Move-In Ready

I guess I've been living under a rock because I just today caught a first glimpse of fashion designer David Delfin and his luva, photographer Gorka Postigo's Spanish home.  And, well, let me tell you, I wouldn't change much.  Ok, maybe I'd swap out a piece of artwork or two when little junior has a playdate, and perhaps the little art "installation" over the bed could take a permanent vacay, but other than that, really, it can stay as is.

For the record:  those creepy baby heads would not move an inch under my watch.  I've been working towards a creepy bust collection for years but they are surprisingly hard to get your hands on.  I'm maxing out at 2 really good ones and 1 medium good one right now.

In other news:  my love affair with white walls is still going strong.

In other other news:  Erin and I would like to send a big, fat, congratulations to the King of Paint, Sanders, who just became a dad for the second time around on Sunday.  He and his wife welcomed a beautiful, healthy baby girl.  Welcome MacKenzi, xoxo to your whole family!

Sui For Me

Half way through the last issue of Elle Decor I decided to cancel my subscription.  The magazine's embarrassing embrace of John Mayer's mind-numbingly dull apartment had me oscillating between fits of rage and nightmare filled sleep.  I was done.  Well, until I reached page 122

Margaret Russell chose to counter-act the Mayer coma with a love letter written personally to me in the form of Anna Sui apartment photos.  If any of you have a copy of the magazine I urge you to take a magnifying glass to the mirrored wall on the right side of this room.  If any of you want me to love you forever, find, purchase and deliver the wallpaper to me asap.

I do not pretend to know what is happening behind the sink, and none of this alone is really my taste, but I am mighty fine with it all together.

Like the photo before it, I would never ever ever pick any of this out, but I would be happy as could be to wash up in this pretty potty.

A closet filled with Anna Sui couture.  Bummer

Ugh!  That wallpaper!  This photo spread really makes me rethink my whole house.  It's nothing like what I have, but I love the layered dark patterns.  Ok, so maybe I won't redo my house, but I will keep my Elle Decor subscription.

Guess what everyone!?  Tomorrow Erin is coming back!   Thank you so so much to everyone that covered for us while Erin was gone, you all have special places in heaven filled with kittens, baby whispers and anna sui wallpaper.  

Nothing Exceeds Like Excess

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday break filled with family, food, spirits, and more food. The new year is coming -- and with it the urge to purge -- but it's not over until the fat lady bursts, which is scheduled to occur sometime around midnight on December 31st, 2008. So until then, let's continue to eat, drink and be fabulously merry, shall we? A tour of some famous fashion designers' private homes ought to keep the momentum going because, as the great poet William Blake said, "The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom; for we never know what is enough until we know what is more than enough." Let's head toward the palace of wisdom by starting out with a tour of the Pucci ancestral home, owned by the family since the Renaissance. Because, that much history is definitely excessive.

pucci house

Oh, you know, it's just a room full of 18th century plasters arranged around an antique marble sculpture of the goddess Diana. Nothing special.

pucci palace

I know Karly wants that gilt wood console table, and the ornate draperies made at the Pucci's centuries old silk workshop are fit for a king, although I wish they were psychedelic Pucci print. Then they would be fit for me.

pucci palace

They had me at fresco. Add in some bespoke 18th century crystal glassware, and I'm sold. I just hope these fools never invite me to dinner while the good china is out, as I'm prone to break the pricey stuff, although paper plates and Ikea stoneware are always safe with me. Even my subconscious behavioral tendencies have expensive taste.

pucci palace

I'm sure the 17th century bed and its linens are machine washable.

pucci palace

Now that view of the Duomo from the Palazzo window is just over the top, people. Seriously, could you take it down a notch or a million? Pricelessness is so gaudy.

For a contemporary "more is more" aesthetic, check out Dolce and Gabbana's shiny gilded modern Liberacesque love pad, gorgeously photographed by Rebecca Duke.

dolce and gabbana house

Yes, Virgina, there is a Santa Claus. And he can fit a solid gold bedroom in his knapsack.

dolce and gabbana house

Oh, yes they did. If that's not excessive, I don't know what is.

dolce and gabbana house

Although a million pillows covered in matching Steven Tyler heads comes close. Ok, savvy readers, whose head is on those pillows? I'm sure that one of our fashion conscious brethren can unearth the answer. Whoever it is, the overall effect is awesomely creepy.

dolce and gabbana house

You ain't got a thing, if you ain't got that bling. Black + gold/crystal  = high quotient of lustification.

dolce and gabbana house

What the Pucci curtains should have looked like.

Moving on, I found the ultra modern Florence home of Roberto Cavalli to be equally excessive in its own, special way. Pictures courtesy of Home Design Find.

roberto cavalli home

What's that, you say? How is this home ridiculously excessive? Yes, it's pink, but is it really comparable to an entire room encrusted with zebra hides? Friends, Cavalli's home designed by Italo Rota CHANGES COLOR on a whim. And I'd guess that Roberto might be a twee bit whimsical...

roberto cavalli home

It's like the Epcot Center on acid. Dude, it IS a small word, after all!

roberto cavalli home

It's also kind of like a modern update of the hall of mirrors at the Palace of Versailles. I'm not going to lie. I'm ready to pack my bags and move to Florence.

roberto cavalli home

I'm a bit concerned about the bathrooms, though. I'm not convinced that the lighting is the least bit flattering. Plus it needs more gold in there. And maybe a disco ball. That's a pretty big dance floor Roberto's got going on.

Finally, the late, great Yves Saint Laurent may not have had an ancestral home since the days of the Renaissance (he wasn't that old, you know), but he certainly found a way to trick out his Paris apartment in a princely fashion.

yves saint laurent home

He just filled it with with treasures a museum would die for, including a 15th century tapestry, a Theodore Gericault painting and a Juan Gris painting, worth $5 to $6 million each. Hold on, though -- you ain't seen nothing yet.

yves saint laurent home

Oh, that's just a little Francisco Goya on the easel, and a wee Giorgio de Chirico on the wall.

yves saint laurent home

Or perhaps you'd fancy a 20's Eileen Gray dragon chair. It's worth about $5 million, so don't let the kids jump on it. Actually, keep the rugrats out of the salon, entirely, because you wouldn't want them to chip the wooden Brancusi sculpture, smudge the Picasso painting in the background, breathe on the Cezanne watercolor, or muss the Fernand Leger painting. Any incidents could set you back $50 million -- the estimated worth of the contents of THIS ROOM ALONE.

yves saint laurent home

Laurent also owned a crazy ovoid metal bar designed by recently deceased, zany mastermind Francois Xavier Lalanne. Oh, and that's a Mondrian in the background. No biggie.

yves saint laurent home

Lalanne's wife, Claude, designed the wall of mirrors in the background of the music room, which also features a terracotta sculpture from 1707 and an Eileen Gray chest with an estimated value of $3.8 - $6.4 million buckaroos. Note to self: invest in anything Eileen Gray made except for that douchey table that everyone and their mother has knocked off/re licensed.

yves saint laurent

Finally, the man himself, Yves Saint Laurent (circa 1980), would like to wish you all a fantastic New Year. With any luck, this post finds you healthy, not too unwealthy, and a little bit wiser from all our indulgent excesses. And here's to hoping that we all look as natty whilst casually leaning against our Egyptian sarcophogi. Monsieur Laurent wouldn't have it any other way.