One House, Three Magazines

If you've already seen this place designed by Baroness Bruno de Pampelonne, that's because it has made its way around the interwebs courtesy of Vogue Living Australia. And AD Russia. And House and Garden UK. Obviously these magazines span three countries, but what I'm wondering is: who gets to decide what goes where? Is there some transcontinental decor convention where an ultra mega editor in chief (fashion, smashion -- it's probably still Anna Wintour) civilly metes out homes and schedules with a gilded pen? Or is it a global free for all, with every chief fighting for scraps like hyenas on a hunt... I prefer to consider the latter. With these thoughts in mind, please peruse a pretty pastel apartment -- now presented in 3D (that means via three magazines; sadly it does not mean you can reach out and pet the furnishings).

Guess which magazine this shot is from...

This one is from House and Garden, photographed by the inimitable Richard Powers. So does that mean all the pictures are by RP and other magazines just pay royalties to use them?

This ran in Vogue Living, and it's a totally different picture (not just a crop of the same image). Still looks like the same shoot, though.

Whatever. I hate purple (it makes me look like death, and who wants to look like death in the comfort of their own home?), but this house is lovely in every magazine.

Let's tour the entire pad is all its Lalanne bedeco-ed glory.

The color palette kinda takes the southwestern sting out of that howling coyote, right?

Holy amazing wall details!

This room is a dark little unexpected gem. Lust.

That's it for the tour. Maybe someone out there can explain how the entire decor magazine industry functions, all within the span of a blog comment.

Or maybe we can just enjoy the pictures, however they come to us.

[Photos via AD Russia, House and Garden UK, Vogue Living Australia, Eye Spy, Habitually Chic]

Blueblooded Bathroom

Nothing screams cheap n shitty remodel quite like the formica counters and beige screenprinted tiles superglued to every surface of both our tiny bathrooms. When we bought our 60s ranch house, we knew the kitchen needed fixing -- especially since we have an open floorplan and the sea of almond formica burned at my sensi eyes from every angle of our living room. Not so with the bathrooms, whose doors remain conveniently closed most of the day. Only when seated upon my throne do I survey the surroundings of our craptacular kingdom and daydream about taking a sledgehammer to the entire porcelain palace. But then I flush those dirty ideas down the drain because renovating a bathroom just seems like such a pain in the... ass.

If we ever do yank out those pukey privies, this is what I want:

Yeah, I know -- the pendulum may be swinging a little far in the fancy direction, but did I mention how queasy that damn formica makes me?

Created for King George VI and his wife Elizabeth's royal visit to Paris in 1938, this bathroom stands as a bastion of civility in the face of impending Nazi invasion.

I can't honestly say that my own bathroom needs to make such a statement, but it does need gold tile.

Details, people. Details.

I kind of always assumed we would do a modernish update for our bathrooms, but this has ruined me for anything you could possibly buy at Ikea or Home Depot. Well, I suppose I could start with a more pedestrian round mirror. But I'm not kidding about the gold tile... I urgently need it. To fight Nazis. Or maybe just to shower.

Yes. Golden showers.

[World of Interiors]

One Thing Leads to Another

Boy, The Fixx really knew what they were talking about. Move one thing in your house, and all of the sudden the entire pad needs an architectural overhaul, from floor to ceiling. I have 800 projects going on right now, and I'm at that stage where I'm ready to just move to someone else's house -- but not just any house. A house with flava. A house like this one, decorated by Parisian designer Sarah Lavoine, featured in Marie Claire Maison.

Perfect mix of elegance and levity -- a splash of graphic boldness anchored by somber darks and weathered antiques. None of the furnishings really pop out, nothing feels like an "it" piece, nothing smacks of furniture museum. Love.

Super hot door color, gorgeous herringbone floors, ceilings like a stairway to heaven... good gravy.

I want to marry this color palette and have rainbow spotted babies.

Utter restraint in the bedroom, but enough texture to keep things interesting. The charcoal door slays me.

Living room, you had me at Jill Greenberg. The aqua paint is not my fave, but I like that this room feels a bit riskier than the others. Guests need something to talk about... or cry about.

Ok I'm off to paint, or perhaps to hatch an elaborate plot to hijack this apartment, depending on how things go.

Happy weekend!