The loves of my life: Remie Clarke
The writer and voiceover artist chats to Chloe Brennan about her favourite people, places and things.
My mother, Grace.
Hiking in Chitral, a northern mountain region in Pakistan close to the Afghan border, some years ago. I bought second-hand hiking boots in the village, thinking that because I walked up Bray Head most weekends, I'd be fine. Within an hour, my ankles had started to swell ominously in the boots. At one point, I slipped 10 feet on loose shale and had to claw my way back up, but, after surviving that first day, a very kind family, who kept goats in a valley between the peaks, fed us and let us stay the night. Having come close to perishing hours before, it was one of the best meals I'd ever eaten, all the more so because it was enjoyed under a night sky bursting with stars.
The moment of the day
Just as the sun is setting and the sky silvers, and you pass into that suspended, vespertine state between day and night, the softened evensong lifted on clear evening air.
Higher by Kwamie Liv. Kwamie is a dear friend of mine, whose music I would listen to even if she wasn't. This song came out around the time of the marriage referendum passing, and it really captures the soaring emotion of the time for me.
Bright Star, directed by Jane Campion.
She reveals character with acute vision and sensual beauty. And the performances from Ben Whishaw and Abbie Cornish are heartbreaking. I weep every time.
If it must be only one, the liquid world of Jean Rhys's Voyage in the Dark is something I always return to. To finish it is to come up for air without realising you've been close to drowning.
Just recently, my dear friend Ruth married her beau in Tuscany. A group of childhood friends, whom I rarely get to see now that we're all living in different countries, spent a delicious few days together eating pasta, drinking Chianti and laughing, laughing, laughing.
Women are my heroes. I'm with William Golding: women make everything they touch greater, even against the enormous odds this world asks them to deal with.
I love Parisian style, and attempt to emulate it in the Wicklow wilds, so any combination of pieces by Sezane or Rouje will keep me happy.
Not taking things personally looks great on everyone.
I am blessed with many wonderful friends whom I adore and admire. My cousin Natasha I count among my closest - there from the beginning; funny, stylish, endlessly caring - and she brings me hot sauce back from her travels.
The pet hate
People misspelling my name, even when it is clearly signed. It's a baffling and irritatingly common occurrence.
The part of my body
Hesitant to carve myself up into pieces, I'll say I'm grateful for the whole of it, and all that it gives me.
I have a fondness for random fits of twerking, and gardening - preferably together.
The beauty product
Rose water. I use it all throughout the day to stay fresh. It's also a cinch to make at home.
I prefer a rooftop bar, to watch the sun go down over the city, of course. I'm not fussy, as long as the view and Old-Fashioneds are good.
When I pop back to London, I sometimes go to Soho House with friends. They do a rooftop bar very well.
The multidimensional Riz Ahmed [a British actor, rapper, and activist]. I admire his talent, his mission for representation and equality - and he's not bad to look at, either.
I am obsessed with scent, the primal evocateur of narrative. There is a community of people who translate perfumes into stories online, and reading them is a favourite pastime. But if I had to pick a smell, it would be a peat fire burning. All the more, perhaps, because its days of burning may be numbered.
How could I choose between truffle, vanilla, lemon, olive oil, rose, salt?
And I haven't even touched upon Bean and Goose chocolate… OK, then! Passion fruit, if you insist.
Sunday Indo Living