First let me just say how much I love her dress. Very chic.
And now let me say (stop reading here if I’m not allowed to say it) how much I adore this apartment to bits. Usually I have a tendency to be drawn to rooms where there is less going on. Not in a minimalist sense, although that can be equally tempting if done in a certain way, but more of a “if you lived here there will be nothing that will ever go wrong again, ever” kind of way. You know, with gleaming white counter tops, dainty vases of fresh flowers, wide open shutter windows with light washing over the walls… so that imagining any stress whatsoever taking place there seems literally impossible.
But this apartment is like a feast for the eyes in another way. Every place my eyes seemed to rest, even for a moment, there was something intriguing staring back at me. A statue of a tough, chocolate bull dog, a pop of bright pink in the form of a tree stump stool, two leather chairs that seem right out of Star Trek, a truly 80’s boombox radio, dazzling jewelry, all so meticulously organized, or a very happy collection of book ends and miniature statues adorning the book case. So just as the rooms of impossible stress tempt me in one way, this room tempts me in another. One can really imagine a life going on here. It isn’t too prim and perfect. There’s room for a little healthy chaos, and once all is well in the world, you can take a visit to your hippo friend who just so happens to be a bartender at the same time. There is so much glamour, and so much ingenuity. I can practically feel the creativity pulsing through the veins of this designer, becoming more and more exhilarated with each vintage trinket or bold piece he or she found.
And so of course it makes sense that an editor from Vogue lives here. Honestly, how am I not surprised.
ps. Can no longer find the link, however, if you are dying out of desperation to find it, I will make sure to look through each page in my history to find it. At this point though, True Blood is calling my name. Forgive me.