The Château de Versailles, the royal residence where Marie Antoinette lived, was once a modest hunting lodge built by Louis XIII in 1623. His son, Louis XIV, extended and transformed it when he installed the Court and government there in 1682, creating a magnificent palace that is now renowned throughout the world. Over the course of more than 100 years, a succession of kings—including Louis XIV, Louis XV and Louis XVI—continued to embellish the palace up until the French Revolution. Now considered one of the finest achievements of French 17th century art, the Palace of Versailles remains a cultural symbol of royal splendour that has been listed as a World Heritage Site for 30 years.
My day at Versailles was one of the prettiest days of my life. I personally went in knowing I would experience over-the top opulence, but I had no idea how beautiful the grounds of the palace were. I spent hours wandering alone through the forest and fields, sitting in the grass and reading, just like in the Sofia Coppola edition of Marie Antoinette. It was a dream.
IT IS A BLUSTERY SUNDAY and coloured leaves are whirling, dancing along the window panes and it’s cosy here, the scent of sandalwood and candlelight, and here, a few images of inspiration — of oysters and sequinned skirts and pretty fonts and watercolours, macarons and le weekend de chanel . . .
. . . in between that lost pocket of time — the one just as winter is ending and spring has yet to begin — time stands still, and the world holds its breath, waiting, waiting, for green grass and blossoms on trees, for tulips and daffodils and everything in bloom, and when it does finally happen, everything is awash in a hazy, golden light, and the everything comes alive again . . .