Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Petrol Blue

Talking of colors, this is another firm favorite. Moody, transforming and ever-changing. Currently the shade in our guest bathroom (Homburg Gray), it will definitely be designated to a room of more importance in a future house...

Via here

Monday, November 28, 2011

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Our House at the end of our Street (V)

The entrance hall has seen it all. Funny stories abound about the house from all and sundry who have had the fortune (or misfortune) to make its acquaintance. One such story involved a tenant who, obviously in need of some quick cash, hooked up a hose pipe to the washing machines in the basement, fed the pipe through the window, and started his own make-shift car-wash on the corner. Nice! I am sure the previous owner was thrilled to receive the water bill. Indeed, when I first pressed my nose up against the glass panels of the front door, the first thing that struck me were the mirrors, followed, very quickly, by a shock of outlandish wallpaper. Trés bordello-chic. I had two choices. Get rid of the wallpaper. Or consider an alternative career as a Madame. Did Oscar Wilde not once proclaim, "Either that wall paper goes, or I do?" So all that remains today is one square meter, in homage to the original owner, a wallpaper merchant...



Note the hideous '70's closet built under the staircase.




The careful removal of the wallpaper, revealing that the plaster beneath was surprising in tact. Also, note the maroon carpet on the treads...


Post closet-removal, revealing another layer of wallpaper. Luckily the mosaic floor was more or less pristine after the demolition.


Removing the maroon carpet was a massive task. Especially getting all the giant nails up, removing the paint and goo, and then hand-sanding each tread and riser.



Pretty afternoon light reflection from the leaded glass fanlight above the front door...



The finished project (is it ever quite finished, though?)


Friday, November 25, 2011

Random Universe

Often I find more beauty in the random placement of objects, as opposed to a purposeful arrangement. The loose groupings of 'after-dinner' dishes - all sparkling and clean - awaiting their long confinement back in dark drawers and cupboards until their next auspicious outing. Perfection, to me, is one big glassy silvery shimmering mass...



Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Thanksgiving

I'd rather have a bottle in front of me, than a frontal lobotomy.
 - Dorothy Parker

(Wishing you all the sentiments above and the message below...)

Image via here 

Monday, November 21, 2011

Natalie Wood

If there was ever a true natural beauty, it was Natalie Wood. One of those effortlessly beautiful girls - the type that wakes up in the morning looking perfectly exquisite. Unlike moi, who needs a good hour of preening to rid myself of the just-been-punched-in-both-eyes look.

The case surrounding her 'accidental drowning' (surely one of the top googled stories of late) is being re-opened after 30 years. Regardless of the outcome, it is tragic that she died so young. In 1981, she famously remarked: "I've always been terrified, still am, of water - dark water or sea water, or river water or whatever."

Here are some touchingly candid, unpublished photos of Wood, as a child and later while shooting films like Splendor in the Grass and Rebel Without A Cause...

At 6 years old

Note - a photograph of Orson Welles on the piano


Photo by Ralph Crane

With Dennis Hopper and Nick Adams

Reading to Hopper and Adams

Inside a gallery at Warner Bros.

Hopper and Adams in the rafters

Possibly talking to Elvis...

Unrecognized in a skid row eatery, LA

1960, Beverly Hills

Getting ready for the Academy Awards, 1962

She was nominated for an Oscar for Splendor in the Grass

With Warren Beatty at the Oscars

1963, With Steve McQueen


Lighting up with Steve McQueen


With Warren Beatty, 1961
All images from LIFE

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Marisa Berenson

Moving into territory somewhat more escapist - who knew that Marisa Berenson's grandmother was none other than Elsa Schiaparelli - "the Italian-born designer with Medici blood who transformed the fashion landscape with her antics and Surrealist designs." It is well worth reading the Hamish Bowles article about Berenson, describing the highlights of her career and personal escapades, which include being on the receiving end of Andy Warhol's Polaroid flash, and finding herself on a spiritual journey that took her to an ashram with the Beatles in the sixties...












 Images from Marisa Berenson: A Life in Pictures (Rizzoli) via Vogue