Cold War Couch

September 3, 2012 § 4 Comments

Hey you, I’ve been thinking about you all day.

My grandmother had a velvet sectional. I remain partial to them.

I’ve been digging this somewhat shabby 70’s conservative thing lately. Almost as if it’s the 70’s, but some of your furniture is left over from the 20’s or 30’s or something, making a Cold War Chic moment happen. If you want to see what I mean, the movie Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is a pretty darn good example. Check out, um, Benedict Cumberbatch. (Maria!! It’s Sherlock Holmes!! I found a way to get him on my blog!!)

Whomsoevereth was the production designer on this thing is a badassical genius. That Swedish dude (natch) who directed Let The Right One In, is also the director here, so, yeah.  An old telephone in every shot! Drab golds and khaki and olive and denim everywhere! I feel cold and sweaty just looking at you Gary Oldman!

Or that movie by um, Florian Henckel Von Dennersmark, The Lives Of Others, which I quite enjoyed. A lot of sexy corduroy in that one.

It’s  like I want everything to look like the year I was born or something. So I guess I’m totes self-obsessed. But UUUHHHH!!! I love iiiitttt.


Is it sad? Is it brown? I’ll take it! Now we go from East Berlinese restraint to one of my bestest sectionals ever.

This fits, right? Um, cumberbatch. Maybe not. But what does Miss Arrow say a lot? Don’t care! Yay! Bring on another goddamn sofa!

Yeah, there’s one right there. In the corner. Ok maybe I just like this loft. Hey, Owner Of This Gorgeous Loft; Please be happy in the knowledge that when the bomb hits, you’ll be safe in your repurposed concrete missile silo (never mind the windows, nit-pickers). Well done. At least that’s what I think every time I see concrete interiors. Which is a lot, lately. Nice set-up for listening to your Serge Gainsbourg vinyl collection here, too. Snark, snark snark, snarkitty snark snark.

So what I’m getting at, is if you need me, I’ll be here, where the nuclear fallout won’t affect my dog, Mr. BalanChien McGiggles, or my hair, which I have yet to name.

It feels so undisclosed in here. Love it.




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