Friday, December 28, 2012

Diamond Jubilee

We saw Anna Karenina last night and while I did not want her to throw herself under a train in general,  I knew that she would and I found myself wishing she might do it a little sooner.  Keira Knightly's jewelry by Chanel, did keep me interested throughout and I was clicking around trying to find those remarkable diamond and pearl earrings today.  No luck.  But, as sometimes happens, I stumbled across something equally delicious.  Chanel's site features a video of the design and fabrication of the most remarkable necklace.  Four and half minutes - well worth every second.  Here.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

The Last Place You Look

Well, of course it's the last place you look, the old saw goes, as why would you keep looking once you've found it? One could assume, perhaps, that what the saying should be is that it's the last place you'd think to look.  And then you did.  And there it was.

Such was the case as I was pouring over the the Wright catalogue for Italian Masterworks.  Having a weakness for dark hair, dark eyes and carbs, all things Italian tend to appeal and the contents of this catalogue were no exceptions.  It was a pleasant surprise to find this image of Mr. Ponti's Distex lounge chair in such inspiring surroundings.

I've picked up some graphic, rather geometric, art lately.  I thought it might be just the thing for the family room, but it just hasn't felt quite right.  Finding these pictures all framed in white on a neutral wall made everything clear.  More (when isn't this the case with me?), all framed white.  Right?  Wright.  Grazie mille, Signore.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Dim Some

I have done my fair share of Restoration Hardware bashing, but I have always mentioned that I do, really, like their lighting and hardware.  I do.  And, so, in the interest of fair coverage, I mention how much I'm enjoying the Library Swing-Arm Sconce.  She was easy to install, solid and swivels nicely.  She does everything I thought she'd do.  I was doubly delighted to find that handsome knob, which makes a subtle "click" at "on" and "off," is also a dimmer switch.  This is the sort of detail that makes my heart explode in a burst of love at first light, like finding Winnie-the-Pooh on someone's grown-up bookshelf.

Library Swing-Arm Sconce at Restoration Hardware here.

Obviously, RH did not compensate me in any way.  And, no, I did not iron my bedding as I have two deadlines and three children in three different sports and it's a week before Christmas.  Get over it.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

The Wright Stuff

My father was a photographer for CBS and I can remember when I was little his coming home and telling me about the story he had worked on that day.  Civil Rights marches and nuclear protests and sometimes really good things like an antique dealer in New Orleans who told him that he never wore socks or underwear.  "He wasn't wearing any socks," my father smiled as he wove the tale of the gentleman's second career.  (I do not remember the dealer's original occupation, but at the time the idea of not wearing underwear must have seemed significant.)

It was the stories of these people's lives that made me want to go into journalism.  The idea that one's job could entail learning something new every single day seemed wonderful.  He told me loads of the most unwonderful things about the business, but they did not seem to outweigh the excitement.

I am off to Chicago today to preview and attend the Wright Important Design Auction in Chicago.  I am off on an adventure.

You can view the lots here.  Image, via, is a detail of a Jean Royere Jet d'Eau floor lamp.  She is elegant and unexpected; a most terrific combination. Photography, Ross Floyd.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Second Chances

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.

Monday, December 10, 2012


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.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

The Life of the Party

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.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Animal Attraction

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.