Second Chances

Uncategorized,

I’m not sure why I did not pick up Jeffrey Bilhuber’s book when it was published last year.  Could’ve been timing, I suppose, distracted by some thing or other that is now long forgotten.  But I came back to him a couple of months ago and we’ve been happily co-habitating since.  He’s always near at hand and never fails to put a smile on my face.  As much as I admire clean and serene, I can’t resist color and in this Mr. Bilhuber never disappoints.  There’s one project in particular that is chocked with vintage needlepoint and every time I turn from page 61 to 63 I think, “Yes. More.  I do.  I want more.”  So I spend my day hoping Jeffrey will forgive me for my initial oversight and my evenings stitch, stitch, stitching.

If you days are either hectic and hurried or gray and gloomy, consider Jeffrey Bilhuber’s The Way Home as an easy antidote.  You can find it here.  Needlepoint was something I had all but given up in the hey day of blogging; it’s good to be back at it.

rssrss      FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmail

Click

Uncategorized,

I’m not sure I can describe the visceral reaction that some have to color to one who simply, through no fault of his own, does not.  It’s an electric reaction, a burst really, that I feel as the color, the color, the color comes in through my eyes, saturates my brain and lights in my chest like a firework. “Yes.” The strength of the ‘Y’ and the linger of the ‘S’ – in thought or in word – igniting the thrill of beginning.
Again, Benjamin Moore Galapagos Turquoise, which, with any luck and holiday sanity, will grace the walls of my powder room soon.


PS – reposting because of image errors; forgive me if you’ve seen this twice.
rssrss      FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmail

The Life of the Party

Uncategorized

She hadn’t been out in ages – she couldn’t remember the last time, really.  It was such a swell party, too. The caviar, the champagne, the music.  Divine.  She had worried that she might not fit in, was concerned that they might find her too old-fashioned, but the crowd had been charming.  She did not know when she would have a chance to take such a turn again, but she was happy to wait, remembering a most perfect evening.

I picked up this vintage Vendome brooch hunting and gathering at the Lauritzen Gardens Antique Show a couple of months ago.  She is pretty terrif.

rssrss      FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmail

Animal Attraction

Uncategorized,

She almost walked right by him, then he caught her eye as she crossed the room.  As she noticed him, he winked and she turned her head, letting him know she was not so easily swayed.  She passed him again and noticed his gaze was steady.  She sensed that he was a little damaged; at this age, who wasn’t?

She walked out the door with her friends, across the street and to the car.  With her hand on the handle, unable to meet their eyes, she said, “I have to go back.  I’m sorry.  I’ll be fast.”  She skipped up the steps, her breath coming quicker.  Her world was so jumbled already, she did not know how she would fit him in it.  What if he were gone?

Her nerves fluttered when she could not find him in the room where she’d seen him last.  Then she turned and he was there.  She could tell there might have been someone else, even in the brief time she had been gone, but she didn’t care.  They left together without exchanging a word.

As he sat beside her in the car, her hand resting against his leg, she imagined that her friends might be envious that he was with her.  She ran her finger across his curls. She was already thinking about how she could change him.

I picked up this Centaur sculpture at Kansas City dealer, Scott Lindsay’s, this weekend.  He is not broken in the middle, as I originally thought, but in fact, swivels, making me love him even more.  I would rather see him on a honed black marble base; if it weren’t for the wear on the paint, which I adore, he might be a chalky white already.

rssrss      FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmail

Proud as a….

Uncategorized

Speaking of John Robshaw, (we were, Monday – do try to keep up) I’ve gone back to look at the paint color in his bedroom several times. (In Elle Decor, not in Mr. Robshaw’s actual bedroom, but I’m sure you got that.)  It’s not dissimilar to the color in his showroom the last time I was there.  (And, perhaps, now, though I can’t say for sure.)

I’ve been looking for a peacocky concoction.  I keep kicking it around for my powder room, which is ridiculously large at a staggering 7’x7′.  It could be a bedroom if you don’t reach your hands over your head when you stretch.  I first spied the image that the paint is atop on Little Augury and have carried it around in both mental and paper form since.  I truly do, in every way, want to paint a Greek key dado somewhere, someway, somehow.

So that below, rich summer night sky above (ceiling, too.)  Originally, I was a little worried about a color that deep in a space that large.  Then there was Robshaw and his bedroom (see, I brought it back around) which seem quite happily clad.

I’d jump right in, but that pattern is going to require a little math.  You know how I am about math.  It may have to wait until after the holiday.

Image, Vogue, May, 2007; photography by Steven Meisel, produced by Grace Coddington, set design Mary Howard and panels by Sarah Oliphant, whom I wish I knew so she could help me measure.


Robshaw’s bedroom is Benjamin Moore Kensington Blue.  The paint, above, is highly evolved Benjamin Moore Galapagos Turquoise.

rssrss      FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmail