issue no. 7: on side tables
Should we have one night stand or two?
The premiere volume of Love and Other Rugs is presented by Backdrop.
bed sides and boundaries.
If you are new... check out the archive. I complain about ghosting and grey sofas and exes in proverbial storage units, among other things.
A few months ago, a friend asked me where he could find side tables for his bedroom—one night stand or two?, I asked. As I thought about the traditional bedroom layout, I wondered who told us we had to set up our lives this way: A bed (with copious amounts of pillows), a dresser, two side tables, lamps on those side tables. Do you need two—well it depends: are you coupled? Single? Having overnight guests? Is your bed pushed into a corner like mine is? What will the layout of your room allow? And what are you putting in it, on it, beneath it?
I’ve begun to think nightstands are the most intimate piece of furniture, steadily by our side at our most vulnerable (read: horizontal) moments. They keep our phones, water cups, and break glass in case of emergency sex toys at an arm's reach.
There was an internet phenomenon recently about what the contents of your side table said about you—as the world examined the guns and cans of Coke at Elon Musk’s bedside. For me, at any given moment there are a minimum of two vessels and a wine bottle that I drink water from at my bedside—both for the irony of turning wine into water and because my cat will dip his paw into any unattended water glass. I have a small lamp, a Google home that speaks to me like an Aussie man, a photo of my late mother, and a woven box with jewelry in it. During the peaks of Covid, there was at least one thermometer and a box of Gossamer’s CBD sleep drops. It’s 2023, do you know how your anxiety manifests?
Do they have to match? The aforementioned friend asked as he looked to purchase his second night stand. I mean, yes, are you insane? I replied. He had one he liked and was looking for another. I began to scroll around on Facebook marketplace with his requirements—company, size, type of wood—but quickly gave up, a lot of mediocrity, no matches. Sell the one and buy a set, I remember saying. Sacrifice—that’s relationships, that’s pairing up. I’ve felt the same about Hinge lately, a hope that in the sea of standard side pieces holding fish pictures and ‘ordering spicy margaritas for the table’, I would find a match. Even when I loosened my qualifications—company, size, type of wood—more mediocracy. I went back to looking for tables, at least inanimate objects can’t lie about their height online.
I said recently to a friend that I think more about the people who I didn’t sleep with than the ones I did—what is the opposite of buyer's remorse?, I asked her. We were talking about boundaries. The times we had said yes. The times we had said no. The things we felt about ourselves after. The times we waited because we wanted to see where it went only to be left on read. How a lot of men, as it turns out, are assholes, and how we’ve left more situations than stayed. How then could we find anyone? If it wasn’t on the apps or in real life. If most people were jerks or ghosts or still in-love with their exes. And how would this ever work if every man I interacted with asked if they would in fact be the subject of the next newsletter? (Honestly of the nearly 10 that have insinuated at their stardom, only one is a subscriber. For your readership sir, I thank you). Could I plan spontaneity in my love life in the same way showing up to a vintage store on the weekend could lead to a second night stand?
Speaking of men and bedroom layouts—has anyone ever hooked up with someone in not one but two of their bedrooms? This was a first, ladies and gentleman. Two side tables? How about FOUR? Anyway, this man gave me a promotional shirt from the company he runs. Are you a small or medium? It really made me think that all sex should come with merch.
As the weather warms and I dusted off mini dresses and sheer tops, I’ve leaned in to speaking about my dating life in terms of quarters instead of seasons. Maybe this is what working at a CPG brand does to your vernacular: themes, head counts and churn rate. Except for me it's the ROI of my Raya membership and the top of funnel leads who never turn into customers. Repeat rate? Forget it. In Q1 I dated my friends, attended not one but two bachelorette parties and then a wedding where I slow danced with a man who has ‘the fourth’ after his name. He was 6’6 and I swear my neck still hurts from singing Tennessee Whiskey to him as we swayed.
As I gear up to attend 4 more weddings this year, I am confronted with other people's loves and my own ex-loves and the men who ghosted me but still watch my instagram stories (lads, what are you doing?). Listen, I love love. I love watching my friends find partners, Christ I love love so much that I just officiated a wedding (in a three-piece power suit from Paris might I add).
However, this marathon of white dresses and penis shaped straws has me thinking a lot about what it is that I actually want in my dating life. I landed on something that felt foreign to my current find-a-man practices yet totally aligned with how I looked for vintage furniture. Predictable wildcards, a semi-curated script, a moveable itinerary. A dedication to being surprised.
I remembered that I had once dated like this. In the spring of 2017, my friend’s and I started referring to our weekend evenings out as “Boyfriend Saturdays”. It had three rules—1) don’t think about boys Sunday-Friday 2) say yes to all Saturday plans 3) once there, talk to someone you don’t know. While it lasted, it had a decently high success rate. Maybe it was an attempt to reclaim Saturdays are for the boys or brand our wildly single selves or to take a break from forcing ourselves to go on dates constantly. It was perfect and ridiculous and all came to a crashing halt when my mother died.
When I started this project of comparing men to rugs or sofas or side tables, I said that this would have nothing to do with her, that this was about me and New York and love, but her absence has played a bigger role in any of this than I could’ve imagined. My grief around relationships, my qualifications for finding a partner, my desire to immediately tell someone about her. The way I look at someone and think, what would she have said about you? I asked myself recently, without a mother, could I find love?
The clock struck this new quarter (on the dance floor at Night Moves of all places) and I agreed to let myself be surprised. To plan almost nothing. To mostly say yes. What if we dated like we were going to a flea market? We have no idea what's going to be there, what wooden number we’ll fall in love with, what mysterious side piece we’ll like but discover is on hold for someone else, what we’ll take home, what will take us home, what amazing table you’ll go to many Nashville bars in one night with only to decide to leave empty handed.
Side tables—unlike beds or rugs or even sofas—seemed to symbolize not just symmetry or how big your bedroom was but also partnership. Those with two who use just one—the possibility of another person in their bed; those with one who need a second as relationships progressed. Or in my own life, a singular pedestal turned side table. It didn’t have drawers, just the memories of beverages past in empty mugs and water residue rings.
Did I even need another night stand? Did I even want one? Sincerely, right now, I couldn’t even fit two side tables in my room if I wanted to. Maybe that’s a sign—commitment to being uncommitted. Side table for one?
If you are looking for a side table:
I host a lot of dinner parties, so something that can quickly be pulled into the living room as a stool is key. I’ve always loved the folded paper ones on amazon like in Sally Breer’s former DTLA loft. Plus, a sexy red Bruno Rey & an Ikea take on a Aalto classic.
For vibrator and bible storage alike, I’ve been loving these from the crew at Lichen. Plus, an obvious choice from DWR but in a chic color.
If you do need to pair up, chrome and teak, more Bruno, and very Nancy Meyers-esque shaker ones.
To put your things not your people on a pedestal, marble topped by Menu, a Kartell stand in a pastel, and more maroon from Ferm Living.
For floaters, one from Hay I’m still crushing on, plus Blu Dot, a slim number from Burke Decor, and one for a children’s room that I found charming.
sloppy secondhand: see & be seen
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 Instagram guides here and here will update as we go.
I have been in and out of the city so much the last month that it doesn’t feel like I have done much of anything new. Lots of returning to the same haunts, eating and drinking at my same five or so staples, retracing my steps in the hopes that a new lamp or framed print will wow me. I have been spending a bit more time in Manhattan than usual, some thoughts below.
B.Y.B studio & Desert Vintage—I have been a followed of B.Y.B since their space in Bushwick and the recently relocated to the iconic 75 E. Broadway—home to Eckhaus Latta and James Veloria and Old Jewelry. I made my friend Stef traipse around the Lower East Side to find yet another suit or gown for the weddings I’m attending. We also went to Desert Vintage which among the Gucci gowns and the YSL patterned skirts, has affordable glassware and a tub in the middle of the store. We then went to Ending Soon and Coming Soon and Sandy Liang to ogle at tiny tops and bright colored flatware. You really can make a day for yourself buying things you don’t need.
Nine Orchard—Listen, you can’t take photos in here. And the martini service is at least $25, and if you go to Corner Bar they will try to make you put truffle on everything. However, the people watching is worth it and you can always run across the street to Le Dive if things get dire.
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.
Cutting a room in half: I want to find a way to not-so-subtly divide my living and dining rooms which are currently one 20x14’ space. This shot in the London home of fashion designer Bella Freud has been stuck in my head. Maybe the way to do it is with color.
Prints of women with cats: My friend was at the Rosebowl Fleamarket a few weeks back and found this insane Will Barnett print, I haven’t stopped thinking that I might need it.
Stressed is desserts spelled backwards: I am a firm believer in Alison Roman—I regularly make her sticky apple cake for picnics and dinners alike. I just picked up her latest book on desserts to complete my set and while I’m not one to follow rules especially in baking, I am here for this book.
New to you clothing: An instagram follow turned friend Katie has an amazing vintage account called Shop Feels Good—I bought my entire spring/summer wardrobe in one swing.
Side chairs: Still no new sofa, but I’m also looking for occasional chairs (to occasionally sit in?), B.Y.B had this steel and wicker one that felt hard and soft in one swoop.
