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Bon Monday, dear readers, and so lovely you could drop by. And speaking of lovely, gracious J____ B____ of P_____of C______stopped by for tea and textile talk. As much as Lady B. loves blogging, sometimes she feels a need for human interaction, and she decided to issue an invitation for P____of C____ to enjoy a tradition that was once a daily necessity, but is, now, alas only an anachronism---a lovely, lonely echo of gracious days gone by.
We settled in for a professional pow-wow over lovely toast points piped in luscious buttery pate, crisp cucumber sandwiches, Earl Grey (purchased at Harrod's during my last jaunt to Jolly Ole London), and perhaps just a naughty splash of Maker's Mark (from my newest bar set up on a lovely python tray), all served on my hotel silver platter, accented with vintage tea towels (ironed with lavender water made with lavender from my own estate), and hydrangeas from my own cutting garden in a portion of my white iron stone collection. Before talk turned to the latest decor headlines, P____ of C_____ was kind enough to notice my newest design accent, a custom slipcover in a hand-painted graffiti pattern on linen (Belgian, of course). "That's really something," she said. "I've never see anything like that."
It was a recent addition to my serene and gracious living room. Recently, as I was taking stock of the room's white linen (Belgian linen, if I haven't mentioned it) slips, custom cut sea grass layered with zebra hides, gleaming lucite trunks, gallery wall of lady portraits (thrifted if you can believe that), as well as extensive collection of "Keep Calm and Carry On" prints, I thought perhaps it had become TOO serene and gracious. Perhaps I needed that bit of tension that I and my colleague, Kelly Wearstler, often use in client projects. "Voila," I thought, thinking of K.W.'s latest home (photographed) in Vogue---nothing says tension like graffiti.
Unfortunately, P____of C____ had to dash off soon after arrival (Design Emergencies are much more common than non-professionals realize), but it was a lovely interlude, none the less. Until next time, gracious readers, all my love.
Started to hyperventilate, then asked self, "What would Kelly Wearstler do?" Decided to put on evening gown, climb step ladder and rearrange kitchen shelves to calm nerves. Then it hit me---disguise blood splatters with red hand painted graffiti just like Kelly Wearstler's new custom papered entrance hall:
Luckily had red paint left over (Farrow & Ball, of course) from painting side board in dining room. Glossy sideboard turned out fabulous, even if bitch mother-in-law gripes every time she comes over, muttering about "family heirlooms," "flame mahogany veneer," "eighteenth century patina," and "destroyed half its value." Considered taking time to remove evening dress, but thought again, "What would Kelly Wearstler do?" and decided to keep it on, painting swirling graffiti with reckless abandon.
Finished hiding paint can right as P____of C_____ arrived. Awkward silence followed by her exclamation of "Good God, it THAT your sofa? That is something. I've never seen any thing like that ever. Jesus." Unfortunately, as she discovered after sitting on it in her white linen pants (I don't they were Belgain linen), she discovered the paint was still wet. She stormed out muttering about blackmail, extortion, and "clueless bitches with no taste."
Curled into fetal position (luckily evening dress had full skirt) and cried like I haven't cried since Domino closed. Remembered extra bottle of Maker's Mark, so was able to drink fifth without disturbing bar set up. Must remember, tomorrow is another day.........
New Post:
Bon Monday, dear readers, and so lovely you could drop by. And speaking of lovely, gracious J____ B____ of P_____of C______stopped by for tea and textile talk. As much as Lady B. loves blogging, sometimes she feels a need for human interaction, and she decided to issue an invitation for P____of C____ to enjoy a tradition that was once a daily necessity, but is, now, alas only an anachronism---a lovely, lonely echo of gracious days gone by.
We settled in for a professional pow-wow over lovely toast points piped in luscious buttery pate, crisp cucumber sandwiches, Earl Grey (purchased at Harrod's during my last jaunt to Jolly Ole London), and perhaps just a naughty splash of Maker's Mark (from my newest bar set up on a lovely python tray), all served on my hotel silver platter, accented with vintage tea towels (ironed with lavender water made with lavender from my own estate), and hydrangeas from my own cutting garden in a portion of my white iron stone collection. Before talk turned to the latest decor headlines, P____ of C_____ was kind enough to notice my newest design accent, a custom slipcover in a hand-painted graffiti pattern on linen (Belgian, of course). "That's really something," she said. "I've never see anything like that."
It was a recent addition to my serene and gracious living room. Recently, as I was taking stock of the room's white linen (Belgian linen, if I haven't mentioned it) slips, custom cut sea grass layered with zebra hides, gleaming lucite trunks, gallery wall of lady portraits (thrifted if you can believe that), as well as extensive collection of "Keep Calm and Carry On" prints, I thought perhaps it had become TOO serene and gracious. Perhaps I needed that bit of tension that I and my colleague, Kelly Wearstler, often use in client projects. "Voila," I thought, thinking of K.W.'s latest home (photographed) in Vogue---nothing says tension like graffiti.
Unfortunately, P____of C____ had to dash off soon after arrival (Design Emergencies are much more common than non-professionals realize), but it was a lovely interlude, none the less. Until next time, gracious readers, all my love.
Monday, July 12, 4:30 pm
Dear Diary,
Today has been day of horrors. Woke with vicious headache from too many Lonny Iced Teas (made with equal parts Tangueray, Maker's Mark, and Pimms, with a splash of Perrier). Cheered up slightly when remembered P________of C________was coming for tea. I think it's so important for lady bloggers to cross pollinate each others blogs, but P____of C____ has been dodging my e-mails for months. However, she certainly responded quickly to my last one when I asked her if she minded if I did a fan post on her, and if she further minded if I used a vintage photo of hers in it. From Sept. 1997, in fact. From Playboy's Co-eds of the South edition. That got a response. Guess she decided that no one would take design advice from a lady blogger whose carpet didn't match her curtains.
Spent long exahustive hours creaming store bought pate, piping the creamed onto toast points, ironing tea towels, and artfully arranging hydrangea in white iron stone. Angel Baby was constant nuisance. Finally sent him into living room to brush zebra rugs (I think it's so important for one's cowhides to be well-groomed), where brat promptly tripped over Ikea sheepskin artfully layered on top of zebra artfully arranged over custom cut sea grass (4" from wall) and impaled himself on zinc finished final from Wisteria (discontinued, so I tell readers I bought it at Paris flea market). Thank God, no real damage--I think the zinc finish is fine. Bundled the brat off to the emergency room with Consuela---incredibly annoying for me to be without maid just then, since in throes of final tea party prep, but I certainly couldn't go myself. Then discovered true horror--blood splattered all over white linen (I did mention it was Belgian linen, right?) slipcover with only hours before guest scheduled to arrive. Oh God....what to do?
Dear Diary,
Today has been day of horrors. Woke with vicious headache from too many Lonny Iced Teas (made with equal parts Tangueray, Maker's Mark, and Pimms, with a splash of Perrier). Cheered up slightly when remembered P________of C________was coming for tea. I think it's so important for lady bloggers to cross pollinate each others blogs, but P____of C____ has been dodging my e-mails for months. However, she certainly responded quickly to my last one when I asked her if she minded if I did a fan post on her, and if she further minded if I used a vintage photo of hers in it. From Sept. 1997, in fact. From Playboy's Co-eds of the South edition. That got a response. Guess she decided that no one would take design advice from a lady blogger whose carpet didn't match her curtains.
Spent long exahustive hours creaming store bought pate, piping the creamed onto toast points, ironing tea towels, and artfully arranging hydrangea in white iron stone. Angel Baby was constant nuisance. Finally sent him into living room to brush zebra rugs (I think it's so important for one's cowhides to be well-groomed), where brat promptly tripped over Ikea sheepskin artfully layered on top of zebra artfully arranged over custom cut sea grass (4" from wall) and impaled himself on zinc finished final from Wisteria (discontinued, so I tell readers I bought it at Paris flea market). Thank God, no real damage--I think the zinc finish is fine. Bundled the brat off to the emergency room with Consuela---incredibly annoying for me to be without maid just then, since in throes of final tea party prep, but I certainly couldn't go myself. Then discovered true horror--blood splattered all over white linen (I did mention it was Belgian linen, right?) slipcover with only hours before guest scheduled to arrive. Oh God....what to do?
Started to hyperventilate, then asked self, "What would Kelly Wearstler do?" Decided to put on evening gown, climb step ladder and rearrange kitchen shelves to calm nerves. Then it hit me---disguise blood splatters with red hand painted graffiti just like Kelly Wearstler's new custom papered entrance hall:
Luckily had red paint left over (Farrow & Ball, of course) from painting side board in dining room. Glossy sideboard turned out fabulous, even if bitch mother-in-law gripes every time she comes over, muttering about "family heirlooms," "flame mahogany veneer," "eighteenth century patina," and "destroyed half its value." Considered taking time to remove evening dress, but thought again, "What would Kelly Wearstler do?" and decided to keep it on, painting swirling graffiti with reckless abandon.
Finished hiding paint can right as P____of C_____ arrived. Awkward silence followed by her exclamation of "Good God, it THAT your sofa? That is something. I've never seen any thing like that ever. Jesus." Unfortunately, as she discovered after sitting on it in her white linen pants (I don't they were Belgain linen), she discovered the paint was still wet. She stormed out muttering about blackmail, extortion, and "clueless bitches with no taste."
Curled into fetal position (luckily evening dress had full skirt) and cried like I haven't cried since Domino closed. Remembered extra bottle of Maker's Mark, so was able to drink fifth without disturbing bar set up. Must remember, tomorrow is another day.........
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This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteHad you used Fine Paints of Europe, none of this would have happened.
ReplyDeleteYou sicken me.