I have fallen prey to the Apartment Thearapy gods, and their associated deities (see blog roll on right), most of whom full-heartedly endorse a ridiculously pink-infused and frilly home for the twenty-something who has her own space for the first time. Because, like glitter and mini dresses, there's an expiration date on this kind of stuff. So do it while you can. And I love that. Because in a few decades I hope my home looks more like a Pendleton catalogue with refurbished rod-iron and found wood coffee tables, long and sturdy dining tables with drippy candles, and lots and lots of earthy textiles. But that's a home to save for, dream about, and build toward. For now, I'm perfectly happy with my ebay, ikea, overstock.com, tj maxx, hand-me-down, thrift store, and flea market found frilly frills.
That couch and I have seriously been bonding. Snuggling into it on Sunday evening, I even had the audacity to think Aw, my first Sunday with the couch. Who am I? My mom taught me her bargain hunting skills well as a blow-out furniture event lead me to a major steal on a really nice piece of furniture like this. It cost well below the Ikea crap I would've surely bought (Unfortunately, my thrifted furniture finds are going to be on a hold for a few years after some bad experiences).
Also, the colorful pillows are made of Day of the Dead fabric I picked up at the flea market. I'll try to take a close up picture of it sometime soon.
Lots of natural lights, hooks by the door, and a butterfly chair to hide all the cords from my internet box make me a happy girl.
My parents tipped me off to a road-by sale with this funny little table for sale a few weeks ago. I'm shocked and tickled that the wobbly little thing actually made the journey all the way up here. It's a great catch-all table for by the door, a place to put my bulky boots and all my fun trinkets. Right now, I'm testing a cactus inside of the checkered box. Can't decide if it's quite right.
You can read my feelings about Art Frahm prints here. This trio felt right beside my door, as a reminder that I always have the option to re-define my bad days, embrace my general i-am-a-mess demeanor, and to laugh. I know these photos are sexist in a 1940s context, but I have reserved the right to empower them and myself within a modern day interpretation.
Going along with the 1940s theme, the over-used and cliched Keep Calm & Carry On poster. I love it so. And I even kind of love that everyone else and their mom has it, too. It would've been a lot more logical to put the television over the fireplace and the couch against the window, giving me a lot more floor space. But I had an unexplainable aversion to this common-sense layout. Thus, things are the way they are and my couch looks as though it is eating my living room.
I love it all just the same.