Jacket: Flea Market, Regensburg
Boots: Vivienne Westwood
Spring is a magical season for me. I love the sound of birds chirping, the smell of rain in the air, and the vibrant colors of the flowers starting to bloom. For me spring awakes the senses. It was one of the first warm spring days in Hamburg when I noticed Mine sitting in the sun and enjoying her coffee. In retrospect I realized why I asked Mine to become part of Imprimoloco. Her energetic personality and the colorful highlighted style symbolized perfectly the beginning of spring. The name Mine is Turkish in origin and stands for the flower "Forget-Me-Not". With a smile on her face Mine told me the story of her style. Her beautiful, red sparkling jacket is a gift from her sister and Mine's favorite piece. Her sister bought the jacket on a flea market for less than three Euros. Mine's story provides impressive evidence that fashion doesn't have to be expensive. "One man's trash is another man's treasure," an old saying says.
The mother of all flea markets is in Paris: Le Marché aux Puces. Any given Saturday, Sunday and Monday there are between 2,500 and 3,000 stalls and shops selling finds that range from antiques to cool French junk. There's stuff like old buttons, wonderful new and used French pots and pans, vintage and new clothes, as well as housewares and furniture. Of course, the better your French, the better your deals.
As a child, I remember often getting confused by trying to remember the different colors of the rainbow. A simple mnemonic aid is the term ROY G BIV (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet). Mine's nails are the logical consequence of her fresh and colorful style.