YLM's post made me remember when The Prince I bought our flat and the lovely plans we had to make it warm, fresh and streamlined. All of the things YLM's flat convey. Of course, it must be said, she has a remarkable eye for design and space. I have seen two of her places and they've always had a wonderful flair.
My flat looks like something from Sanford & Son.
Before I met The Prince, I always had very sweet, very curated spaces. A few pieces of furniture, a spot of color, and tidiness. I was very VERY neat.
Then we moved in together. He with the spray-painted cinder blocks for book shelves. Me with the 1950s original Formica tables and chairs. He with the futon that had broken slats. Me with the Bauer bowls carefully collected over years from flea markets. Then we moved to London. I found a rectory table, glorious and old. A library cabinet. Some caned chairs. He added some Ikea chairs that reminded him of Danish design. And gave my Formica table to a mate who gave it to an ex-girlfriend. I saw it carted away on a back of a truck. Forgiveness is still not mine.
And so, here we are. Add in an enormous plastic kitchen, a six-foot remote control, blow-up robot (you know who you are) and we're in hell.
Anyone within a 50 miles radius who might trade cookies for some design sense would be worshipped.
My flat looks like something from Sanford & Son.
Before I met The Prince, I always had very sweet, very curated spaces. A few pieces of furniture, a spot of color, and tidiness. I was very VERY neat.
Then we moved in together. He with the spray-painted cinder blocks for book shelves. Me with the 1950s original Formica tables and chairs. He with the futon that had broken slats. Me with the Bauer bowls carefully collected over years from flea markets. Then we moved to London. I found a rectory table, glorious and old. A library cabinet. Some caned chairs. He added some Ikea chairs that reminded him of Danish design. And gave my Formica table to a mate who gave it to an ex-girlfriend. I saw it carted away on a back of a truck. Forgiveness is still not mine.
And so, here we are. Add in an enormous plastic kitchen, a six-foot remote control, blow-up robot (you know who you are) and we're in hell.
Anyone within a 50 miles radius who might trade cookies for some design sense would be worshipped.
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