But it got me thinking about one of the all-time great bachelor pads in modern cinema, the Central Park West penthouse of architect Peter Mitchell (Tom Selleck) in 1987's 3 Men and a Baby.
The thumping strains of Miami Sound Machine in the opening credits all but force to me forget that architects generally don't live in penthouses; nor do they let their roommates paint haute-80s Cartoon Deco murals in their elevator vestibules:
Director Leonard Nimoy (no joke) takes us on a roller coaster ride filled with diapers, cocaine, Ted Danson's real hair, and doormen at The Presada who apparently don't call up when that deadbeat Nancy Travis has a baby to unload. (Do I sound like Stefon? Hope so.)
Anyway I'd rather talk about solarium kitchens with holophane lamps
Guttenberg's Kazumi-meets-Memphis bedroom moment
And these klieg lights on trusses:
I love the fantasy that an architect, actor, and cartoonist (who combined get more tail than the ASPCA) live in such a grand apartment with a few chic moments, yet it's still sort of a mess? I'm so over nth-degree TV and movie interiors: the Gossip Girl version of Park Avenue or Williamsburg. Barf! In a different vein everyone's favorite (confirmed?) bachelor George Clooney's house in The Descendants looked very done and appropriate, but that is all. His real estate lawyer character was supposed to count Queen Kahlualeekilani or whomever as his ancestor ... can I get some vintage Hawaiian regalia up on the wall? I like it when spaces leave a little ambiguity -- did Selleck design or inherit those club chairs? Was that neon sign just for his birthday party? I guess that's the essence of a "pad" as opposed to a house or apartment. Perfect quarters for a design transient like me.