Put Some Junk in That Trunk

February 15, 2011 erin

A couple of weeks ago I was doing the thrift circuit and in some cosmic event, each store had the same vintage wicker trunk with brass hardware. In another cosmic event, I restrained myself from buying each and every one. One was too dirty, one was too expensive, and by the time I came across the last one, I had convinced myself wicker trunks grow on trees. Later that day I happened upon this photo and finally all the planets aligned just to blow my mind...

Lazaro Rosa Violan

Eclipse! Solar flares! Other stuff I should remember because I took astronomy in college! Whatever. I had a plan, and it involved copious amounts of spray paint and those damn trunks.

Those damn trunks were gone. Turns out they don't really grow on trees.

Because I always want what I can't have, I have now developed a mild obsession with trunks. Ok, let me level with you: I MUST HAVE ONE.

Katarina Malmstrom Brown via Desire to Inspire

Suzy Hoodless

Misplaced the source... bad blogger.

Nuevo Estilo

Guess what? None of these are as good as the pair of shiny BRASS trunks Karly is currently using for her nightstands.

I am hoping she'll be so knackered from baby tending that she won't notice me tip toeing around in the dark with a black ski mask on...

I was also watching a brass Sarreid chest on ebay, but homeboy went for $635!!! Do people think I am made of money?

And don't even get me started about the Restoration Hardware trunks... when I looked at the prices (even on sale), I nearly spit out my precious coffee.

So, long story short: I really should have bought those stupid wicker trunks at the thrift store. Now I am going to have to wait for the next planetary event, which will probably occur approximately 5,692 years from now, and by that time the trunks will be used to hold my ashes.

Dumb dumb dumb.

Animal Farm

February 10, 2011 erin

If you've been reading this blog for more than five minutes, then it's no secret that I have a special place in my heart for animals. And brass. And especially for brass animals. I do own a sparkly little guy named Brian who brings me joy whenever I spy his upturned hooves from across the room, where he patiently defends his territory from the sometimes loving, occasionally psychotic embraces of a toddler who shares mama's love for four legged creatures. That's why when I saw this, I almost lost my marbles.

The home of Lauren Santo Domingo, via A Dreamer's Den.

Holy Claude and Francois-Xavier Lalanne! You know how you can just muddle through life -- just get by somehow -- and on the surface things are good, but there's always this little piece of you deep down inside that senses something is missing? This is what's missing from my life. I need a hippo bar.

While I'm self diagnosing my internal weaknesses, I think this is missing, too.

Via Little Augury.

Do you see that magnificent creature, with its furtive bestial head that says, Push me! Pull me! Also, its splendiferous practicality is not to be ignored. It's a desk. The Lalannes were nothing if not captains of industry.

Via If the Lampshade Fits

Practical, yes -- but you have to admire their sense of humor. If dear old Francois were alive today, I'm sure he would have enjoyed Portlandia's cheeky advice to just put a bird on it. Birds make everything better.

Pamplemousse Design

I firmly believe the Lalannes were also responsible for the mouton movement, and here les moutons are lovingly ensconced next to a watering hole. So thoughtful of the designers. Stuffed animals have needs, too.

Peter Marino

But in all fairness, my heart belongs to the bronze pieces, because I never met a bit of bling I didn't want to take home to meet daddy. Put a Lalanne alligator chair beneath a Francis Bacon painting and you have one of my favorite pairings of all time. This picture is so good that it just blew my mind up, and if I have one axon and dendrite left to fire up the old synapses and finish this round up, then I'll be amazed...

Architectural Digest

Thank you, Claude and Francois Xavier Lalanne -- you are entirely responsible for blowing almost all of my neural circuitry, but it was worth it.

Good luck working after all that mind blowing awesomeness.

String Theory

February 8, 2011 erin

You know what I've been loving lately? Fringe. That's right. I said it. Now I know y'all are probably thinking: what's gotten into you, Erin? First you're asking us to approve of shabby slipcovers, now this? Are you turning into a musty old cat lady who sleeps on a stack of newspapers you've been collecting since that nice man Roosevelt was in office? While it is true that I find the twin odors of mothballs and urine particularly appealing, I assure you that I am still young and hip. I mean, did you see the Black Eyes Peas at the Superbowl? AWESOME. But I digress.

BOOM. How do you like me now, whippersnappers? Every single thing in this room by Pamplemousse Design is the MF bizness.

Remember the unimpeachably chic home of Marie Olsson Nylander? That's where this lovely resides.

Oh yeah. You know you want a huge fringed chandelier in a light bright shade of red. Special bonus: that sucker would make a fantastic cat toy.

Sure, according to Encyclopedia Raina this room is from 1992, but just because I love it doesn't make me old. Right??? It's got squiggly lines, for Pete's sake.

Ok, we are headed down the primrose path of waspville here, but Tory Burch does have a pretty green velvet couch with gold fringe that reminds me very much of a couch my mom had. Of course, my mom's couch started out as a white sectional (please see yesterday's post about the perils of white couches and children), but then she recovered it in green and gold damask with gold fringe all up in that joint. My mom also used to pick me up from school in a topless Jeep (when I was hoping for a minivan mom), and she wore flashdance sweatshirts with bare shoulders. So, now you get that fringe is not for old boring people, right? I'm sure my story made that crystal clear.