I dug up these photos of my old San Francisco studio yesterday and couldn’t help but smile. It was all a bit over the top, but I had just turned twenty and had nothing to lose. I snapped these blurry photos literally seconds before packing up to move to Manhattan—a little something to remember it by. Much to my landlord’s dismay I had the Prussian blue shade matched from a Miles Redd apartment published in Elle Decor. In the hall I opted for a pale grey, the kitchen an avocado green, and the ridiculously teeny bathroom went coral pink. I painted the large door (a former murphy bed) a glossy black to serve as a headboard. The chairs were swiped from my grandmother and I reupholstered the seats in a leopard print Ralph Lauren sheet. I loved the mix—the coffee table textile found at a market in Bosnia, seersucker sheets with ruffles, vintage carnary yellow Hermès scarves. The carved Le Penseur on my bookcase was an estate sale find and once belonged to Pulitzer Prize winning historian Will Durant. There are things that looking back now make me cringe—the curtains are too short, throw pillows rather than euros on the bed, etc, but I still adore it. Such fun memories… Below, before and after shots.
(all horribly sloppy images snapped by the Neo-Traditionalist)
