17 Years enjoying the Weimar Republic!!

 And of course I missed the celebration I was so determined not to miss. Our dear Berlin turns seventeen this year! Many of us have been happily stranded in 1929 for well over a decade now—Delightedly stranded, I should say ;)

I didn´t miss, however, Frau Jo in the midst of preparing the dance-floor while dining at the Adlon with the heartless Herr Abbott (the gentleman who adopted my girls when I... disappeared).

I hope you all have the chance to enjoy the festivities, with or without me. I am still hoping to make it on time for the flooding! Though my real-life chauffeur remains quite unable to understand what we Second Lifers find so enchanting about standing in torrential rain for an entire day.

I shall leave you with a few photographs my aide took while I was socialising about town the other day.

The grand Adlon Hotel! If you have the means, there is no finer place from which to discover Berlin, enjoy delightful company, and ensure that one never leaves the table hungry, and more importantly... thirsty!!

Mysterious character. My real-life chauffeur insists he bears a striking resemblance to an older John Lennon, whoever that may be.

Maltheus (maltheus.canis)

And so it was celebrated, the event I once again managed to miss—courtesy of my blooming brains… or lack of!

Frau Jo built this in a single evening, entirely on her own. Now I know where those biceps came from.

I love their posters so much I might just steal it one of these nights, before the water ruins it.

Mega dinner at the Adlon, outstanding as always. The best bit… the bubbly, naturally… or perhaps the cake Herr Clarrington so generously baked for us at a “modest” price (not). Or herr Abbott sea-blue eyes!

This is the wholesome Ma’am Silvye—the lady with outstanding taste who chose my old house as her new home. I absolutely love what she’s done with it… apart from the small detail of it no longer being in my hands, of course. It turns out she is quite a lovely lady as well, and a genuine pleasure to spend time with, nearly as outstanding as the original tenant *wink*

In the distance, the sleepy yet very wealthy Herr Clarrington.

Our nurse extraordinaire—Oda’s sister. Oh dear, I must be going senile… her name escapes me, and I’m only on my third martini.

 

I wasn’t lying—our beloved Frau Jo really did manage all the decorations on her own. I only hope she doesn’t charge us for it by raising the rent!

Maltheus again, adjusting his sleeve.

And ... the mysterious Maltheus. It´s the last time I promise! As you can tell, I am quite taken by his countenance and by the impeccable quality of his outfit. One should never allow a well-dressed gentleman to slip off one’s radar.

The lovely new park right by the guest house in the Tiergarten—quite possibly the best place to enjoy these long summer evenings in our 1929.

Cheerio, my darlings—have a lovely day!

And if there’s any gossip, come visit me at the Hof while I’m still here! I should be moving as soon as I get the advance for the new book or marry another millionaire *winks*.

Küsschen!

Connie

Friends?

  

Herr Cice. What is he doing wearing such a fancy suit? isn't he a commie, Good God.

HERR CICE : "Please, Connie, can you tell me exactly where you live in Berlin now? I'd like to know so I don't make the mistake of setting fire to someone else's house on May 1st...."

OK OK... there is no way I am missing the riots this year YEEEHAHHHH. Then again... I am poor for the first time what side am I supposed to be on?!  *sighs*

So Many Wars and So Little Time

 

How is life going, you say? Simply spiffing! I’ve somehow managed to reclaim my motorcar from the chap I foolishly sold it to *winks* and it seemed a capital idea—until my Gyna reminded me that now he can spot me tooling about town *sighs theatrically*

Who is he in the photo you ask? An old friend, a proper gentleman, and, by sheer coincidence, the British consul. He’s regaled me with so many war stories I might just attempt to pen them—once I figure out how to write without tripping over my own inkwell, of course.

I’ve been in hiding these last few days, like a cat avoiding the dog, making sure the actual owner of my beloved car doesn’t stumble upon me. Fear not! I shall reappear soon. For now, I feel like a tinned sardine in this grimy little hole I’ve the misfortune to call home.

Cheerio, my darling Berliners!

xx
Connie

Herr TopHat and New Accommodation

 So the story goes…

I have been compelled to abandon my charming little apartment above the Keller. Apparently jazz at ungodly hours does wonders for the soul but very little for one’s nerves. And, as my RL driver so dryly informed me, the place possessed “too few prims,” which I assume is modern slang for “architectural insufficiency.” One never argues with the woman who holds the (virtual) steering wheel.

Thus I have relocated to the in-famous Hof.

Now, before you gasp into your teacups, allow me to present the advantages:

First — I reside at floor level. This is significant.  It opens thrilling prospects for enterprise. A lady with a door directly onto the street is a lady with possibilities. Interpret that as you will.

Second — I am in delicious proximity to dear Dorothy, and directly opposite Gyna’s most extravagant sky-level residence. She remains suspended above us mere mortals in the finest building in town, heroically sustaining herself through her writing. I admire this greatly, though I suspect she also enjoys looking down upon us — artistically, of course.

Third — I have entirely forgotten number three. It's escaped me mid-sentence and fled into the ether. Ah! But wait — it returns!

I now live beside a new Berlin resident: Herr TopHat. A fellow American, no less. And another writer. Though where I dabble in prose, he appears to flirt shamelessly with poetry. He bears an uncanny resemblance to a rather improved edition of Edgar Allan Poe — handsome, but still carrying that faint air of beautiful doom. One half expects a raven to deliver his post.

He is delightfully witty, very pleasant in conversation, and mercifully does not rehearse tragic monologues at dawn. This alone makes him an excellent neighbor.

There are, of course, other novelties unfolding in town, but a lady must preserve some mysteries — and her typing fingers.

I leave you with a few photographs for now.

May your Sunday be restful, mildly scandalous, and accompanied by excellent spirits.

Küsse 

Conniexx

Some Postcards from a Cold January in Berlin, 1929

 

Herr Cice and his Oda, I think their skin will come off if they try to pull themselves from each other now. On the chair the young Leonor.

Sir john, Mitch Charron's cat. They both live in a boat in the stream now. Brave. In fact Sir John hasn't moved in days, I fear he has achieved the frozen-status at last.

My Gyna who is about to turn to the dark side! enjoying her last months of freedom. I cannot leave her alone two days, she always gets into trouble.

Drinks at the Wannsee last Saturday, and the first time I saw Oda after a whole year. I have missed the girl. She is a married lady now! I hope herr Cice doesn't asphyxiate her with Italian mega-love.

A lazy morning at the Kranzler cafe in Unter Den Linden, Lindin? blooming German kills me every time. You know where I mean, just in front of the Bundenber, Brendenburg... B-something gate in Berlin. The two lovebirds keeping the distance... for my sake I bet.

Moi, wishing it was already midday so I could drink something stronger than coffee.

George the Terrible, deliciously handsome though. I guess they deserve each other.

Madame Sylvia (sylvia.pettirosso). My RL driver says she looks just like Madona (don't ask, I have no idea who that Madona is. People in a hundred years seem to have strange names), perhaps Madam Sylvia will be her mother or grandmother one day.

Gottfried Lenz (gottfriedlenz), mysterious gentleman. He loves flying. No human being who loves flying in one of those flimsy machines can be trusted... other than Gyna or Mitch of course. 

A second hand shop I didn't even know existed when I inhabited "Lesbenstrasse". Now I visit it often *sighs*

Home sweet home ... ish. The best about it... that I have to walk less than 20 steps to be inside the cheapest watering hole in Berlin

The Secret cafe behind one of Clarrignton's shop. A real pleasure... if one survives the low beam / lethal trap at the entrance.

Sweet Temptress Vi! In that photo I am wearing one of her beautiful designs. We were both frozen, but  sahen zum Anbeißen aus !! 

And with this and a cake... till tomorrow at eight as my RL "driver" often says.

Have fun, everybody, should you be feeling peckish, the Communist Party is offering free soup and bread at the moment... nor that I would eat anything they offered of course ahem. 

Küsse!

Back Home... In a Cardboard Box

 

Look who’s back in town.
Yep. The best mystery-writer in town. Well... one of the best mystery writers in town. Ok... one of the writer's in town. 

After a minor brush with the law, trusting that time, distance, and a well-spent fortune in judicial goodwill will smooth things over — at least for now.

…with not a dime in my pocket.

I've just spent what little I had left on a flat above The Keller. I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep. A wonderful excuse to drink and dance the nights away — assuming I can find a generous third-party wallet, willing to support me and my vices.

On another note, I paid a visit to my darling Gyna. She doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the fact that I now belong to the “lowest” class, nor that I spent the past year behind bars. That’s just who she is.

That said, she did make me suffer through her wall of fame.

She’ll need a bigger house to hang the photos of her masterpieces at this rate. Hopefully it will have a spare room for pauper friends. *grins stupidly*

In the meantime, my “driver” in RL has also undergone a transformation of sorts — a huge one. She’s relocated abroad and everything, after all manner of (mis)adventures. She claims to be in one piece now, though I fear she may be even crazier than before. *crosses herself*

Let me rest my fingers; I haven’t typed this much in nearly a year. I also need to find some cardboard boxes to sleep on until Frau Jo lets me move the little furniture I have in storage into the new flat.

Hugs to all the Berliners. I have missed you more than you know. Even Jo’s beverages are better than the junk I was forced to put in my mouth at that horrid county jail back home.

Küsschen

Connie xx

AN OLDIE

 As I am away from town for a few days I'll take the chance to publish a few forgotten photos from the Queens night, it's not called like that but I cannot remember the name... *scratches her head* 

Moi, dancing with the handsome Mikk. Verona to my left, Fray Verona! She is facing Herr Cice (Oz's Dorothy) and his straw(wo)man *whispers: who was, of course, his muse, Oda*

You'll have to forgive me, I am awful with names. I have forgotten who this interesting "gentleman" is.

I do remember this one well though ;) but I won't disclose her name... I mean... his name *coughs*

Fray verona... 

I believe she is Celine? she is not in disguise but in the shadows!

the most handsome actor ever, Mikk. And a very golden moi. *takes a mental note to go on a diet, that rear challenges physics as we know them* 

I am not sure who this beauty is but the "Dorothy" behind her has impressive leg muscles! le piace la bicicleta ;) 

Daphne ... *fans herself*

Dorita as elegant and debonair as usual.

Oh this was hysterical ...

This ... I mean... Tequila with her mustached husband ... unhinged !  I have never seen so much or so long a hair in any living (or dead) creature! The Venus of Hairdo!

The dreamy Bryon *sighs*

Georgina and our handsome cigarette boy ...

The pipe gives me away... and the rear, of course...

Little yogurt... errr... I mean Edu! mesmerised, probably by the Venus of Hairdo!

My prince...ss

A folk curiosity and a dog !

*covers her eyes*

the three musketeers ...

Herr Clarrington... awake? *Connie rubs her eyes to make sure*

I think the trauma of seeing herr Cice in skirts will last me a lifetime

And then, when everyone was asleep a very secret rendezvous ... 

a lady with a foreigner in the dark ...No idea who he was. Maybe I dreamed him. Too much bubbly

Cheerio my darlings! I hope you are doing well! enjoy my Berlin for me and make sure the commies go nowhere near my properties!!