Pink of Perfection

illustration from The Little House

When a film crew shows up at your apartment door at 9AM, you’d be smart to throw on some pants and get out of there. And if, three days later, they are still bumping into walls and making your house smell like man sweat, you will be made more sure of how those little rooms — filled with sunshine and unfinished sewing projects and all your dirty clothes — are the dearest place on earth to you.

Some of us have always been nesters, and there is something quaintly embarrassing about being a 20-something homebody. But there you have it: some of us just love turning the key in the lock, taking off our shoes and folding our legs underneath us on our own couch; inviting a friend to luxuriate on our downy bed; shaking up cocktails that can be sipped in a reclining position.

Love of home is what initially drew me to Lisa. I loved that in a city of going out, Lisa liked to stay in. And not only that, she had a blog devoted to having others cozy up on her couch and eat cake with her. So when Lisa invited me over for dinner on a hot summer night, I couldn’t stop looking around her apartment, scanning the book shelf, admiring the way she combined textiles, and had so much grown-up furniture. Her house was a home, complete with creaky wooden floors, exposed brick, stacks of cookbooks in the kitchen, and perfume on the dressing table. I immediately felt cozy within the walls of her space, ready to sit down and let the floodgates of our new friendship open.

The recession has made homebodies even out of those who aren’t naturally so. And while there is something sexy about going out — the posing, the perching, the performance — being at home is intimate, inviting people into your home even more so. And sometimes, you get to an age where you realize that real intimacy is possibly the sexiest prospect of all.

Would you rather stay in your home sweet home, be it ever so humble, than go out? Have you found yourself staying in more now that money is tighter or are you a natural homebody? And how do you make your space the best seat in town?

Is there anything better than a rummage sale or flea market to help train your eye to look for potential, hunt for diamonds in the rough, and refine your design vision (I am, apparently, nuts for a certain shade of aqua)? I seemed to be the only shopper in the market for mid-century ceramics and cheerful napkins at this particular sale. Which means I made out like a bandit for $12: a topless aqua coffee pot (perfect for flowers, if not for coffee), a set of nearly-matching coffee cups, crazy green striped Marimekko napkins, even crazier Vera-esque purple napkins, yellow linen hemstitched napkins (a girl can’t have enough napkins!). Meet the new beloved guests on the Pink of Perfection table. What have been some of your best junk sale finds?

Many, many more delights at ShinziKatoh.com

In other news, Maggie at About Last Night asked to interview me and her questions were really thought-provoking. To hear me prattle on about the economics of good food and how the recession is affecting blogging, go here. Thanks for asking, Maggie!

For reasons really too gross to go into, I needed air-tight jars for my pantry, and fast. A bad situation was bringing me one step closer to my fantasy life — an Ikea-like, label and clutter-free pantry — and maybe, come to think of it, that’s just what life does sometimes. You never thought your mom’s cancer would bring a sense of serenity to your life, but then, strangely, it does. Who knew the grim realities of city living would make my cupboard look so good?

I’ve been a fan of diy glass etching for a while, but never know what the right project is. In general, I’m not crazy about writing on things — t-shirts, dishes, glasses — but in the case of kitchen canisters, it works. The second I saw this craft in an issue of Martha Stewart, I knew it was the etching project I was looking for.

I went to Michael’s to get the letters and came face to face with the new Martha craft line for the first time. Now, I know it sounds like I’m shilling for the domestic doyenne, but there are no perks for my saying this: If you’ve ever looked at the crafts in Living and thought that you didn’t have the paper/stencils/stamps/skill to make your version look as clean and lovely, this line bridges the gap. I looked at everything, and was particularly taken with the acrylic stamps. As a girl planning a wedding (or at least trying), my mind was percolating like crazy and suddenly filled with diy confidence.

I used a roll of Martha’s adhesive letters for this project, and after nearly having to turn my brain inside out to think in reverse (this always confuses me about glass-etching and stenciling), I am really pleased with the way these turned out. I got the surprisingly affordable jars ($3-$4) at the Container Store, but Target has a bunch of options, too.

Continue reading “How To Etch Glass” »

One of my major idols, Eleanor Josaphine Medill “Cissy” Patterson–the country’s first major female newspaper publisher and a sybarite of the first order–used to entertain at her Dupont Circle home in elaborate silk pajamas. I thought of her recently after moving from a 400 square foot apartment–where we regularly entertained in what was essentially our bedroom (whether I wore real clothes or not) to a house with many rooms–one of which I intend to use as an office.

To be honest, a home office is a novel concept for me. I’ve always thought of bed as the ultimate workspace: good for reading, aesthetically pleasing, the perfect place to drink coffee and look out the window. In college I even had the desk removed from my dorm room to make way for a nice, feather-cushioned loveseat. But someone has given me a hand-me-down computer (my first) and I finally reached my breaking point at the public library when a) I started to recognize everyone there (like the man who can’t remove the paint from his eyebrows and is–from what I can tell–in the midst of refinancing his $800,000 home) and b) the woman coughing and typing next to me was obviously going to give me TB.

Not wanting to get too attached to the home office concept–I may, after all, end up back in a 400 sq ft place or miss the DSM-IV charms of the library–I didn’t want to invest too heavily in the set-up. So I repurposed this $9 child’s table and the $6 Braniff-era Steelcase office chair as my desk. This time, I tried not to use spray paint–at least on the fabric–but it was so slow-going (especially after the Law & Order marathon ran its course) that I ignored the advice of the man at the hardware store (he thought I needed “flexible” paint) and went at it with water-based latex spray paint. (P.S. For those of you who are curious about the metallic and glitter varieties, Michaels is running a $1.99 sale right now on Krylon paints.)

This is a story about diamonds in the rough (and this would be diamonds of the peach-colored splatter-painted, needlepoint-embellished variety).

I like old stuff. I like finding weights in the hems of vintage dresses and thoughtful little details like toggle-snaps that marshal bra straps. I like craftsmanship and pintucking and punch bowls. A friend of mine asked recently, “Do any of your clothes come from an actual store?”

It must be said, however, that I treasure a bargain. And my heart literally soars at the thought of a high-quality rummage sale. What’s more: there’s nothing more gratifying than having a dignified 85-year-old woman look over the vases/silverware/monogrammed napkins you’ve picked out and nod with approval.

But what about the rummage sale rejects (is that redundant?). After the Golden Girls bamboo furniture gets carted away, the Eames wannabes go home with Rachel Zoe wannabes and what’s left is truly hideous?

The pictures don’t show how truly ugly this Cracker Barrel-esque tray-and-waitstand combo appeared in person. It was practically the last item standing. But I liked the shape and imagined it as useful.

So I snapped it up, attacked it with metallic silver spray paint, and laid a piece of metallic Indian fabric under the glass. I would have made the tableaux look more interesting, but I have much to learn on the styling front.

The receipt:
$15 for the table
$4 spray paint

Debating with my husband over whether or not spray paint would leech toxins into the air long after it dried? Obviously the highlight of my weekend.

PS Today is Katy’s birthday. Let’s all head to the comments to tell her just how happy we are she was born! -Sarah

“Flowers,” says Lottie’s husband in Enchanted April (shortly before she has an affair with a man who tells her she has “the face of a disappointed Madonna”) “are a luxury of the most blatant kind.” How true. They are an expensive and short-lived shorthand for a gracious life that, tragically, usually end up parked next to the computer monitors that anchor our days instead of by our bedsides.

But they are so very pretty and, of course, alive. Meghan Daum, in the New Yorker essay “My Misspent Youth,” wrote about packing up and moving to Nebraska because she’d become a fresh-flower-buying, $45-drinks-and-satay-consuming New Yorker–who, as a result, was facing crushing debt. The logic is irregular, but that essay launched the second phase of her career. So, in a sense, she was both made and undone by extravagances of the most blatant kind. How’s that for instructive?

Personally, I think weeds and stolen branches from flowering trees are the middle ground between beauty and the poor house. They may lack the smell and sculptural beauty of orchids and gardenias, but hell, they’re free. The most exciting arrangement I ever had in my college dorm room was an armful of yellow forsythia I clipped from somewhere.

Climb Aboard:

1. In the right container, any flora can look cool. If your clippings don’t fill up the whole neck of the vase, though, I’ve found that they look nicest tied together with a little string or ribbon and inserted into the vase at an angle.

2. Use what you got. I find that since I started scooping up handsome weeds by the side of the road, I look at plain-old evergreen needles, trees, shrubs, autumn leaves, mysterious red berries, and the weird chestnuts that pelt me on the shoulder when I walk under trees with new interest. I have even thought about snipping some of those red berries off shrubs in municipal parking lots late at night. Perhaps the compromise there is to seize clippings from neighbors who have just finished doing yard work. (City kids: the secret to branch grabs is stealth.)

3. Finally, don’t go out foraging bare-or empty-handed. For one thing, you’ll need scissors—unless you have really strong teeth. What’s more, you’ll want to protect your palms from thorns and sap spills. Besides, when you’re picking up things by the roadside, you’re less likely to be taken for a prostitute if you’re wearing work gloves.