtrodden by a flu – I’d worked till the very last moment, left to the airport straight from the boutique – so rather exhausted and worn out. And what awaits on my bedside table…

Mamie had picked up a Christmas rose, rose de Noël, for me from her garden. She knows how much I love flowers. Next to the rose, a sweetest selection of Chanel 5. My favorite perfume.

 And of course the sheets on my bed were not only ironed, they were the prettiest ones she has, chosen based on my favorite color.


´Before my first morning here was over, she happened to come across an Art Deco powder box that has been in the family for almost hundred years. Two lovebirds, carved of silver, on a beautiful black box. Simply divine a piece, from the family of Uncle Jean, who fought in the forces of La Résistance during the Second World War… Uncle Jean, a pilot, who during the war had legendarily made an emergency landing right in the middle of the Champs-Élysées…

Knowing how much I love those stories, Mamie insisted on giving me this box she had inherited from Uncle Jean.

It’s not even Christmas yet.


I am so touched, I can not put it in words.

It’s not that Mamie would be swimming in money. Not at all. She is just the most generous, kindhearted and considerate person I have ever come across in this life. She goes absolutely out of her way to bring joy the people around her, always making it look breezily effortless. When I tried to thank her for the box, she just changed the topic, saying “Oh you know it’s just an old piece, I couldn’t use it for anything…” Yet I know she has treasured it for decades.

I don’t hold idols, but Mamie is an exception to the rule.

I try so hard to learn from her, even a little something.

Let’s see, if one day my daughter-in-law would invite me to come along to her honeymoon, like I invited Mamie to ours (but that’s a whole another story…), I would have succeeded.


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~*are you lost in the jungle for good? *~

Once upon a lifetime I bought a one-way ticket and moved to Calcutta. That year, I spent the Independence day there, with my Indian family who had made their home my home. So considerate they were, that on December 6th, to surprise me, all the women of the family had bought gorgeous blue and white silk saris and wore Finland’s colors…

They cooked a beautiful festive dinner, and we burned two white candles in every window.

It was beautiful. So much deeper than mere beautiful in fact.

Today, of all days, I cleared my old photos and letters. And found a letter my father had written to me on that day, that very Independence day. I’d thought I’d lost those letters forever, as I’d desperately searched for them so so many times… Now that he’s gone, they are priceless.

Today, I found all the letters my worried dad had written to his rebel daughter.
Are you lost in the jungle for good, the first one begins.


“Dear Dad. I’m out of the jungle, but so much hasn’t changed regardless. I’m a little bit lost, as ever.
And I know you’re still out there somewhere, looking after me.”

A moving Independence day to each and every one of you my darling readers.

Kisses, from your very own



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