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Being so fucking perfect, I mean? I hope not.

Again, we celebrate the genius of Anna Dello Russo, stylist and fashion editor.

All photos by The Sartorialist himself.

Past fawning over ADR can be found HERE.

Well, well Miss Sommers...

... way to help put the porn in Decorno!

Photo from 1st Dibs, home of the $4000 lamp you could have scored on Ebay. You can read the profile of Ruthie and also see more of her design porn there.

(Thanks anonymous tipster!)

Things That Are Wrong: The Adulthood Edition

1. Asking for a ride to the airport. We're all grown-ups now. We all have jobs and 401Ks. If you're heading to Greece, I am pretty sure you don't need help avoiding the $30 cab fare.

2. Your baby is not a miracle. Look, most of them are "accidents." Let's just get that straight right off the bat. Your baby is cute and awesome and smells totally good, but it's not a miracle. The miracle is that I don't have 18 of them already, but that's another post.

3. Groups of women all wearing capri pants. They also usually have those "spunky" short 40-something haircuts. There is something sexless and weird about it. Avoid that scene.

4. Veneer.

5. Going on a low-carb diet and noticing you're starting to get what might be the flu but ignoring early warning signs and refusing to eat anything substantial because you're afraid to gain weight and then running into your friend Deb who convinces you to go to a "club" where you dance around in too-high heels and suddenly have two Red Bull/vodkas and then happen to slip and fall on the ground (because of the shoes! NOT the booze!) and are told to LEAVE THE CLUB, only to respond totally indignantly proclaiming your sobriety while your gay angel sits next to you on the curb while you wait for a cab and proceed to nearly pass out from your mad combo of flu/vodka Red Bulls/no food and then you find yourself begging the nice Somalian cab-driver to be your friend and help you up the stairs back to your apartment (he refuses) and then realizing you left your keys at Deb's place so you have to sleep on the inside stoop of your apartment building and then you wake to the shrieking of your wild neighbor (who you used to spend a lot of judging) while she yells, "OH MY GOD SHE'S DEAD!" but then you wake up and tell her you're just really, really sick and maybe - just maybe - a little drunk. This is not how a grown up should behave. Jus' saying.

6. Having a baby because it seems like what comes next. Admit it. This is how most babies happen. (Either that or "accident." See #2.)

7. The 16-60 phenomenon.Long, salon-aided flaxen hair, sinewy legs, deep tan... you've worked hard to keep yourself up, and the boys notice you from behind. But then you turn around and wilt their high hopes with your leathery old face. Adults. Learn to stop dressing like whory teenagers. Know when to say when.

8.Wearing t-shirts with anything written on them, especially your company, the launch of your company's latest "product," or the place you happen to go on your vacation.

9. Scolding your friends/companions into ordering something "new" at restaurants. Sure, you pride yourself on being so adventurous, but c'mon. That Greek place is so Greek-American. Ordering the new pad whatever does not a cultured person make, so lay off your judgement about us ordering the same fucking plate of curried mash every time we go out. Just sayin'.

10. Swinging. Not because it's inherently bad, it's just that the people involved always look like this:

Honestly, people, there must be another 20, 30, 40 "wrong" things in these adulthood years. Please leave yours in the comments. I am counting on your brilliance to punch up the funny on this one.

Contributions to this post by guest correspondent, Anon.

(UPDATE: A few of you requested other "editions" of Things That Are Wrong." You can find them here:




Nancy P still needs to let everyone else vote on it, but maybe this is a step in the right direction. Go team.

How to stock a home bar?

So, I got this question from someone at work:

Quick question for your alter ego…

What do I need for setting up my swanky bar? Just booze? Nice glasses? I am at a loss for what needs to be displayed along with my impressive hard liquor selection.

I think you need a big-ass glass vase-y thing for your ice. Most ice buckets are too small if you're really hosting a big shebang.

And then you need HIGHBALL GLASSES or something similar. I think you don't need all kinds of glasses. Just one substantial kind will do the trick and everything will look tidy.

Also - remember cocktail napkins? The real cotton kind? Get 'em. It's very "Mad Men" to use the real deal. Coasters are for the boys in the man-cave watching the game. Cocktail napkins are for a girl like you.

I leave the other advice to our fair readers.

How should you stock a home bar?

Image above from HERE.

More Selby porn...

More of THIS.

Weekend wrap-up.

From Living Etc.

Oh weekend. Where did you go?

I went on an overnight trip to lovely and chic Lynden, WA, where you can't buy ANY alcohol on Sundays, and also where the town loves to put up those "Abortion Kills Your Baby" signs (which make me laugh... I mean, yeah, abortion DOES kill that incipient baby. Thanks for busting out the science on your scold-y road sign).

Anyhoo, it was fun. Glad it's over, though. I don't like being more than 25 miles from a Barneys, so it's nice to be back in the soulless, heathen-filled town known as Seattle.

That was it for me. What did you do?

In other news, this is Molly Ringwald now. Discuss.

From TMZ.

BlogHer sounds like my worst nightmare.

Did anyone go to THIS? Tell all about it.

From the NY Times article:

For two days last week, many of the men’s bathrooms at the Westin St. Francis Hotel here were turned into women’s bathrooms. The stalls on the second floor were lined with note cards featuring nurturing messages like “You are perfect.” Nearby, women were being dusted with blush and eye shadow, or having the kinks in their necks massaged.

There was a lactation room, child care, and onesies for sale emblazoned with the words “my mom is blogging this.” No doubt they were.

The premise of the article is that people don't take women bloggers seriously. Well, NO SHIT. You are being dusted with eye shadow and you have "nurturing messages" on the walls of your conference, lady bloggers. Figure it out.

WOMEN: what are we going to do with you?

My friends are funny.

Friend emails me and reports on tonight's activities, saying:

...totally wasting time and puttering here. I just watched one of those true-crime “Dateline” type shows. They’re kind of all the same, right? Mild-mannered dude kills girl who is “full of life,” “everyone loved her” etc. The unpopular loner girls never get killed.


Don't get me wrong, he looks losery here and his teeth are weird and that is such a gross politician's smile, but LOOK AT HER. Aside from the t-shirt she stole from a 12 year old, what's up with the face, lady? She looks like she's watching a stranger disrobe and fornicate with a pigeon or something. Maybe, in fact, she is. But what's with the hair? Because there's no excuse for that.

Ick. Makes it hard to keep hearing stories like THIS and not gag a bit on the thought of these two cooing and making out while their baby lovechild is in the hotel room next to them. (Oh, and while his wife is dying of cancer on the other side of the country.) Too much to handle on my empty stomach. If we have to hear about affairs, I would like it to be about hot people, please.

Married money.

If you're married, or in some long-term-ish live-in relationship, how to do you do money? Shared bank account? Separate? Split bills down the middle? You pay one month, the other pays the next? Does sharing it give you anxiety? Are your purchases scrutinized? Could you not care less? If you're a stay-at-homey with no outside income, what is your money sitation?

Please spill the beans.

If you're single, feel free to chime in too on how you manage to save money (if at all).

(Photo has nothing to do with this. I just like that someone bothered to make Ho Hos the subject of his painting.)

I'm getting a design boner.

Yes, Cindy is one half of Libertine, and yes you saw her place in Domino. Good job.

Reader and hot tipper Jennifer from good ol' Canada sent me THIS link and told me to make sure I credit lovely Joanna G from the very popular blog CUP OF JO.

Normally I wouldn't post something that another design blogger just covered, but HOLY CRAP, if these aren't the best. Sure they are a little bit Hipster Robot, if you know what I mean, but I love a run-down New York-y place so much. New Yorkers (the downtown types) have a way of being so sleazy and glam at the same time, like coke-whores in pretty dresses.

So thanks to Jo and Jennifer and this photographer dude Selby and all hipster robots in NYC who keep their shitty rent-controlled apartments so coke-whory-cool. The rest of us are just so lucky to live vicariously through these yum photographs.

Once again, the site is The Selby and you can see his house tours of cool people HERE.

Notes on Engrish.

When did "the below" start happening?

I keep getting email messages at work where people write, "Please review the below." Please review the below? Did a not-fully-programmed robot draft that note? That doesn't make any sense. It sounds so clunky.

Please help me put an end to this silliness.


Some photo from some blog scanned by some chick who stole it from some magazine...

Well holy shit, today was fun.

Last night when I posted "HOWDY, STRANGER," not too many comments rolled in for quite some time and I was thinking, "Well, gee, what do you expect? There you go tossing a poll out there expecting them to write today's post for you, you lazy ass..." And then you did just that! That long delay was just about 80 of you crafting your responses to our little poll. God bless all of you.

Here are some hightlights from today's telethon:

My favorite thing "everyone would be surprised to know about you" as shared in comments was: "I smoke weed before cleaning my house." Ha!

I also loved the story about meeting your husband at Hooters after he wrote, "You're so cute," on your napkin.

I loved the brave honesty of the confession that one of you might be divorced in a year. (Maybe you want that? Maybe you don't and it's just coming undone? Either way, it's not easy. Hang in there, kid.)

I love that I have so many Portlanders reading this. Longtime readers know that it's my hometown and my favorite city. I am jealous of you guys living there.

I loved Robin stating her age followed by, "reluctantly," as though she has any choice in the matter. That cracked me up.

I love Dean "the girl with the boys name" and that she wants to get married soon (Dean! Wait! You have all kinds of time for that!).

I read through every comment and thoroughly enjoyed them all. Thanks for speaking up, especially those who usually lurk.

So who reads this? Here's the census:

1. Lots of you like SNARKINESS. Many of you didn't even mention decor. You just mentioned snark. Holy cow! Why the fuck am I writing about lamps? This decor business has been a total waste. (Kidding..)

2. Lots of chicks read the blog. Followed by chicks who also happen to be stay-at-home-moms (which my friend Nick & I like to call "stay-at-homies," because it makes you bitches sound all gangsta and tough, which you kinda have to be when you're fighting spit-up and cranky toddlers all day), followed by gay men (of which club I am an honorary member). I don't think I got any love from a single lesbian out there. Where my lezzies at? (Can I bring that word back? Is it totally banned? Because I think it has a certain charm.)

3. Many people said they liked the longer posts, or at least where I actually bother to write something. I certainly enjoy writing them, but they can sometimes leave me feeling like a self-important wanker (which I might be... I just try not to think about it because I don't want to own up to any douchebagginess). It's a fine line to walk, writing a blog. It's such narcissism to begin with to assume people give a damn about you or your stories. But the good news was that a couple of you mentioned liking my more sincere, non-snarky posts, and that's good, because while I am railing on PAM ANDERSON one day, it's nice to show the kids that I have a heart about, say, matters of FAMILY (my unusual family) and LIFE IN GENERAL.

4. A few of you mentioned that you don't like it when I post a photo and just write, "DISCUSS." Leah, you didn't exactly say you didn't like it, you said it was lazy. And you're totally right. It's IS lazy. It started as a joke. I was talking to a bunch of people at this thing, and I told them, you know, when you're stuck for blog material, just post a photo and ask, "Yes or No." And bacon had come up in the conversation and I think it was John Tusher who blurted out hysterically, "BACON: Yes or No?" as an example, and so I posted it when I got home and it got like 70 comments (you people are passionate about your bacon, clearly). So when I have a particularly brutal workday and I can't even think of something compelling to write, that's what you get. Sorry dudes. Sometimes, it's all that this free press can muster. But Pieter you are right... sometimes it's like throwing chum to the sharks (as SGM puts it.) But the comments are usually quite amusing around here, so why not let all the readers have the action? (Especially you, Anon. I should be paying you a royalty... just as soon as this blog starts makin' momma some cold hard cash...)

5. You fools are so, um, tech savvy. I never used Google reader or any such blog "subscription" service until several weeks ago when everyone was going bananas about the Holly Becker ARTICLE/POST about editing the "noise" our of your life by limiting your blog intake or whatever. Anyway, people were like, "Wha? Why edit? It's called a READER," and I was all, "Yeah, it's called a READER, bitches!" But, um, I didn't really know what a reader was. I mean I knew, but I'd never used GOOGLE READER or anything. And so very recently, I started using Google reader, and holy god, you people are so smart. Why didn't someone just TELL ME that it's like Tivo for your blogs. I always say Tivo lets you watch more and better TV in less time, and this whole reader business is the same. If you all could please use TV analogies in the future, that would really help me, k? Look, I am a dinosaur. You people are way ahead of me. (You probably all Twitter, huh? I mean... do you? I actually want to know. And what is this Tumblr thing? Jesus, will someone please send me an Internet 2.0 decorder ring?)

So that's the recap. You guys are fun (and very funny). Thanks for playing. Come back soon.

I know he happened like 10 years ago...

..but I miss this guy. I think he needs his own network. In the meantime, I will just cross my fingers that this documentary about him will come to town. (I will watch any documentary. That's a fact.)

"My name is Virginia. I’m in my thirties because I screwed up my original plan, which was to OD in a nightclub bathroom at 25 with panties around my ankles and a wet cigarette in my mouth. I am constantly going to baby showers and being made to endure foul acts, such as sniffing and identifying various brands of chocolate melted into diapers, which is against the Godiva convention. Meanwhile, I can do a special dance and hear my lone, desiccated egg rolling around inside me like a burnt-out popcorn kernel..."

I don't even know what to say. This is pretty much the funniest thing I have ever read, and I know some seriously funny bitches.

Read the whole thing HERE, at I Could Kill Her, a blog so weird and funny and brilliant that I don't really know what to make of it.

Photo by Joel Sanders.

No more. (Mamacita would like you to know this contains nudity.)

I simply can't take it anymore. No more trellis. Some of you already have it. You win. You get to keep it. It's actually adorable and graphic-y and fun, but that's it. We're at capacity. No one else is allowed into the party.

The only thing worse than seeing more of Imperial Trellis might be this photo of Kelly Wearstler, designer of said fabric/wallpaper, posing here for Playboy years ago:

I do, however, love the batshit-crazy-hair version of you, KW. But your weird Playboy boobs above look like they hurt, all stretched out and weird in the middle. Looks ouchy.

What would be funny is a toile just of Kelly... drawings of her wacked out hair... drawings of her funny nudie poses from her 1994 Playboy spread, drawings of her fashion-y self sitting in that big hand chair she's so fond of. I would pay to see this sketched out. One of you out there can do this, I know it. If you feel so inspired, please send it to me.

Hipster toile.


Try. Just try a little , Minnie Driver. And by try, I don't even mean "Put on makeup," or "Wear a pretty dress." When I say try, I just mean, please wear something that COVERS YOU UP.

And note to the pregnant chick buying houseplants and City People: that weird brown stripe thing knocked-up women have on their bellies should remain a mystery to me. Until such time I want to (a) have a baby or (b) actually study all the human sexuality stuff I was too grossed out to learn about, I do not want to see said weird brown navel-to-crotch stripe. Eew. I mean, come one, I was only trying to buy basil and some boxwoods.

Howdy, stranger.

So, I know about 15 - 20 of you. I know you well enough to trade emails and to know a few things about you. Funny how blogs can forge these weird friendships where you haven't spoken, haven't met, but are perfectly comfortable emailing some snarky tidbit to one another every so often. Good times.

But who are the rest of you? I know we've played the "what's your salary" game (play along HERE). But who are you? I am dying to know.

1. How old are you? Male/female? Married/single? Gay/straight?
2. How often do you stop by?
3. What kind of posts do you most enjoy?
4. How many blogs a day do you read?
5. What would everyone be surprised to know about you?
6. What do you consider your top-3 online daily must-reads?

And anything else you want to share.

I am dying to know about all of you (especially all you crazy Anons).

If you can't beat 'em...

...send traffic their way.

All the good decor porn this weekend was happening at MA Belle. Click HERE to check it out.

(Pete... that painting above... I'd steal it for you if I got the chance...)

Garden with your nose and mouth.

So much order. If only.

For those following along, a while back I hired a landscape guy to make a plan for me and hopefully install the whole thing. I was ready to spend whatever it took. But, well, he wasn't a good listener. I decided it would be better to go it alone.

So far:

1. Nothing has been done to the patio. It's still a cement slab.

2. I am hating the slab these days because my weekly yard guys dug up beds around my yard and things have finally been planted. It certainly doesn't look like some antiseptic and perfect yard, but it's such an improvement that I am not as hell-bent on replacing the patio quite yet.

3. My plant-buying has been haphazard. It was quite organized recently, when I knew beds were being prepared and I would need to have stuff ready to plant asap. But there were some miscellaneous plants languishing in their plastic containers for many weeks, plants that I bought here and there early on when I was full of good intentions but had no plan. As usual, I couldn't commit them to any particular spot in the ground. I felt like the whole thing had to be perfect before anything could be stuck in the ground.

Well, I finally said, "Fuck perfect" and started planting everything with abandon. One plant in its sad little black plastic container looked like some kind of advanced-placement boxwood. I didn't even remember what is was. It turned out to be a gardenia.

Holy shit.

The funny thing is, I had never smelled a real gardenia. My only exposure was various cheesy gardenia-sceneted bath products, as well as the giant bottle of Chanel Gardenia that I molest every time I go to Nordstrom.

As soon as the first bloom opened up, it just knocked me out. Today I bought 2 more, and also bought another jasmine. The best things in the yard so far have proven to be things I can either cut & put in a vase, things I can eat (mint, basil, rosemary, oregano) and things I can smell.

Whether or not everything "goes" matters less and less to me. All I wanted was my little slice of the city where I could go outside and enjoy my bit of green. And finally, I do. I love it back here. It's perfectly imperfect, and that's plenty good enough for me now.

Vacation home porn.

"This 1,000 square-foot weekend cabin, basically a steel box on stilts, can be completely shuttered when the owner is away. Situated near a river in a floodplain, the 20’ x 20’ square footprint rises three stories and is topped by the living room/kitchen. Large, 10’ x 18’ steel shutters can be closed simultaneously using a hand crank."


Real rooms.

Real homes are often depressing and sometimes inspiring. The Domino Flickr group will serve as your reminder of this fact.

Here are a few that caught my eye for one reason or another.

You can go to FLICKR to enjoy all of the photos, and you can even join the flickr group to add your badass home photos to the mix.




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