Posts Tagged ‘Vitra’
I was feeling a little sad yesterday that this holiday season, all of my gift guide energy went into compiling guest posts for other sites (which you can see here, here and here) and none of it went to you, my endlessly loyal readers who I adore. So I’ve decided to put together one last guide, composed entirely of items on my own list, because how much fun is that? For starters, here’s something I’ve wanted forever: this cabbage rose necklace from Ten Thousand Things. It’s one of their signature shapes, and is so classic and elegant and could be worn with anything—like a more modern version of an Elsa Peretti heart.
The skull and crossbones is its own kind of classic, and I do like how very clever it looks on crisp and proper Smythson note cards.
An itsy dish for one’s bedside earrings and change and whatnot.
I’m not usually a fan of cocktail ring proportions, but the appeal of this moonstone confection can not be denied.
I developed a taste for caviar after I started receiving it every year at the holidays from a particularly beloved former boss. “Share it with no one,” he would always instruct me. And I never did.
I’m moving apartments soon (much more on that later) and one of my main goals for the new place is to not have a junk drawer. This Vitra toolbox will help me accomplish my objective. Not the most glamorous gift on my list, but one I’m dying for nevertheless.
My number one gift shopping rule is that you should always try to buy a person something they will absolutely love, but would never buy for themselves. For me that means this ostrich feather Margiela pen. It amuses me endlessly, and I’m certain would make me feel like I was a 1940s film star at her chic little desk answering fan mail every time I sat down to pay the bills.
I am so tired of my boring old scarves. This multi-print number from We Are Owls would fix all that.
The other day at a family gathering, my cousin Kate requested a post on ways to get organized. What is funny about this is that Kate is immaculate, and lives in a spotless duplex with closets (and, I would imagine, drawers and cabinets, but I have never been so forward as to check) that are a stupefying cross between perfectly luxurious and militarily precise. I, on the other hand, exist on an organizational frequency so far removed from Kate’s that one would be hard pressed to locate them on the same dial. The notion that I could have something to teach her, or really anyone over the age of 18, is risible. And yet there are a few items that have come through for me. And one I am absolutely dying for: this classic Vitra Uten.Silo unit like we had in my house when I was a kid. I am quite sure I did not understand its genius then—but I can practically bring myself to full swoon just imagining how much order it could create in my universe now.
There is no perfect solution for storing jewelry: anything truly efficient isn’t particularly attractive, and just tossing things about is a surefire recipe for unmated earrings and dreadlocked chains. A few years back, I found my solution by going all splurgy on a bunch of John Derian trays. Necklaces are placed on the longer, rectangular ones, bracelets, in smaller square ones, and so on. You’ve got to stay on top of things, but it works out nice. And is pretty, pretty.
Some people are capable of transferring their entire lives on to digital files, but this shall never be the case for me; my world was too intertwined with the printed word for too long. In addition to decades worth of my own clippings, I’ve got a whole mess of old fanzines (remember those?), almost every issue of Sassy there ever was, and every issue of Lucky I ever edited—which comes out to 118, if my calculations are correct. Add to that mix photographs, tax returns, cards, letters and notes of the sort I just can’t bring myself to part with, and that’s a whole lot of paper just dying to turn itself into a mess. It all gets stored in Bigso Boxes: these are good for smaller bunches of stuff—they’re 11 x 8 and you can get them in this great almost-Hermes orange.
For the heavier-duty loads, I get these mini-trunks, which you put together yourself—it couldn’t be simpler—and which have handles, something that comes in very handy indeed. I’ve got a bunch of them stacked on top of each other and they look, if not fancy, then at least much fancier than they are.
Why drive yourself nuts wondering which drawer you put your spatula in when you can just toss it into the sturdy little Le Creuset utensil crock on your counter where it’ll never be out of sight?