BABETH LAFON

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Green fading to blue

There are things about you that are just part of you without further questioning. Like being messy, or not the sportive type, or good with your hands etc. For instance I’m what you would call a bad swimmer. I’ve always felt uncomfortable in water and i always assumed it was just so.

I remember when I was a kid, we had swimming classes on Tuesdays. We were gathered in the school’s courtyard after lunch break and then marched up to the local swimming-pool, which was just a few minutes away, although i did wish it were on another continent.

My mum, who was otherwise being extremely if not too careful about the decency of our outfits, just let herself loose on the question of swimwear. Mine consisted of a little green brief with bows on the side. And that was it. Until I was 9. Every swimming class was a nightmare, every lap ordered by the teacher a crucification. I felt as if everyone could see through my chest. That’s how naked i felt. I used to come back mortified from the pool telling her that I really needed a one piece like every other girl in my class, and that it made me feel awkward to “look like a boy from far away” and that I was a girl after all and deserved to look like one etc. She would always say is there anyone making fun of you? Did any of your teacher mention anything about it? Then why worry?!

The years passed and the more I hated the pool, and swimming in general. Then I was 15 and dyed my hair blue. I finally had the perfect excuse not to go anymore - the chlore would have ruined all my colourful endeavours - so I managed to get a letter from our family doctor saying I couldn’t take any swimming classes due to some obscure asthma issue. It worked like a charm until College, when i wisely returned to my natural hair colour and swimming lessons became, to my greatest relief, a thing of the past…

Wait a minute, is this green brief the reason why i dyed my hair blue…?

This was posted 6 days ago. It has 0 notes.

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Snip snip snip

One of my favourite thing about me and my family, is that i have 4 sisters and a brother. Yes, we are 5 girls. Some of us have very pale skin while others tan within the first minutes of sun; black eyes, hazel eyes, you name it; short, tall, whatever you fancy.

One thing we do have in common is having all been blessed with thick and shiny dark hair. I remember wearing them according to the circumstances : down my back when I was late for school, up in a ponytail to go cycling on wednesdays, braided with ribbons on sundays - my favourite.

When the last girl was born, my mum made the 2 oldest take care of the 2 youngest while she nursed our baby sister.

On sundays, right after breakfast, the oldest ones would sit the youngest and start braiding. All we wanted were French Braids, and nothing else.

My little sister and I had to sit tight and remain silent - we were pulled around and “hold this” and “pull that” and “no don’t move!” and “where is the brush?” “give me the hairbands” to hear, at last : “it’s done!”

I ran to the mirror in the entrance to look at myself. I loved that moment. I just loved the look of these 2 neat french braids falling on each side of my head. But then, my sister would start to look closer and - snip, snip, snip - she would just cut away little strands of hair that didn’t get caught in the complex pattern that had just been created.

“No pain, no gain” she would always say. At first i remember being mortified by what she did, but with the time i realised it was nothing my abnormally fast-growing hair couldn’t take, and to me, perfect French braids were worth anything.

This was posted 1 week ago. It has 0 notes.

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All things flowers

I grew up in a house with a little garden in the suburbs of Paris. When my mum got pregnant of me, they started looking for a bigger place. My dad is very fond of gardening, and as soon as they moved in, he started to plant fruit trees, and all sorts of vegetables, and flowers and mini plants. When i was born, he planted a pear tree.

I spent my childhood in that garden, helping my dad planting tomatoes, collecting little heaps of cut grass to play house with my little sisters’ tiny tea set, spending whole afternoons making daisy flower crowns and necklaces, rubbing leaves on my hands to smell their fresh apple-y scent, picking up raspberries after diner when all the bugs are having a party, and then much later on smoking cigarettes on the terrace late at night while everyone was asleep..

I really miss it. When you have a garden, you have a place to rest, play and reflect…

I have always been obsessed with flowers and had that secret dream of wanting to be a florist… About a year ago, i started drawing them a bit more, and researching more intensely about plants and flowers. One day i stumbled upon The Flower Society Appreciation, a florist based in London. I got really inspired by their style, visual references and general aesthetic. A picture of the 2 owners inspired me an illustration, and it got featured on their blog! Many thanks to them again!!! I’m very honoured :)

xx