My personal style signifier is a Breton T-shirt. I am French, and I’ve been wearing them my whole life – 36 years. I’m always looking for the perfect shape and stripe. My parents used to buy the really thick cotton ones from Agnès b and Petit Bateau, but my current favourites are by Matteau. They’re expensive, but are made from a very hefty fabric and have a drop shoulder. It almost feels like you’re wearing an authentic marinière shirt.
The last things I bought and loved were three hand-crocheted tops from my sister-in-law’s café-atelier – Las Flores – in the Andes, where my husband, the chef and ceramicist Fernando “Fefo” Aciar, is from. She lives in the last little village in Argentina before you hit Chile. It’s always buzzing at this time of year.
A hand-crocheted top bought in the Andes © Rafael Rios
We fill suitcases with heavy cotton sheets from French flea markets to use as tablecloths or curtains
The place that means a lot to me is Garzón, a very special village in Uruguay. I’ve gone every January for the past decade. Fefo introduced me to it; he’s been going for nearly 30 years, originally to work with chefs Francis Mallmann and Ignacio Mattos. The wonderful thing about it is that you’re deep in nature; there are horses and sheep roaming around and an amazing community of people you would never know are there. It’s very discreet. But then you can drive 30 minutes to José Ignacio, a town with a beach and lively restaurants. One of my favourite trips was right before I had my child. Fefo was doing a ceramics residency at Francis’s studio. Normally he stays for longer and I head back to New York for work, but because of some Covid-related situation, they had to cancel my flight. It ended up being the best babymoon. We were on cloud nine.
