Montréal, mon amour

Montreal, rue Fabre in autumn

Do you believe in soulmates? I do. I believe there is someone who swings to the same tune. Someone who loves the same things: silence, morning shadows, standing in line for a coffee in a busy bakery, when streets are messy with fallen leaves, when no-name bands play something from Simon and Garfunkel and strangers who smell of Eau de Cartier. I believe it could be anyone: a man, a woman, a child, a dog, a city. Do you believe in love from the first sight? I do. I believe in chance, in alignment of stars, in destiny and in forces of nature that bring together men, women, children, dogs and cities.   


Lavender-Scented Summer

Lavender flowers

It’s spring here in Estonia. I walk in the forest on my rare holidays. I scout for tiny lilac flowers on the thick carpet of dark moss and pale new grass. Soft and innocent scent of lilac blossoms is the signature of my spring, the very essence of mellow April on the shores of cold Baltic sea. June smells of linden flowers from grandma’s garden, sweet and honey-ish like in my childhood. Every summer, as a matter of unwritten family tradition, I picked linden flowers for tea. Linden tea is like dandelion wine – it makes summer last well into


London for Lovers

london_lovers3

I love London. And so do film directors. It's like no other city. Every borough has its own face, its own crowd and mood: unapproachable, aristocratic Mayfair, bright and joyful Notting Hill, young and wild Camden, modern chic Canary Wharf and stylish Shoreditch. There is a perfect setting for any story. Really! This Valentine's, just for fun, I have put together a little collection of beautiful places from my favourite LLM (London Love Movies). Here they are:  


The Adventure of a Fairy House

fairy norman house 8

People, who believe in magic, know that fairies exist. And if fairies exist, there must be fairy houses tucked away in different corners of the world. No use to search for them. They emerge out of nowhere in the middle of your journey at the very moment when you feel lost or exhausted or desperate for a little magic. We found ours on the Route of Cheese somewhere in Normandy and even if you asked me I would not be able to show you a short way there. First we passed a tiny village of Camembert: three-odd houses bathed in the brightest sun-rays and a closed cheese museum.  


Instant Escape: to Paris

Narine

Last week we went to Paris. We wanted to see it through the lovers' eyes, capture its fleeting beauty, uncover its secret places, spy on its everyday whereabouts. If you are following Fairies & Co on Instagram, last week you were visiting Paris with our lovely guide, Narine. Narine came to Paris herself three years ago. First she studied Art History and Literature, later she changed to Oriental Languages. Her uncle is a film director, that's why, she says, she always loved photography. And she always loved Paris. While working on our Instagram Paris week, Narine realized that she would like to give guided private tours of her secret Paris places and combine them with photo-shootings.   


London, my soul mate

87

I am sitting on the doorsteps in the heart of Chelsea waiting for my clients. I am a photographer and thanks to my trade I move a lot around the city in search of new beautiful locations. I am holding a large Starbucks latte in one hand and a raspberry muffin in another. I am wearing flat soled ballerina shoes and a blue dotty scarf. This is a common londoner's looks: ballerina shoes all year round and a scarf for when it gets colder. Places where we live change us, ever so slightly. London prompts me to stand in queue even when I am alone on a bus stop. And to wear scarf and mittens instead of coat in autumn - they are easier to hide in my bag when sun appears unexpected. And to grab a coffee whenever I locate a coffee shop. And to consider the tube the best city transport ever – no one in London goes to work by other means. London taught me to smile to strangers  


Sunday morning when nothing happened

View of Montreal

It was a Sunday morning. It was one of those Sundays when nothing happened, when nothing was ever supposed to happen, nothing at all. What could ever happen on Sunday? Except that the weather people said it would be the last warm weekend of autumn and the leaves were all shades of red and yellow and yellowish red and quiet waters of Saint Lawrence river looked almost perfectly blue. It was a fine day for taking chances, and changing plans on a whim. A day for letting things happen and letting go. It was a good day for strolling sleepy streets of Montreal on my own, looking for an open café, waiting for a friend, who accepted my sudden invitation for breakfast.