This morning I followed my usual trail through favourite blogs and eventually alighted on Tartanscot who had posted a wonderful room in a cabin done by Suzanne Kasler and immediately I had an epiphany - that was exactly what I did not want in a cabin.
As you know in life there are epiphanies and there are epiphanies, and on a scale of one to ten this was about a one - not really worthy of the term epiphany.
However, what I'm talking about here is decorating: you look at a floor plan, you order furniture, fabrics, lighting etc and you install and you collect your final payment, leaving behind a pleased if dazed client. Basically, thats it.
So what set me off in a snit about this undeniably beautiful room? Hey, its in Architectural Digest, so it must be beautiful, right? Nothing in it was to be faulted, for when I say it was a beautiful room I really mean it, everything was the essence of urbe in rus chic.
Actually, the epiphany was simply a sudden clarification of a feeling that had lurked around for a while - I want the clutter out of my life and I want a cabin in the mountains: a cabin that likes of which you see at the top of the post. A cabin so simple it could in all its purity of form fit right in on a plot of land overlooking a creek in the mountains or even on a water margin somewhere out West.
So, "dance with me! I want my arms about you. The charms about you will carry me through to ...
... Heaven," or the Friday cocktail ...
a Horse's neck.
1 part brandy, 3 parts ginger ale poured directly onto ice in an old fashioned glass, splashed with bitters and, if you must, a lemon spiral for the edge of the glass.
If you love the song you'll know the connection with the cocktail.
An interior design history enthusiast and in my own way an erstwhile chronicler of those I call the Lost Generation - those men, some of them gay and many of whom died of AIDS in the 1980s and 1990s, and who are to a great degree forgotten.