Three years ago today, we started this little blog. Three years of sticking it to good taste, swinging from chandeliers and roasting harlequin chickens. Happy birthday, baby (IN)DECOROUS, we've had a few follies.
We painted: Rooms (And rugs. And commodes. And pillows. And zebras.)
Wink wink.
Are we cyborgs? When misplacing your cell feels like losing a limb, I wonder if it's actually a phone, or more like a third arm or possibly an external brain supplement. Eyephone, indeed.
I created these little beasts from hornback caiman crocodile and polished galuchat (stingray). Not to toot my own horn(back, ahahahaa) but I also hand painted them. What was unexpected was how lovely the gold turned out over the stingray. It glistens like a gem.
Happy holidays!!!
Clearly, I love sparkly crystal as much as the next person but I'm sort of sick of "elegant" silver trees. The Plaza has a tack-tastic, vomitous pink thing in their lobby (has anyone else seen it?) It had Betsey Johnson pink presents underneath it and I think it involved zebra of some variety. It was radioactive, and so, I was taken with it for all of three minutes before I realized there were about three ornaments on it and the whole thing is plastic. But kudos to them for going for in-your-face color. Enough about trees. Mine are always better.
Pantomime is best defined by its use of the object illusion... the illusions created are conventional objects we are all familiar with; rope, stairway, or door... The anecdotes make up the stories which can happen to all of us... The pantomimist ingeniously changes from one role to another, cleverly creating a world out of nothing. The audience delights in seeing something that isn't there and is more than willing to give itself up to this world of make-believe. This quality of magic and fantasy is pantomime's greatest appeal.
On Friday, I celebrated my birthday and so, hosted a little dinner for my nearest and dearest used it as a giant excuse to make a really unabashed tablescape complete with several things that probably should not make it onto a birthday table. Like skull votive holders. Honestly I would never subject a friend (unless equipped with a healthily sick sense of humor) to this sort of memento mori dinner ensemble, but... It's my birthday and I can dress my table as the inanimate embodiment of Morticia Addams if I want to.
I was cleaning out my closet earlier, extracting all of the winter woolens from the mix (I guess I'm finally willing to concede that it's no longer January?) when I realized that I don't wear half of these. Possibly more. Why?
Because I have a blazer-buying problem! Here's the issue: In theory I think I like blazers, but when it comes to choosing an outfit for something that counts, I cannot stomach this particular garment. Why?
Have you seen Ellen Rogers's beautiful fashion photography? I love the decadence and otherworldly-ness of her images, textures, and colors.
A quick stop to Sally Beauty and roughly $15 yielded this bizarre track of human hair. (Disclaimer: the platinum one (on the table) is acrylic! Woe to you who have naturally glowing locks. Disclaimer two! Do not under any circumstance wikipedia the process of harvesting these human hair extensions if you have even the slightest inclination that that sort of thing might make you squeamish...)
At first I wasn't quite sure what to do with it, because I really don't have confidence in my ability to sew, glue, weave, or otherwise attach this thing to my head in any permanent fashion. So, I did what any industrious girl who has no intentions of looking like Paris Hilton does with fake hair, and I ended up making a massive pony tail out of it! Marvelous! It's huge! Like a full-on second head!
Designers and artists speak all the time of things like proportion. Heads are not immune to these games of proportion.
I used to be one of those people firmly against the idea of wearing sleepwear outside of the house, but here I am in my new silk jammies, without even the slightest intention of wearing them anywhere even near a bed. How silly I was.
The funny thing is that they're from Victoria's Secret, past season, on eBay. But they're silk and inexpensive (under $50.00 for the set? Just search "Victoria's Secret silk" on eBay), so no one's the wiser...
Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through. -Ira Glass
Ooooooh I have news! Can you believe that the (IN)DECOROUS TASTE harnesses are adorning the heads of all of the models in the decadent "Wasted Luxury" shoot in Vogue Italia March 2011? And they're on the cover, too! Lit up with glorious head-lights (...no, literally). I'm excited!
Harnesses aside, it's a jaw droppingly gorgeous shoot. Shot by Steven Meisel, styled by Panos Yiapanis. Featuring models Julia Saner, Saskia de Brauw, and Milou van Groesen.
Oh yes, we do convention just peachily over here at (IN)DECOROUS TASTE.
A box of chocolates....
Sir George Sitwell had a Tom Ford moment (or is it the other way around?):
"Sir George Sitwell (1860-1943), head of that endemically eccentric family, had seven rooms he used as studies at his family mansion in Derbyshire where he occupied himself in writing such masterpieces as 'The History of the Fork' - none of them ever finished. His chief interest however was landscape gardening. He employed 4,000 men at one time to dig him an artificial lake in the grounds, with wooden towers sticking out of the water from where he could survey his various projects. To improve the view from his study window, he had Chinese willow patterns painted on to his herd of white cows. And a sign on his front door read: 'I must ask anyone entering the house never to contradict me in any way, as it interferes with the functioning of my gastric juices and prevents me sleeping at night.'"
Now, off to watch the rest of the Keeping Up Appearances marathon. Haha superbowl, WHAT?
I love silk scarves. Wear one as a turban: you're a diva, Joan Crawford. Wear one as a scarf, you've gone the other way: it's bon chic bon genre! Use it to tie up your beaux, you're a luxe-ified Marquis de Sade. Instant glamour!
The problem is, I am certain that these scarves are reproducing in my closet, slowly choking out the rest of my accessories like WEEDS and planning to stage a revolution.
They demand attention, these weedy wonders. When I see the massive, heaping, slippery pile of them, it occurs to me a shame that there aren't enough days in the week to wear them all, unless I change turbans at four hour intervals and that requires more commitment to the cause than even I'm willing to make.
Which brings me to my preferred solution: the enormous silk scarf pillow. I love their drama. Like Norma Desmond, these pillows (if you can even call them that) are larger than life. The size makes them a visual production of grand proportions.
So, onto the (IN)DECOROUS drama class: