Perhaps, dear readers, it has finally come time to change our name to Velvet of Viciousness or perhaps Flannel of Fury (yes, we know that we hail from Seattle so therefore there will be no jokes about GINGHAM OF GRUNGE...) We are not sure if it is just this time of year but there are certain things that have been getting on our nerves as of late. It appears that instead of a shiny new kitten we have a litter of pet peeves instead…
Has design related decorum not to mention the simple of rules size and proportion gone out the window? (We promise you that in this day and age that window would have a hideous unlined drapery treatment in the becoming shade of rancid oatmeal.) Case in point, we simply cannot find sheets that fit. We could understand this phenomenon if we had a sack made of ticking that we occasionally stuffed with hay but our mattress is simply not that old! We distinctly remember purchasing it for an exorbitant amount of money not more than four years ago. Did we miss the meeting when it was decided on to add SIX MORE FREAKING INCHES to the depth of a fitted sheet???
We have decided to edit out the part of this post where we contemplate the silliness of slipcovers. Ok, maybe not… Now if there was ever a piece of furniture that needed to put on a bit more clothing it would be our sofa. We have always considered it rather vampy, clad in black and constantly on the prowl for someone to seduce into its velvety embrace. Although we have caught it on many occasions smoking cigarettes and swearing at the cat, we do not have the heart to punish it by making it wear a uniform (a baggy shapeless uniform at that…HA!) Now comparing slipcovers to a lovely ensemble of body bags awaiting the arrival of the coroners van is pushing the point JUST A LITTLE TOO FAR.
Perhaps we just need, quite literally, a change of scenery. We would be perfectly happy living on a stage set somewhere in the early part of the last century. We find nothing to complain about in these lovely images courteously of Bakst, Diaghilev and company…enjoy.
“I am seeking nuances of richness, of blinding magnificence.” Leon Bakst
Like a flock of hell spawns
And stewards of the son of despite
We parry their guile with the magnificence of disgust
By the evidence of our heavy burden
Lies their mind drowning
Left desiccated without power
("Vredesbyrd" by Dimmu Borgir)