Friday, October 15, 2010

Spare the Fringe Spoil the Soul

Some months ago I decided to become strict with myself. Enough with the tassels, the fringes, the fussery.

PAH! On the feather trim around Suzanne's lampshades and the lust it inspired! SPARE IT DOWN I declared.

And get rid of the dark while you're at it, I added. Brighten up fer God's sake. The whole damn house has become beyond excessive. Not sweet like some spread in Victorian Homes (heaven forbid) with the potpourri and scented candles--but run amok with dusty stuff.

I wasn't imagining Le Corbusier or van der Rohe or Eames...much as I'd like to imagine myself living in minimalist perfection. Perhaps with an opera in the background. I merely urged a bit more Indiana Jones. Broken-in leather and books and threadbare orientals, of which I have plenty.

And maybe one tassel. Just demonstrate my noble discipline and restraint.

[How understanding I am of me, I was thinking. So sensitive to my foibles!]

So I stripped away flourish after frip and was JUST beginning to breath when I came across -- or more precisely, the equally dust-loving Diana McLellan came across and then posted to Facebook--this paean to fabulousness:

A Boldini found moldering in a Paris flat. 
More precisely, said the UK paper The Telegraph:
" untouched, cobweb-filled flat in Paris' 9th arrondissement...

One expert said it was like stumbling into the castle of 
Sleeping Beauty,
where time had stood still since 1900."

...and I felt a gurgle in my throat and my eyes lurched about wildly for stashed away tassels. Clearly, I was once again sinking.

Then this morning, flipping through the new Architectural Digest while waiting for a conference call [I say this to show that I actually do work]  I came across this, the Winter Garden of Anna Fendi Venturini:

And the thoughts bumped and tumbled...

a. Aha!! At last a name for my green space, which is not really a greenhouse and is too small for a conservatory and too grand for an enclosed porch. My winter garden.

b. Oho! I can do that! [THE single most dangerous thought in my Vocabulary of Thoughts].

c. I'm short on arched windows but those HUGE palms?

d. Will palms survive the murk?  

E. Isn't murk woooonderful!

F. And so are tassels and fringe and feather-trimmed lampshades for that matter.

G. Now where did I put my dust?

1 comment:

  1. Oy. Is that why you sent along the fabulous fish tassel? Because you were downsizing? Because you can't have it back. MINE, MINE, MINE.


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