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I don't know if you've stepped foot inside a Restoration Hardware store lately or flipped through the catalog, but things have changed since their days of peddling retro-inspired clocks and toasters. They now regularly team with new furniture and lighting designers, promoted with Peter Lindbergh-quality portraits and lengthy bios, and hock their wares ... most of which fall into the WHOA! category. And it seems they've taken more than a few cues from the trade-only standard bearers of style. To wit:
- The Buckle Chair (pictured, $995): For years Ralph Lauren Home has offered similar chairs (and desks and other pieces) for several times the price. I can't vouch for RH's craftsmanship—the catalog just arrived today—but the equestrian-inspired design nails the scale and stitching detail. I think both chairs nod vigorously to French designer Jacques Adnet, but I'm not certain ...
- The Camelback Slipcovered Sofa ($2,270-$2,980): I took one look and thought, "Two words, one ampersand: Lucca & Company." This camelback (I see no hump?) looks like a hodgepodge homage to the Belgian-y boutique's Lucca Sofa and their Todi, but the dumpy arms sort of compromise the design. Amy Perlin named a similar design after famed decorator Syrie Maugham, wife of W. Somerset.
- The French Upholstered Wing Chair ($1,310-$1,595): Speaking of the be-all, end-all of antiquarians (or pretty close), Amy Perlin has cornered the market on fabulously funk-da-fied seating. I'm not sayin' RH's wing chair rips off any of hers in particular, but the tatty-chic linen upholstery with evenly spaced tacks around the frame smacks of her haute-manorial aesthetic.
Final note: I know this stuff isn't cheap, but TRUST ME, the fancy alternative costs at least double—sometimes triple—the Restoration price. And the details are on point; waaaay beyond anything you'd see at Pottery Barn or even Williams-Sonoma Home. I'm impressed! (Please note my positivity and sincerity, as they may never return.)
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My friend and font of recent blog post ideas recently e-mailed with this query:
Moldings: When? Where? And when not?
Good one! I guess I'm a little conservative on the topic: Stock moldings in new homes can look so ... stock. Walk through 10 subdivisions in Boca Raton and I guarantee 80 percent of the houses will have the exact same crown molding in every room. Same for anemic baseboards and wafer-thin door and window casings. Do you live in a historic home, or even just one built before World War II? Unless you're Richard Meier (who went all Corbusier in a Rosario Candela building), I say leave well enough alone. Save me a spot on the preservation board! Seriously: If you plan on moving walls or adding doorways in an older house, take pains to match the existing molding, even if it means ponying up for custom millwork. Continuity is key and it will make a COLOSSAL difference. If you're undertaking a gut renovation and are nonplussed by the old trim, rip it off and start fresh with these pointers in mind (top to bottom):
- Crown molding: NOT the superhighway to Classy Decor (pains me to write that). What's the style of your house? How tall are the ceilings? If they're around 8.5 feet or less, any molding at the cornice might make the room feel stumpy, whereas a crisp line (and perhaps no color differentiation between the two planes) could make it expand. My dear aunt lives in a perfectly proportioned Norman-style house with original plaster walls, high ceilings and NO crown. And no window casing for that matter—just substantial baseboard and door trim—it's chic! Spanish, Mediterranean, Craftsman, Moderne, Ranch: These are historic styles that probably don't require a crown (and will hence save you money). It's also fine to vary the styles within one house. Folks have written entire treatises on orders and hierarchies and such, but my SparkNotes version reads: "Fancy it up in entrance halls, living and dining rooms. Forget it in kitchens, pantries, mud rooms, and the like."
- Window and door casing: More of a necessity due to framing and drywall/plaster practices, though I did recently fake a concealed door to my bathroom by spackling all the way around the opening and painting the wall and door to match. Have to say it looks pretty dang cool, even with the bulbous brushed nickel doorknob sticking out. But for trad trimmings I think wider is better: Casings less than 4 inches wide with little or no detail look depressing. Would much rather spring for this more expensive profile.
- Baseboard: A must, unless you're a hardcore modernist/minimalist. I'd reverse the crown logic and advocate tall, complex baseboards even in small rooms with low ceilings; they're like a strong foundation. Mugatu taught me a trick: Paint the rectillinear lower portion black, especially if you have black or ebonized floors, like in this gorgeous Greek Revival townhouse he decorated. The white line between lends an unexpected dimension and furniture seems to float about the room. Of course floating isn't hard when you have 15-foot ceilings like these folks do ... talk about crowning glory!
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Summer has finally arrived in New York and it's a steambath. My pores are open, my windows finally closed, and my little A/C unit keeps hissing away, stretched to its BTU capacity. But like a pre-concert Madonna sometimes I just need to turn off the cool machine ... and then rely on my trusty ceiling fan.
I could probably pose this question every week in a different category, but why are most fans so ridiculously fugly? From contemporary brushed nickel spaceships with frosted glass fixtures to West Indian pastiche nightmares with wicker blades, fans are just trying too hard to make a style statement. So thank goodness for the Modern Fan Company. I own one of their Cirrus Huggers (no payola here, I coughed up the list price) and despite Mugatu's requisite jab ("Don't you think it kind of looks like a suppository?") I think it's fabulously anonymous and functional. Major power with a high clearance for my low-ish ceilings and, best of all, a dimmer for the simple dome light fixture.
If I had an additional foot overhead I'd spring for one of these Industry fans (pictured, $328). I've said it before, but copper is such a chic and underrated finish! It's billed as MFC's "first retro fan" yet there's nothing too old-fashioned about it. I might paint the blades glossy black though, a more interesting combination. A friend and client has the galvanized version in her kitchen and she painted them to match her cabinets. Yes, you can paint a ceiling fan! I think my Cirrus will end up Yves Klein blue before long.
I wish a company like, say, Hunter, would take MFC's lead in the traditonal market and refine their Low Profile series. Better colors and finishes would make such a difference on this simple design. Then I'd be a fan, for sure! (Sorry.)
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Here at Mugatu International we're on a constant, uttlerly Sisyphean quest for "clean surfaces." Good luck with that in a decorating office. ... I currently have enough fabric scraps on my desk to make a Gee's Bend quilt. But homes, where the epicenter of work surfaces has to be the kitchen, are a different story. We need room to roll out cookie dough and store the coffee maker and perhaps display that artisanal olive oil. So how clean do YOU keep your counter surfaces? I'm not talking hygiene—we've all seen the Dateline episode where they send off the butcher block to the lab to reveal fourteen strains of Ebola—I mean the trappings of everyday life. I'm not all that domestic (a drawer full of takeout menus and half-empty tonic bottles are de rigeur) but I still aspire to minimize counter clutter. Yes to a chic dish and hand soap dispenser like the outrageous taxicab yellow version pictured ($119 at Conran, good grief), a regularly refreshed cleaning sponge, and a paper towel holder. And maybe a few of the appliances normal people might use daily, like a stylish toaster or the Bialetti Moka Express? No to boxes of cereal, carafes of oils, and racks of cumin. Am I being too harsh?
While we're on the topic, remember when Decorno opened Pandora's Box of Packaging? Folks got so up in arms about this dude who wanted to decant his detergent. I don't find it all that pretentious! I guess it's all about containers, and shouldn't kitchen cabinets contain all the foodstuffs and their not-so-pretty packaging? Go on, call me a decanting decorator d-bag!
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With all the smarty sisters here on Double X, I have to remind myself that every post in the Dream House doesn't have to attempt "think piece" status. (Regardless, I'm always thinkin' about a piece, if you know what I mean. Ba-dah-bum!) So today, let's just look at some purty area rugs, shall we?
My pal Sarah over at Matters of Style (who applied my Big Red advice with great results) asked if I knew of a budget option for a simple navy and ivory diamond trellis rug she'd seen in a mag. Oh, sure, I thought. Googling ensued ... bupkes. Muddy-colored floral trellis loops and piles by the thousands, but no simple woven harlequin. I refuse to believe that anyone actually buys this tripe. (Let me. Please.) In my search I did find some encouragingly stylish options, so until the rug revolution comes, here are my picks for staying frugal and fabulous underfoot:
Williams-Sonoma Home Geometric Crewel Rug, $295-$1,350 (pictured). My priciest and favorite option: Buying one is easier than painting this exact pattern on your wood floor (though how chic would that be??). Hard to tell, but each little section is made up of tiny embroidered stitches known as crewelwork. Now there's truth in advertising.
Ikea PS Tuga, $299 for a 9'x9'. I love the wonky, homespun look of this hand-woven wool rug's design. Blue and cream is a classic color combo, and also a boutique I don't fully understand.
Pottery Barn Patchwork Jute Rug, $119-$699. PB's rug is paler in color and slightly more refined than this cheaper Pearl River version, but the coarse patchwork jute is a favorite of fancy decorators like Jeffrey Bilhuber. (His clients include Anna Wintour and David Bowie: Would YOU argue with the man?)
Speaking of my fave natural fiber, this Velay Rug from Ballard Designs ($29-$299) has a pleasing variegated stripe. Like a bag from the sadly defunct Joseph rendered in jute!
Finally, for indoor/outdoor use I still can't beat the cheeriness of KokoTrends' polyurethane woven mats. This Dash & Albert denim rug ($34-$495) is slightly more traditional but still hoseable, scrubbable, and bleachable. Feel free to make your own joke on that one.
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So I've been playing this La Roux song from Sean's 'Summer No Bummer' playlist on endless repeat. Here's the chorus:
Early nineties decor
It was a day for
We wanted to play
But we had nothing left to play for
Colourless Colour
Once in fashion
And soon to be seen
Ah, Elly Jackson, sing the Summer of My Discontent! Kidding. Sort of. Do you ever get the feeling that style cycles are speeding up too quickly and what's considered hip and new is just a painful rehash of stuff that was hideooooous to start with? For instance, this Garouste and Bonetti revival I'm seeing in all the mags. I'm trying to understand but to me it all looks like the Bette Midler movie Outrageous Fortune.
So instead of getting more de Pressed I'm just gonna get all De Stijl, the reductivist art movement and general body of work that lasted from 1917-31. That's like a milennium in today's ADD style consciousness! In a nutshell, the mostly Dutch Stijl-ers sought harmony through right angles, pure geometry, and primary colors (plus black and white). Of course this style has been revived over and over since the days of Piet Mondrian and Gerrit Rietveld but there's nothing more basic than Gerry's iconic Zig Zag chair. I want four around a Parsons breakfast table painted glossy red, yellow, blue, and black. This knockoff pictured sells for $250 each, way less than the licensed version and without those pesky Zoloft side effects (diarrhea). Too uncomfortable-looking for everyday use? Buy one as a piece of sculpture. (Modani says they're also good for storage, such as as glass vases full of apples. When I want Surrealism I'll let you know!)
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I'm always curious about which of these little decorating posts (if any!?) resonate with you kind folks. ... I mean, back in the Domino days, my most commented-upon missive centered around a toilet seat. Go figure. But just in the last month, two readers e-mailed to ask about a fabric site I featured when Wes Anderson's The Darjeeling Limited premiered and sent me into Indian-inspired overdrive. And then Mugatu needed inexpensive paisley block prints for a client's guest bedroom and sent me a-Googlin'. A Celine Dion moment ensued, and once again I'm curry-ay-zee for these patterns! (Always crazy for Mr. Anderson's visual quirkfests, even stop-motion animated films about foxes.)
The site? Friends of Tilonia, a nonprofit organization benefiting the craft section of the Barefoot College, a 35-year-old institution that addresses the basic needs of India's rural poor by promoting their artisanal skills. They offer all sorts of soft home furnishings, and their block-printed fabrics (see the turquoise delight, pictured) are truly stunning. And only $14.95 per yard! That's a SMALL fraction of what John Robshaw charges, though his selection and color palette are broader and equally gorgeous.
Where else can you go to outfit your mini-maharajah's palace? I've compiled my favorites, starting with the best and cheapest:
Vegetable Dyes Paisley Sienna, $4.98 per yard. A muddier color palette but so much detail. An entire room done up in this print would feel very Mongiardino meets Little House on the Prairie.
Hidden Treasures Lakeside, $17.95 per yard. I could see this overscale paisley on a suite of slipcovered upholstery sitting on a blue-and-white-striped dhurrie rug.
Michael Miller Mary Alua White, $4.98 per yard. I wish they still offered the blue colorway my pal Robin used on her tented loft bed fantasy, but this tan version is soft and subtle.
Treasures Paisley, $4.95 per half-yard. India after dark! Love the black background but ReproDepot says quantities are limited. Why is this the case with all the best patterns?
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Especially if you live in a multi-thousand square foot space, chances are you're not fooling anyone with that armoire in your living room. Winter clothes? Sacks of whole grain flour? Mmmmhmm. We all know what's in there: a 36-inch Sony flat screen and all your Friday Night Lights DVDs in the drawer underneath. I'm all about hiding unsightly entertainment packaging (DVD racks and CD towers, be gone!) but just when did become so gauche to have a television front and center in one's living room? New televisions are so sleek and anonymous: A nice foil to all kinds of decorating. Here's how I'd treat the idiot box:
1. On a cabinet/credenza. And not necessarily one of those modern ones because they don't offer much contrast to the TV itself. I also find wall-mounted pivot brackets a bit ungainly when viewed from the side, so unless you need the screen at a perfect right angle to your head at every moment, why not plop the set down on a cabinet and hide the cable box and DVD player underneath (and notch out a hole in the back of the cabinet for cords)? They now make tiny new remote sensors to help in this regard. Hang paintings and other artwork on the wall behind the boob tube and it will all but disappear.
2. Surrounded by books on an etagere. I know, something like this won't fit a jumbotron, but books just make everything cozy. Cords hang easily down the back and with proper styling (tchotchkes, pottery, small paintings hung on the face or leaned just so), the TV becomes another object. If you have a built-in bookcase situation, Apartment Therapy gives tips on incorporating flat screens here (check out the color-coded organization!).
What I don't like? TVs sitting on a fireplace mantel or obscured by one of those weird 2-way mirrors. The former is too in-your-face, the latter too novel.

