Wherein You Become Convinced of My Insanity

I get so bored with picture after picture of beautifully styled, perfectly inhabitable, regular old rooms. That's why lately I've found myself branching out little by little, creeping at the fringes of bizarre traditional decor. Am I rushing to cover my walls in acres of toile? Not yet... although if I had a paying client you can bet I might try to convince them to do it. Just look how cozy this David Netto room is (my fave part is the tripod and camera in the mirror... is that a Hassy?).

But honestly, I like toile when it gets weirder.

This room swathed in Manuel Canovas fabrics is totally the neotrad version of the nutty Danish modern camouflage room I posted Friday. John Boehner and his orange fauxtan are probably hiding in there somewhere.

Ok, so maybe this is a little too weird, like grandma stopped taking her meds again. But there are some amazing details in here. Hello, swan bed!

Now this is good. For the moment let's gloss over the fact that if I found myself in this room, I might be afraid to touch anything lest I besmirch those very expensive fabrics with my proletarian fingers. Would I change a few details about the decor? Mos def. For starters I'd add this:

Hendrik Kerstens knows it's better to take tradition with a dose of humor.

Would You Like Some LSD With That?

Whip out your empire shades, rolled arm sofas and deco breakfronts, because neo trad is all the rage. I saw this coming a while ago and had no problem embracing the equestrian chic aspect of Waspy decor -- mile high hundred year old paintings of daddy's hunting dogs? check. Tobacco stained chesterfields lodged deep within hazy, dark paneled libraries? check. And then there is the toile... times a zillion.

However, I suppose I've generally maintained a sense of irony regarding traditional decor -- if done it must be done to the maxxxxxx. I mean, I'm young... ish. I even used to have a nose ring (it was the late 90s... ok, maybe I'm not so young anymore). Anyway, I don't do stuffy. But I do see a new path for me in the neo trad world. It's still crackers, but far more achievable than adopting an overblown, waspy ritalin chic aesthetic.

I shall dub this Acid Wasp.

This is the gist: furnishings are pretty and traditional/transitional. Candelabras are welcome. But if the furnishings are safe, the art must be risky. Crazy. Downright psychedelic. More like this:


Andy Gilmore, you have obviously indulged in the wide world of psychotropic drugs and I think your Vasarely-ish art would be supah floss with a poufy skirted sofa and a fringed lamp. Throw in an antique curved burlwood coffee table and I am in love.

As much as I would love to make this moodboard (can you dig it?), I have to put away my acid dreams and do some real work right now. Also, today is Ike's first day at daycare preschool, and I need to pull myself away from the hypnotrance inducing insanity of these pictures.

It would not do for mommy to arrive at the center with swirly eyes and drool caked at the corners of her mouth. That would not be traditional at all.