One of my favorite craigslist search terms is “Italy” or “Italian,” because I know a sleek sculptural piece that wields an uber designy flavor will sharpen up any room. The right Stilnovo fixture will take any 18th century palazzo straight into the 21st century, just as the perfect pair of Gio Ponti chairs will offset the stuffiness of a roll arm sofa or super traditional fabrics.

And in the interest of international relations, let me add that I’m not anti France, Germany, Denmark, Eastern Europe, or any of those other furniture making countries. It’s just that craigslisters can’t seem to find many labels except those that broadcast the pedigree of anything 90s Scandinavian orange teak veneer, but somehow the Made in Italy label has the aura of cash flow about it, so that usually merits a mention in ads.

Beware of Copenhagen Imports unless you know who Ettore Sottsass is and enjoy an ironic nod to his sensational but perhaps not so versatile aesthetic… I’m pretty much talking about cheap 80s black lacquer and red leather mushroom sofas. Can these things be awesome? Yes, but you better have a plan for all that swag or things will get ugly fast.

You know what’s not ugly? These rooms. You’re welcome.

[Pinterest]

Hi. A lot of people have written me wondering where the hell I went. I’m not dead yet, but lately anything beyond merest survival has eluded my grasp. In any given day juggling a newborn and a three year old leaves me about five spare seconds to rub together, and I’m just wondering if it’s worth it to come back to blogging.

My kids need me. My husband needs me. My laundry piles need me.

But decorating is a disease, you know? I can’t stop fantasizing about kitchen and bathroom renovations, pasting wide swaths of wallpaper over anything that will stand still, and of course… repainting.

Because who would I be if I didn’t redo everything I’ve already done? I live in an experimental lab, and someday soon I hope that people will hire me to experiment on effortlessly redecorate their homes, too.

Also, it appears I am hosting a HUGE Thanksgiving party at our house… PANIC MODE!!!

Really who would I be if I weren’t a complete and utter basketcase? I know a lot of you are concerned about this aspect of my personality, but I kind of get off on pressure.

(Cue Queen and David Bowie)

So I suppose my endless, self indulgent stress is something worth blogging about. Maybe.

Anyway, let’s take a look at what I need to do before the masses arrive for dinner.

#1. Figure out how to seat 20 people. Or at least eight in the dinette area.

Our replacement marble table may or may not arrive in November, so we could be stuck with a rickety piece of vintage pecan shit. Hopefully it won’t collapse under the weight of an 800 pound turkey and enough casseroles to initiate myocardial meltdown. I think we may have to get rid of some furniture…

#2. Renovate entire kitchen.

Yeah, I never got around to painting our hideous cabinets before the baby came. Surprise!

I’d rather just rip everything out anyway. Should I go traditional?

Euro – nouveau?

Or somewhere in between?

Who am I kidding?  I have even less money than time. But just maybe I can figure out a way to paint those god forsaken cabinets.

#3. Redo office/guest bedroom.

This will be the third time I paint that room… don’t tell Ben. Not yet, anyway.

I’m thinking dark sexy green. I’m sure the office/guest room will look EXACTLY like this.

Or this.

Somehow I managed to cobble together a moodboard for this redo (moodboards mean I am for serious). Do you want to see it, or do mood boards just piss you off?

#4. Wallpaper the damn hallway, already.

Oh, how I wish I could afford Zuber.

Or for David Hick to reanimate himself and come visit me.

Or Cole and Son’s Nuvole, which I have been obsessing about 4EVR (I must have ebola, because I can’t believe I just typed that).

I do, however, have three rolls of Neisha Crosland’s Zebra, and if I can ever paste it up it will be RAD.

Can I start a collection plate to save Erin’s brain? Thanks.

#5. Tweak the kid rooms.

They are almost done… just need a few accessories and then I can shoot them.

Or you know, I could start over and make Ike’s room look more like this.

Or this. HOW COOL IS THIS ROOM?!

And the baby’s room should probably look more like this. I must have that bed.

That is all. Basically I am unhappy with everything I’ve “made,” but don’t feel sorry for me (or, more likely, be disgusted by me). Dissatisfaction is just my normative state of being. I’ll be happy when things are perfect.

Ok, maybe you should feel a little bit sorry for me. I am obviously insane.

Also, am I insane for still blogging? This post took me all day to write… and if you haven’t read this post by Jenny then you should, because then you will know I am not alone in the to-blog-or-not-to-blog conundrum. Writing a quality post (which this may or may not be) is a lot of work.

I have so many post ideas about art and fabrics and trends and my house (duh), but my time is very very precious.

Yeah, that is kind of a sad little plea for feedback.

What would you like to read about here?

Ok, gotta clean the baby puke out of my bra and make sure Ike isn’t playing with knives…

Good to proverbially see you guys again. I’ve missed you.

Toodles.

[pictures via my pinterest, because I be tired]

How was your weekend? Mine was filled with painting and cleaning. Ok, and maybe eating. The Inlaws kept Ike Saturday night so we could go out on a date, and I somehow found myself  faceplanted in a ginormous stack of fried donuts stuffed with cream cheese and bananas, drizzled with caramel sauce, and smothered with cinnamon ice cream. I think I had a When Harry Met Sally moment in the restaurant, but hours later as my rapidly shrinking underwear began digging into my butt cheeks, I felt a little remorseful for bingeing.

No I didn’t. That was the most delicious thing I have even eaten.

These rooms are delicious, too. How do you like that segue?

Art. Art. Art. Scale. Edible coffee table.

Everyone needs an amphora served with a slice of hot pink pie in their life.

Like a lemon meringue — crisp and frothy yet satisfying.

Later, taters. I have to go briskly waddle around in hopes of burning off some of those sweet delicious calories.

Worth it.

[Images via pinterest]

It’s getting nervous up in here. I love to make decisions for other people, but when it comes to myself I will waffle endlessly if given the chance. So, on one hand it’s probably a good thing that the baby is theoretically coming in four months. On the other hand, I’m starting to panic that we’re going to end up with a patchwork quilt of insanity because I have to make too many choices too quickly.

Mostly I’m freaking about all the colors I’m slathering all over the walls. Teal, coral, peach, navy, oh probably some green while I’m at it… how many colors can one house reasonably (gracefully) hold?

I’m kind of a colorphobe. My downstairs closet is full of gray and black and navy. But my secret upstairs closet (the going out closet) is full of orange and pink and gold and turquoise and acid green. It seems that I almost always chicken out at the 11th hour when deciding if I should slip into something more colorful — I pretty much have to be hitting the bars at midnight to fluff my peacock feathers.

But I know that while there’s definitely an allure to cool and aloof, everyone wants to party with the crazy girl in color.

Am I right?

Still, I don’t want to go berserk in here. Crazy should not equal slutty. I just don’t think I’d be comfortable most of the time dealing with that much stimulation… from color. Duh.

I will admit to loving just a restrained shot of color — that perfect foil for an otherwise neutral and serene palette.

But I don’t know… once I get going I kind of can’t stop myself.

And then things get interesting.

I’d like to know what you think about “the rules” regarding color in decor. How many colors can you balance in one room? Three? Five? Infinity?

What about in a whole house?

I mean, we’re definitely going beyond light beige, medium beige, and dark beige here.

But can every room be a different color?

Please discuss.

[Pinterest, Porter wallpapers/fabrics, AD, Jeffrey Bilhuber, Pinterest, World of Interiors, Luxe Interiors]

It’s takes a lot to wow me on a morning when I’m coughing up a lung and still haven’t had any coffee, even though it’s almost 9am. Still, it can be done. But let us not mince words. Let us instead look upon some rooms that have the wow factor I found a little lacking in my mockup of Ike’s room. And let us not make comparisons between me and Simon Cowell. I would hate to think that this blog is devolving into the American Idol of interior decor… or maybe that would be awesome? America — you be the judge!

So what can we ascertain about the wow factor from these pictures?

#1. It looks expensive, because it often (but not necessarily) is.

#2. Scale is an issue — bigger is better in terms of creating a focal point.

#3. It could be paint, wallpaper, lighting, textiles, a giant head shaped sofa, you know — whatever. But it’s the hook that compels you to look at the rest of the room.

Now my background is in art, not interior design, so someone will probably come along and tell me what an ignorant douche I am.

No biggie.

But I would like to know what your favorite means for creating a visual hook is.

Tell mama.

[too sick and lazy to link -- go to my pinterest for sources]

Hi, my name is Erin, and I’m two people. Ok, well to be perfectly literal I do in fact have another person growing inside my belly (weird!), but what I’m talking about is the other person inside my brain — her name is Stacy. You can blame this identity crisis on my mom, who called all three of her darling children by their middle names, thereby ensuring an uphill battle to maintain a consistent persona. Mostly I have learned to answer to any name by which I’m called, but still I cringe when I hear “STACY!” barked out at the Dr’s office and know the clueless registrar means none other than Yours Truly.

Let me tell you about Stacy — she’s a nutcase. She thought her name was really Anastasia and someone (talking to you, Mom) made a terrible spelling error. Stacy revealed herself in high school, tired of finally fighting the good fight to just be Erin, dammit. Stacy was kinda grungy, dyed her hair purple, got a nose ring, went on to college and did, ahem, the things college kids do — namely pull in a near 4.0 in between partying. Hard.

She likes a lot of color and for you to feel slightly uncomfortable in her presence.

Because there is a special kind of cognitive dissonance that occurs in the push/pull between organization and entropy.

She’s a wild child, but the floors better be clean or she will whip your ass.

And of course you know me, little ol’ Erin. My last house was pretty much black, white and gray, with a hefty dose of brown, because that is where I feel safe and comfortable. I am a rational being, and I don’t need any overly decorative crap chintzing up my life.

‘

That’s not to say that Erin, I, whomever, doesn’t have a sense of humor.

She just thinks you might feel more comfortable if the lines are clearly drawn, if things are proper and orderly.

Nothing wrong with that, right?

Now, if you can’t yet tell, there’s a hole in my brain and I’m struggling to balance the two personalities within. For a long time, the neutral, sensible side has been in control. But lately the crazy party ho has been yearning to break free.

Don’t worry — no part of me is actually a ho. That was just a little poetic license.

Anyway, I learned long ago that it’s better to balance Jeckyll and Hyde, lest a monster break free and run rampant all up in my house, or it get so dreary and overly polite in here that no one feels free to do other than take tea and eat crumpets.

Not that I would kick a crumpet out of bed.

And there you have it, I AM a ho — a carbohydrate ho.

At least there are some things all my personalities can count on.

Stay tuned to see how the other issues resolve themselves. My house is a battleground.

Advice (both decor and mental health related) is always appreciated.

[little blue deer, Poppytalk, Kriste Michelini Interiors, NYT, The Aestate, NYT]

Please go to my Pinterest to visit all the wonderful friends I stole these images from.

It’s Pinterest day, which basically means I don’t have two spare seconds to rub together and must, therefore, rely on the goodness of the internet to provide fodder for today’s post. Thankfully I follow some fantastic pinners, so busting out the jams is easy breezy. Trust.

I have many takeaways from this image: I need to paint some supergraphics up in this joint, that sofa must be mine, and Acid Wasp is alive and well.

Still loving curtains, may have to throw some jade into the mix.

I know I am going to offend someone, but I loathe those chairs — mostly because I had a similar set and they are so freaking hard to pull up to the table. But I do love that crazy antique lion paw table paired with fresh, clean chairs.

This is eerily similar to our office layout — similar paint, couch, room size, etc. That’s even where I plan to put the desk. Digging the french doors and garden stool cum coffee table. Want to burn the Union Jack (sorry, England — it’s not you, it’s me).

Ike’s new room. BOOM.

Or wait — maybe this one? I mean… dayum.

I kind of let you down during Wallpaper Week, but can I make up for it by telling you my new secret wallpaper crush is Schumacher’s tortoiseshell? I really hope the sample doesn’t win my heart because it’s $350/roll.

And finally, tomorrow I theoretically fly to Hawaii. With a two year old and a bleeding hole in my uterus. The doc has given me the ok to fly, but I go in for one more sonogram in a couple of hours to make sure the situation looks stable.

Cross your fingers for me because my mom is getting married to an awesome dude and I don’t want to miss the wedding. Also I could really use a vacation from staring at these walls. I’m hoping the rental looks something like the picture above.

So maybe I’ll be back tomorrow, but hopefully I’ll be boarding the plane and I’ll next see you all bright and early Monday, April 2, rife with reports of volcanoes and saltwater.

Kisses!

[Jay Jeffers, Katie Waddell's pinterest, AD via My Interior Life's pinterest, Albert Hadley, no source]

After a relatively upbeat week I am heading into the weekend as a major grumpasaurus. Why, you ask? (Or maybe you didn’t ask, but since I have control of this here convo I’ma gonna tell you.) It’s because I went to the doctor yesterday expecting better news regarding my dumb pregnant problems, and instead they are worse. I am working really hard to be angry because anger trumps the wimpy weepies every day, and it is working. Sorry that you all should feel the flinty edge of my wrath — you really don’t deserve it. And we’d all been having so much fun lately.

So never mind bad things and let’s take a quick look at entry hall ideas instead.

I could spend eternity attempting to transform our rather modest foyer into something as grandly delectable as this one, designed by Isabel Lopez Quesada. But good architecture is a lot like cheekbones: either you have it or you don’t. And those of us that don’t must resort to seedier means of coquetry, namely makeup.

In decorating terms we’re talking wallpaper and paint and fabulous objects, and if anyone knows anything about dressing up a space, it’s Tony Duquette’s ex partner Hutton Wilkinson.

Our entry definitely falls into the “needs more makeup STAT” category. In the interest of moving that along, you may recall that I’ve been painstakingly collecting enough wallpaper samples to paper every house in the neighborhood, but I think I’ve finally narrowed my choices down significantly. I’ve yet to photograph the samples in situ, but here’s a hint about one of them:

I called the nice folks at Twigs and they were kind enough to send me a sample in every colorway of their Pheasant wallpaper. It is bananas, people. INSANE. Maybe too insane. I don’t know.

We’ll talk about it next week. Until then, I hope you have a lovely weekend filled with donuts and down pillows… or whatever it is you’re lusting after. Being pregnant does weird things to you.

It’s all dreary today and I just don’t have the energy to reveal my crazy painted fireplace yet, so I’m going to rely on all the fabulous people out there in pinterest land to write this post for me. Thanks, guys. You’re the best.

The one thing I don’t like about pinterest is how easily sources are lost. I try to be careful about crediting the people I borrow images from, but who knows where many of the images originally came from? I wish there were a better way to track things.

[You Have Been Here Sometime, Elle Decor, This is Glamorous, My Interior Life, YHBHS]

I just wanted to say a big squeaky THANK YOU for all of your kind comments regarding my pregnant bedresty stuff. Reading some of your sweet words may have brought genuine tears to my eye — like real live water rolling down my face — but if asked in a court of law I will deny that sissified behavior. DENY. Because I have a rough and tumble image to maintain.

Let’s get down to business. World of Interiors — it’s so big it can’t be corralled into, say, County of Interiors. Or even Nation of Interiors. Honestly, I think perhaps they could have gone with Solar System of Interiors, tagline: “as seen in the Hubble Telescope.” They certainly have enough superstar photography to form their very own constellation. Not to mention the intergalactic scope of decor they feature.

Do I spy the makings of the coolest boys’ room ever?

Team Multiple Oriental on steroids!

Old school tuberculosis sanatorium or incredible dining room?

I love the scale/pattern contrast of floors and wallpaper.

The light touch with photoshop is so refreshing — all the cracked and peeling plaster is left to charm

your pants off… And into bed.

Now, if you’re bored please go see my front room up on Remodelista.

Apparently Dark Harbor is the color du jour.

Thanks again, Sanders!

Oh, and I’m also about to pin a bunch of these to my pinterest like a narcissistic  ass.

Come join the fun and feed my ego!

I’ve been busily (obsessively) taping little scraps of patterns all over the walls, feeling good about some things, horrified by others, and generally overwhelmed by the sheer variety of stuff out in the world. Probably this process was easier when Sears Roebuck offered your choice of three patterns, to be delivered by train or pony. Instead I find myself squinting into a crystal ball, wondering which of said 800 million patterns will be least offensive to me in a decade. Compounding the problem is Better Half Ben’s insistent, rather querulous complaint that all my choices are so “decorative.” That’s gauche, dude. And kind of obvious.

All this is to say that I had an interesting reaction to stylist and socialite Jackie Astier’s home featured in this month’s ED.

It’s all moody broody texture — not much in the pattern department. Now part of me finds this cozy and fabulous, and part of me thinks I’m just backsliding into my safety net. Haven’t I already been here before? Maybe. But lacquered walls and tonal faux bois wallpaper feel so soft and dreamy.

Oh, and grasscloth. Delicious delicious grasscloth.

This bedroom is too girly for me, but I think the color palette feels a little more avant garde than the gray gray grays used elsewhere.

It’s a lot of eye candy, but I also feel like I’ve seen so much of it before. Damien Hirst: check. Mastercraft brass: check. Beni Ourain: check. Milo Baughman Karl Springer Paul Evans: check. Kind of veers into furniture museum territory.

Still, I think she does a lovely job making the space feel more intimate. I’ve been hard at work trying to create layers with pattern, but maybe in some cases texture is the way to go.

What do you think? Are you all about pattern or texture?

[Elle Decor, Jackie Astier]

Yesterday we thanked The Rev for such a beauteous day off, and then we hit the San Marcos outlets in search of treasure. Because shopping is about cultivating peace and understanding, right? If we hadn’t actually found something worthy of the trip, I would be depressed that I live such a miserable and shallow existence. On the other hand, have you seen what was happening with our tv situation?

RAGE. ANGER.

Also, WOW I really need to take some new pics of the house. But I am lazy and Ike is home sick, so no pictures today.

I suck.

Anyhow, this is what we bought to disguise our components and “blend in” with the wall. Say hello to the West Elm Niche buffet. It usually retails for $699, but we got it for $199 because it had a few tiny chips here and there. High five.

While I kept holding out for some amazing antique to come my way, it actually fits the space fairly well. And it was cheap, so when Better Half Ben figures out how to hide the components by running cable through 2x4s and bricks (probably never), I won’t feel bad about abandoning ship.

Now I just need to figure out how to style this sucker.

I shamelessly stole this image from Naomi of Design Manifest‘s pinterest, which is a total douche move because she was probably planning to post it tomorrow but I need it NOW.

To put myself back in Naomi’s good graces (fingers crossed), I’m showing her Ikea Rast hacks that she used as a tv credenza. Crafty as all get out. I’m thinking I should paint the hardware on the Niche gold, and then steal the shelf idea. Because I am a thief.

I find Celerie Kemble‘s tv set up both charming and hilarious. Should I just put a giant vase full of flowers in front of the tv, cross my fingers, and pray no one notices it’s there? Awesome.

And then there’s fabulous Laura Day. No matter how many times I post this picture, it’s never enough. My take away from this image is to make sure I tune the tv to 2001 or A Clockwork Orange before I photograph it in situ. Oh, and to buy an amazing Ello mirrored credenza, stat.

File that one under #thingsthatwillneverhappen.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have some Downton Abbey to watch. Later, taters.