I don’t think my design style has reached its full potential. Yes it’s a bit creative, a tad spontaneous (often resulting in regret or a fire sale), most decidedly independent, and it – my style that is – definitely comes face to face with real world realities when I spy the price tag on a much coveted item, or go to pay the American Express bill. ugh. None-the-less, I feel that it has a long way to go before it will become exactly what it was meant to be. I’m not worried about it. I see it taking shape. I recognize more clearly what I like, and in what strange and magical combinations. It’s surprising, and intriguing, like it’s telling me something about myself that perhaps I should have known all along.
Blue Print Store. Dallas. YES …. TEXAS
It is always my visits to Blue Print Store in Dallas that reinforce my belief in what my style is to become. The sophistication of their design eye, their ability to bring together antique chests, modern and vintage upholstered pieces, lucite, and brass, soft linen and wool, emerging and established artists. They are crafty and pristine. They are elegant and cool. It begs the question how does this ensemble balance it so beautifully – accent it with a Chinoiserie vase like the proverbial cherry on top of the ice cream sunday? That part is the mystery. I’m getting closer – just out of my reach. Perhaps by number 10 I’ll have arrived.
One of the Artists they feature I have been a fan of since my first visit. Stephanie Shank paints mesmerizing works that feel quintessentially Blue Print to me. They are what makes the pillows pop, give the furnishings pizazz, and make you forget the walls are only white. Plain, simple white. They were featuring twin beauties (I am certain in preparation for an art show to be held there this weekend) that stole my breath. They also would have cleaned out my account. I considered just the one on the left, but that still would have left my account dangerously low. I inquired about the possibility of negotiation. I was scoffed at – which was a bit of a shock. I know Dallie is full of ludicrously wealthy folks, but still….I was also told she didn’t accept commissions – she didn’t like to fence in her creativity. Perhaps its all true, but I am going to reach out to Stephanie anyway and plead my case. She should at the very least understand the hardship she is imparting over my untimely parting with this Greek God of piece of art. Amen to things this beautiful.
The painting stayed behind but I took the pillow. I had to have something to cry my eyes out onto. This plan was foiled too – the pillow was too pretty to cry on.
Fingers crossed. I’ll get one of those paintings yet. Happy Saturday.