The STYLE DEFINERY COLUMN -
From now on every Monday for the first coffee ☕️
Sometimes I think I have ADHD. I don't know if it's social media, the Internet in general, Netflix, Amazon and Apple TV, age, the many different tasks that Style Definery entails every day, too many self-optimization apps and too few Movement - but my average attention span is now clearly less than that of a goldfish. According to a study from 2015, the latter manages to concentrate fully on one thing for a full nine seconds, which is probably a bit tight for me. My thoughts race back and forth, up and down, jumping from right to left and then back to the middle. My head is more disorganized than a three-bed room at my son's boarding school. While writing this column, I freshly made my bed, cooked spaghetti with pesto, changed the cartridge on my Brita water filter, ordered swimming shoes from Amazon because I'm invited to Hydra next week and suddenly remembered that in the many emails Regarding the planning and the program, somewhere it said that you need swimming shoes on one day. Afterwards I watched videos of Hydra on YouTube because I've been to Greece many times, but never to Hydra. Then I remembered that I actually wanted to write something about my love for Nescafé in my column, so I first made myself a Nescafé and ate a piece of chocolate, which in turn reminded me that I was finally finally able to see the wall- You should download the Pilates app because, as we all know, nothing comes from nothing. Afterwards I looked on Google Maps to see where there was a church near me because when I woke up this morning I heard bells ringing for the first time since I've been living in my current apartment. I didn't find a church, only the synagogue around the corner from me, and I realized that I basically know far too little about synagogues and whether bells are rung there. By the time I was done researching this, my coffee was cold and the column was still non-existent, which in turn led to the realization that if I continue like this, I will never live up to the standards I set out with regarding my column do justice. What I wanted to deliver were “creative style guides, exclusive insights into the world of sustainable luxury, inspiring and sometimes tragicomic stories from my everyday life, delicious culinary discoveries and personal film and book recommendations” - at least that's what it says on the website . But because I couldn't decide what to discuss first, I went to the bathroom and smeared a face mask from Sisley that promised "Instant Youth" on my face. In the closet I found an overnight rescue mask for my hair, which needs urgent care after my return from Andalusia. And since I was already standing in the bathroom, I decided to quickly paint my nails because they looked almost as damaged as the ends of my hair.
Afterwards I sat back down at my laptop and decided to write something about my beloved Nescafé, even though for 90% of people that doesn't really fall under the category of "delicious culinary discoveries". The opposite is the case. Instant coffee has about the same status as canned ravioli. But I love it and can't imagine a morning without it. In fact, I'd rather not drink coffee at all than a cup of coffee from the Nespresso machine or, worse, a filter coffee that's already had a few hours on the hot plate. Nescafé is always fresh and quick. No hours of warming up the portafilter machine, no complicated programming processes on the Jura display, no sudden request to descale the machine when you just want to start the day in peace and relaxation. Instant coffee also has a high emotional value for me. It brings back childhood memories of warm summer days when my brother and I ate tons of vanilla ice cream with my mother. My mother always sprinkled Nescafé over her balls, which made a delicious melange. When we children were alone or our parents weren't paying attention, we secretly made this “ice cream parlor for the poor”, because we were actually far too young for coffee. We then felt incredibly grown-up and sophisticated and imagined being able to go entire nights without sleep on our caffeine trip. The latter is completely illusory today, which is why the memory is all the sweeter.
When my eldest daughter became seriously ill in 2012 and we had to go to the hospital for many months at a time, the first Nescafé in the morning was like a ritual. In the midst of all the hospital hustle and bustle of beeping IV stands and all kinds of monitoring devices, between tons of examinations and procedures and a constant back and forth between hope and fear, the first cup of coffee in the early morning was something like a tiny little island on which I was completely alone . I sat on my deck chair and mentally prepared myself for the new day, watched my daughter sleep and was happy that another night had been survived. The coffee tasted of peace and gratitude, of hope and comfort - and it still does for me today. For me, Nescafé is like the man I love, like “Sex and the City”, swimming in the sea, Berlin in summer and my ancient but beloved Vanessa Bruno blazer - a love, an attitude to life, a moment with guaranteed happiness. And there aren't that many of them otherwise. Maybe some fries with salad. But I'll write about this culinary amour fou another time.
Have a wonderful start into the new week,
LOVE, Anja
