Sometimes when I want to feel bad about myself and often when I want to host, cater, and attend my very own pity party, I check in with my favorite style blogs to see just what the frack the cool cats are struttin with these days.
What I often find is unlivable beauty. The kind I typically work in. My favorite kind of fantasy. The kind that's beautiful in glossy magazine spreads but makes me think- I could never wear sweatpants on that silly couch! And surely someone would die if I ate leftover Sesame Chicken on that bizarre antelope horn sidechair!
And what we all also know is these people never let a television be seen in photographs. Oh no. Television is for neanderthals. Heathens! The Bachelor Watching Bottomfeeders of unrefined societies!
But man, those snobby bitches sure do have some pimped out palaces for acting like a stick in the mud in. Not an Ikea bookshelf for country club miles.
Some of my favorites as of late are the designs of Alessandra Branca. No, no, not the booby Victoria's Secret model. Although I my disdain for her and her perfectness is also overwhelming. But no, Alessandra Branca who is, as far as I can tell, the greatest of the Roman contributions to design.
She's the daughter of a Vatican Museum art historian, for crying out loud!
Her bio also identifies her design as exceptionally livable. Maybe in the context of her delicious life full of antiques and Roman summers and Master Design awards. I even once saw her style called Chinoiserie Chic.Then, right after that, an entire book sited her as the inspiration for a design movement referred to as New Traditional.
She's also beautiful, well spoken, and super self-deprecating.
God, can you imagine being so fricken effortlessly cool?