Crisis Home Decor

Small disasters, street treasures, and the long, imperfect process of settling into a home.

I do not recommend uprooting your life and trying to move your family across the country when mercury is in retrograde. My days have been a comedy of errors since we left Los Angeles. There was the time I shoved a cantilevered chair into the passenger seat of my car, wedging it in so precisely that it wouldn’t come out, not with the brute force of my handyman, my neighbors, my brother, nor I. (Ultimately, I had to have a mechanic dismantle the entire seat of the car.) Then there was the time when I was alone with the kids and the delivery men refused to bring my items inside, leaving me on the street with a pallet of disassembled furniture parts, and no way to get them up to my third floor apartment. Oh! And how could I forget when the mattresses arrived halfway into my son’s hour long tantrum? Cowering from the endless screaming, I locked myself, and the delivery guy, in the bedroom, where I implored him to tell me how the fuck anyone survives life with a three year old? All this to say, this transition has not been graceful.

While I usually enjoy designing my domestic domain, experience has shown that in times of crisis—pandemics, the birth of a child, wildfires—home decor quickly slips from hobby to compulsion. When I’m stuck in liminal space and time, my living quarters become a dupe for my mental state. “If I just get these boxes broken down and out of the house, I’ll feel settled.” But it’s a trap. There’s always more to be done, and the entropy of family life is the enemy of order.

Left: found wooden trunk on Fulton Street. Right: The trunk at the foot of our Roseland bed with Coyuchi linen sheets, down pillows, and duvet insert

I am trying to both accept the messy state of our lives right now, and to find pleasure in putting the pieces together as they come. I am scanning the New York City streets for valuable trash. New Yorkers throw out the darndest things. Amongst my finds are a mid-century desk, a 100 year old wooden trunk, a stockpile of Proenza Schouler wooden hangers, and a suite of kitchen items. I am scanning Etsy, Ebay, and Facebook Marketplace for vintage pieces, like the Murano glass light fixtures that I have always coveted.

Left: vintage Murano chandelier found on Ebay. Right: 1970’s Murano chandelier with tromp l'oeil malachite surface.

We have been living without chairs (ours are back-ordered from Audo), picnicking on the floor as a family in the meantime. Red insists that she has moved beyond chairs entirely, and will be eating cross-legged forevermore. Cardboard and packing materials make excellent craft materials, and have been fashioned into personal “computers,” homes for stuffies, and teetering towers. It’s all part of loosening my grip and welcoming new beginnings while mourning the past.

Playdate picnic, and my Lemongrass Heath bowl in action.

Today, I am sharing some of the items that are making me feel cozy right now. Enjoy a handful of exclusive discounts from Heath Ceramics (if you are a fan, you know they never have sales), Autumn Sonata, White Bark Workwear, and more.

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