Friday, January 28, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The weak winter sunlight nudges against the blinds, firmly shut so as only to allow faded illuminations. Though slightly dim, the saffron walls infuse the tiny space with cozy warmth that penetrates the January chill that seems to seep through layers of wool, cotton, soft tissue, and bone all the way to the soul. Classic white molding with circular flourishes frame the room and lead the viewer back through time to a softer era. The décor itself is a hodge-podge of eccentricity enchanting and surprising the eye with unexpected delicacies. An oversized dark chocolate colored steamer trunk, complete with shiny metal hinges peaking through a layer of years and rust, stands in for a traditional coffee table.
The top of it holds dusty carved wooden bowls which each cradle a different treasure. In one stands the tiny iron Eiffel Tower, brought back from the City of Lights, now towering over a growing collection of tarnished coins. Another holds a matching ancient iron and copper incense burner topped with a conquistador style hat with a fleur de lis cut out on each side to allow the hazy perfumed smoke to exit. Balanced in the very center of the trunk on the Dominican landscape of a cigar box is the bowl which holds a most cherished possession, a miniature replica of the goddess, Nike. Carved from a single piece of alabaster, the feeling of the wind swirling the yards of her garment and rustling her wings as she prepares to take her victorious flight encompasses you.
Piled high on wooden tables, cream leather benches, even covering some of the mocha painted wooden floor are books of every shape, color, and topic. The black and white checkerboard version of The Real Mother Goose sits on top of The Book of Classic French Pastries while The Complete Works of Voltaire balances precariously on Ireland from the Air and Kate Spade’s kelly colored Style. Stacks of Vogue and Fast Company intermingled with Food Network and Wired spill out of a lopsided dark woven basket and into a haphazard pile beneath its table.
Deep wine and golden threaded pillows the size of couch seat cushions lounge intermittently among the feathery throws and down comforters that grace the arms of the couch. Overlooking this scene is a large painting that foamy green color copper turns when it tarnishes, splashed with fluid streaks of crayon box sienna brown. And on the thick wooden door ornamented with a large brass doorknob, complete with a skeleton key lock, hangs a peacock wreath strewn with shiny plum and cerulean balls accompanied by a sparkling rhinestone peeking out from behind the turquoise eye of one misbehaving feather. Dangling off to one side cheekily is a metallic trinket, daring its reader with a single word upon entering this marvelous room, dream.