Ceux et celles qui me connaissent un peu savent que j'ai été élevée chez les Témoins de Jéhovah où seule la mort du Christ est fêtée... Joie! Ni Noël, ni Nouvel An, ni anniversaires, ni fête des mères, des pères, ni et ni.... Que nenni.
Je confesse donc que beaucoup de mes Noëls ont été d’un lugubre parce qu'inexistants!
Les créations de Natacha Cadonici portées par Julie Morelle au JT de la RTBF1 et dans l'émission Déclic
Hey hey, la classe non?!…
Si vous vous demandiez quels vêtements et quelle marque Julie Morelle portait au JT de la RTBF1 depuis des années et dans sa nouvelle émission Déclic, vous voilà bien informées maintenant:)
Julie Morelle choisit les créations de ma collection et mes vêtements depuis des années. Julie Morelle a donc choisi de collaborer avec Natacha Cadonici pour son stylisme!
La belle Julie Morelle en Natacha Cadonici en +- 2017...
« Comment elle a encore réussi, cette petite renarde futée de Cadonici, pour contacter cette star de l’actualité, Julie Morelle, cette journaliste hors paire, cette femme sublime et à la séduire avec ses créations» vous vous demandez hein?!….
Laissez-moi vous conter l’histoire…
En 1996, après des études de 3 ans comme Assistante de Direction et un poste de secrétaire soporifique dans une boîte semi-privée, semi-publique, je décide de faire un deuxième Master à l’université Libre de Bruxelles (ULB) en Philologie romanes.
J’aime la littérature, les mots, les langues étrangères, j’ai des facilités pour les apprendre, j’aime la poésie, j’aime écrire et ma mère est un professeur de français redoutable: engagé, pédagogue comme personne, passionnée.
Bref, je me dis: suivons plutôt les sillons de ma maman pour devenir prof ou tout autre métier dans l’écriture, l’édition plutôt que de faire les mêmes études qu’une de mes congénères que j’admirais beaucoup chez les Témoins de Jéhovah: Anne-Marie…. Mais ça, c’est une autre histoire.
Je décide donc de m’inscrire à l’unif, je commence à suivre les cours avec passion, avidité et exultation. ET… et c’est là que ça devient intéressant: je copine méchamment avec Florence, ma Flo d’amour.
Une complicité hors norme et incandescente s’installe entre Flo et moi: on rit comme des bécasses, on étudie ensemble, on est tout le temps fourré l’une chez l’autre dans nos kots respectifs à dormir l’une chez l’autre, étudier l’étymologie, le latin, la littérature. On se soutient au niveau scolaire mais surtout moralement avec nos zygomatiques en feu.
Flo et moi dans mon not...
Et… et c’est là que ça devient croustillant: il se fait que Flo me présente sa meilleure amie, une certaine Julie…
LA Julie Morelle. Celle qui, de 1996 à 2000, étudie le journalisme à l’ULB.
Au début, j’avoue que j’étais fortement jalouse de Julie: non seulement, elle me volait la première place dans le coeur de Flo mais par-dessus le marché, elle est belle, élégante, redoutablement intelligente, cultivée et engagée dans ce monde. Tout pour agacer la femme relativement complexée que j’étais et qui sortait des Témoins de Jéhovah et avait du mal à regarder l’actualité politique, économique, mondiale sans avoir des sueurs froides qui me rappelaient qu’Harmaguédon, la guerre imminente de Dieu, allait arriver.
Et puis, j’apprends à la connaître, on sympathise, elle rit de mes vannes, de mes conneries. Je la fais rire. Waouw!
On part au ski avec une bande de potes et on devient potes. On ne sera jamais de très grandes amies car Flo est quand même au milieu de nous deux dans ma tête et je suis en compétition avec Julie pour lui voler le trophée: Flo!
J’arrive à lui « piquer » (à mes yeux) Flo rien que pour moi pendant quelques moi lors de notre Erasmus commun à Rome. On s’éclate, rien qu’à deux. On se kiffe grave!
Flo et moi à Rome en remake de "La Dolce Vita"
Les années filent, on monte nos carrières, nos familles et Flo reste une très grande amie qui m’est très très chère. Je continue à la fréquenter assidument. Je suis demoiselle d'honneur à son mariage. Et par la même occasion, je côtoie régulièrement Julie tout au long des années suivantes: à des fêtes, des annifs, mariages, brulages de culotte. J’ai bien sûr suivi de près sa carrière brillante de journaliste, ses engagements et ses centres d’intérêt avec admiration et plus une once d’envie.
Quand je commence à créer, je me dis « why not sur Julie Morelle?… »
Julie Morelle vient régulièrement à la boutique se choisir ses tenues chez moi car elle aime mon style, mon stylisme, mes coupes qui lui vont si bien et qui passent si bien à l’écran.
Et je suis donc devenue, en partie, la styliste attitrée de Julie Morelle qui porte mes vêtements, mes créations, mes tops, mes robes avec une élégance inégalable. Elle a même craqué pour la robe Anna bleu marine/orange fluo qu’elle a souhaité m’acheter. Bref, j’arrête de faire le paon, j’ai les futurs vêtements de Julie Morelle à dessiner moi…
Ju et moi...
Si vous connaissez, de votre côté, des femmes inspirantes qui pourraient être les ambassadrices de ma marque de mes valeurs et des leur, dites-moi, je suis preneuse!
La bise, Natacha happy
You only get one mom.
Although. Sometimes two. Sometimes not. Sometimes more. Sometimes several.
Anyway, personally, I've never celebrated Mother's Day. Formal prohibition because... Jehovah's Witnesses.
However, as a child, apart from the Sacred Ban, that didn't stop me from concocting surprises that would get me excited:
Making the bathroom glow for (what seemed like) hours... And being disappointed that she didn't get more excited about my work. "That's sweet, honey, but I'm tired. I'm going to bed". Sniff.
Gathering my small savings to offer her a pink bicycle jewelry box that I thought was too pretty. I hit the nail on the head... Yes!
Stubbornly buying her makeup when she never wore it. She had a very peculiar relationship with her femininity: she was very beautiful but not at all seductive. Zero make-up, no perfume, just a few beautiful dresses and a soul to die for as her most beautiful asset.
But I wanted her to wear makeup. She told me that "no, I'm allergic".
But me... I needed more to discourage me; I am stubborn...
So, once again, I took my small savings and went to the local pharmacy to buy her a hypoallergenic lipstick. She would have no more excuses.
What a bummer to find out that even that one she wasn't wearing. Or my nail polish for that matter.
The only red stuff she wore, on very rare occasions, were her patent heels that I was secretly drooling over in her closet. They were open and could have shown that famous nail polish. But anyway.
As a teenager, things got tough.
Yes, she and I were far from being ecstatic.
I had to say that I was very angry at her for getting my brothers and I involved in this cult that broke more than one of our wings.
To have given us inadequate reference points to have the keys of this world.
And probably unconsciously, for not being a blooming woman.
She is calm and level-headed. I am impulsive and spontaneous.
She is reasonable and thoughtful. I am a go-getter and a hothead.
And I am...
In short, as a teenager, I don't know how she managed to put up with me! In addition to our differences in temperament, my grumbling about her strict and forbidding upbringing, I was, like many teenagers, haughty, pretentious, disdainful and I never missed an opportunity to spit my contempt at her.
Her greatest weapon was the Olympian calm she displayed in the face of my sarcasm and jabs.
It was not until I became a mother myself that I could smoke the peace pipe.
That's right: when my firstborn son arrived, I fell off my pedestal.
I quickly realized that I too was making 1,000 mistakes as a mom. That I was not unsinkable.
That it's not that simple to invent yourself as a mother.
That no matter how hard we try to do the best we can, we are all caught up, to a greater or lesser extent, by our all-too-human humanity, our frailties, our "imperfections", our fears.
It was at that moment that I realized how my mom had to deal with her own chaotic history and that, well, she did a pretty good job with us! Indulgence was born...
Since then, a real virtuous circle has developed between us.
Water has flowed under our cracked bridges.
The masterful time has repaired our wounds.
She confided in me that she had missed her youth and her life as a woman. "There is no way I am going to miss my life as a mature woman!
So we each continue our respective roads in a mutual respect and we meet again with delight at our little crossroads.
I love the grandmother that she is: available, funny, witty, educational, gentle but firm, structuring. With her, the worst grammar lessons become real children's games, walks, life lessons, board games, laughter.
And I love the mom she is, especially since she has reconciled with herself. Seeing her blossom, happy, joyful, is her greatest gift to me and what carries me the most.
Gone are the vitriolic dialogues of the deaf.
I can only see the beauty of this woman that I cherish so much. Her values and her uniqueness inspire me every day: she is generous, benevolent, funny, piquant, modest, reasonable, cultured without making a big deal of it. Her anger is cold and elegant. And she knows how to choose silences that speak much louder than 1,000 words.
This Saturday, May 9, is her birthday.
This Sunday, May 10th, her celebration.
And like every year, I will celebrate her outside of these dates.
Because my mom is like my own Alice in Wonderland: I have 364 days to wish her "Happy Non-Birthdays".
Still have doubts about the usefulness of a homemade mask?
Read this article.
We agree, it is NOT a medical device. And of course you have to keep up with the hygiene standards: regular hand washing, distancing yourself, etc. But if you have time for others, they can help so many people and they will repay you in 1000 ways. I am still amazed. If you only have time for yourself and your family, that's great. Let's get to the heart of the matter:
After having read a lot about the issue, the model doesn't matter, as long as it covers the face well and you can slip in a filter (optional): read the article from Couture et Paillette: it's long, very long... but complete, technical and accessible to the most common person.
That matters! In this regard, I first read the aforementioned article by Couture and Paillette. I also asked an infectious disease physician, public health nurses, etc.
In the end, I opted for 100% polyester: it's the material that seems to be the best barrier to this "Co-co".
Its not very pleasant and comfortable side on the skin does not bother me: I rarely wear it since I rarely go out... Elementary my dear Watson.
If on the other hand, you have to use it all day long, follow the "material" advices of Couture et Paillette (rather cotton or cotton-polyester): they are full of common sense, combined with scientific information validated by the biggest health authorities.
Easier than that, you die. You cut:
- a rectangle of 22 cm x 36 cm
- 2 rubber bands of 13 cm (length to be tested according to the elasticity coefficient of your rubber band) and, incidentally, the size of your ears...
- You don't have an elastic?
- old tee-shirt to cut out
- fabric cut into strips to tie.
Where to buy supplies?!Elastics:
- Assabban (the cream of the crop in terms of humanity and generosity)
Leduc (well, for those who already practice, in terms of sympathy capital, we are not at the level of Assabban... but is that really the point...
Both of them deliver at home.
- The best plan...: The Fabric Sales donated 150 yards of 100%polyester. They were stored at my house until recently in my youngest son's room.... He was feeling "slightly" overwhelmed by these 5 bags of Ikea fabric (the blue ones, you know... very big...) Lionel kindly took them home; he gives them away in 5 meter batches:
Lionel Wathelet Rue du Ham, 63, Uccle
Contact only by phone: 0475/375945
Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays
Only: 13:00 until 21:00
Tuesday and Thursday
Only: 18:00 until 21:00
Saturday: to be agreed
PLEASE DO NOT RING THE BELL
Please call before your arrival to pick up the fabrics on the doorstep.
The Fabric Sales: home delivery; if you have time to kill to sew layettes, slips, comforters, tops, dresses or others: they have fabrics from Belgian & French designers to die for... Ultra ultra nice & generous in addition; it does not spoil anything....
- Gotex: they are open
And if not, old sheets, tee-shirts, kitchen towels, it's good! If that's all you have on hand, in my opinion, it's better to "be half protected than not protected at all."
Come on, let's start! You'll see, it's easy and you'll quickly get the hang of it...
1. Your rectangle is flat. Fold it in half widthwise and press on the fabric to mark the middle of each side. Place the beginning of a measuring tape from the middle of the fabric you marked by folding it in half; with a chalk or a pencil, draw lines +- 5 mm long at 2 cm from each edge:
4, 9, 10.5 and 13.5 cm. The 4 will go on the 9: it's your first fold; the 10,5 on the 13,5, it's your 2nd fold (see picture 6).
2. Attach the elastic bands in the middle of the fabric 1 cm from the bottom edge. You now have 2 "bear ears", inside out.
3. Fold the fabric in half, with your rubber bands inside.
4. Start sewing a little to the right of the middle of the open part, so that you have an opening to turn your work over. Stitch to the first corner, then continue to the second corner, fabric fold side. Since the elastic is smaller than the length of the fabric, you stop in the middle of this side length to put the second part of your work back flat (the fabric will pucker the fabric, no stress).
5. You turn the (pretty) beast over
6. Place the folds, referring to the chalk lines and holding them with pins. Same for the opening in the middle, at the bottom. For the experienced, you don't need to put the pins in, a little practice and you're done.
7. You pick starting from the fabric fold
8. You turn your work and continue
9. 2 minutes 30 later (for the pros and a little practice), you have your anti-Covid 19 weapon...
In photo 9, I close the middle opening. You can leave it open to put a filter in. It's a bit of a rock and roll system since nothing is overcast, I admit. But there's nothing to stop you from overlocking the fabric on that side before you start stitching.
If you have the time, there are much more finished and pretty patterns. But since I don't have much time, and because we're not in a beauty contest, I opted for a rough finish but it works.
These are from my friend Aude de Wolf, from The Wolf brand: they kill of course!
But then again... We're on a different time frame...
What kind of filter? The answer, still in the article from Couture et Paillette.
In progress... I have the rushes... If someone offers to do the editing... I can't follow it anymore :-)
When you put on your mask, don't touch it anymore; otherwise, you risk to contaminate it again (I can feel the tension of the hypochondriacs rising when reading this post... Yes, it does...).
When you want to take it off, wash your hands well before: same logic of non-contamination...; put your mask in a small bag and wash it.
In the washing machine, at 60°, with a little soap. Like me, you don't wash at 60° every day! Here is a witch's secret...:
- Boil your Marmitte in simmering water (min. 60°).
- Throw in some toads... (Oops, sorry, I'm too much in character here... ) I meant to say: COPEAUX of Marseille soap (or any other soap).
- Dip the mask in it and let it simmer for at least 30 minutes.
- Let it dry. Wear it again. And again.
You're ready to kiss a Prince or a Princess. By far...
It's still not clear?! Send me an email (firstname.lastname@example.org) and I'll send you a vocal tutto with my sweet & tired voice.
Please: don't overwhelm me with 1,000 questions. I don't have much time: entrepreneur, solo mom and mask layer, it keeps me busy. Thank you!
ps: a picture of your masks is always nice: post it on FB #sewfreemasks by tagging me (@natachacadonici) or on Instagram with the same #sewfreemasks or #natachacadonici, always tagging me (@natachacadonici). That way, I'll get a notification with each post. Can't wait to see your masked balls!
Don't you have a sewing machine?
Nor anyone with a machine around?
Are you lost in the middle of nowhere?
And you are a hypochondriac?! (and maybe you are right for once!)
1. Make them out of paper while waiting
Here is a tutto to make your own paper masks (to be thrown away after each use).
I'm not (yet!) a specialist in the matter but my aunt Nella who lives in Milan (in the eye of the storm a little while ago...), has seen a lot of masks tutorials. She recommended the paper we use for the oven.
2. Do you want to "order" some?
A. For the needy on the front line
Post your request on the #seewfreesmasks wall: we volunteer for those on the front lines. Include the following information: for whom? How much (let's be reasonable...)? Where do we work?
The volunteers who have taken over the management of the group will answer you if any seamstresses have stock or availability to sew. Don't hesitate to read the last posts. We all have our noses to the grindstone and not often on our screens to put you in touch, the donors and the applicants... This is the best way to make a good "match". (Which will surely have more chances to succeed than the dating sites... Moreover, by the times which run...)
B. For you
Yes, you have to think about your buttocks too! And by the same token, your neighbors' butts by protecting yourself.
So: you send me an email (email@example.com) with your request:
- number of masks desired
- Where you live
And I send you the practical information:
- about possible delivery by post or at my place in Uccle,
- about my system of free and conscious donations... And yes, it requires a little word of explanation...
Don't worry, everything will be explained in my mail and we'll see if I can help you or direct you to the right people.
Attention: I am a good fairy but not a magician. I try but I don't guarantee anything. I also have a private and professional life. Let's remain courteous and respectful.
Masked mega kisses and a confined big hug,
FINDING MEANING, TACKLING TURNING POINTS, STAYING THE COURSE...
As I enjoy writing as much as designing clothes, I decided to give you, if possible once a month, a BLOG article (my new toy!) to let you discover the backstage of my work, my inspirations, my aspirations, my slights, my stories, my History.
Your feedback feeds me!
Don't hesitate to give me feedback on this aspect of my work too: it's another way to be in touch with me, it's always interesting to have your feedback and there's no doubt about it: it MOTIVATES me!
Who is this chick?!
So let's get to the heart of the matter and start at the beginning: how did the daughter of an Italian shoemaker and a half-Belgian, half-Russian French teacher become a stylist and entrepreneur? Nothing on this picture let it foreshadow...
But on this one, as my mother says, you can already feel the flirtatious side of the little girl in me: the hand raised like a princess, the graphic mini-dress but above all the decided air...
So, first of all, there is my father, an Italian, bon vivant, extreme, joyful. He has always been a craftsman. From glassblower to shoemaker, I've always known him with customers, leather, a passion for the beautiful, for the noble, harnessed to his sewing machine, relentless and an unconditional love for his very stylish wardrobe.
Secondly, my mother's passion for literature: I have been inspired by it in all my communication. Often, when I write, I hear my mother speaking.
Moreover, the pleasure I get from my sewing machine reminds me of the joy my mother used to get from typing on her own typewriter.
It was always my mother who, even though our family had limited means, allowed herself the pleasure of having dresses sewn that she had designed herself, at a local seamstress. A real Proust's madeleine, these moments between women, of joy and creativity.
Here are my parents: my Belgian-Russian mother, intellectual, reserved, spiritual and past, my father, Italian, joyful, delirious, impulsive, extroverted. I am the sweet mixture of this hot-cold...
My great-grandparents from Russia were also into fabrics: they were breeders of Astrakhan sheep in Russia! I inherited a third of one of these coats; but that's another story, for another article perhaps...
What can I say about my Milanese aunt, my father's sister. Born in a very poor Italian village, very soon Nella had to work, at the age of twelve, to support her numerous brothers and sisters. She started as a hairdresser and after a few years, thanks to her unwavering willpower, she ended up opening the most prominent beauty salon in Milan! When I went there as a child, I was fascinated by this world populated exclusively by women who took care of themselves, pampered themselves and, above all, were of a beauty and elegance that was rare in my eyes. My aunt had a major impact on my life. I will also come back to this in another article as there is so much to say...
It took me a while to find my way....
11 YEARS OF STUDY, OUFTIII...
First, I passed my 3-year Bachelor's degree as an Executive Assistant with great distinction. However, my first year of work was a little less distinguished by the deplorable quality of my work, which matched my deep boredom with this type of livelihood. My need for creativity was stifled and I remember how frightening it was to imagine myself stuck, for life, in an administrative job that didn't suit me at all.
On my umpteenth trip to the Canary Islands to get away from the meaninglessness of my existence, I realized that the frantic flight of my being on vacation would never bring me the joy I had known as a child. The joy of having a meaning in my life. I decided to go back to school to hopefully find a profession that would make sense to me.
GO TO UNIVERSITY!
Thinking of my mother's joy in teaching, my love for literature, my facility with the French language, my excellent spelling acquired through daily dictations (Oh my God...), I decided to shake off the torpor of this soporific first professional year by launching myself into the study of Romance Philology (French Letters) at the Université Libre de Bruxelles.
I experienced this moment as a real liberation: the freedom of thought of the teachers, the interest I felt in the subjects I was studying, the exciting encounters with other young people who were passionate, interesting, funny, brilliant and ambitious won me over.
The first few weeks, I was pinching myself, so much so that I realized how lucky I was to have a mother and grandmother who supported me, both morally and financially, in my determination to make my own mark on this earth and my resolve to be happy.
How I was looking forward to meet you in the writing...
How I was over-excited to shout out loud to you: