Mademoiselle is extremely good at interior decor. She can work a room divider and a tray of crystal decanters like Laura Ashley can work floral prints.
With our new house a distant pinprick on the horizon of mortgage timelines and solicitor surveys, and with builders about to knock down walls and add stuff, I shouldn't be thinking about decor at all.
For one, I don't know what the end result of our house will look like. Well I sort of do, thanks to floor plans, but I don't really know know.
Secondly, will our mortgage even be approved?
Thirdly, it could be months - like months and months to a year - until we even start looking at things like armchairs, French drawer sets and Nguni hides.
And stag busts, Bauhaus prints, floor lamps, crystal vase collections, and reupholstered Louis chairs.
Jesus. My mind is going mental with the possibilities. Mainly because the decor I have in mind is going to be fresh and new. It has to go with our house. We live in a new block now; but we're moving to a Victorian terrace. It's a whole nee world of possibility; loom and feel.
Our flat is currently decked out in modern, contemporary Swedish stuff. Which is great, but it can't be the entire look and feel inside a beautiful old place.
I consulted with Mademoiselle. Whose house, as I mentioned, is perfection. She has lots of different pieces from her travels, but manages to merge them in with her general style. Everything is a piece and it all looks so beautiful. She heads up a marketing department; but she should really be an interior designer. For famous people. With giant manor houses.
Anyway, so. "Let's walk down the King's Road," she says.
"You know, for ze inspiration."
I'd already bought a pair of black jeans from Zara, so I figured no more damage could be done.
Except the King's Road is the most perfect shopping road in the universe, shoeniverse, decorverse.
And this is not the first time we've walked down there for 'ze inspiration' together. And each time we come back with stuff, credit cards a-smokin.'
It's dangerous as actual fuck.
Anyway. I digress. She led me into a few incredible, extremely Chelsified decor shops. One's I haven't been to before because I didn't consider them my vibe. Maybe I've grown up or grown into new styles, but I loved some of the places she showed me.
India Jane on King's Road is beautiful. You just want to enshrine yourself in All. The. Stuff. It's just very tasteful and not completely fucked-up expensive.
The tricky part is to merge mine and the Brit's contemporary-style things with this, if possible. We have cool stuff. You know, like this sort of vibe.
She says it will be possible. And she will help. I will have a personal designer helping me put shit in the right places! And make it all nice.
And I can now enter a new phase of my life: mature taste.*
How will I possibly hold out until the time comes to decorate our builder's site?
* God we're boring. Been face stuffing like it's nobody's business, and she says she's been baguetting the entire summer. Hence the rabbit food.
** The Brit will never allow me to deck the halls with Laura Ashley or Biggie Best. Let's be practical. But that doesn't mean we can't CRYSTAL DECANTER THE HELL OUT OF THE LOUNGE!
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