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Get Delfty

After Friday’s post it has become clear that curtains are a controversial topic. Some love the sweeping luxury of cash, and some prefer the crisp modern asceticism of roman shades. I myself used to be firmly anti curtain — that is until I bought my first pair of white linen curtains from Ikea (Aina) and saw what they could do for me. They gave soft edges to my skimpy windows and no frills architecture, and somehow the texture just made everything look more expensive — mostly because it was. Curtains are pricey, and it’s going to take a while to sort out exactly what I want to happen in our great room. I can’t afford to make mistakes and do things twice over. So while I’m busy mulling the finer points of pinch pleats, and agonizing over white vs taupey natural vs soft indigo, have a look at these pictures and let’s talk Delft.

I know some of you think that blue and white porcelain is headed down the primrose path of grandma regency, but I give you Exhibit A in its defense. Everything about that picture is genius. Except for the sad clam. Sad clam wants to go home.

And just look at that kitchen — it’s ridonkadonk. Am I planning to go out and swath our kitchen in billions of expensive blue tiles? No. But the world is a better place now that someone else did.

I don’t really need to defend this, do I? Except that I would use those roses for kindling.

Apparently this is tiny picture day. Sorry about that. Although I do not care for Tory Burch’s clothing or shoes, I find her living room to be utterly charming. Mossy green + delft + tigre = yes.

Here is Mary McDonald on better behavior. I want a pair of giant Chinese porcelain planters with lemon trees in the worst way. And just in case you were wondering — I do know that China and Delft are different places. I am just not particularly picky today.

ps: did you notice the curtains? I like them.

Now this shit be kinda crazy. I do not like matchy matchy — pretty much ever — but there are some nice elements here. I’ll leave it for you to decide what they are. Just choose wisely else the swift hammer of my judgement and condescension shall fall upon ye like the mighty thunderbolt of death.

Perhaps I got a bit carried away there. Many Rush Limbaugh jokes were discarded in the making of that sentence… I decided that death seemed a little safer.

And anyway, I’m just kidding. I love reading all your comments — whether you agree with me or not.

You guys make bedrest tolerable, and I thank you for that.

[House Beautiful, Yoko Only's pinterest, Grant K Gibson, Tory Burch, Mary Macdonald, Jorge Elias via AD]

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String Theory

You know what I’ve been loving lately? Fringe. That’s right. I said it. Now I know y’all are probably thinking: what’s gotten into you, Erin? First you’re asking us to approve of shabby slipcovers, now this? Are you turning into a musty old cat lady who sleeps on a stack of newspapers you’ve been collecting since that nice man Roosevelt was in office?

While it is true that I find the twin odors of mothballs and urine particularly appealing, I assure you that I am still young and hip. I mean, did you see the Black Eyes Peas at the Superbowl? AWESOME. But I digress.

BOOM. How do you like me now, whippersnappers? Every single thing in this room by Pamplemousse Design is the MF bizness.

Remember the unimpeachably chic home of Marie Olsson Nylander? That’s where this lovely resides.

Oh yeah. You know you want a huge fringed chandelier in a light bright shade of red. Special bonus: that sucker would make a fantastic cat toy.

Sure, according to Encyclopedia Raina this room is from 1992, but just because I love it doesn’t make me old. Right??? It’s got squiggly lines, for Pete’s sake.

Ok, we are headed down the primrose path of waspville here, but Tory Burch does have a pretty green velvet couch with gold fringe that reminds me very much of a couch my mom had. Of course, my mom’s couch started out as a white sectional (please see yesterday’s post about the perils of white couches and children), but then she recovered it in green and gold damask with gold fringe all up in that joint. My mom also used to pick me up from school in a topless Jeep (when I was hoping for a minivan mom), and she wore flashdance sweatshirts with bare shoulders. So, now you get that fringe is not for old boring people, right? I’m sure my story made that crystal clear.

This is just a bonus picture from Richard Powers that will allow me to sing:

All the world will fly in a flurry
When I take you out in the surrey,
When I take you out in the surrey with the fringe on top!

The lyrics may come from a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, but that doesn’t make me old at all.

Does it?

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