Hi folks! Long time no blog—remember me? I knew I'd really dropped the ball when I read this from a friend:

"Honey, your Dream House is turning into a recurring nightmare; one where I keep checking for updates and keep getting disappointed."

Oops. Though I must say, while this house has fallen victim to neglect, the tenement of my dreams is looking spiffier than ever! And more than a year-and-a-half after moving in I finally unpacked my massive (and massively heavy) collection of illustrated books. Mugatu says it and I'm going to second: Nothing makes a home feel cozier than books. Which leads me to today's central question: Does it matter if you haven't read all of them? ANY of them?

I'll admit I own a few coffee table books that I've never even cracked, or books I bought at the flea market just for the cover and couldn't tell you the author or title. But the books I've really read and enjoyed over and over? Penguin paperbacks. An acutely observant editor friend noticed a recent trend in shelter mags in which decorators/stylists are turning books around on the shelves so you can't see the spines. So now we can add "book shame" to the list of subcategories to status anxiety!

Bookcase Paxil comes in the form of Strand's books-by the-foot offering, but depending on how much cash you shell out, the look reads more "Bad Public Libary," chock full of 10-year old bestsellers, as E.F. pointed out. He shudders at turning books into accessories; I'm as torn as an old dust jacket because I appreciate their aesthetic, individually and en masse.

So where do you stand on the books-for-looks debate?

Tags: books, decorating dilemmas, libraries, Strand bookstore

One of my favorite stores in New York is Paula Rubenstein Ltd., home to all kinds of anti-mass production curiosities including giant balls of string (and barbed wire), a driftwood lamp the size of a sixth-grader, and the most comprehensively fabulous collection of Navajo blankets you'll ever see. They don't necessarily come cheap—this is Soho, not a thrift store in Wyoming—but I consider each one a work of art.

Native American motifs have swung in and out of vogue for decades: Ralph Lauren has long recognized that Navajo sweaters are just as American as preppy cableknits and Western-themed movies have kept the look alive. But there were some dark years in the 1990s for the colorful stripes, diamonds and checkerboards I love so dearly: Think Barbra Streisand album covers or the Arizona Jeans Company at J.C. Penney. A Navajo-printed denim jacket (paired with a turquoise bolo tie) or an entire duvet set may never look chic, but let's ponder some updated applications for our predecessors' handiwork:

—Upholstery: why not upholster an occasional/slipper chair in one of these incredible rugs? If yours is a museum-quality I wouldn't cut it up, but if George Smith and ABC Carpet can cover entire sofas in old kilims I see nothing wrong with repurposing a geometric blankie. Try centering a diamond design on the seat and back.

—Wall decoration: Hanging rugs and textiles feels a little grandiose, yet I love the idea of three or four unmatching blankets on square canvas stretchers hung against a long neutral wall. Would also make a graphic headboard panel.

—Furniture adornment: faithful reader Evan sent this pic of his kilim-covered Parsons dining table—pretty genius, no? This is definitely a DIY project fit for a sturdy cotton rug, not a blanket, but a good glue/staple gun and some elbow grease would do the trick. Maybe start with an Ikea side table and pay special attnention to mitering the corners, as Evan did here.

Image of Navajo rug via Len Wood's Indian Territory.

Tags: decorating trends, inspiration, Navajo blankets, rugs

In case you haven’t heard, tonight at 10 p.m., the Sundance Channel premieres a new show called Man Shops Globe, which follows longtime Anthropologie buyer Keith Johnson around the world as “his eye ceaselessly searches for ‘scale’ and ‘a big statement,’…‘something enormous’ and ‘important’; elusive, distressed objects that are ‘huge, incredible,’” as The Washington Post’s Hank Stuever describes it.

I haven’t seen the show, but I have read today's reviews, and they are filled with what can only be dubbed Anthropologie Rage—which inadvertently reveals the confusion so many of us have with regard to our objects. Anthropologie, a huge corporate chain that sells authentic antiques mixed in with reproductions of antiques as well as standard mass-produced replicas of pretty things, is the perfect outlet for expressing the rage of the female shopper. She wants authenticity in her life, as in her purchases—but she doesn't trust the marketplace, which is where most of us go to carve out our identities, or at least art-direct them.

So over at Salon, Heather Havrilesky, the most enraged reviewer of the lot, classified Johnson’s esteemed job as little more than junk peddler:

His job traveling the globe to buy enormous overpriced pieces of weird, ancient junk so that Anthropologie can put that junk in its stores and sell it for truly ludicrous, mind-blowing prices … He's a creative professional, one who's exceptionally good at spotting exactly the sorts of rusty old bullshit that anxious, existentially wobbly, overworked yuppies find hopelessly, thrillingly, reassuringly authentic.

But then she contradicts herself—of course she does, who doesn’t like the dainty flea market wares stocked in Anthropologie?—writing: “Johnson's job [is] traveling far and wide in search of grandiose antiques, impish art and off-kilter treasures.”

So are the wares in Anthropologie junk or off-kilter treasures? Keith Johnson becomes a whipping boy for our desire to settle on a definition of an authentic marketplace, a value-laden consumer experience.

Havrilesky continues, now taking out her consumer rage on mass-produced stuff:

Because if the world weren't so filled with tacky, impermanent things, then we wouldn't thirst so terribly for big, heavy, meaningful furniture flown in from Paris. If the world weren't littered with Styrofoam cups and vertical blinds and stained wall-to-wall carpeting and other tacky junk, then we wouldn't be so hungry for that meticulously branded, fully sanctioned and approved, carefully designed, obscenely expensive imported French junk.

Harvilesky, like so many of us, senses that she must put a value on objects—it's become an ethical imperative to many of us either because of environmental concerns or thrift coupled with our desire to cultivate unique sensibilities—but discovers that that undertaking is likely a futile one. Man Shops Globe has become a soapbox upon which to vent our confusion and dismay. And for the record, I like Anthropologie. Johnson does a great job curating the place. What difference does it make, really, if the stuff comes from a Corporate Eye or a French bitty in a marché aux puces?

Tags: Anthropologie, antiques, consumerism, Man Shops Globe

Now that not one but two kind readers have followed my lead on the Rustoleum Red Insta-Makeover I feel positively drunk with power and influence! Or maybe just a little hungover from the weekend's festivities. In any case, I got thinking about other semi-easy furniture tricks while browsing eBay over the weekend: I found so many nice, inexpensive metal table frames (console, coffee, side, etc.) that were done in by a thin glass top. Now, I could see the style in a 3/4- or 1-inch thick piece of clear glass with that pleasing green color on the side—that has a dramatic sense of heft to it—but inset glass-top tables are a major pet peeve.

Why, you ask? First is the flimsy factor. I just hate how setting down a glass (or anything more substantial than a weekly magazine) rattles a glass table; the clanky sound hurts my sensitive ears. Second, I can't shake the Raymour & Flanigan association: Every other table in a chain furniture store has a glass top! Finally, and this may tick a few folks off ... I really can't stand protective glass on any table, even the skirted variety. It's so precious! Like, "We don't wear our shoes on the white carpet." Unless your center table is on loan from the Wrightsman Galleries, I'd just invest in some coasters.

On to my trick: I'd buy any cool, cheap console table like this $130 Giacommetti-lite number from Target or this mixed-metals Regency eBay steal, measure the existing glass top(s), head to Home Depot, Lowe's, or the lumber yard, and have 1/4- or 1/2-inch cabinet-grade plywood cut to fit. Take it home, sand down the top and edges (using wood filler if necessary), prime, and paint in an OIL-BASED high-gloss enamel in a pretty color. Voila, lacquer-inset-top gorgeousness! The more ambitious might try some decorative painting techniques ...  a simple two-tone chevron, perhaps?

Tags: console tables, decorating pet peeves, DIY, Target

I'll be honest: I don't eat at home too often. When I do, it's sort of an inhale-the-veggie-dumplings-over-the-garbage-can scenario—no wonder I see certain restaurant waitstaffs more often than I do my family—yet I hope to settle into a more domestic dining routine very soon. So what are the best options for an inexpensive table and chairs? Let's do a little mix-and-match roundup like they used to at Domino (loved those sections), because despite what Raymour and Flanigan might have you believe, coordinating "dinette sets" aren't all that stylish!

1. I'm loving West Elm's rustic Modern Farm Dining Table ($599): Looks like they caught on to Crate & Barrel's Big Sur moment and jettisoned the high price tag. I prefer the "natural" option and see it paired with a slick, modern chair ... just not any of the the ubiquitous Philippe Starck options. What about this honeycomb-esque Alchemia chair by Calligaris for $288.95? Looks sort of '60s-futurist, and I love the opaque red or black, but the clear versions have an unfortunate gummy shoe quality.

2. This Regan Dining Table from HomeDecorators ($419 for a 60-inch round, great for conversation) has a sort of Eames base with with a shiny white top. Why not break up those hard edges with a more feminine Louis XV-style side chair from Wisteria ($299)? As a general rule, French-y dining chairs like this one look best covered in a solid fabric like this tomato linen, or else a polished leather. Graphic stripes, geometrics, and florals tend to fight with the curvy lines and intricate carving.

3. For chic communal dining, why not try this watermelon Strut Table from Blu Dot (pictured, $699 for a 54-incher) paired with a tortoise-speckled bamboo bench from Pearl River ($45.50-59.50)? I'd make a cushion for the bench in an ultrasuede to match or in another bright color with contrast piping. Cheery, sturdy, and unexpected for a breakfast room.

Tags: budget combos, dining chairs, dining tables, mix and match, West Elm

Yes, I'm referencing the Isley Brothers' slow jam sampled by Notorious B.I.G. on "Big Poppa" AND by Gwen Stefani on her song "Luxurious," which included the  following ears-filling-up-with-blood lyrics:"We're luxurious, like Egyptian cotton/We're so rich in love, we're rolling in cashmere."

How charmingly 2005 of her. So why, just yesterday, did a flack for [company name redacted] call our office pimping 100 percent cashmere sheets? Seriously? Amanda inquired as to pricing: A king set retails for close to $5,600. Crikey! Now, I'm all about pleasing the senses, and picking and choosing one's indulgences. In fact, I quite agree with this quote from Frank Lloyd Wright (spotted on the wall of Club Monaco, of all places, while I was fondling their cashmere cardigans): "Give me the luxuries of life and I willingly do without the necessities."

Holler, Frankie! But who right now, besides perhaps the Sultan of Brunei, is dropping close to $6k on one set of sheets? Promise I'm not jealous, just genuinely curious. Even our big-balling clients would balk.

So, let's talk about bedding criteria: My main one is natural fibers (cotton). I've slept on Bed Bath & Beyond's Hotel Collection (in solid pale blue, pictured) for five years,  and have never awakened chafed or wishing for 200 more threads per inch. Or whatever that means—I've seen "experts" on television testify that thread count has relatively little to do with comfort. I like the feel of jersey or that beech fiber alternative, but it always pills and does connote "college dorm." Silk or satin sheets seem apropos for Hugh Hefner AND itchy. Polyester is just slap out of the question. From a design point of view, I aspire to own a set of triple-line embroidered Schweitzers and weep because Williams-Sonoma Home discontinued their Greek Key bedding ... but a $300 duvet cover is still out of my budget.

So tell me, are you a true player when buying the sheets, or just between them? Or both?

Tags: cashmere, jumping the shark, luxuries, sheets, thread count, Williams-Sonoma Home

Decorno made an interesting observation whilst writing about fall's slate of new design books (my forever addiction), specifically Italian Touch:

"Fashion people have sexier homes than interior design people, so that should be fun to flip through."

I agree, and it got me thinking about other design-y folk and what their houses usually look like. Decorators, if less sexified, certainly use their homes as idea laboratories and their professional calling cards. Except perhaps yours truly! A recent visitor to my work-in-progress apartment (with all contents STILL shoved into the bedroom for my epic floor-painting project) asked what I do for a living. After my sheepish response I got, "Well, you obviously don't take your work home with you!" OUCH.

Yet architects—don't even get me started—are notorious for living in crappy, undesigned spaces. Probably because 99 percent of them are so overworked they barely make it home and so underpaid that they can't afford to reconfigure their hideous breakfast bar situation. Depressing.

So what about the rest of the work force? I don't picture most nurses living in something out of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. But I have met writers with books wall-to-wall, financial dudes with flat screen TVs in the loo (tuned to CNBC), lawyers with framed etchings of Faust (ha) ... but a MoMA curator with no art ? Say it ain't so.

Anyway, question: Which of your friends has the coolest house/apartment, and what do they do for a living? How much does interior style reflect one's vocation? Tell me there's an insurance salesman out there who lives like the Duke of Windsor!

Tags: architects, decorating shame, fashion people, jobs, normal people, personal style

So this weekend I rushed to see The September Issue, R.J. Cutler's delicious documentary on the personalities behind Vogue (the magazine, not the patterns company). A proper tagline might've been "Passive Aggression is Always in Fashion." Seriously, though, I left the theater re-inspired to decorate and decide what would fill my own fall decorating issue:

Tubular steel and cane: The combination of these two materials used to signify the worst of the 1970s, but the fickle finger of fashion has flicked my ears once again. Don't Marcel Breuer's "Cesca" chairs have a kind of Woody Allen-movie quality? Like that lovable, New York yuppie intellectual feeling in Hannah and Her Sisters, in which Dianne Wiest whines: " 'Where did April come up with stuff about Adolf Loos and terms like "organic form"? Well, naturally. She went to Brandeis.' " I could see myself in layers of tweeds a la Diane Keaton, pulling up one of these chairs to dine at a smoked mirror-top table. Quite spendy bought new, but they come up at flea markets and eBay all the time.

Africa: For me, the furniture and art of this rich continent have seemed at times both taboo and passé—a kind of insulting neo-primitivism or Peter Beard safari pastiche. But with the outrageous success of the North African-born Yves Saint Laurent's auction last February, I'm reminded that modern artists like Picasso and Fernand Leger turned traditional African masks into Cubist portraits, and suddenly all those noses on cheeks look fresh again. Also, 'round our office a birthing stool is the decorating accessory this season. Honest! Every room, especially those on par with YSL's decorator Jacques Grange's, needs something rough, low, and sculptural for balance.

Amethyst and other stones: When I was but a wee lad I collected all manner of stones ... my (bewildered?) pa even drove me to the mountains of North Carolina one year for my birthday to mine for rubies. Now don't I feel vindicated that gems and minerals have made a huge comeback in style circles? Rock crystal lamps like Anthro's (a whopping $2,200) combine Stevie Nicks mysticism with Big Sur crunchiness, but retailers are now mining amethyst (heh) for its purple power. And to my eye nothing goes better with purple than green, so pair it with malachite—not just for Russian oligarchs anymore!—like one of these faux finish tables from Global Views (pictured, $284 each).

Photograph of Anna Wintour by Neilson Barnard/Getty Images.

Tags: African art, decorating trends, fabrics, minerals, seating, the september issue, Yves Saint Laurent

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.)

Tags: antiques, catalogs, chain stores, chairs, design inspiration, reproductions, Restoration Hardware

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!

Tags: baseboards, casings, design dilemmas, interior architecture, molding