Showing posts with label interiors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label interiors. Show all posts

5.28.2015

When I Live in a Beautiful Dutch Village

I will live here. This stunner is Danielle de Lange's cottage near Amsterdam posted on her inspired blog The Style Files. I love it when designers post photos of their own homes. It provides a way to stalk them determine if I like their style.
That ceiling.
Sure, one day I might scoff at bleached out rustic Scandinavian interiors ... but not this day.
Gah! Another damn kitchen for me to covet. Life just isn't fair.
Whoa, it's all perfect on the outside too.

For more photos of Ms. de Lange's home as well as daily inspiration, I highly recommend The Style Files. It's one of the few sites that survived my recent (and sweeping) blogroll cleanup.

10.06.2014

Jacked Up Seasonal Affective Disorder


Summer. You can have it. Oppressive heat, sunburn, humidity, mold, insect colonies, stagnant air, scorching pavement, air conditioning ... all the hateful things. I didn't mean to stop posting here, but my energy level dropped into sub-existence and my world melted into a steaming hot mess. I lost interest in just about everything except cold alcoholic beverages and, well, that's not such a good thing. I hereby blame all of my shortcomings on summer. (Deflection is an art, you know.)


ANYWAY. Fall has arrived! And I say, thank fuck.


In celebration of my favorite season as well as a lasting return from the pit of despair I call summer, I give you this Dutch apartment by Studio Bakker. I absolutely love this space and how the quiet colors and low light are all about autumn.


I have this thing about kitchens. This one is no exception. It's open and simple and I want it.


I love that it looks like a real kitchen where someone might actually live, not just styled and posed for the shoot. I want to linger at that table in the morning drinking hot espresso made with the sweet little machine on the counter. The minimal under-counter refrigerator leads me to believe this apartment is surrounded by amazing take-out restaurants and there has to be a gourmet grocery store and bakery on the corner.


I usually go for white and bright but this room is so restful and simple, if somewhat masculine. Fine by me, I like men in my bedroom.


Oh the power of photography, always providing the stuff of dreams. I pretty much want to move in to this place right now because it will undoubtedly make my life perfect and serene. (Even if that big plant display on the table is a bit much.)


So yeah, I think I'm back. Thanks to this apartment, the pivot of the earth's axis, and a certain blogger friend who yanked me from that soul-sucking spiral of self-defeatism and purposelessness we all needlessly head down sometimes. (Please tell me it's not just me.)

7.24.2014

Not my Japanese house



Nope, this doesn't resemble my generic suburban Japanese house in the slightest. But it's comforting to know good Japanese architecture and design exists on this island. Somewhere.

And yet ... I have to wonder about some of the styling and design choices employed here. If this house isn't on Unhappy Hipsters, it should be.

Banished from the living room for practicing zen during family time, the blackbird held them in its fixed, indignant stare. 



It reassured him to think the bathroom sink was close because he always found the smell of that particular antique text to be somewhat concerning.



The bunny implored her and again she scoffed, amused by his continued ignorance of symmetry.

6.17.2014

Where Real People Live


I could live here.


Not surprisingly, I peruse myriad photographs of interiors. While some are dead-on inspired, I prefer seeing real places, where actual breathing people might live.


This Swedish apartment is like that. Obviously styled and shot by professionals but still looks entirely livable.


I forgive them for cramming the rest of their clothes behind that curtain for this shot.


Do you prefer propped, staged and styled or messy, unfinished and real?

Photos from Stadshem via Homesick.