issue no. 4: on rugs

If this wall to wall carpeting could talk.

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

thousands of rugs & thousands of men.

I prefer to date in waves—like the tides, moments of being entirely immersed and then totally still. In my moments of leaning in—there are multiple horses in the race, no singular baskets, eggs scattered like an easter egg hunt. But in this fantasy, instead of $20 bills and Reese's cups from my aunt—the eggs are filled with promotional condoms and gas station sex toys. When I was on my most recent dating-binge in the fourth quarter of this year there were four contenders. There was a mental leaderboard and nicknames like at a bowling alley: the tall one, the short one, the one with the mustache, etc etc. But somehow, I ended the last year and started the new one with zero studs to bet on. All fading to black like the year was about to—some amicably, some without me knowing, some without them knowing. Is it ghosting if there’s nothing more to say?

For the last week or so, I have been defrosting from a week-long trip to Marrakech; remembering what it was like to not be on vacation while starting to integrate the beautiful things I had bought into my home: glassware, a coat made of vintage textiles, small knick-knacks, ceramics from an artisan who I’d been obsessing over since my time at Domino. The shopping in the city’s Medina was overwhelming, not to mention the tiles and colors and the tagine at every meal. Everyone’s first question was, which rug did you pick? 

Despite this newsletter’s name—in developing each of its issue’s concepts, I had a hard time finding the nuance and deeper connection between rugs and love (I even asked for various suitors' takes while on dates). Sure, their literal presence on the ground could speak to the grounding nature of relationships and creating foundations for ourselves. Size of course came to mind, size matters, does size matter? But that felt too obvious.

Then while abroad in Morocco, in a room surrounded by 15,000 rugs—I got a first hand look at their making. How they have beginnings and endings, how one side is without tassels as it marks the start of the work and the top of the loom. The other side has tassels at the end to both tie off the work but also let the story continue. How typically, except in modern manufacturing, no two rugs tell the same story. That the women who make them, shape their narratives and express themselves, via rugs.

Rooftops full of rugs.

It then felt very obvious how rugs and love were related. Beginnings with endings that don’t ever really end. Unwritten stories baked into the fibers of our beings and our belongings. Memories of stories that have already been told.

When searching for my own rug, I tried to keep an open mind. Looking at what felt like hundreds—seeing vintage, colorful, muted, bold patterns, traditional weaves, modern styles. Dozens upon dozens of rugs lined every street. We drove up into the mountains and saw hundreds more, hearing the names of their makers as we negotiated prices and drank tea. I drove into the desert and saw the factory of a US-owned modern manufacturer, Beni. There was no shortage of rugs. 

But dear reader, I didn’t buy a single one. 

I mean there I was in the capital of rugs—rugless. Because of course, the rug I fell in love with cost five grand. I wanted what I couldn’t have and was unwilling to consider something else. 

The $5K rug in question—I will have dreams about the hits of blue for a long time.

Sound familiar? Is this how we date? At first open minded—ready for adventure, willing to see, feel, experience everything. Then after things don't work out, we are taken to a discount bin of men we can afford or we spend days (years?) of waiting, waiting, waiting for the resources or the timing to be right or the man to suddenly be in our price range. Is the shopping better than buying?

I’ve been talking to friends about this—are we picky? Maybe I just know what I like. And what about when we settle for the thing that fits just fine but we really know in our heart of hearts that we want something different. I mean, would you rather have the wrong sized rug—one that so obviously doesn’t fit with your couch and chairs? 

In the final months of 2022, I sat across from people thinking—are you the chair for me? I imagined them sitting in my living room—a photoshopped fantasy of each of them fitting into the space. As they dropped off for one reason or another, I felt like I was living with a tape outline of a man on the floor. When friends would come over, I’d say here lies my future boyfriend, he’s being delivered between May and September of next year. Apparently, he’s a great shag.

In the first week of the new year, with Q4’s recently closed tabs on my mind—I texted one, I ran into another. There is nothing quite like seeing someone you were “seeing” and telling them you simply cannot stop to chat because the wine store closes at 8 and it is nearly 8 and you had a long day and you need wine. At that moment, I’m sure I looked crazed, but I was wearing a baseball cap from my favorite deli and decided to sign up for a wine club membership. And then for posterity sake I responded to three Hinge messages.

I have to admit—returning from my trip abroad without a rug felt silly and embarrassing—in the hundreds that I saw, couldn’t I have just picked something? Like the summer I went on 10 first dates in two weeks and none resulted in a second. Yikes (but it's all fodder for the memoir, as my friends and I like to say). I keep asking myself, how many more 31 year olds am I going to talk about my dead mother with? How many more people will I imagine sitting on my couch, carefully calling out a piece or art that speaks to them? Or noting the firmness or softness of the sofa? It feels like at this point it will be hundreds, but I don’t love data so the results are inconclusive. I guess though the searching, the waiting—the dates, the rugs—the unending stacks of people and carpeting meant that I didn’t know what I wanted. But I think that's wrong. Maybe I do just have really expensive taste.

if you are looking for a rug..

1. Know your size—this maybe is the most important thing about rug shopping, as much as they can fill, they can just as easily overwhelm a space. Get out painter’s tape and put an outline on the floor and figure out how far from the wall and how much overlap the article of furniture you no doubt will set on it will have.

2. Padding—I give full credit to friend and current Domino Style Editor, Julia Stevens for this. Her house warming gift to me when I moved into my new apartment was a rug pad—because despite feeling like I could get away without one, that is simply not the case.

3. Investments—I do not subscribe to the idea that good, cheap rugs exist. It's the shoe of the room and has the most exposure for wear. And a cheap rug will last maybe 1-3 years and shed all over you in the process.

4. Texture—go feel like 12 rugs before you buy something and then consider where it is going. One of my favorite articles on maude’s content platform is from my friend Rebecca who ranked the best rugs for sex. She nailed it.

sloppy secondhand: hibernating for winter

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 the ones I can to an Instagram guide here and will update as we go.

Since we last spoke, I’ve been seeing all the friends. A three-hour martini propped at the bar at Casino, in a revamped shell of mission chinese. A double header at Henry Public and Long Island Bar with cheese curds and shrimp cocktails for good measure. A raclette-adjacent one in the back room (who knew!) at Cafe Select. And one at Vinegar Hill House that was followed by a life-changing cherry panna cotta.

Vinegar Hill House—perfect for this moody weather, I had a warm cozy chicken and a big old martini. Plus, I will tell you that I dislike chocolate and will always gravitate towards the custardy, milky dessert. Enter a panna cotta. A truly perfect food. Go sit at the bar, get a ragu if you must, and get the damn dessert.

Hudson Wilder—Just blocks from Vinegar Hill House is Hudson Wilder, a truly one of a kind home to vintage and new finds alike. I bought a book there recently called The Concise Encyclopedia of Interior Design and NASA glasses for a friend who just got married. Talk about perfect glassware, the attention to design and history is remarkable and the space is complete with a coffee bar and a short walk to the waterfront. In warm months, the Dumbo Flea isn’t far—perfect for antique furniture and tools. On your way there, stop by Front Street General—vintage blazers, Japanese imports, cases on cases of silver jewelry.

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. 

A favorite Backdrop color—aptly named 36 Hours in Marrakesh.

1. The colors of morocco—It felt like everything was washed in orange and blue. Every wall a perfect dusty clay color and the blues from a pure Yves Klein meets Yves Saint Laurent blue to a pure sky. It was magic.

   

2. Good ceramics—I remember when we first wrote about Belgian-born, Morocco-based ceramicist LRNCE in domino. A new friend in Morocco put it simply, she’s developed her own language. And truly, it's brilliant. I came home with a water pitcher that says ‘Vin’, a bowl that says the work fuck (among other things), and dreams of going back for her embroidered table cloths. 

3. Rugs—I have three rugs on my mind after this trip—the one that got away, a bold floral from my cousin’s brand Forsyth Art and a really simple neutral rug with a red border in high pile that I saw on a drying rack at Beni’s factory outside of Marrakesh (a friend found a vintage version for a small space). 

   

4. Art collecting—I have a lot of art on my walls, mostly photographs that my mother took on her Nikon FM2, collections of prints, posters from events and travels. I was at an opening this weekend and found the most amazing still life from Emilio Villalba. Does anyone have 12 grand? 

5. Purging—I decided that I’d start my January with a large ‘going through everything you own and tossing the unnecessary” project. My most decisive friend Emma came over and over 100 things we donated, given to friends, or sold. There was a little bit of buried treasure however, a 1997 Alexander McQueen skirt (that my mom surely bought for like $15 at the Atwater Village Out of the Closet) whose matching jacket was listed on 1st Dibs for nearly $5K.

I’ll be doing a special V-Day guide. Any requests?

xL