I can’t be trusted with interior design. If you need some advice on which curtains go with which carpets, or which chairs with which table I suggest you ask a room of colour-blind monkeys before approaching me.
I’ve been attempting to make my abode a more aesthetically pleasing one over the last couple of years and it’s been an abject failure. I seem to be able to buy a nice piece of furniture. Standalone this piece of furniture would garner some respectful cooing from the ladies of London Town.
The problem arises when I try to fit said piece into the muddled shambles of a cluttered bohemian/shabby chic/Scandinavian puzzle I’ve created in my flat.
I’ve given up now. It was getting so weird that I could see guests considering calling the men in white coats. Or at least I had until, after whinging at an American friend for half an hour about my appalling décor skills, she suggested I have a look at Pottery Barn.
She was kind enough not to call me a moron before explaining that pottery barn does a lot more than pottery. I’d imagine my American readers already know this. And I fear a large number of everyone else knows too. Perhaps the part of my brain that could have stored this knowledge was destroyed at Dukes on Monday
After five minutes looking at furniture and soft furnishings I predictably got bored and drifted into the travel section where I purchased a faux fur neck roll (it looks like a puppy that lives quietly on your shoulders) for flying. Although I think I might wear it all the time. It’s so comfortable that taking it off makes me cry, and I’ll be able to power-nap anywhere at any time.
It’s at this stage in my blog posts I usually panic about mentioning SLH. No need this time. As my finger strolled through the pottery barn blog, I randomly found a competition to win a trip to the Sandpiper Hotel would you Adam and Eve it! (an SLH hotel if you didn’t know).
I love it when a plan that didn’t actually ever exist appears to come together.