issue no. 2: on bedding

Plus, are throw pillows the ultimate c*ck block?

The premiere volume of Love and Other Rugs is presented by Backdrop.

counting threads and conquests.

Early this year at a wedding, I was standing around with a group of men and they started talking, well complaining, about the presence of throw pillows on their beds. Why do women need them? What is their purpose? Why are they so expensive? I interjected—I’m writing a newsletter about home decor and I’m exploring how throw pillows are the ultimate cockblock. Like a glass was shattered in slow motion, they turned in unison and gave me a look like I was speaking in an alien language. They returned to their conversation. Was I too crass? I immediately excused myself to find another glass of Prosecco.

Maria, the stylist, suggested an ode to Joey Tribiani with the small portion of blazers I brought to the shoot.

As I walked to the bar, I was reminded of the scenes in movies of men taking giant throw pillows off of beds. It’s like watching the world’s saddest turndown service—I wonder if they recount the cost of the pillows every time they place them in and out of the hidden benches of window seats or the oversized woven baskets in the corners of their bedrooms. But why did they hate them? Was it because they served as a barrier to entry? Was it because it made things all just a little too precious?

To be fair, every day that I actually make my bed, there are four to six pillows of various sizes and purposes—sleeping, propping, and fine, sure, aesthetics. Don’t get me wrong here, I do a lot for aesthetic’s sake. But in defense of the complaining men, the nightly event of casting off the pillows I don’t use for slumber is a task I find totally ridiculous.

"Throw pillows suck. They serve no purpose. They're purely decorative." from Along Came Polly

It was all very surreal though, seeing domestication up close—I mean they were husbands, fiánces, long-term partners. And here I was—entirely untethered avoiding eye contact with not one but two of my ex-boyfriends present. My life had begun to move at a different speed than my peers. I felt like they had suddenly aged decades, I on the other hand had never felt younger.

I had just spent my first year living alone, something that most would tell you not to say on the internet—but The New York Times outed me last year. I had moved into my “studio” in July of 2021 and despite having a perfect little room to nestle my bed, I refused. Despite the silliness of an exposed bed in your living room, I didn’t want to sleep in a room without direct sunlight. You see, the apartment has by most people’s standards a bedroom—four walls, a door for privacy, and an en-suite bathroom. A friend even went so far as to crudely allude to its potential as a “f*ck box”—although I’d like to reject that title. But by New York State Law it was not a bedroom—a window is required.

Plus, I had other plans for the small space when I moved in—a dining nook, a giant walk-in closet, a screening room. So for over a year I slept in my living room with big dreams of a boudoir and a glass dividing wall that split the large room. It slowly became apparent that it was not quite the time in my life to do renovations. And soon, the large room with everything I owned in it started to feel like a junior hotel suite and the office (as labeled on my floor plan) became chaotic storage—housing dining chairs, bins full of gowns, and an unopened box of weights from Amazon. When you only have 650 square feet, using space without good purpose is like setting money on fire.

My big dreams of a drama living room-bed room.

On my 28th birthday, I entirely rejiggered my space and let me tell you, there is nothing like moving a giant mattress and Floyd bed frame alone to make you wish you had an average boyfriend to help. Since maneuvering it into a 6’ x 10’ room, I’ve been trying to figure out how to turn it into a room I love. What to do with the walls? A deep red inspired by a cocktail? A big bold wallpaper? A floating shelf as a bedside table?

If I knew one thing about what this new room would look like, though, it’s that my bed would probably only be made when guests are over.  I often wonder why we make our beds just to unmake them again though I know not everyone will agree with me. I’m not one to believe that the status of my emotions is based on the way the corners of my top sheet appear. I’m not a purist in this sense. And frankly, I usually have places to be.

I started to read about why sheets are called bedding—well it has to do with the marriage bed (yikes) and the art and act of bedding one’s new wife (double yikes). As I continued reading about the origins of Nordic conjugal rituals, I came across the phrase notch in your bedpost. A great but equally archaic concept—a sweet method created to keep track of your conquests. And just so we are clear, I will not be defacing my own furniture for purposes of accounting.

Speaking of counting conquests, I received some unsolicited advice about this newsletter while on a date—it should be raunchier, more explicit. I believe his exact suggestion was to compare men’s penises to the size of their TVs. I will not be doing that, for the record.

However, in a roundabout way, my editor agreed with him—is this about design or is this about design AND dating? (Yes this little newsletter has an editor—who leaves in my em-dashes because she knows if she takes them out, I’ll just add them back in). While initially, I felt uncomfortable at the suggestion, I was coming to realize something was indeed missing here: what does choosing bedding have to do with choosing who to bed? Paramours aside, sheets are the closest thing to our nearly nude selves.

While I am no stranger to airing my dirty laundry (like when I told The Strategist about sheer Tuesdays)—it turns out, it's far easier to reveal who makes my sheets than who is in them. Although to let you in on a little secret, it's mostly just me. I’d rather escape someone’s bad flannel sheets at three in the morning then have to push them out of my expensive linen ones the next day. I’ve always found there’s a bit of power in leaving—and a certain joy in waking up in one’s own bed regardless of last night’s antics.

Great Eros always.

There is a certain safety and sacredness in keeping things behind closed doors. Taking my bed off display and tucking it out of sight felt so revelatory—there are no posts to notch, no pillows to throw, no one to judge the duvet that has wound up in a lump. That the act of closing a door, means that you can think about your bed when you are in it but not stress about it when you aren’t. But could there be some power, and in turn, comfort in the exposure? What is a newsletter, if not a peak behind the curtain, or rather, bedroom door?

if you are looking to upgrade your bedding

1. If you decide you need extra pillows for your bed, for aesthetics or as birth control—these red striped velvet bolsters have moved from my bedroom to couch and now live on my breakfast nook chairs. I’ve also become newly obsessed with the brand Jiu Jie that makes these chic knots in a wide range of sizes and colors.

2. Linen as a default: for a long stretch of my early twenties I exclusively slept on a calamine pink set from Hawkins New York. I have since tried Parachute—and rotate between coal and white depending on my laundry schedule and mood.

3. RIP Raf: I remember when Raf Simon’s bedding collection for Calvin Klein came out. The Domino office shared a block with the CK offices on 39th St. between 8th and 7th Ave. The only chic thing about that part of town were the people at the Cafe Grumpy in their 25W39 collection boots. This is now a figment of the past, but if you dig hard enough like I did, you can find it on a surprising mass retailer. Oh, how the mighty have ended up on Walmart.com.

4. Adding pops of color: while my bed stays fairly neutral, I love a colorful throw. Archive New York makes the most lush blankets. I’m also really loving Brooklyn-based Saunders Studios for their whimsy and these bright Viso Project ones as suggested by my friend Madison.

sloppy secondhand: of martinis and men

Each week I’ll pick a favorite vintage spot & a local watering hole—maybe you’ll find a new-to-you sofa or a new-to-you man. All I can promise is perhaps some promiscuity and a little credit card debt. Adding these to a instagram guide here and will update as we go.

Since we last spoke, I have had approximately 6 martinis and been on just about as many dates—first dates, second dates, third dates, and a classic move of mine: is this a date, date. One even came from my LinkedIn DMs, cheeky. There was a clear winner. Of the martinis, not the men! I’m trying not to kiss and tell.

Red light at Bar Americano & my chairs before they came home with me.

Bar Americano—the best martini of the week was at a new bar at the top of Greenpoint called Bar Americano. I ordered it dirty like the sea with vodka and decidedly not gin. A solid runner up was the “Olive Branch Martini” at Winona’s—gin twist with an olive: the best of both worlds.

Renew Finds—just blocks from Bar Americano is Renew Finds. Go for an insane collection of posters, go for chairs out of your price range, go for their expansive loft in an old warehouse. I spent my stimulus check on 1970s Italian canning chairs there. Worth every government penny.

5 things on my mind or in my cart.

At Domino, we had a column called 10 things where we asked cool people to curate beautiful things, places, inspirations. I’m giving you 5. 

I got a lot of comments on the last issue from you guessed it, men with grey couches—everything from defensiveness to despair to dissatisfaction. The best exchange was from my very beloved cousin Sean:

He is actually the only critic I care about.

There’s a lot of truth to his musings—and I’ll admit, I want to know as much about sports as these men want to know about sofas. As a gesture of peace, I’m including some alts to the hotly debated grey couch below.

A yummy BLUE sofa.

1. Non-grey sofas—chocolate is in, so says my friend Alyssa (who happens to run social at the mothership of grey sofas—West Elm), her latest couch inspired me to look at this rich velvet beauty, although my sweet cat would probably rip it to shreds. Tell me I’m wrong, but I always feel like cornflower blue is a neutral. Lastly, I saw this couch in person this week and it does not disappoint.

2. Living life with objects—I have known Jill & Monica from SightUnseen since I was a wee editorial assistant at Domino Magazine. Their brilliant minds brought together How to Live with Objects and it's a damn delight.

3. Smelling good—I’ve started wearing Mixed Emotions by Byredo (for the title and the scent)—I feel like if I was a perfume I’d be this one.

   

4. Weird, good tablecloths—I’ve been eyeing the bold tablecloths from Laila Gohar’s Hay collab, hand-embroidered ones from Sarah Espuete & amazing hand napkins from Coming Soon.

5. Cakes and candles—I went to a stoop sale over the weekend and came away with a John Derian cake candle. Just wild enough to never light.

Plus, my god this rug is just so good—low pile Fendi? Absolutely.

Until next time.

xxL