Archive for Furniture
Friday, June 8th
I used to think that once I have an inspiring thought everything will just start from there like a bomb – bamm you’ve got the couch them bamm you’ve got the bookshelves and bamm the dining area finishes itself completely. Well, it is not like that. Not at all. But, to be honest – I kind of enjoy it. The whole process of visiting furniture stores checking for a great sofa and matching fauteuils; or a bed where you feel safe and sound; or an open wardrobe to complement your clothes and bags and shoes.
All the looking at stuff and matching of colors and flipping through decor magazines is a part of a process that helps me to get to know myself better and to work on the relationship with myself for I decorate the environment I am building for myself. The person I’ll have to be in a relationship in until the end. Well, sure, if one commits suicide this isn’t that much of a lifetime but since I am not planning on jumping out of a window or in front of a bus I am quite positive that I will live a long life. So you will not get rid of me and my intellectual outpourings.
Saturday, June 9th
I am sitting in my new Apartment. On the floor waiting for a part of my furniture to arrive. I am tired as fuck and I should mention that it is 6.00 am and that I am awake since 5.20 am. My MacBook is on and I am watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows [Part I]. Eventually I must have been fallen asleep during the first half an hour being woken up by a heavy doorbell ringing. I gasp and know – it is here. Thank God, it is here and I can start building it up (by myself).
At 10.30 am I am getting thirsty (but I already built up one and a half IKEA armchairs. All by myself. Fantastic isn’t it?) so I go down to the bakery picking up a sandwich and some water.
10.45 am what the fuck?! I can’t get inside my apartment because the door lock broke. So I call the locksmith. 140 fucking Euros for 5 minutes of his time. Well what a great start into the day. Nonetheless, I am still cheered up by the fact that the walls I am standing in are really mine. My own four walls of blissful fashionability. This will be there place where people come to feel great about themselves. This is going to be the place where I can feel great about myself.
At 11.05 am and 12.15 pm Tomasz and B show up to help me build up the other stuff. So after T and I have finished the Sofa B arrives to help us with the rest of the stuff. Being occupied with the open closet I am building for myself. Like I am my own Mr. Big. After some time thinking I have decided that this Carrie Bradshaw addicted guy better get himself a great closet without waiting for the perfect man to show up building him one. And in the end, I stand in front of the amazing closet knowing that there are no perfect men out there (and I am definitely one of them) but there most certainly is THE perfect wardrobe. And I have it now.
Sunday, June 10th
This is kind of a relaxing Sunday. I haven’t had a day like this in a long time. Full of writing; flipping through the pages of ELLE, ELLE Decoration and VOGUE; watching ‘Sex and the City’ and packing my books, magazines and fashion Look Books into hundreds of boxes. Right now I have 8 boxes so far. In there? All my issues of VOGUE. Well, not all of them to be honest. There are still a lot more to pack. And then there comes the issues of ELLE and Harpers Bazaar and so on. I am afraid I will never get finished with it.
Right now here I sit in front of my MacBook with the windows open, drinking tea and watching the second season of ‘Sex and the City’ (right now: Season 2; Episode 9: Old Dogs, New Dicks) while thinking about the myths of love and relationships and about the fact that there is something true to what Miranda Hobbes said in an episode of that season earlier on, ‘All we talk about anymore is Big or balls or small dicks. How does it happen that four smart women have nothing to talk about but boyfriends? It’s like seventh grade but with bank accounts. What about us? What we think, we feel, we know, Christ!’
I have to agree. (Well, except for the ‘Christ!’ thing – I would have changed that with ‘Gucci!’ or ‘Burberry!’) At some days I really wonder how every relevant topic of discussion always seems to end up with talking about guys. I am fed up with this topic. Maybe it is because I feel like being at a change now that I am moving on with my life by moving out and by being independent and all by myself for the very first time in my life. This is a change I do not want to share with a boyfriend because it is the first thing I have to myself in years.
And I most certainly will cherish that and enjoy it. The whole ride – with all its ups and downs. It doesn’t mean I am lonely just because I am alone. And, to be honest, I am not alone. I am single. Single and Fabulous! (- Exclamation Point!)
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ was the first thought coming to my mind when I entered the bedroom of the apartment I was taking a look at today. Okay, let us be clear – the 12th district is definitely not my paradise district but I thought compromising might not just make me a better person but might pay its tribute to my sudden positive attitude. Which, by the way turned back negative the immediate second I saw the living room furniture.
It wouldn’t have been any kind of problem if I would have been allowed to kill all the furniture kicking it out of the apartment and decorating it the way it should have been. I loved the stucco on the ceilings but the table and the sofa and those hideous glass plates in the shelves – how could someone possibly say ‘YES’ to living there without feeling the urgent necessity of throwing everything out. Which I made clear by saying so. The owner obviously didn’t like the idea of me hiring people to throw out all the hideous stuff or, the owner’s wife didn’t like it, is more like it. It was like a storage space for all her hideosities.
The bedroom walls were completely covered in made to measure lockers and one wasn’t even able to see a single centimeter of the walls. I felt a bit claustrophobic to be honest though I usually never have problems with small rooms but this wasn’t just right – it was like living in a cupboard with all the storage possibilities all around and seriously, who, except for Chip the talking teacup from Beauty and the Beast would want that? The kitchen was a ‘made in 1960′ disaster – with the ugliest tapestry I have ever seen in my life. Let me make it clear – a gay guy living in a kitchen with full flower tapestry isn’t a gay guy anymore. It’s a gay guy imploded by his own gayness. Honestly, I would love to keep myself at least a little bit of masculinity.
The moment of realizing that this apartment definitely wasn’t going to be mine was quite hard since I thought that there was a tiny bit of a chance to be moving out of my parents house in early June but well, one can’t always get what one wants the immediate second one wants it. So it is okay with me – another situation that made me grow as an adult a little bit. Now the searching and hunting for a decent apartment goes on and then, once I have found one I can envision myself living in, there will be an ‘On the Hunt’ sequel where everything circles around finding the perfect signature to underline my personality and personal style – classy, elegant, elitist and new age smugness.
If you know a place do not dare to hesitate hooking me up with more details.