C'mere, pumpkin.

Orange is a color we have strong feelings about.

Maybe you love it. Maybe you hate it. Maybe you're on the fence.

Maybe you love it on other people, or on other people's houses.

After all, some people can pull it off.

Orange is exuberant. It's got nothing to prove.

But orange can be subtle, too. Orange is a status symbol, stacked smugly on a shelf.

Orange paint is one way to get your fix. Designers have their favorites.

Benjamin Moore has pumpkins of all stripes.

And if you can't commit to four walls, try one.

Or paint the inside (or outside) of your bookshelves.

Or there might be some orange upholstery in your future. Orange velvet, in the right space, is dreamy.

Orange toile is decidedly un-toile.

And your Seasonal Affective Disorder is no match for an orange-and-pink palette.

Orange artwork does the trick, too.

Or a throw or quilt.

And remember: those orange boxes don't need to be French.

Quelle horreur!

Behold, the sheared rabbit ottoman.


So sad. And yet, so beautiful!

No, no. Sad.


And it conjures vivid memories of January 1988, when several female members of the fourth-grade glitterati showed up at school wearing the rabbit fur bomber jackets they'd received for Christmas.

Perhaps the ottoman was hand-crafted by Provençal artisans using rabbits destined for lapin a la cocotte? Would that make a difference?

Available here.

Do it your own damn self.

As much as I love me some Cole & Son or Tres Tintas Barcelona wallpaper, I realize that not everyone (uh, including me) can blow $150 per roll for a beguiling backdrop of knobby trees or a Cy Twombly-esque tangle of black wire chairs.

That's why I was particularly struck by Sean Scherer's Catskills, N.Y. farmhouse, which was featured a couple weeks ago in the New York Times.


DIY wallpaper is nothing new, of course, but Scherer, a painter and curiosity shop owner, lends it a certain mastery. For this avian-inspired vignette, above, he papered the walls with pages from a "Birds of New York" folio. The birdcage sculpture is by Brazilian artist Vik Muniz.

In the farmhouse guest bedroom, above, Scherer created a backdrop using blank sheets from an old ledger. The side tables are Art Deco; the botanical print is Czech.


The walls and ceiling of the master bathroom are papered with Soviet propaganda posters and newspaper pages, bought in Moscow in 1989. The painting over the bathtub, inspired by Kasimir Malevich, is by Scherer.


When it comes to wallpaper on the cheap, newsprint is a good place to start. And you'll be doing the industry a favor, since kidnappers and ransom-note writers are the only people buying newspapers these days. Above, a bedroom by Ligne Roset.

If you're using your old Merriam-Webster's as a doorstop, why not tear it up and slap it on the wall? DIY magazine has a nice tutorial on how to pull it off.


Lucky ladies visiting the powder room of the Fabric Workshop and Museum in Philadelphia, above, are treated to Jenny Holzer's photocopy wallpaper.


You can't really go wrong with maps, either. Above, a guest bathroom at the acutely-hip Ace Hotel in Portland, Oregon.


A South Hampton bedroom designed by Steven Gambrel.


Karen Breen-Bondie kitted out her son's bedroom, above, with a map mural from Environmental Graphics. The bed, duvet cover, and desk chair are from Ikea.

A home featured in the Denver Post.

Interstate wallpaper at the World's Largest Truckstop in Walcott, Iowa. I have driven by this institution many times.


If you just can't be bothered and don't mind sacrificing some DIY cred, there's always Ralph Lauren's Great Harbor wallpaper, above.


Vintage Campbell's soup ads might be just the thing in the kitchen.



Old letters and diary entries do the trick, too. The more scandalous, the better!


Photo credits: Sean Scherer's farmhouse, Tony Cenicola, the New York Times; newspaper room, Ligne Roset; dictionary wallpaper, DIY magazine; Jenny Holzer wallpaper, Kevin Cooley, the New York Times; Ace Hotel, Apartment Therapy; Steven Gambrel bedroom, from his website; world map bedroom, Karen Breen-Bodie; Ralph Lauren wallpaper, Coastal Living; Denver Post and truckstop wallpaper, Apartment Therapy; Campbell's soup ads, Etsy; letter wallpaper, zedomax.com.

Ideas for small spaces: Magnetic honeycomb spice rack

We've all seen those wall-mounted spice racks. But none has ever tickled me like this one.

It's magnetic. It's hexagonal. It has distinctive Moroccan flare!

Just attach the jars to your fridge and arrange them to your liking. Ta-da! A beautiful honeycomb takes shape.

Strong neodymium magnets keep jars from sliding; gold plastisol lids form an airtight lock, so spices stay fresh. The lids are die-stamped, too, so you know exactly what you're sprinkling in your goulash.

Brooklyn-based GneissSpice will totally hook you up. Order the generic set (12 jars stamped with commonly-used spice names), or customize jars to your liking. Prices start at $27 (for twelve 1.5 oz. jars).

What would your jars say? Mine would be sumac, fenugreek, cardamom...

Bertoia? Eames? Panton? Let's drop some names.

Say hello to my new dining table! I shall call him Arturo.

He's 48 inches round and a total sweetheart. While his original provenance is unknown (Eames for Herman Miller? A nice knockoff?), one thing is certain: Arturo needs some chairs.

Comfort comes first. In that realm, the Eames shell is divine. I'm thinking a white shell with an H base (see second photo).

Panton chairs are also extremely comfortable. And cheaper than those shells.

But a Panton consumes a lot of visual space -- it's sexy but so opaque. That's why I'm also leaning toward a Bertoia side chair.

As Harry Bertoia said, "If you look at the chairs, they are mainly made of air, like sculpture. Space passes through them."

So true! Too bad money doesn't pass through me.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Which chair would look best: the Eames, the Bertoia, the Panton? Something else entirely?

xo,

Javi

P.S. T-minus 4 hours till Mad Men!

Frank Roop loves him some brown and blue.

And really, who doesn't? They're the colors of earth and water, sand and sea, chocolate and blue curaçao.

I love Roop's use of color, but he also has a wonderful flair for mixing: he pairs mid-century furniture with his own designs, achieves harmonious palettes via repetitious blending, and grounds his modern interiors with rich fabrics (velvet, linen, and Edelman leathers) and wood and stone accent pieces.



His interiors are fundamentally neutral but enlivened with pops of lime green, chartreuse, jungle green and turquoise. He's a master at balancing color and textural contrast.


In the study of his 1865 Boston brownstone duplex (above), gray, blue, and taupe mingle beautifully. The sinuous chair, a vintage Austrian piece, is a wonderful counterpoint to the Jacques Adnet cocktail table and Jansen desk. The mercury-glass floor lamp and André Arbus light fixture date from the 1940s. The curtains are made from a Great Plains linen and a Travers velvet.


In his dining room (above), mid-century modern abounds: the T. H. Robsjohn-Gibbings walnut table, Danish chairs upholstered in an Edelman leather, and Curtis Jeré metal wall sculpture are all vintage. Roop designed the floating bookshelves and travertine mantel, and the ceiling light fixture is by Fortuny.


Above, he paired a mid-century Eugène Printz desk with a stool he designed. The vintage resin lamp is by Marie-Claude de Fouquières; the curtains are made of Pollack’s Chambray Challis with a deep border of Edelman suede.


For the bay window alcove, above, Roop upholstered two 1960s Sergio Rodrigues chairs in a Great Plains linen velvet by Holly Hunt. The Danish sofa is covered in Flair linen by Dedar, and the floor lamp is vintage Arteluce.

Roop designed the bed in his master bedroom, above, and upholstered it in an Edelman suede; he also designed the light fixture; the shade is made of Donghia linen. The curtains are made of Montreaux velvet by Travers.

Above, in the sitting area of the bedroom, the Danish rosewood chair is from the 1960s, the metal sunburst is Curtis Jeré, and the Harvey Probber desk and Laverne Tulip chair are vintage. The oil is by Bernd Haussmann.

Roop's other projects showcase his design philosophy. In the TV room of a 2,400-square-foot Boston condo, above, he covered the raised floor in leather tiles from Edelman, and upholstered the sofa's frame, back cushions, seat cushions, and throw pillows in different velvet and linen fabrics.

He designed the headboard and steel wall sculpture in the condo's master bedroom. The bed platform is upholstered in his signature Edelman leather.

In the condo's kitchen, Roop created the horizontally striped accent wall in the dining area with hand-cut strips of paper-backed silk. He also designed the stools, which are upholstered with Liaigre leather from Holly Hunt.


A detailed view of the dining area, above.


Above, the living room of a Nantucket project. The coffee table is Jacques Adnet (Roop has a similar piece in his library), the bronzed garden seat is 1960s, and the opaline glass sconces are early 19th century. The sofa is covered in Larson's Uno in Eucalyptus; the floor cushions are Pierre Frey's Erevan in Café.

Below, in a guest bedroom, he added pops of yellow to his signature taupes, blues, and greens.


The chair fabric, above, is William by Anna French. The bed's blue throw pillow (in the first photo) is Victoria by Donghia.

The dreamy blue master bathroom of the Nantucket home. Roop painted the walls Borrowed Light by Farrow & Ball. He drew the mosaic tile floor on a computer with CAD software, and Tile Showcase manufactured it in one piece, like a carpet.

He makes it look easy, which it isn't, of course -- but I find his interiors incredibly inspiring.

What can we all learn from Roop?

• Use a mix of tactile fabrics
• Steer away from matching; focus on blending colors, tones, and saturation levels
• Achieve pattern through texture
• Use a diverse mix of geometry and scale
• Warm up a modern, disciplined interior with natural elements, such as wood and stone
• Invest in classic mid-century pieces
• Seek inspiration from nature, art, travel, and fashion (Roop began his career in men's fashion, and he's said that his interiors are greatly inspired by clothing).

Oh, and P.S.! One of his favorite paint colors is 'Soft Fern,' a chalky gray-green by Benjamin Moore, which he likens to "a cool breeze through pine trees." Mmmm.

Check out my Flickr photostream to see many more Frank Roop interiors.

Photo credits: First photo, Eric Roth, Elle Decor; second photo, Frank Roop website; next 6 photos, Eric Roth, Elle Decor; condo: TV room, Bill Jacobson, bedroom, Eric Roth, kitchen, Bill Jacobson, all Metropolitan Home; detailed view of condo dining area, Frank Roop website; Nantucket living room and first bedroom photo, Francesco Lagnese, House Beautiful; second Nantucket bedroom photo, Frank Roop website; Nantucket bathroom photo, Francesco Lagnese, House Beautiful.

The [x] factor.

One day, it occurs to you: "My life would be vastly improved if only I had a new [x]."

You do a little research. You learn the vocabulary of [x] -- who knew bulb wattage was so controversial? You start noticing [x]s everywhere. You begin judging character based on the [x]s your friends have in their homes. At a party, you're unable to maintain eye contact with the host because you're too busy staring at their [x]. "I'm in the market for a new one," you explain, fingering the shade. "Now, is this parchment?"

Pretty soon you're gagging on [x], so obsessed and overcome with choices and information that it seems highly unlikely--about as likely as you ever cleaning your microwave--that you'll actually select an [x], feel satisfied, and move on.

The lesson, of course, is that we can't rely on material objects to make us happy, and, despite how we delude ourselves, infinite choices (and deliberation) don't help ease a decision.

I know this. But that won't stop me from obsessing over lamps! Because I've decided a new one will make me happy, dear reader.


And while I'd love one from Objet Insolite, Barbara Barry's Baker collection, Oly Studio, or Max Ingrand (all above, respectively), I really shouldn't consider anything over $200.

The hunt has only begun -- but here are a few (well, 16) specimens that have caught my gimlet eye:

Barbara Barry's Bodice lamp, $336.

Anthropologie's green Yuan lamp, $200.

Circa Lighting's small gourd form lamp, $300.

Barbara Barry's Carousel lamp, $420.



Crate & Barrel's Perry lamp, $230.

Horchow's gourd lamp, $375.


Crate & Barrel's Asbury lamp, $230.

Garnet Hill's large gourd lamps, $240 each.


Horchow's crystal ball lamp, $155.

Jayson Home & Garden's milk glass Harriet lamp, $200.

Room & Board's Eva lamp (also available in white), $300.

Jayson Home & Garden's Genie lamp (also in white, black, and brown), $300.

Horchow's mini crystal lamp, $145.

Ballard Designs' Melesse lamp, $390.


Crate & Barrel's Ponzio lamp, $150.

What do you think? Also: what's your favorite source for affordable lighting?

xo,
Javi