My new angel earrings ✨
when john berger said that the small things we do for each other are ‘commas of care’ and thinking now of every book that has been recommended to me and every song i’ve loved that has been shared with me and every movie i’ve watched because someone dear adored it and each one of those is a stitch in time, bright and gleaming, in whatever the pattern is of our own little lived-in tapestry of lives, and a placeholder for love bc when i come back to all these things, i come back to the love that gave them to me first, commas of care that let you pause and go on.
I loved Dita Von Teese’s old house, but now she’s bought a larger, Tudor style home and decorated it very differently. (She still has her vintage taxidermy collection, though.)
This is the entrance hall. Originally, she collected taxidermied birds.
This was her old living room- Art Deco furniture, and the designer picked out the beautiful flocked teal wallpaper.
This is the new living room. Check out that tiger- the crown is a nice touch. Dita says all the taxidermy is at least 75 yrs. old.
She went bright red oriental in the dining room.
This was her old kitchen- retro & pink.
The new kitchen- she wanted it to look like a woman’s kitchen. Well, she’s got a teal Aga stove.
Rosy red velvet sitting room.
The old dressing table had a sultry glamour.
The new.
The old bedroom.
The new.
A collection of vintage hats adorned her old dressing room.
The new one is a converted closet.
This is the shoe room.
It has a lovely bath that matches the style of the house, but it’s not her usual Hollywood style. I don’t know, I just like the old house better.
https://www.architecturaldigest.com/
before blaming others, think: whats the 1 constant in all your failed relationships? its that cursed egyptian amulet why do u even have that
“The all-night convenience store’s empty and no one is behind the counter. You open and shut the glass door a few times causing a bell to go off, but no one appears. You only came to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe a copy of yesterday’s newspaper – finally you take one and leave thirty-five cents in its place. It is freezing, but it is a good thing to step outside again: you can feel less alone in the night, with lights on here and there between the dark buildings and trees. Your own among them, somewhere. There must be thousands of people in this city who are dying to welcome you into their small bolted rooms, to sit you down and tell you what has happened to their lives. And the night smells like snow. Walking home for a moment you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It’s unendurable, unendurable.”
— Franz Wright, “Night Walk” (via blxckberrying)