This summer, my brother married Beñat, the love of his life from the Basque Country, and I fell in love with that part of the world – the ocean, the houses, the colours, the people.
You should see it here when winter is on its way, my brother said to me. Because the Basque Country keeps its magic even when the light is fading.
So Harm arranged a wedding reunion in the autumn. But we didn’t stay at home with him and Beñat; instead he had rented a beautiful house in Getaria. And as any true fashionista will know straight away – but I didn’t realize it until we got there – Getaria is the town where Cristóbal Balenciaga was born. Balenciaga! The true master, as Christian Dior called him. Just the idea of it took my breath away. And the house too, by the way. Beñat and Harm had rented it from their friend Rosita.
We put down our bags in the bright, spacious hallway, the walls full of artwork. I followed Rosita upstairs to our rooms in my floral kimono. The rooms were full of light, with high ceilings and wooden shutters. My room had wooden beams and a wrought iron balcony overlooking a very well-organized herb garden, full of geometric shapes. I didn’t know herbs came in so many colours. What a good idea that is, growing a herb garden – it stays colourful all through the winter.
On the bed there was a gift from Beñat – a woollen Basque beret. Next to my room was Balenciaga’s old studio, where Rosita was sorting through haberdashery. There were two mannequins next to the window, but the embroidered creations they were wearing weren’t finished yet. The table was covered with patterns, sketches, scissors, pins, ribbons, buttons and spools of thread. There was a true artist at work here. Beñat saw me looking.
Mi casa es su casa, he joked, make yourself at home!
Curious, I opened the drawers to the filing cabinet and found them overflowing with fabric samples.
No mischief, Beñat laughed. But of course, you can’t stop yourself from being inspired.
I put on my checked suit and stayed in my room that afternoon – making sketches, of course. Because once you get a good idea in your head, there’s no time to lose. I felt at home straight away, and thought of something a friend had once said to me: your happy place is always closer than you think.
By the end of the day, it was time to get ready to go out. These days I always carry a handy toiletry bag in my handbag. It has everything I need, so I was ready in no time. We all went out to eat at Toki Alai, a Basque restaurant on the edge of a nature reserve.
On the road to the restaurant, the landscape seemed to keep changing colour. And when we arrived, a clear sky full of stars lent a magical glow to the exotic plants and trees. The striped yellow roof of Toki Alai stood out above the dark green. Inside, it was wintery and warm.
We were seated at a large table at the back, next to the open fire that was gently crackling in the fireplace. The candlesticks reminded me of the balustrades in our house in Getaria. We were served five courses. There was different tableware for each course, not matching, but it still made a perfect set. Green checks, striped edges, flowers and deer – the perfect winter medley. And of course, we stayed sitting at that table forever.
It feels so cosy here, I said to Beñat.
It really is, he replied. It’s even called Toki Alai – that means happy place.
I smiled. That friend of mine was right after all: your happy place is always closer than you think.
