transform your space into
your personal haven

what's for dinner?

take the poll





a home + living guide for the post-college, pre-parenthood, quasi-adult generation


editor's note 

o lounge 
o nourish 
o host


submit your ideas

big decorating dreams. tiny little budget. don't be a wallflower! jump on over to the discussion boards and get decorating help.

copyright ©1999-2000

on a
by Glinda Wyndorf |
1 2 3 4

My former addiction is now manifest only in a beloved collection of objects that litter my apartment like crack-pipes in a tenement stairwell. I've got French Provincial end tables sporting covered wagon lamps, plus gilt-framed, 3-D flicker pictures of Saint Sebastian, a wall-sized painting of Kali with a tongue that lights up, plaster poodles, bygone cigarette ads featuring forgotten starlets, lava lamps and leopard print lounges. Red velvet curtains and Christmas lights shaped like lobsters and tractors. Tony Llama boots used as vases for cut flowers. Statues of Jesus and Buddha standing guard at the front door. Five-foot-tall plastic palms in neon colors.

I’m a recovering theme-décor junkie.

The roots of my addiction go as far back as second grade, at church rummage sales and second-hand shops. I'd get these crazy ideas in my head, fueled by the knowledge that our impending move to suburban New Jersey from the cramped confines of Manhattan would produce MY VERY OWN ROOM. Suddenly my tiny brain would vibrate with ideas about what MY ROOM might look like; and far from the average little girls' dream of pink ruffles, stuffed animals and a canopy bed, I wanted something more exotic.

I remember seeing a library book on Japanese gardens. The luxurious green-ness entranced me, but my seven-year old brain couldn't deal with the calm, orderly serenity it exuded. I naturally became drawn then to the realm of faux-polynesia, the moist world of thatch, bamboo, and jungle kitsch. I longed for a lush indoor tropical rainforest, something out of the "The Jungle Book" or a Martin Denny album cover. I saved every quarter pressed into my palm by aging aunties to buy plastic plants at yard sales and thrift shops. My hungry little eyes started to scan automatically for tiki gods or anything bamboo. I envisioned a floor covered in aquarium gravel, never considering the comfort factor.

Alas, limited funds and unsympathetic parents foiled my plans, and I was left with nothing but my book and a Day-Glo plastic palm found on clearance at the Five & Dime. But not to worry… adolescence was rearing its pimpled head, so allowance increases, paper route money, and the furnishings they could buy became the focus.

but wait, there's more!


---------------------------> lounge . nourish . host . laze . home.