Move over Martha II

You all know just how insightful I am when it comes to all things style. So here’s the second installment in what’s clearly going to be an irregular series.

I’m all about the tea in this house. Currently in the pot is good old fashioned Bushell’s Billy Tea. A robust leaf with lasting palate. It replaces Twinnings Irish Breakfast, the last batch of which had this weird floral taste to it that I just couldn’t stomach even though I am one of those people who can be quite partial to a decent Earl Grey and often have Lady Grey thrown into my daily mix of tea selections. It must always always be loose leaf. Though mind you, if someone is offering to make me a cup of tea, they could use a bag of anything and I’ll appreciate it. Which brings me to our first item of the day, a teacosie. Even the word is adorable.
This appeals to the liker of all things Scandinavian that is currently my bent. They even have lovely wall art:
From Bookhou Design

From being closeted away under there, I’d be very happy to drink my tea from this:
a mug from Toast, somewhere I discovered via Jen. It’s the organic shape of it that gets me. Toast appears to be to the UK what Anthropologie is to the US. While I yearn for this sort of shop to exist in Australia we just don’t get them, instead getting ’boutiques’ run by the Prue and Trude’s of the world in shops with way too much shabby chic/French Provincial/pink where I feel big and clumsy. Worse. Clunky.

I found yellowmonday via Poppytalk, the simplicity, the ‘sparseness’, the cleanliness of her works appeals to me.

With some of her prints selling for as little as $10 a piece, it’s affordable art that could go a long way in making our house resemble uni student housing a lot less. Besides, I saw this and immediately of blackbird.
These are from some groovy store called Rare Device in San Francisco, a city that just seems to be packed with groovy people looking hip and happy all the time.
These are custom made mugs by Rust Design in Minnesota. So you could get them made for someone as a wedding gift or other special event marker. I like that kinda stuff although this particular design isn’t really doing it for me, it’s a bit ‘spindly’.

Just something else to fuel my burning desire to live in a converted warehouse:
I love the current trend of these big wall art installations that are actually a wallpaper. Love it. A lot. This is by some French outfit called Domestic and is adhesive vinyl, so you can just move it around to wherever takes your fancy. And I ask you, what’s not to love about that?

I really want this:
Michael Perry‘s book – A catalog of Type Hand Job. If I was an artist I think I’d be one producing work like this. It’s the type of book I could sit and look at for hours. All those hours that I just sit around letting my kids eat iceblocks for breakfast and ignoring the housework for another six months. I want to live in his Alphabet Town.

My quest for the perfect lounge and armchairs also continues:

I love the idea of this, but think the arms would ultimately dig in to you if you tried to smooch up in it with a book or a child:

Hate the colour but am pretty happy with the design:
you could swing your legs over the sides and the seat looks deep while the back looks high. I like that.

If my life was more Dr Who than Dr Seuss:
the *warning* *warning* *exterminate* *exterminate* suite of chairs. For those moments when my brain isn’t working so well, at least I could talk to my chairs. I mean, don’t these chairs just look like they could talk. (Subtext: I am a sucker for anything green)

I was having all manner of delights trying to come up with references to the size of our family, the sparcity of the image below (shut up, it is a word) and the loaves and fishes, but they were all lame. I think this is what they call ‘clinical’:
back to the lounges:
I kinda like the short fatness of this:

but look at how deep the seat is on this one. I am a complete sucker for a lounge with a load of cushions, which is stupid because do you know just how much my neck itches when I see the boys sitting on the cushions rather than leaning back into them? Or how much it shits me when I am picking up lounge cushions and rearranging them for the eleventy gagillionth time in an hour? Regardless, I really really like this:Imagine how many times you’d kick your pinky toe on this:
I’m quite liking the armchair but the sofa looks hard. And cold.

Mind you, all the above lounges are at Orson and Blake, a store I believe you can only shop at if you live in places starting with W – Waitara, Wahroonga, Woolhara, Woolwich, Warrawee or have children named Adelaide, Warwick, Edmund or Emmeline or have a husband who is either a Barrister or works in finance and who goes to Hong Kong or Singapore for business and perhaps a little bit more you choose to ignore. That or you’re seriously funky, living in a converted warehouse and have your own kewl clothing store, graphic design company or web/multimedia outfit. And no children.

This is called the boulder. It would look even more like one once my boys had been at it:
But forget the lounge I’m lovin’ the pouf in the background. It’s from Living Edge and that seems an appropriate moniker when you check out its range. Lots of edges. I do, however, quite like this:
and this:
But again, the wooden arms digging into your sides. And see how the whole thing seems to balance precariously on that thin wedge of the wood? We’re hardly petite around here and I have visions of our collective great gallumphing frames being too much for the lounge to bear.