Parsons Disease

My dears, I think I've officially seen one too many Parsons tables. The old, visually unassuming table that looks equally appealing with crayons or fine china, has officially run its course. And oddly enough, that course ends in my doctor's office.

My doctor recently overhauled her waiting room, replacing the hard, office carpet-upholstered, scoop-bottom chairs (the sort that come pre-molded to accomodate a behind, and yes, I've also wondered who the manufacturers modeled the hind-part after) with a sterile array of geometric furniture. There was nothing but sharp corners and edges, with nothing to reassure you for the paper-gowned future that awaits. It was as if my doctor imported the most charmless part of a German research facility and plunked it down in her persian-carpeted corner of New Jersey, and the effect was very alarming.

I left with antibiotics and a very strong urge to paint my work desk gold (and I did, using 2.5 canisters of Rust-oleum 7270 from the Home Depot). Not only am I now secure in my writing desk's ability to repel rust, but I have also determined that now is about the time for a Rococo-esque revival. Why? Because the Rococo style, with its more-is-better approach, is very cheerful and a lot more soothing than a loft full of sharp lines and harsh cold tones.

But don't ready yourself to pillage Donatella Versace's humble abode just yet. Ironically, the best way to incorporate Rococo is through moderation: paint an odd piece of furniture (my writing desk used to be a very old vanity with a very old paint job) gold, upgrade your mouldings to a more ornate style. The key is to designate a specific focal point to go to town over.

A slightly less dirt-interactive option is to simply buy a carpet. I just adore the Medici Rug from Scarlett Alley (241 Race Street): Mocha for a statement, Aqua for the more timid.