Current Anthropologie catalogue – anyone know where it was shot?
Thoroughly Modern Tommy
Amidst the nuttiness of last week I packed up and headed to Chicago for twenty hours. Part of the fun of visiting Chicago from here is that the flight is an hour-and-a-half. That’s not even quite enough time for me to get hungry.
Thomas O’Brien is just as appealing in person as you would imagine him to be. It’s difficult to describe someone who is so passionate and so unassuming at the same time. There’s an energy there, but it’s easy.
O’Brien said a lot of things about design and collecting and living a thoughtful life. Every thing was modern once. Rather than collecting deeply, perhaps it is just as interesting to buy the one, one, piece that you admire the most. And, he likes laundry. Like, really, really likes laundry. He’d rather stay home and do laundry than go out. We may have to agree to disagree on this one.
But don’t take my word for it, hear him for yourself. O’Brien will be speaking about design and his new book, American Modern in the following cities:
June 10, New York, Hickory Chair at the New York Design Center
And, for those of you who are bloggers or regular blog readers, Marija is a delight and Magnaverde is a prince. A genius prince. Also, just as you would expect.
The image, above, is from House Beautiful, February 1994. Photographer Laura Resen took the picture. Resen was the photographer for the houses in the book and also a damsel in distress whom O’Brien saved from the big bad wolf in line at art school. As for the title, O’Brien mentioned in his talk that his father called him Tommy; it is not meant to imply that I do.
At Last
I had the opportunity to set up early for Dining by Design so I rattled around in a mostly empty enormous exhibit hall unloading my stuff from rolling suit cases.
It all worked out beautifully as I was able to get everything finished, pick up the boys from school and have a normal dinner before I left for Chicago Friday morning.
It was great fun to watch the designers constructing their backdrops and creating their vignettes. Styrofoam looked like stone and store displays seemed like antiques as these incredible creative minds transformed stuff to fantasy.
My friend, Mrs. Kerr, whipped up a table cloth from remnants of Le Lac that I had from my living room curtains. The dinner plates are my china, Herend’s Golden Edge, topped by yellow fretwork dishes from World Market. Chinese medallion plates on loan from Linda Hancock Antiques are the icing on the cake and I do wish these were in my private collection.
Sharyn Blond generously loaned me ten black linen napkins and I have to saw when you feel high quality linen you realize that there is such a difference; it is worth every penny. While I used Tiffany Bamboo on my dream table two years ago, this flatware is from World Market as well. The bone handled knives are mine as is all of the glass ware. The glasses are a mix of crystal, bud vases that can be found at any big craft store and the red glasses that I scrounged from two different booths at the River Market Antique mall and Blackwell’s, a treasure trove of a thrift shop on 63rd.
When I realized that any lamp I own would look like doll house furniture in this space I made an emergency plea to AJ at Barbara Cosgrove Lamps. “I think the black glass pillars would be so sexy,” and she was right. They finished the space beautifully.
The table was pretty, while some were spectacular, but the best part of the evening was the people who were with us. As is always the case.
I did not take pictures of other tables (as my photography would not do them justice) but will post some as the become available. Fellow Kansas City blogger, David at Midwestern Malaise, snapped a few and you can see them here. Also, I believe the plates from World Market are at the tail end of their run; there are some in stores, but they are not on-line.
Finish Line
The living room and dining room are back to order. Oh, yes, the dining room was piled and stacked and fairly buried as well.
The car is loaded and I am all ready for set up for Dining by Design. I will report back with pictures on Monday (see, only one more post), but if you are in town do pop in to see the tables. Table Hop Friday night 5 – 9, just $25 at the door or the sneak peek Saturday from 9 to noon for $10. All the info is here.
There is a silent auction both Friday and Saturday nights, and I tip my hat in grateful thanks to Margaret Russell who donated a signed copy of Elle Decor’s Style and Substance
and Thomas O’Brien who donated a signed copy of American Modern.
Wanda Allen Jewelry and Tom Tivol have made lovely donations as well and these are only a few of the treasures that will be up for grabs.
Hope to see you there.
What Gives, Bud?
I’ve had good teachers and bad teachers. Most of the good teachers I remember were English teachers or history teachers or journalism teachers. Maybe it wasn’t the teachers who were good or bad, but my affinity for their subjects. On the other hand, my high school biology teacher was whispered to have had a fling with a senior and my high school chemistry teacher (also the cheerleading sponsor) spent our hours together monotonously reading aloud from the textbook. She might as well have been reading Greek. So maybe the teachers’ skills played as large a part as mine.
Regardless, the little science experiment that has been playing out on my kitchen counter has proved both amusing and frustrating. The tables for Dining by Design (and I am sorry if you are bored of the subject – it is likely to continue all week) are not allowed to have open flame. I like tapers. It’s not that I don’t like votives, I do, and hurricanes have their place, but I really like a tall, elegant taper.
Enter the bud vase from Nell Hill’s. When I spied it I am quite sure the women around me could hear a bell go off. “I can put a taper in there. It will not be an open flame. It will be a perfectly stylish slender hurricane and I am a genius.”
So, tra la, tra la, to the register I head with my basket. Nell Hill’s manager, who was a manager of mine long ago, cautioned only that as the bud vase was not meant to hold a candle the heat might cause it to break. Good thinking. I’d check it out.
Drip, drip, drip a few drops of wax in the bottom to hold the taper steady, light the wick and wait. I was fixing dinner and helping with homework when the eldest Blandings boy said, “Oh, Mom, the candle went out.” “Did someone blow it out?” “Nope.” Huh.
I tried again. And again. With different sized candles. Out of drafts. Each and every time, regardless of the variables, the flame went out when the candle reached about two full inches from the top of the slender, genius hurricane. The boys, including Mr. Blandings, thought this was the most interesting thing I had done for a long time.
I get that the candle is not getting enough oxygen; I just don’t get why. I mean, people survive for days buried in rubble from earthquakes, it just seems that oxygen would travel a couple of inches to ensure that I have a pretty table. It’s the least oxygen could do.
I’ve asked the eldest to ask his science teacher, Mrs. T, why this would be. Mrs. T is an excellent teacher. If Mrs. T had been my science teacher I would be a modern day Curie. With stylish slender tapers to light my lab.
