What time are you up? At 7.34am, for five minutes of yoga and 20 crunches. I live next to a church, and from my bedroom window watch the congregation arriving to the sound of bells.
Breakfast? I spoil my French husband with a coffee and crêpe in bed. I have avocado toast with chia seeds and a coffee. I drink mine German-style [drip-filtered, not espresso]. Most people don’t like it – they say it tastes like dishwater – but it reminds me of the country I left a long time ago.
Sunday extravagance? A trip to the flea market to buy all sorts of things I do not need: vintage lingerie, feathers and hats for shoots to dress my models in. And I love to watch the sellers there too, the type of eccentric characters all too quickly disappearing.
Sundays growing up? I’d have a special braided hairdo and be dressed in a petticoat and my favourite yellow nylon dress. We’d cram into our neighbours’ house with everyone else in our little town close to Frankfurt, to watch Bonanza on their television.
A trip out? Cycling to the sea in the French countryside. I sing loudly as I ride through the silence and fresh air, with only flabbergasted cows and horses for company.
Sunday lunch? It’s best at home. I’ll put on Radio Nova, my favourite station, which plays funky music, old and new, from all over the world. And then I’ll cook my speciality: spicy shrimps with saffron, chilli and coriander. I like it served with a bottle of champagne.
And Sunday night? They are for staying in, and playing backgammon after dinner. I like to watch old movies and read books on Sunday evenings when the world is quiet.
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