The Meaning of Meant

When I told my husband the new house was perfect as is...

he knew that I meant except for the stripping

and bleaching of the walls here.

He knew that. Right?

When my 4 year old squealed that she wanted the
walls in her new room to be pink pink pink...

She meant ballet pink. A pink as soft as Cecile Brunner's
first petal pop. A subtle and sophisticated pink.

An heiress pink.

 

So I matched Farrow and Ball's Pink Ground.

Pink enough.

Right?

And when we signed and I said that I wanted

chickens because I'm moving here and it has this...

I didn't mean it. I was wrong. Right? 

Moving

We are moving and it's weird. Weird because we are an average couple. A guy who is a glorified cook married to a lady turned
decorator. We happened to stumble upon a semi-rural faux english farm.
Lacking the trust fund, legacy or crown to accompany it all, she,
with her faux prince, emptied their pockets and purchased it.
And now, the only thing that I can do to make this farm a home is to swear to the following:

Occasionally, smoke a fag in the barn for faux Englishman's sake. What a chore.
Drunkenly, mow the lawn in the inherited mower...without risk of arrest.
Pretend to have chickens.
Install English wallpaper in the girls' rooms.
Pretend to can.
Mow. Again. And drink. And mow.
Rest. And hydrate. (Mowing and pretending is incredibly draining).
And paint. Palest pink. The color of an English mouse's belly. Pink. Aliscious.

One King's Lane

Another one of my One King's Lane sales starts today!

I need to pay for some stuff. My new house needs a funky runner.

First choice...David Hicks' Chevron Boucle for Stark.

Or Stark's Key Stria.

Plus, this little office needs to be stripped and whitewashed.

Thanks, ladies. Let's get cracking.

Luke Irwin

What rug has he been hiding under?

Shade Deprived

I'm selling my house, I'm moving in 2 1/2 weeks, I'm working on a big auction,

I have a couple of big design projects, my kids are crazy and tomorrow is spring break...

 and the only thing that I can think about are these yellow shades.

Image via Lee Anderson Couture.

Snow Day

I'm moving...and thanks to these girls I'm selling stuff. So I can buy these things. For my new house.

Blackamoors

It seems like Blackamoors are everywhere these days.

They come in all shapes but only one color.

This one is on Michelle Nussbaumer's blog. $2800.

Four Blackamoors (two shown) guard the corners at Hutton Wilkinson's place.

My Blackamoor pendant by Corletto that I bought on Etsy. $170.

Important (that always cracks me up) Venetian Blackamoor Mirror at Sotheby's. $321,548.

Blackamoor table at Pariscope. $3,600.

Blackamoor sconces at Dragonette. $9,500.

And MY fancy little blackamoors that I bought last year for a song. 

I think they are Venetian polychrome blackamoors. It looks like they used to be lamps.

I tried to have them rewired but the old wires were PLASTERED IN! AHHHHH!

So, I just screwed some brass candle holders in place instead.

 The brass candle holders aren't the answer. I'm still looking.
These fancy pants deserve something better, don't ya think?

Moving

The paint is barely dry and we are moving.

We are going to start showing our house in a few weeks.

If you know anybody that wants to buy a great vintage home

on College Hill in Eugene, Oregon...tell them to email me!

You know what's really funny? We are moving. Well, the moving part isn't funny...it's everything that goes with it that is funny. You see...my family has lived in this neighborhood for 16 years. We've remodeled two houses.

I've had babies. Dogs. Dwarf hamsters.  Deocrated. Made cakes.

Ridden bikes. Redecorated. Cried. Laughed. Redecorated. 

So, it isn't easy to leave. It's not easy for my neighbors to see me go, either.

A lot of things have happened on this hill. It all started with an epic New Year's party made up of a young band of proud professors and...us...fueled mostly by French Chardonnay with a little stolen Ritalin thrown in. Fast forward to now.

We're moving, I nervously tell them. I can sense my shiftiness. My friends were immediately grief stricken at the thought. You can't. You musn't. The neighborhood will be devastated. I was flattered. Then their sadness quickly turned to anger. My two best pals on the hill stopped speaking to me. How could you, they spat? Which quickly turned to...who can we get to buy your house? Which led to that conversation...WHO is looking at it? You can't possibly sell it to THEM! "they don't drink!" or "she doesn't give her kids SUGAR?"or "they'll put raised beds on the parking strip!". In all honesty, these are excellent points. Let's just hope the highest offer comes in from a pre-rehab family of four who still believes in the Oreo reward system and still buys their vegetables at the market. In Eugene...that's a stretch.

Neighbor A. My Chloe clad reiki master is finally beginning to speak to me again but I'm sure it's only due to the fact that she is trying to accumulate pencils and papers to give to the kids on her pilgrammage to Africa. She has promised me a house cleanse but who knows what is really up her Chloe puffed sleeve? She could plant evil spirits. Spirits who rattle chains when I pour the Lillet or wilt my new hydrangeas with their evil breath.

Neighbor B. She sniffs that she isn't mad and will certainly come visit...when I put in a pool. That said, she takes her Gucci bag and goes home. Let me say that she can't stay mad. It seems to expire at 8:00 sharp when her son goes to bed when she continues to rendezvous with me on the rock wall between our houses at 9:00 for a late night greyhound and a French import.

Wendy's House

My friend Wendy had already taken a classic ranch house and updated it with

some great finishes...carrera marble, subway tiles, seagrass, etc...

She's good like that...but she needed some stuff. Correction. Some tough stuff.

Wendy has three boys.

So, we started with the entry. I had an old runner in my storage unit. Of course.

I found this gorgeous dusty blue chest from Legends of Asia

and had a custom bamboo framed mirror made.

Next came this West Elm lacquer tray and these adorable

old Chinese lamps from Pewter Rabbit Antiques.

New shades and finials were a must.

Wendy had this little built-in and custom carrera table already

(I told you she was good). I just had a cushion made, found these

111 Navy chairs (made from recycled coke bottles)...

...and added a few pillows in Rose Tarlow's Medici. Easy.

The dining room. Millbrook pendants from Currey & Co. LOVE these.

Pillows in Lee Jofa's Twister and a linen bench cushion.

Limed gray oak table by Zentique.

Plus, two Eames Molded Plastic chairs in Java. Done.

Living room. New slipcover for the ottoman in Peter Dunham's Ikat in

Peacock. Trim used around the bottom was cut from the pillow fabric.

I spent awhile figuring this out. I know it looks obvious but I was briefly tortured.

 Jasper's Indian Flower.

Inlaid tray from the wonder bunnies in India via Wunderley. Of course.

Scribble bench.

Recovered in velvet from Econo Sales. $12.99/yd.

See people? I can be frugal. Not often but it happens.

Plus, Wendy's gorgeous paintings from Catherine Maize.

And it's a wrap.