11th Dimension

Oh, my goodness gracious. More than a month absence and I left you with Evelyn "Champagne" King and some Photoshopped plates? Shame on ME. I promise I haven't been holed up at home eating ice cream (well, not for consecutive nights at least) but rather working hard at Derelicte and fixing up my place, spurred on by visits from sisterbelle and my favorite ex-Wilderness Boy. Yes, the ten large boxes of coffee table books have finally been unpacked. The Op-art painted wood floor has been executed. The doo-doo brown burlwood wardrobe (a.k.a. my only closet) is now pale blue, awaiting some kind of red kuba cloth-inspired design on the doors and drawers. Also, question: can you hang a 5ft x 6ft canvas on a piano hinge to operate as a giant cabinet door? I'm gonna try. And try to to update more often because Fall '09 is offering up so much inspiration. Like Kelly Wearstler in Vogue AND Met Home?? Outrageous. Magazine subscriber copy covers like these:



Delicious! (Why they put those Family Circle-quality fugfests on the newsstands I'll never know, but that's yet another topic). And thanks to one of my two musical liaisons -- let's face it, without them I'd be listening to the iTunes 90s radio station nonstop -- I have a New Favorite Song: '11th Dimension' by sloe-eyed, slurring Stroke singer Julian Casablancas:


Things we know about Jules: his dad is legendary modelizer John Casablancas (who dated legendary maneater Stephanie Seymour when she was but sixteen) and he can work a Red Wing boot/velvet blazer combo like nobody's business. Oh and he's a super-talented songwriter! But let's analyze the album cover above ... an apparent RCA Victor homage set against moody, Rive Gauche colors. Teal-stained plank wood floor? Yes, please. The black wainscoting, panels and speakers make me think of Jenna Lyon's chalkboard paint bedroom but reimagined with an aubergine silk velvet headboard piped in orange, a red lacquer mirror over the fireplace and a brass-mounted mahogany bureau plat with a distressed leather top as a bedside table with a desk chair upholstered in shiny orange leather. It also reminds of this Matisse painting I saw with Aunt Pat a few months back in Philly:


Le luxe (I), 1907. Sure looks like a frozen surface of a fireball to me. Note to crouching bather lady: sometimes I like to put my head in the sand, too, but you'll miss out on a whole lotta luxe that way. Ya dig?