What if you made dinner look like sperm under a microscope?
Quick one this week because I have my baby dribbling onto the keyboard.
Keep thinking about these Always Ultra with Wings countertops at the Trellick tower. They’re almost translucent Uranium glass, I wonder if they glow at night? Great for chopping a veg, great for icing a cake, but unfortunately, I won’t know peace until I rest my bare buttocks on their cold refuge.
I know you’re looking at the necklace—we’re all looking at the necklace—but the magic here is the shirt and slacks in the same material with a fuck-it knit over the top. It’s quite hard to source head-to-toe in one fabric, unless you go for denim which is more outdoors-y that indoors-y. I had silk two-pieces made like this a few years ago, coming to a full day of childcare near you!
What if, after the wholesomeness of Christmas tablescaping, you made dinner look like sperm under a microscope?
I wish I was above the fashion inspiration of Marty Supreme, but the doctor’s bag is an instant classic. I don’t remember what he has in it? A fuck load of orange ping pong balls? I tried to get a company to make me one in crocodile—or even fake crocodile—but they deemed it “too Liz Taylor”.
Speaking of which, there’s something appetising about a cluster of pearls at your earlobe while it rains cats and dogs (on a hot tin roof) and you’re just in a trench coat, your burning sixties lust keeping you warm. Liz’s hair is kinda Jerry curl, which is a bold leap if you’re willing, but didn’t work out for that lass in the OJ trial.
Brilliant eye for turning the mundane intosomething unsettling but kinda beautiful. The translucent countertops thing is wild cause it actually works in modernist buildings where evreything else is so severe and angular. I keep thinking about how 60s/70s designers were lowkey obsessed with biological forms without admitting it, like they wanted organic but kept it wrapped in plastic.