Happy Talk

I suppose every decorator is a bit of collector regardless of his or her aesthetic. We like to keep an inventory, and a warehouse full of Gustavian furniture, while perhaps illogical, won't land you on 'Oprah' or Hoarders any time soon. Let us list all my collections since birth: suspenders, seashells, Matchbox and die-cast model cars, gemstones, marble eggs, all manner of brass objets, movie and museum posters, illustrated books, decorative boxes ... I'm sure I'm forgetting a few. Oh, and chairs!

But I also collect words and expressions. I probably get this from my father, who once told me in an airport terminal (I forget the topic of our convo),

"Nickolas, that's not worth a tinker's darn!"

"What is that supposed to mean?? Do you have some almanac of archaic terms? I mean, what's a tinker anyway?"

"Well, uh, I think it's someone who makes barrels --"

"That's a cooper."

Apparently a tinker was an itinerant tradesman who mended pots and pans during the colonial era, but nonetheless this turn of phrase helped him make a point.

And I will get to mine eventually. I also grew up mimicking my older sister and her friends, because let's face it, mine were a total snore compared to girls with boyfriends and names like "Desiree." Sis was a ballerina and dancers have their own distinctive argot full of silly little words and abbreviations. An "in crowd" of sorts but quirkier, and more focused. I wanted in.

I felt those same pangs back in 1995 when Isaac Mizrahi's Unzipped actually made it to University Mall Cinemas in Pensacola. The absurd self-importance of fashionese! Fast forward to Cycle 406 of America's Next Top Model and this exchange which refuses to leave my brain:

Judge Andre Leon Talley: “You don’t go to the dreck poupette level. You go to the high level. High fashion.”

Guest Judge Pat Cleveland: “High fashion.”

Andre: “High fashion!”

Pat: “High fashion! She has to learn to say 'hi' to fashion.”

TYRA (pseudo-flustered): “What’s happening??”

Sheer idiotic magic, Ty-Ty; that's what's happening. Oh and I could literally watch Rachel Zoe episodes on repeat until she comes up with a worthy follow-up to "I die!" Where word salad is concerned (that's another Pa Olsen term), I guess I'm obsessed with point at which completely ludicrous pronouncements lose the wink-wink and become serious and cool-making. Master, I bow to thee.

Sadly decorators aren't quite granted this kind of poetic license. We talk about fabrics and shapes all day long but "I look at that bullion fringe, I DIE!" just doesn't have the same ring to it. Or cool factor. Karl is right: Fashion is ephemeral, cruel and unfair. Decorating is slow and downright mensch-y in comparison. But I'm totally gonna keep mimicking the way my friend Chris Benz says the word 'look': "Kelly's really working a lewk today." In fact she was.

Shop Furbish

Ladies and gentleman, this a big day. My friend and whirling decorating dervish Jamie "Furbish" Meares has just launched her online store, ShopFurbish. Cuteness abounds. So support her entrepreneurship and buy a little piece of happy today!

I swear, I'm filled with such a combination of pride and jealousy that I might as well change my name to Dina Lohan.

Kidding. Go Jamie!

Point of Comparison

The song "Bruises" by Chairlift (honestly, were all the good band names taken?)



reminds me so much of a little ditty from my youth called "Mouth," by Merril Bainbridge:



Thoughts? I sort of miss when novelty acts could crack the top ten. Jewel apparently cried the first time she heard "Who Will Save Your Soul?" on the radio because she thought her voice sounded like Kermit the Frog's, and later compared her debut album selling 12 million copies to "a Datsun winning the Indianapolis 500." Never, ever again.

Shell Shocked

This fabulous overdoor stopped me in my tracks today:


Upper East Side haters, quit hatin'!!!

everyone else is doing it so why can't we?

photo: the late, great Richard Avedon

As if this blog wasn't a big enough outlet for my stream of consciousness and decorating non sequiturs, I also tweet. Did you know? I do. Sporadically. I'm still learning and it makes me feel like Kathy Griffin's mother on Faceplace, but nonetheless please follow me @nickolsenstyle.

And her, here.

* A free Paul Evans credenza goes to the first commenter who gets my title reference!

Spongeworthy

Exciting news today: I've just started contributing to one of my favorite corners of the Internet, design*sponge. Adorable impresario Grace Bonney asked me to round up trends in style and decorating a couple times each month and I finally got off my butt and did so, learning how to make those groovy photo collages in the process. Win-win! The first theme is Brutalism. Next up: crosshatch prints inspired by waffle fries?

(Mugatu has suggested I incorporate subtle references to Chick Fil-A until the chain bows to my wishes and opens a New York franchise. Previous anon commenter: Yes, there is a CFA 'Express' in the NYU food court, but it's closed for the summer and never carries the full menu anyway. Plus I can't pass for a co-ed that much longer!!)

Anyhoo, thanks to Grace and Amy A. for their help and patience. Keep checking back for more design deliciousness!

Vanderhurd

Last week I visited my pal Mary Nelson (that's a two-part first name because she's a proper Southern girl) up the street at Vanderhurd's studio which might as well be Aladdin's Cave of Noho:


They've been in the business of custom fabrics and rugs for over 25 years and can whip up your wildest textile fantasy. Check out just a few of the Talitha Getty-esque patterns and color combos:



"Bespoke" does translate to "Be prepared to wait," but aren't these worth it? West Elm's tiger dhurrie is cute and all but that yellow-green-raspberry number at top just sends me.

Note: Like my friend Mrs. Blandings I receive lots of product submissions, ranging from the truly bizarre (Snuggies) to the entirely charming (fabrics and such). But also like Mrs. B I don't accept swag and only want to spotlight the exceptional, and Ms. Vanderhurd's wares are gobsmackingly pretty and original.

Disclaimer to the Note: If the kind Baptists at Chick Fil-A were to offer me a year's supply of free nuggets in exchange for, say, my soul, I might reconsider this policy.