ce n'est pas genève

DRIPPING IN GOLD

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I have recently become obsessed with decorating my apartment. Or decorating in general. I'm not sure when this transformation happened, as most who know me well will laugh heartily at the thought of me being into interior design and decoration. Not for lack of effort, but for a complete and utter lack of ability to keep things tidy and orderly. By this point it's usually a cycle. Clean up, gradually allow things to get absurdly dirty, spend a complete 24 hours scrubbing and cleaning and organizing like mad. Repeat. Anyway, the point is this. I thought I was a fan of the modern look and decorated accordingly. I discovered that the modern look, however, with its steely minimalism and determined starkness, works in theory but not in practice. It's not homey. It's not cozy. It's intimidating and sterile. It is not at all relaxing and I did not feel like I was at home in my new apartment, despite having lived there for six months.

So I began decorating. I bought scented candles and brightly coloured flowers. I put my birthday cards in a row on the windowsill. I asked for picture frames for my birthday. I put magazines out instead of keeping the glass coffee table sparklingly bare. And immediately, I began to feel at home. I breathed bourbon vanilla scents when I arrived; I eyed the well-wishing cards and swelled with pride and happiness. I smelled the flowers every morning, flinging open my balcony door and laughing at looking at the tennis players down below.

The positive effect has made me all but addicted to adding little touches here and there and everywhere to my apartment. I decided to replace the pop-art Lichtenstein knock-offs I have up now, sick of them, having spied the ornate gold frames on Pinterest or some other site I rarely admit to surfing. I love them. Ornate gold frames of all different shapes and sizes, aligned just so, taking up an entire wall, on white, on black, on a deep, rich red; on exposed brick, on velvet, on satins and silks. With black and white floors. With wood floors! With matching gold candlesticks! In hallways! On all the walls! Bigger! Heavier! Some of the frames framing nothing at all! MORE! 

But seriously, I can't find any anywhere. They are not exactly affordable. And perhaps not realistic for a tiny bachelor that I will be evacuating in less than four months. But regardless, my discovery is simple and radically life-changing. Whereas I've spent ages admiring clean, clean, clean futuristic minimalist designs with a standard black-white-red-glass-chrome-and-silver palette, I've realized that homes and apartments and any living space at all is a reflection of your personal history and your mind and your imagination and what makes you you. Your home should reflect that. It should reflect what you like and what you do; what you read, what you listen to, a cluttered and spastic jumble of THINGS that a new friend or lover will spend hours deciphering on that first, crucial visit to your personal kingdom.