Saturday, November 30, 2013

War of the Roses

Well, everybody already knows that Lady Fuchsia and Countess Carnation CANNOT stand each others company. While the Countess is convinced her petals are perfection, Fuchsia fervently defends her flora as the height of fashion. Each and every encounter ends in a frenzy of flying foliage and when Splendor is inevitably asked to intervene in their quarrels she simply hides under the nearest couch until the commotion has passed. If truth be told, Splendor is quite fond of dusty rose, burnt apricot and some of the more mild mannered magentas but quite disapproves of pink in any of her paler shades...

Ok, ok... STOP THE PRESSES... no one is in the least bit interested in the courtly discourtesies of colors. In fact, the question front and foremost on everyone’s mind is WHAT IN THE NAME OF UNHOLY GOAT REEKING HELL happened to Seraph + Splendor?!? Were they exiled like some derelict heads of state, forced to preform their penance on a deserted desert isle? Or perhaps finally imprisoned for their crimes against beige? Some say the couple set off to sail the Seven Seas, while others insist they just joined the circus, unleashing their bawdy burlesque act on the unsuspecting public at large.

A close known associate and fellow designer (*cough*Carla Fox*cough*) has theorized that an odd astrological influence might be to blame. Further speculations ponder if in fact the couple was beamed aboard an alien spacecraft, where Seraph promptly started decorating the hard, shiny surfaces with portieres and Persian carpets, while Splendor busied herself replacing the crappy spacesuits with Fortuny frock coats and feathered helmets... Conspiracy theories aside, dear readers, it would appear that the decadent duo have indeed returned, so please take a seat and make yourself at home...

Speaking of home, one of the more momentous events as of late is that Obsidian Hall (in all of it's glittering glory) was uprooted from its moorings. As luck would have it, we had just enough time to gather our belonging before its fabled facade floated away never to be seen again... Now moving is an arduous task on any occasion but when ones residence exists in varying states of reality the undertaking is increased tenfold.  

Upon inspection, several suites had entirely vanished while others would only appear on moonless nights. The dining room has alas been lost but the crypt was right where we left it last time we visited. Several rooms became rather spooked at the news of an impending upheaval. The master bedroom was found wandering the grounds while the Harem (dancing girls included) hid in the attic. Objects and implements of physical nature proved most problematic to pack. The better part of many an afternoon was spent chasing a wayward wardrobe or nimble nightstand, but our imaginary parlor set was simply slipped into our pockets. After more than a month of Sundays all of the furnishings were caught and carefully crated and have settled in their new abode quite nicely, thank you very much...

Sadly to say, the human residents of Obsidian Hall (in all of their various states of decay) fared less well. The sullen spectres were quite inconsolable and the cadavers refused to leave their crypt. A woebegone wraith took to breaking teacups while the ghouls cried all day (which in our humble opinion is quite unacceptable for a servant of darkness but as they say “ghouls just want to have fun”... hmmm...) As for the skeletons in the closet, THAT is a story for another day...

(Fear not, dear ones, the dust has settled and Obsidian Hall has been rebuilt. The ghosts are indeed giddy about their haunt as are we...!)

Rose with dark eyes,
mirror of your nothingness,
rose with dark eyes,
make us believe in mystery,
hypocrite flower, flower of silence. 

(Litanies de la Rose by Remy de Gourmont)
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