Viceroy Anguilla

When I first came across Kelly Wearstler's latest foray into megahotel decor I didn't think too much of it, as it just seems to be Kelly's beach house on steroids. But you can never underestimate the Wearstler's ability to awe and inspire. There are some wicked fascinating details in here -- some really good and some just really weird. Let's have a look.

With a neutral palette and signature mix of natural materials and bold forms, the Anguilla is 100% Kelly.

Complete with seaweed luxe lighting and a befedoraed concierge.

Sconces mounted on patinated mirrors? Why, yes.

Crystal lamps and burly wooden finishes? Mmm hmm.

Karl Springer boner.

Marble marble on the wall...

Who is the fairest of them all?

I want to get drunk here.

And then retreat to my lounge, away from the riff raff.

That's my ocean, bitches.

Yes, all of it.

So most of the weirdness comes from this creepy interloper who keeps trying to gank my room.

Ok, and maybe those lamps are a little hangman's noose, too.

Happy Tuesday!

[Kelly Wearstler, Viceroy Anguilla]

The Antithesis of Cheap Chic

Yesterday it was plywood, today it's Kelly Wearstler. Could two things possibly be more diametrically opposed? Anyhow, I had kind of forgotten about KW (possibly due to the fact that her hair raising exploits on Top Design are on hiatus), but whilst cruising fave blog If the Lampshade Fits I was informed that KW's house had made an appearance in Vogue. Has Erin been living under a baby shaped rock, you may ask? So I'm a little slow on the uptake, but I'm chancing an overpost in order to put up a zillion KW pictures because I think she deserves a rematch in the KW vs Haters fight for world domination over interior design. Say what you will about Wearstler -- she has wrong hair, the whole world has seen her boobies in Playboy (find your own link, pervs), she is responsible for the trellis pattern that will not die, she thinks pink and purple look smashing together -- but you can't say that she isn't influential. And she is never, ever boring. Negative space? What negative space? Her rooms have an all overness that many other designers' spaces lack; every square inch looks considered. And I really like what she did with her house giant freaking mansion.

Well, most of it. A zebra rug? Really? But doesn't that wallpaper make you want to go paint your own walls all scibbledy scrabbledy, because it is AMAZING. And it doesn't hurt that she lets her adorable kids climb all over her mansion like little berserker monkeys. I like that about her.

And, uh, have you seen this? Have you? Hello giant gold head and insane ceiling wallpaper! KW always has the most interesting furniture, but her house never looks like a furniture museum -- nothing sticks out, and everything looks properly integrated. Apartment Therapy is buzzing with hate over it, but the only thing I hate is the crappy image quality. Oh, and the flowers.

This does not mean I am professing a sycophantic love for everything Kelly Wearstler. I do not understand this dining table arrangement at all. Unless those gold heads are undercover plate holders, this just strikes me as weird. Actually, it strikes me as weird, anyway. But how about those chairs?

She does have a knack for picking quirky furnishings. Everyone needs a giant pair of priapic verdigris topiaries, right? Ok, so her spaces often veer toward the fantastic, but that's not such a bad thing, is it? Can we not just pick and choose certain ideas and apply them to our own home design?

Enough rhetoric. I am concluding my argument with a barrage of images from what I think is the most interesting hotel she has designed for the Viceroy empire -- Miami. It's maximalist in the extreme, but I could tear up a weekend at that spa.

So what do you think? Did you notice the giant head sculpture looks a lot like the one Karly found at Round Top? Did you catch the Eadweard Muybridge inspired mural in the spa locker room? Did you see the couch in the pool???

I rest my case and await your rebuttal, gentle readers.

Sublime Seating

Among the 872 new items I need for my house is a new sofa.  You would think I just landed on planet earth yesterday and have never had a place to sit, eat or look at artwork before.  That's not true, I just want to get rid of everything I've ever owned and replace it with all the furniture from the Viceroy.  Since that probably won't happen for at least another couple of days, I have to live with my fantasies and handy-work until then.  Enter, my inspiration sofas.  Bask in the glories people:

designers Nipa Doshi and Jonathan Levien, purveyors of all things great and true, pull at my heartstrings once again with their sofa, beautiful backside, available at Moroso.  With an unlisted price, it must be free and I'm sure shipping from Italy is pas de problem.  Incase, like me, you want to fill your room floor to ceiling with their heavenly goods you may also want to consider their princess and the pea bench:

It is with the utmost respect and kindness that I say:  I can totally knock that sucker off.  Perhaps my legs will pale in comparison to the glory pictured above but I can apply black laquer to a thrift-store bench like nobody's business.  Enter a few thin foam pads... and, oh!  some of that Ikea fabric Erin just posted about and geeeze, louise, I've got a hot hot seating area for my bedroom.  How do you like them apples?  Tasty and delicious, I say.

Incase you like to be reminded of your eminent demise all the live long day, perhaps this little number from, ahem, coffincouches.com is for you:

I'm a claustraphobe to the max and have informed all my friends and loved ones that I want to be creamated for fear of eternity in a wee little box, I clearly can't handle the coffin couch.  I am however a bit charmed by it's mix of luxury and whimsy with a creepyness factor of eight hundred thousand.

Moving on.

If you love the coffin couch but don't want to be troubled by all that messy death stuff, might I suggest another option: I am currently in the middle of a hot and heavy romance with Jaime Hayon's BD Showtime collection:

Like the coffin couch it has a hard outer shell (safe for use underground?) and a sexy tufted leather inside.  Unlike the coffin couch, it comes with a lady in turquoise.  Brace yourselves, people, you are about to spend the next 437 years listening to me wax poetic about our lord and saviour, designer Jaime Hayon.  Buckle up.

In my quest for the perfect seat, I find myself, time and time again drooling all over my keyboard at the likes of these beautiful boxy couches:

la la la love the clean modern lines, ha ha ha hate the vintage/designer price tags.  Dear, sweet matty bear swears he can make me any of them, just hand him a picture, but I fear that this project might slow down the kitchen remodel I'm forcing upon him so instead, I bought this on craigslist today:

Once you've dried your eyes from all the tears of pain you likely just shed and are able to read again, let me promise you, dear readers, this solemn vow:  I karly, of sound mind and body, promise to sand down each and every piece of wood, re-stain with a semi opaic black benjamin moore stain, and cover with a protective, shimmery polyeurethaine coat.  I also will rip and shred every heinous piece of denim from this sad sad sofa only to recover with love and kindness in a lovely fabric, possibly from Ferm or (sigh) Ikea.  Pick up is scheduled for tomorrow, before and after post to follow.