Living Room Boom: The House Always Grins

Rave Crave Necklace

Grape Escape Necklace

Orla Orchid Earrings

Grape Escape Necklace (again!)

Rosie Posie Rhinestone Necklace

 

Rave Crave Necklace (squared!)

Rosie Posie Rhinestone Necklace (so nice I posted it twice!)

Orla Orchid Earrings (Encore edition; the birds demanded it.)

It's no mystery that I love using stuff around my house to stage my jewelry.  I know it, you know it, and the husband knows it, because I blog about it all the time.  Yet I can't seem to stop bringing it up.  It just makes me so happy, this whole hidden layer -- or dare I say secret life -- of everyday items.  Who knows what our beloved bric-a-brac gets up to when we're not around?  Cutlery playing tug-of-war with the curtains?  Paintings coming to life and throwing ragers?  Light fixtures pining over Dustbusters?  Wait . . . that's Beauty and the Beast.  But whatever.  Move over, cartoon pets.  The real intrigue's in ottomans.     

Anyway, in the spirit of spilling secrets, I didn't take all of these pics in my living room as this post title suggests.  I took three of them in the office, and the groovy pattern in Grape Escape pic number one is actually my pillowcase.  Which means, of course, that its proper domain is my bedroom.  Yet five days a week it moonlights (sunlights?) in my living room, serving as my first defense between my skin and the rays emanating from the laptop I use while teleworking in my bathrobe (unless I'm on Zoom.  I always dress up and paint up for Zoom because I'm a professional.  And also because I'm vain.)  For that reason, this pillowcase is special.  It's also the only piece I have left from my Teen Vogue bed set (once upon a time, Vogue had an aimed-at-high-schoolers spin-off publication as well as a line of textiles it hawked at Macy's).  I can't say that the set was the best quality because the comforter got weird after a few washes, the stuffing all wadded up and suspended like ants trapped in amber.  You know, if ants were gerbils and amber were those sticky Halloween spiderwebs.

Lumps notwithstanding, the pattern is bitchin'.  Which is just another way of saying that that's why I hung onto it.

Now that I'm home every day, I've no doubt put a damper on my stuff's misadventures.  Sometimes I imagine certain objects glaring at me, silently willing me to put on some pants and go back to the office already so that they can resume their freewheeling, Ferris Bueller antics.  But I ignore them and keep typing.  Because I'm their owner and not the other way around.  And because I believe in the importance of surrounding myself with things that make me feel alive (it is, after all, the living room).  Things that are full of beauty and that tell a story.

Even if that story is sometimes a limerick.