I take a deep cleansing breath right before I open the door to Blue Print. That door that I have come to know so well, that door that says: “Hello”. To say its welcoming seems so insufficient, but it is, just that. It’s southern without being steeped in sweetness. It’s friendly without being overly solicitous. It’s passionate about the artists it represents, and excited to share the stories of the lands from which their very special rugs have traveled. It’s unapologetically happy, bright, and light. Even the antiques when rested gently atop a rug in bright oranges, purples, and pinks take on a more cheerful countenance without loosing their sophistication.
They have a very special gift – these gals. They have an eye for art, a nose for the next trend, and a head for business, and I love and admire them for it. I want to move right in, tuck away in one of the back living rooms, in close proximity to their lovely garden. Even the kitchen, which is meant only for employees, but which I have stumbled upon during previous visits, is perfection with it’s raised moldings in the shape of a diamond – J’aime bien!
To feel grounded and uplifted all at once is a heady feeling. I aspire to be one of them, and in the interim, am happy to be among them. My visits there inspire me. It’s like visiting Paris or Bali or being on the water. It’s like grapefruit Perrier (which they always offer me when I arrive), mint chocolate chip ice cream (which is one of my very favorite things in the world), it’s like wild sock-eye salmon (which I need like the air I breath). It’s like being loved.
I will admit to feeling a little worried that they were moving away from the Turkish Oushak, which came into my periphery four years ago during one of my first visits to Blue Print. A new rug has made its debut on the big stage. It’s a little nappier, and decidedly happier than an Oushak. One of them looks just like a Picasso Painting, and the price only slightly reflected the reality that it is not. It could easily reside in a kids bedroom, or in the uber sophisticated Upper East Side Apartment of a socialite style-maker. In other words, it brings some serious bang for the buck.
Today will be a test of my will. The question of course is will I leave with one of those rugs. I’ve put it on hold. Pugga (my boyfriend) said that it was a foregone conclusion. I want to prove him wrong, but I’m not sure I’m strong enough to do that. I can be stubborn, but I don’t want to cut my nose of to spite my face. Is saving face more important than the sheer joy I’ll get from having that rug? These are the universal questions I grapple with. Give me strength and a little of that Irish luck.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.