Taking the plunge
My first letter to Mendy, aka a new way for us Fieldfare co-founders to communicate with each other (and with you!) via Substack
Dear Mendy,
I honestly thought I might be writing this letter from somewhere more glamorous: the airport lounge at Hong Kong on my way to Sydney last month; the Chelsea Flower Show; or maybe from a hot tub in the Cotswolds. I should have known that I’d end up writing it where I basically write everything: from the little study in my house in south-east London, looking out over the rooftops and the green leaves of the London trees in midsummer, with the dog lying panting on her bed behind me.
My only excuse is that so much has been going on. There was the short trip home to Australia to see my family, with all the jetlag and soul-searching that trip typically entails (more on this in future, perhaps!). There are currently all the end-of-the-school-year events to navigate for the kids, one of whom is about to leave primary school and start at her new secondary school in September. There is the summer travel planning — a week in France before my sister arrives from the States with her family, a week with them in Greece, and lots of touristy London stuff in between.
And last but not least, there is the ongoing house renovation: we are almost at the end of painting (just a couple more weeks! as I feel like I say every couple of weeks…) and our curtains finally arrived just as I nearly lost my mind from being woken at 5am every day in our east-facing bedroom. In the end we went for this John Derian fabric for the curtains in one of the downstairs reception rooms (parrots felt like a brave choice, I have to say, but the room is painted in a dark smoky green, so we’ve clearly gone bold), and a William Morris print for the roman blinds in our bedroom. Still on the very long to-do list are to install all our light fixtures once the painting is done, and sort out the dining room and kitchen in some sort of temporary way while we figure out if we can ever afford to do something more substantial with them. And to finish unpacking the last of the boxes. Nearly seven months after we moved, it feels neverending.
In amongst all that is the actual paid work: did I tell you I have become an interiors writer?! Why yes. Apart from in the various issues of Fieldfare (which doesn’t really count since we, you know, OWN it), I’ve had two pieces published (one in Australian Country Style magazine and one in a forthcoming issue of Country Homes and Interiors in the UK), and a third, which I’ve just submitted, to be published in a Dutch interiors magazine. It is odd and yet exciting to stumble into yet another career at this stage of the game, alongside publisher/editor/publishing project manager/photographer. Writing about interiors feels a little like when I first started posting on Instagram as a complete newbie — exciting, overlaid with a sort of “who do I think I am?” sense of disbelief. Nowadays I rarely feel that excitement on Instagram, as you know (and that could probably be the topic of a whole other letter!).
One of the things that made me think that exchanging letters with you might be a good way of reconnecting with all things Fieldfare (and reinspiring ourselves at the same time) was listening to the Dispatch to a Friend podcast from the founder of Galah magazine in Australia, Annabelle Hickson. It’s just two friends chatting about the things they’re doing, their lives, their interests. It’s not earth-shattering. But it has a lovely homely quality, and it really gives you a sense of their personalities and interests, and by extension it gives you an insight into Galah and its ethos. I really hope we can do the same with our letters to each other.
No pressure though, mate!
On that note, I’m going to sign off, and I look forward to hearing all your news soon.
Love,
Skye x
p.s. This is the other reason I’ve been slow in writing to you — the weather has been amazing here! (Not a sentence I get to write very often.) We’ve been swimming in Whitstable a lot and I love it so much because it reminds me of my own childhood beside the sea…
