Year-Round Valentine's Day

I've been struggling for the right words for Valentine's Day decorating, but am in a bit of a sugar cookie-induced haze. I had a speaking engagement today, and the lovely audience thanked me with a big tray of sugar cookies with inch-thick icing. I can barely move, much less form a coherant thought.

Instead of pontificating, here is a breakdown of some things that COULD be considered Valentine's Day specific, but are actually sold year-round. Therefore, you don't have to feel self-conscious displaying these wonderful things past Feb. 14th.

The Max Litterbox by Cats Rule, at Petco. I saw this over the weekend and really couldn't stop thinking about how this company managed to make a cat toilet so lovely and whimsical. See website for store locations.

The Fleur-de-lys drinking glass at Anthropologie (Rittenhouse Square) transforms simple tap water in to ambrosia. All for $8 a pop. I've been meaning to buy a set of these for a while, but have previously been put off by the somewhat hard edges and the teeming mass of humanity that descends on the store on Saturdays, my preferred shopping day. But someday, these will be mine.

But nothing says romance quite like this sexy tiger rug. All kidding aside, a tiger rug is great for breaking up the monotony of both your marriage and a monochromatic decorating scheme. Really. Everybody becomes much more interesting when a sassy rug is in a room. Head straight to Matthew Izzo to buy one.

Much Ado About Antiques

I was positively suckered in to reading an article in the New York Times H&G section last week, merely because the accompanying photographed included Joan Rivers and folk art. Not that I have a particular interest in Joan Rivers and folk art, mind you, I just enjoyed the juxtaposition.

(Here is the article, in case you didn't see)

Well, not only was there scant information about Ms. Rivers and her folk art, the article turned out to be a very serious investigation on what well-heeled people worry most about: What their designers think of their family hand-me-downs and antique purchases.

To wit, "You know these pieces: The baroque, over-size bedroom set, fit for the home of a mountain king; the circular mahogany table that seats 14. Angèle Parlange, who grew up in an 18th-century Louisiana plantation house and is the author of “Creole Thrift,” just published by ReganBooks, calls it “big brown furniture.” And unlike the mistakes you make at a flea market and can unload on eBay, when you take this stuff home, you’re stuck for life."

What a limited and dreary world view to have. I was highly appalled by the glaring lack of imagination that I felt a need to give some soothing tips on what to do with your antiques:

-Paint it gold. Unless Aunt Mimi wrote a brilliant manifesto on her writing desk, feel free to paint it gold, replace the hardware and use it as a mini-bar. Aunt Mimi probably used it in that respect, albeit informally. If you're short on space, take the doors off a closet and place in there. You can always stuff your ill-fitting sweaters and stretched-out bathing suits somewhere else.

-Make a dining room. Even if you have the most microscopic apartment, it will behoove you to make your own dining room. If given the choice between some clunky entertainment center and uncomfortable futons, and a circular mahogany table for 14...you are better off with the table, a deck of cards, and the phone number of the nearest hotel for your dear friends. Throw caution to the wind, when it comes to scale.

-Burn bridges. Some people WILL be cross with you if you start painting "antiques." The resulting grudge will only be short-term, and really, you probably needed a break from their presence/phone conversations anyway.

Every once in a while, there is something worth buying at Starbucks. I'm not saying this in a snobby way. It's just that usually, the items (cups, plates, etc) available would only be bought by someone seriously brainwashed by Starbucks. For example, take this "To-Go" style oversized mug at left, still available at your local Starbucks. Why would any free-thinking individual want this? Does it magically transform your Taster's Choice in to a super strong brew? I especially like the way there are those "customization" boxes on the side.

Anyway. So this Halloween, Starbucks is promoting whimsical items that may or may not be based on the Ugly Dolls. They even have mugs based on these designs, and this is what I approve of. I figure, if you can't have a fine china mug in the morning, at least have something exquisitely cheerful.

You can't get the mugs online--except for on eBay, where the photos came from--but you can usually get them at your local Starbucks outpost.

Fighting the Dust Tax

I usually associate the term "Vintage" with "Even Though This Item Is Cracked, Dusty and Pretty Much Useless, I Have Tacked On An Extra Fee." For ease, I'll call it the "Dust Tax."

But I'll abandon my cynical principles when it comes to exquisite, hand-made objects that just aren't available today. For instance, I will happily term this owl bell (above, left) from Philadelphia-based online retailer Plaid City Village as an appropriate vintage item. You just can't find a good owl-shaped bell these days. Especially one that's been to Florida.

The doorway textile (bottom, left) from Ruka (114 S. 19th) is also appropriate vintage. Hand-embroidered peacocks grace the textile, meant to hang in your doorway or window. I think it would work better in an often neglected doorway, unless yours is frightfully low or you live amongst giants. This would also work well with two of the biggest trends for autumn, jewel colors and decorating accents that are, or appear to be, hand-made.

The Sophisticated Way to Store Your Loose Change...


The problem: You want a beautiful, classical marble bust of a famous historical figure, but you don't have the money for one. And there aren't any Marble Bust Stores nearby.

The solution: The Ben Franklin Bust/Bank. This is a very ingenious way to address the Marble Bust absence in your life. Not only is this a steal at $40, but the solemn face of Ben Franklin (and the coin deposit on his head) also encourages you to save your money, since it doubles as a bank. You can also carry it home from the Franklin Institute with ease, since it is made of lightweight materials. You can purchase it through the Franklin Institute Store, here.

You can keep it simple, and display as you would a normal classical bust (dramatically lit from above, perhaps on a pedestal of some sort), or you can casually place it in the bathroom.

Bettie, Bettie, Bettie

There is only one thing I need to say in reference to that Bettie Page bio-pic that's coming out soon to three movie theatres in the area. While Ms. Mol looks adorable in the period outfits, and the plot sounds interesting enough, there is just one thing that I feel the need to say: ENOUGH WITH THE BETTIE PAGE.

There.

Bettie Page is to vintage chic, as Monet is to art: meaning accessible, recognizable to even the lowest common denominator and a very easy reference to "get." There's nothing inherently wrong about Page or Monet, but well...let's just say we need to broaden our minds a bit.

There is a lot more to 1940's and 50's style than Bettie Page. How does this relate to furniture/home decor, you ask? Well, think about it. If you're going to commit yourself to a 40's or 50's style, the first instinct is to go for the Bettie Page look- dark hair with blunt bangs, red lips, leopard. But it's done. You can walk down South Street, or hang out in Northern Liberties, and you will see at least 5 girls with that same look. There's even whole brigades of Page worshippers in the form of those Rollergirl teams. It's not fresh, or new, and involves total commitment to the look in order to not look completely silly (Bettie Page, I suspect, never grocery shopped at Superfresh).

When people are going for a retro-50's look for their homes, they end up buying loads of mid-century-esque stuff from Ikea or West Elm. There's nothing inherently wrong with Ikea or West Elm, either. But the result doesn't read Retro-Chic: It reads "I got all my stuff from Ikea or West Elm. You might want to keep any open flame away from, well, everything."

Mid-Century modern is easy to achieve at all price ranges. At the smaller budgets, leave the references to paint color and lighting: make your walls your furniture. Pick two colors (Tiffany's-box Blue with Cream contrast works), and do a bold, graphic pattern such as polka dots, or vertical stripes. Spend most of your budget on lighting, which can make even the cheapest table look delightful- even when the lighting itself, is cheap. Go geometric, and leave the paper shades behind. The Fado Lamp (no, not named for the irish-themed hookup spot) at Ikea comes in two sizes at the store- buy a handful of each size and arrange in groupings, chandelier-like. Spray-paint all eyesore hand-me-down furniture gold. It's all very Dorothy Draper, preacheress of the maximalist aesthetic and namesake of this very blog.

Those with bigger pockets should head to Mode Moderne specifically for tables and seating, and Matthew Izzo for the Jonathan Adler collection (the couches are much coveted).

But at all price points, keep the Bettie Page rule in mind: don't commit yourself to the safe, easy- to-conjure, look. Mix everything that strikes your eye, don't be afraid to break out the spray-paint and don't concern yourself to the strictly authentic.

Book Learning

With all the end-of-the-world statistics these days regarding the state of America's rampant illiteracy, you'd think we would all put our books on display in an effort to show that we weren't part of some dreadful statistic.

And then I saw Pottery Barn.

If you notice, there are books displayed behind the unoffensive and neutral sofa, yes. But the books are displayed with the bindings facing IN, which would make finding the book you'd need positively impossible to find. Whatever this fictional Pottery Barn family is doing, it's certainly not tucking in to Nancy Drew novels.

Books can certainly make a nice display, as long as you're not trying to pass them off as something other than what they are: that is, books. And not a neutral backdrop for your sofas. Besides, people will end up hypothesizing that you're really just hiding a massive collection of tawdry titles if you turn the bindings in.

But what if you have nothing but tawdry paperbacks? Well, Philadelphia has more used-book stores than it knows what to do with: Book Trader on N. 2nd is a particularly good choice. Bookhaven (2202 Fairmount Ave) is one of those fabulous old-style bookstores that are practically bursting at the seams with stuff. The AIA bookstore (17th and Samson) is self-explanatory: lots of glossy architecture tomes.

Bookshelves are fine to use, but tread carefully when it comes to the non-traditional. The Chicago Shelves from DWR are modern, but are unobtrusive. Perfect for those with a small collection, or would like to avoid the massive-wall-of-books look. However, the Sapian shelves are a bit reminiscent of sad starting-out days (Ramen noodles anyone?).