Tabletop Swap

Posted: May 28 · Comments: 45

I’d be willing to swear on your mother’s life that I’m at least passably sane and, in this moment, completely sober, but it seems a little impossible that it’s been TWO MONTHS since I posted about my dining table. Where did the time go? I’m blaming all the weird New York weather, which moved directly from winter into summer with nothing pleasant to speak of in the interim. We’ve been cheated.

To jog your memory, since you’re probably not as obsessed with me as I am, here’s what we were working with:

The demographic breakdown of my favorite local Upper East Side thrift store is as follows: 89% women, 97% of whom are over the age of 75. A staggering 100% of these lasses are Jewish. Naturally, it’s a crowd that I fit right into. My ladies and I can be found wandering around the store, evaluating the same pieces of furniture and bric-a-brac, glancing over at each other to knowingly shake our heads in disgust over the absurd prices. The allegiance between these broads and I has nothing to do with phony smiles or contrived pleasantries—it ain’t a country club, for Christ’s sake—but a presumed shared love of chopped liver and an unwavering commitment to the art of kvetching.

Shopping in these stores usually amounts to little more than a fool’s errand, so finally buying something becomes an event worth discussing while waiting in line. Because neither positivity nor gloating are valued in this subculture, I find it’s usually best to immediately diminish any impending purchase by bypassing the attractive aspects and really delving into what’s wrong with it. “Oh that’s a lovely piece of art,” Evelyn might tell you, with the full expectation that you’ll then discuss swapping out the damaged frame or changing the putrid color of the matte. Even her Pekingese sits in silent judgment. Of course, you oblige.

This is why I was thrown when one such thrifty lady—let’s call her Barbara, since, statistically, her name is probably Barbara—wouldn’t let me have my moment of shining negativity.

“What a nice table!” she exclaimed.
“Well, it will be after I clean up the filthy base, I think.”
“Oh please, the brass looks great—really, don’t worry about it. In such good shape”
“Yeah, I actually really love the base. I think I’ll change out the top though. It’s sort of a weird pairing.”
“Oh, I’d think twice about that,” Barbara warned. “They don’t make them like that anymore. With that…whatchamacallit edge. The kind that’s rounded.”
“Bullnose?”
“Something like that. Oh, is it ever a hip-saver. All these hard edges on stuff these days’ll really get you.”
“Well, maybe I’ll just refinish it then.”
“Oh, but the wood is so gorgeous! A solid wood tabletop like that is rare these days.”

I couldn’t win with this woman. Clearly, life hadn’t slapped her in the face with quite the same ferocity as it had her other elderly counterparts. Unfortunately, I wasn’t even just pandering to my audience that so reliably expected such critical commentary—I really did have my heart set on a nice round top for my shiny brassy tulip-y base. Marble, preferably.

I went to a marble shop. $300. Well, that’s not happening. I searched Craigslist for a few weeks for appropriately-sized and cheap marble slabs that could be relieved of their less-worthy existing bases. No luck. Windows upon windows of restaurant supply websites were opened on my computer screen, then closed. Finally I faced the music and my dreams of natural stone morphed into an ostensibly more attainable plastic laminate reality. If it could somehow resemble this, I’d be pleased:

George Nelson Pedestal Coffee Table. Ahhhhh

Only problem? My local custom cabinet store apparently couldn’t fabricate a simple table top. But they could recommend somebody who would! Had I heard of Gothic Cabinet Craft?

Now, if you live in New York and you’re anything like me, this store confuses the shit out of you. You don’t like their merchandise. You don’t understand how they’ve been able to stay in business, who is buying their wares, or how they’re also somehow able to open new fancy branches in the middle of a recession. Something smells fishy with this place, and I’m guessing it’s the stench of a city-wide chain of drug fronts or a heavy involvement in the sex-trade industry. Whatever it is, I’d like to get to the bottom of it.

Certainly, the tabletop pricing didn’t quell my suspicions about this joint. $250. For a 36″ round white p-lam tabletop. For fuck’s sake. This was harder than I realized it possibly could be.

After leaving Gothic Cocaine Craft, I was overtaken by an urge to maneuver my defeat into decisive, empowering action. Who needed fancy-cut marble or fancy-crafted laminate or Barbara’s stupid bullnose edging? Not me. Fuck the man! Know what I needed? A fucking jigsaw and a can of paint, that’s what. Straight to the hardware store I went, to rent and buy these things, respectively.

I looked up online how to cut a circle with a jigsaw, which involved drawing a circle (I’m not a meth addict, that part was just surprisingly difficult and I was in a hurry for no good reason unless you count impatience), then cutting a lot of straight lines at increasingly smaller angles. Something about jigsaws working better with straight lines than curves. This is not an approach I’d really recommend, since mine came out looking significantly less than stellar. So don’t ask me how to do this properly, I still don’t know.

And wouldn’t you know it. That tabletop was a particleboard piece of crap anyway. Up yours, Barbara.

I painted the newly round tabletop with some oil-based white paint, when added an iron-on melamine edging to really top off this DIY shitshow. The final results were less than spectacular. In fact, they were pretty damn janky. The tabletop was almost laughably tiny and the intended round shape was never fully realized by my idiotic cutting technique.  This, I decided, would be my stopgap measure until I came up with something better. I mean, at least it was white. And roundish. Better than vaguely wood-colored and vaguely rectangular, I still say.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’m actually the Make a Wish kid of scavenging, because no more than a week and a half later I was walking to the subway when I came upon a tabletop. It was white. It was round. It had a beveled edge. It was in the trash. I measured it with a dollar bill (fun fact! a dollar bill is exactly 6 inches long! put that in your pipe and smoke it.). It was the perfect size. I’m not a religious person, but it’s things like this that make me feel convinced of the existence of God. Or fairies. Maybe gnomes, but they seem slightly less plausible.

Here’s a crappy Instagram (see my feed here!) of it crammed into a cab because I was late and needed to hightail it home and then get right back to the subway. My life be busy, yo.

If you followed me on Twitter, you’d already be privy to exciting events like these.

Apparently it’s from CB2, and I’m guessing it came off of their Odyssey table. Fun facts!

Lil’ swaperoo:

And would ya look at that? Like it’s always been there. The finish is pretty scratched up and chipped along the edges and whatnot, but for free, I can handle that amount of “character.” I’ll probably end up repainting it at some point, but for now, I’m not going to jinx things with any more of my “handiwork” (see above).

The Daniel/Daniel Project: The Colossus

Posted: May 19 · Comments: 56

There comes a moment in every DIY-er’s life, no matter how sure of their abilities or cavalier they’ve been in the past, when they spit out a project idea in a fit of over-confidence. They then spend every second until its completion shitting their pants over whether they had been fools, anticipating the moment when the crushing wave of reality would swiftly render them and their undertaking a failure. Not that this happened to me or anything.

One of the first things Daniel Vosovic (read more about this here) wanted to address in his studio was this wall. He wanted tons of storage space for all the fun accoutrements that come along with a growing company and a nice place for the interns to work and prosper.

This wall is about 17 feet long. It is also 10 feet high. It is huge. It is brick.

Daniel had mentioned loving the industrial-ish feeling of the pipe and wood bookshelf I made for my bedroom. Having only built a teensy little wall-mounted version of the ridiculously awesome and legendary Ace Hotel-inspired shelves that Morgan made at The Brick House, I might have been undermining my better judgment when I pompously suggested that we do something like that here. Except bigger. Lots bigger. Oh, and we had about three weeks to design and build the whole thing.

I thought it could be done in a weekend. I was wrong. I am obviously not right in the head.

But we did it. Oh, did we ever feel manly. Weighing in at a mammoth 15.5 feet long by 9 feet high, this shit ain’t playing around. Here, let me tell you about our struggles.

First we had to buy all of our 1/2″ black pipe. Because I designed the unit around the different functions Daniel and I had discussed, we needed pretty specific lengths of pipe for everything to come together correctly. I thought this would be easy, seeing as Home Depot sells a nice selection of pre-cut pipe (they call them “nipples,” but I refuse to) and can cut and thread pipes to size as if by magic upon request.

Of course I was wrong about this, because Home Depot stores in NYC are ten kinds of useless. Turns out that while other parts of the country might be more privileged, Home Depot in good old New York can’t cut a pipe for you. They can’t cut a piece of wood for you. They can’t tell you where to find anything or help you in any way. They are evil hellholes.

After calling about 30 different hardware and plumbing supply places, I finally found a shop in Brooklyn that was willing and able to cut pipes. It was called TMB plumbing. It was charmingly sketchy and the employees were endearingly frightening, but they did the job.

After washing all the pipes down in some soapy water, we went about spray painting them on the roof like a bunch of rowdy rebellious teenagers except with less vandalism. Ignore those lights, they’re for something else. We used matte black Rustoleum, about three cans all told.

Next we got all of the wood cut and delivered by Prince Lumber. Even though I had drawn the thing so many times and checked and rechecked the measurements, a continuous 11-foot board of pine is still terrifying when you’re actually faced with it and compelled to think about suspending it eight feet in the air on top of something you built.

We decided to go with 1.25″ thick x 12″ wide boards, which keeps the whole thing looking and feeling pretty substantial since the thicker boards allow the shelves to span for longer distances without bowing.

Since the shelves are knotty pine and the desktop is made of Canadian birch plywood (the lumber yard didn’t have pine in wide enough boards for a desktop),  it took some fiddling to get the stains to match. Eventually it was decided that all the pipe would be stained in Minwax “Dark Walnut” and the birch ply would be a mix of “Dark Walnut” and “Yellow Pine.”

Even with 2-3 people, staining all that wood took several days and a generous helping of boredom. Here, Daniel presides over our setup and clutches the playbill of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, wistfully recalling Daniel Radcliffe’s performance.

After we’d done all of the prep work of sourcing the pipe and wood, spray painting, sanding, staining, and pre-drilling all the holes, the actual construction really only took a couple hours and the helpful hands of four people. Here, Daniel double-checks measurements while his lovely and incessantly-harrassed interns provide physical and emotional support.

A good time was had by all. The top of the unit is attached to the wall with some super heavy duty metal masonry anchors and screws. It’s not going anywhere, don’t worry. But still knock on wood for me, cool?

The whole thing ended up taking about three weeks and many many hours. But it’s kind of awesome, am I right? Check out that floating 7 feet of desktop! The back of the desk is held on with short pipes and endcaps, keeping it from tipping forward, and it’s supported underneath by a couple of 14″ cheap wall brackets in the middle that keep it from bowing. Intern workspace, check!

So shelfy!

What’s that, you say? Cute industrial drawers that hold a bunch of magical fashion-building supplies? Daniel picked these up for a song at a flea market right before we built this thing, so the width of the central section of the unit was dictated by fitting these snuggly into it. All custom n’ stuff.

The left side of the unit was all about creating a manageable storage situation for bolts of fabric, so the shelves are more narrowly spaced and exactly 60″ long (the length of the longest bolts). In case, er, you couldn’t see that.

There she is. Take it in.

In other news, I’ve finished my sophomore year of college! Huzzah! Posting on the ole bloggity can now resume to a more frequent rate. Thank you for your patience and distressed comments and emails over the last few weeks regarding whether or not I had died. Your concern flatters me more than I should probably admit.

By the way, new featured blogs in the sidebar! They’re super cool this time around, I swear, so you’d better go check them out.

Put a Sheepskin on It.

Posted: Apr 22 · Comments: 65

There’s a new desk chair in town and it looks like this:

Those of you with impeccable memories might recall the psychotic episode I experienced while I was in Portland back in January. The one in which I escaped my bondage, found myself a nasty thrift store, and purchased two grimy Eames shell chairs for about $25 a pop. This all seemed like a good idea at the time.

The restoration of that blue chair was enough to wipe that smug, disgusting smile off my face. Actually, the $100 it took to ship the things to New York had already taken the thrill away from my good deal, but the restoration—well, it nearly killed me. Those chairs could probably survive nuclear war, but my sanity is a much more fragile flower.

The fact is that these chairs had been sitting out in drizzly Portland weather for who knows how long and it showed. The blue chair’s naugahyde upholstery was torn, completely discolored (I tried cleaning it with several different products, but those stains were permanent), and separating from the frame in spots. If I were classy and had the money, I would have sent it off to get the proper reupholstery treatment (I’ve heard this place is great), but I’m cheap and a glutton for torture. Also, I live for the type of controversy I can only dream this post might spur.

So I tore that cover right off. Underneath was a layer of moldy foam—mostly removed in the photo above—and the entire fiberglass shell was covered in a layer of adhesive. Where water had been able to seep in under the upholstery around the bolts, that adhesive came up fairly easily, but it held on everywhere else with a determined iron grip.

I’m not really sure giving the chair a scalding, soapy bath did anything, but it made me feel a little better about handling it. After scraping off the remainder of the foam with the blunt edge of a razor blade, I was left with a lot of adhesive to detach. Like, a whole lot.

I’m sure there’s a clever chemist hiding in a laboratory in some corner of the world who’s discovered an adhesive remover powerful enough to make this easy, and I’d like to point out that he’s a bastard for keeping his secrets from me. The best thing I could find was Goo Gone, so essentially my process involved soaking sections with it, waiting about ten minutes, then going at it with a razor blade.

Yes, a fucking razor blade. I can happily report that all ten of my fingers survived the ordeal, but one of my imaginary friends was stabbed in a fit of frustration. Rest in peace, Urma.

Now, I’d really only recommend taking on this kind of thing if you can give yourself some time. Spread it out over a number of days. Months, even, as I did. Years if you have them. Better yet, don’t do it at all.

The problem with projects like this is two-fold: they take forever and they require little to no brain power. They give the mind too much liberty to roam, and in so doing lead to dangerous thinking. Imagine yourself planted on the floor, massaging your cramping hands and weighing the relative benefits of having a new desk chair against your increasingly good chances of early-onset arthritis. You reek of the spunky, citrus-esque aroma of Goo Gone. You are filthy scum—the small, tedious shavings of adhesive clinging to the bottom of your socks and buttocks. Unpresentable to the world and repulsive even to yourself, you might posit certain questions such as “what the hell is wrong with me?” or “when did I become such a monster?” or “might I need psychiatric help?” It’s a sticky spot to be in, in more ways than the obvious.

Three months into your project, after you’ve finished peeling your adhesive off the chair, look no further than Chairfag or The Brick House for all the restorative guidance you need to make your chair gleam like it just rolled out of the factory. This basically involves a good wet-sanding and a coat of Penetrol. I harvested shockmounts from the orange chair and attached them with some fast-drying epoxy made for bonding plastics and rubber and stuff. It’s super strong and frightening stuff.

The obvious downside of all of this is that you’re left with four unattractive holes in the seat of the chair since upholstered chairs are constructed differently than plain shells. Eventually I’d like to custom-make a little foam cushion for the seat (tulip chair-style), but in the meantime what’s a hipster to do? Put a sheepskin on it. Cute on the chair, cushy on your tushy.

Put my old ebay-purchased swivel base on that shell and BAM. Done. NEVER AGAIN.

P.S.- It’s the most wonderful time of the year over at Apartment Therapy these days because the Small/Cool Contest is happening and my apartment is in the running! As the name implies, there are a lot of small, cool spaces to check out, so I’d encourage you to head over and vote—even if it’s not for me! But really, you should probably vote for me. My “Patched & Painted” apartment just got posted today so we have some catching up to do.

The Daniel/Daniel Project: Daniel Vosovic’s Studio

Posted: Apr 20 · Comments: 65

As a general rule, I’m not in the habit of approaching people I recognize from television or the movies when I see them on the street. Mostly, this is because I’m the sort of idiot who tends to confuse my television friends and my real friends, and before I realize what an ass I’m making of myself, Anderson Cooper gets an enthusiastic wave on 6th Avenue. Adrian Grenier once received a friendly “how are you?” at Ray’s Pizza at 3 a.m., and I may or may not have smiled broadly at the eldest Jonas Brother before I remembered that I did not know him and if I did, I never would have smiled.

So when I spotted one of my favorite Project Runway contestants, Daniel Vosovic, walking through the High Line Park, I knew to keep my distance. I would not embarrass myself. I would neither speak nor gesture. I had seen him, and that was enough to make my sister sufficiently jealous.

Photo from Terrific Magazine

At the end of the High Line was an odd parking lot estate sale, evidently the result of a wealthy nightclub owner’s passing and some young, annoying entrepreneurs trying to make a buck off of his crazy-ass furniture. Prices were outrageous, but I found myself drawn in because it never hurts to look. Suddenly Daniel and I were inspecting the same piece of furniture and “areyouDanielVosovicfromProjectRunway?” just kind of slipped out. Almost as if I were an anxious creep.

Daniel asked if I was “in design.” By this, I gleaned, he did not mean the Adobe computer program, but instead whether I worked in the design field.  I immediately responded “no,” but sheepishly added: “well, I have this…blog.” When it turned out Daniel had actually read my blog, I might have let out a little whimper of excitement. I might not have. I don’t know.

As per his suggestion, I went home and hopped on the internet  to catch up on what he’d been up to in the years since Runway. Turns out, he’s been one busy bee—writing a book, staring his own line, and putting out gorgeous collections for the past several seasons. So I did what any nerd would do and sent him an email praising his work. Then he sent one back praising mine and asked if I might be interested in coming over to his new work studio to bounce around ideas.

So that’s how I ended up standing around in Daniel Vosovic’s sweet studio, droning on about painting walls and building things and pushing his desk back ten feet. Some of which we’ve spent a lot of time doing in the time since. I’m blogging a bit on delay with this whole business, but I’m psyched to show you guys some stuff we’ve been up to. For now, check out these before pictures of the space. Note: these pictures were taken for my own reference and were not intended for blog use. That’s why they are so terrible and at night. Sorry.

This is the main work area in the studio, where Daniel and his staff design and cut and sew and all that jazz. The windows are awesomely huge, and Daniel painted the window trim black before I got there. Black paint, I like him already. One of the big problems in here we need to address is lighting over the worktables. The wiring and lighting situation is one insane crazy hot mess up in this place.

Across from the window is this corner. Sweet inspiration board and sewing machines and stuff.

On the opposite side is this wall, which is huge. One of the big challenges in this space is a lack of usable or attractive storage and no nice place for the interns to work. We’re going to change that, I swear.

Walking from the front of the studio to the back, you pass Daniel’s workspace. Part of the fun and the challenge of this space is the need to create different “zones” within a very open floor plan while still keeping things flexible and uncrowded. Not only does the apartment need to accommodate Daniel and his staff, it also needs to be a place where he can do model fittings and hold meetings and events. All that fun stuff.

Daniel had painted the front door and doorframe black before I came over, and I liked the idea of continuing the black to the adjacent walls, which were a weird architectural eyesore before. We have plans for this area, too, but I think painting it all black was a good start.

This is from the back of the studio, looking towards the front. Those bookshelves have since collapsed in what sounds like a terrifying and chaotic episode, so imagine that big black wall blank. Eventually this area will hold more permanent and substantial seating and new book storage.

Here’s the entrance to the bathroom, which is what’s inside those black walls. It’s a weird renovation with 7.5′ ceilings and general strangeness. It needs some storage and some beautification.

And the other part of the bathroom. Next time you see this, it will look better.

And here’s the kitchen. We have some plans, but they aren’t the highest priority right now. But we’re working on it.

If you watched the show, you’ll know what I mean when I say Daniel is really just like you’d expect him to be. Super hardworking, really creative, and a genuinely nice person. He also gives me a lot of creative freedom with the space and is great at picturing what I mean when I try to sketch ideas, a skill I perform with all the advanced technique of a drunken toddler. I like that. He’s been a great person to work with and is now a good friend, too.

I’m excited to show you what we’ve been up to! Hooray for fun new projects!

Your Burning Questions, Answered.

Posted: Apr 6 · Comments: 38

A week ago I opened the virtual floor for a little Q&A—and damn, y’all are a curious (and complimentary! thank you!) bunch. I hope you enjoy these long-winded and extremely insightful answers. If I didn’t answer your question here, check back in the comments on this post!

Why did you live in Saskatchewan? (Read more about this here)

During my senior year of high school, I decided to defer my admission to NYU for a year to work for a small film company in Regina, Saskatchewan. At the time, I had no idea what I would be going to school for, was largely unenthusiastic about NYU (even though I love it now!), and I really just wanted to do something aside from school for a little while. I’m the sort of freak who actually relishes my alone time, so moving away from home to live alone in a small, unfamiliar city where I didn’t know anybody was both thrilling and terrifying and I loved it. Now, why anybody would choose to settle a land where temperatures drop into the -50s for months on end still eludes me, but settle they did and I made some really incredible friends as a consequence. As an added benefit, I think Regina was where I discovered the true beauty of a good thrift store. Nobody seemed interested in vintage wares—so bountiful in these secondhand wonderlands—and I made out like a thief.

What brought you to New York? Where do you plan on moving after graduating? Where else in the world could you imagine wanting to live?

School! I never, ever thought I wanted to live in New York City, but I applied to a groovy-sounding program at New York University as an afterthought and a few months later—whoopsie!—I got in and it was my best option. Now I really love living in New York and intend to stick around a while, but I suppose I could imagine someday moving back to Washington, DC? Or Chicago, I love Chicago. Somewhere in Canada? Sweden?

What are your plans for the summer?

I really don’t know. Which is to say, I’m looking for a job! Which is to say, if you think you want to hire me, don’t be shy. Shoot me an email. My resumé is itching to be sent out.

What are you studying? What do you hope to be doing professionally by 40?

I’m not totally sure right now, to be honest. I go to the Gallatin School of Individualized Study, where we get to design individual “concentrations” rather than stick to a traditional major. So I’m still trying to figure that out. I think it’ll be something involving the cultural history of design, but I haven’t pinpointed just the right tone of pretentiousness required to actually name whatever it is I’m doing there. I’d also like to incorporate creative writing somehow. As to what I want to be doing by 40…FORTY?! I can hardly plan past what I’ll be doing next week.

How did you become interested in interior design?

It’s a big combination of things. I grew up in a house with lots of modern furniture and art, and I think my own special brand of rebellion as a kid was filling my room with antiques, so I became interested in furniture and decorating pretty early on. I was also the sort of child who routinely drew to-scale floor plans of my bedroom on graph paper and spent hours drawing all the different furniture arrangement possibilities, then begged for help with making my new layout dreams come true. I saved my allowance for three years to finally buy an antique steamer trunk when I was about 10. When I turned 12, the only thing I wanted for my birthday was to have my room painted yellow. It was also around this time that I discovered TLC and HGTV and became abnormally fixated with home makeover shows. A few years later, I discovered some newfangled thing called a shelter blog. But I think the most lasting influence has probably been my own family and their awesome houses. I’ve talked before about my aunt and uncle (here and here), but my other aunt and uncle also have an incredible and super modern house and my grandparents also lived in an amazing home, so I was exposed very early to some really interesting residential architecture and interior design that definitely continues to influence my taste years later. In large part, though, my serious interest in interior design has really developed right alongside writing this blog.

My grandparents' home. Photos by Michelle Litvin.

How did you get started blogging? How long was it before your blog took off? How did you get the word out about it?

I’ve read a bizarre amount of home design blogs over the years (don’t be afraid, teenaged boys, everything will be okay), so when I was close to kinda-sorta having a home, I thought it’d be fun to start one. For the first few months nobody really read it except my loving Mommy, which I was a-okay with. Since I’m not trying to turn this site into some kind of ad-filled money-making venture, having a bunch of readers was never really the intent; I just liked working on my apartment, making stuff, and writing about it for funsies. So I really never did anything to try to promote it, save for a comment I made on a post on Door Sixteen soliciting new blog recommendations (I’d been a regular commenter before, but I didn’t try to use my comments to promote my own readership). I know I had a few lurkers before this point, but I guess the blog “took off” in July when Anna wrote this post about my desk on Door Sixteen. About 8 hours later, Apartment Therapy posted about it, and all of a sudden I had traffic. And visitors. And comments. And some serious stage fright. All of that stuff (well, except the stage fright) seems to continue to grow as time moves on and various things from the blog get linked to around the internet, but I still don’t work to promote it. There’s certainly no shame in actively promoting your blog, but it’s just not something that makes much sense for me (and tends to make me kind of uncomfortable). The best advice I can give, I guess, is to focus on making the kind of blog you’d want to read, put out quality content, and people will like it!

What blogs do you read for inspiration?

I’m subscribed to about 80 blogs on Google Reader, the vast majority of which have something to do with home design. But my favorites are definitely ones with a personal voice behind them and super great style—real people with real budgets working on their own stuff, getting thrifty and handy. There are just too many to list that have inspired me in some way, but blogs like Door Sixteen, The Brick House, Chezerbey, Old Brand New, and Wood & Faulk hold a special place in my bloggy heart, just to name a few.

Do you see more frequent blog posts in your future?

Yes! I’ve been super-duper busy lately (and I’m excited to show you why! Soon! Very soon!), but things should be slowing down a bit and I’ll have more time to get back to blogging more regularly! I miss the days when I had time to post more often, but they’ll be back! I go through serious blogging withdrawal after a few days, believe me.

I always wondered what a “donate” button would do to the website. Have you ever considered adding such a feature?

Nope. I’m really not interested in trying to commercialize this blog (see, no ads! no free products for me! no giveaways!), and there are FAR more worthy causes in this world than my apartment shenanigans if people are in the donating spirit.

After schoolwork is done, how do you find balance between hunting for decor, decorating your apartment, hanging out with friends and all of the other things you do in your free time?

I’m not really sure that I do find balance, to be honest. I’m not the most efficient person on the planet, but I’m really not very good at relaxing either. I like to be doing something the vast majority of the time, so if it’s not schoolwork or hanging out with friends or cooking or whatever, futzing with my apartment is another way to occupy my time—specifically, usually the time that I should be sleeping.

How do you go about searching for gems in the city? And if you find them, how do you get them home?

I really don’t use Craigslist very often, partially because I actually like going to thrift stores and don’t like sitting in front of the computer more than I already do. When I first got here, I did some searching online for thrift stores and flea markets in New York and tried a lot of them out. Getting things home is always a super fun pain in the ass. If I’m lucky and find something up in my neighborhood, I can usually carry it home, but I’ve definitely been known to bring chairs and bubble lamps with me on the subway. Sometimes I need to hop in a cab with a street find or something, but I try to avoid that because I’m cheap and don’t mind looking insane in public.

Do you ever worry about bedbugs while thrifting/scavenging?  Any thoughts on avoiding those nasties?

I try to be careful, definitely, but bed bugs could be anywhere! I don’t do stupid things like pick up upholstered furniture off the street, but I generally try not to worry about it with things from thrift stores. It’s just a risk I’m willing to take, I guess, but I don’t see the risk as being terribly high. Of course if something does get dragged off the street, it’s cleaned within an inch of its life, just in case.

Do you stick to the thrift stores just in your neighborhood, or venture elsewhere? Any thrift store/flea market recommendations that you haven’t previously mentioned?

In my experience, most everything amazing comes from Brooklyn. Manhattan has a fair number of thrift stores, but there aren’t too many that I really like. Even though my neighborhood boasts about 10 different thrifty spots, they’re basically all overpriced and generally full of awful shit. If I buy things at a thrift store or a flea market I’d recommend, I always mention it in my post about the item. But more often I tend to find that one thing in a scattered selection of stores that I’d never recommend, in which case I usually don’t say where it came from since it’s really not worth a trip. Trust me.

How do you balance the desire to own awesome vintage furniture with the p.i.t.a. that it is to own stuff and schlep it around NYC? After four years here, I own a mattress, some books and clothes, a couple pieces of art, and a few kitchen tchotchkes. Everything else I inevitably pitch when I move apartments because it it too. much. hassle.

Really, the stuff in my apartment is just a combination of me being pretty cheap and very picky. I’m pretty particular about my things, which is why I’d usually rather just go without than settle for something I don’t really love (which also means it takes forever to “complete” my apartment, whatever that means). Most of the time, my “awesome vintage furniture” is less expensive than even IKEA, so for me it’s worth it to wait until I find something I love than just buy something I’m willing to toss when it comes time to move out (not to mention less wasteful). Then again, I haven’t had to deal with moving yet, so I might be doing this whole living-in-New-York thing all wrong.

Do you have any advice for people who can’t use tools/have no carpentry skills?

Try stuff! I don’t think there really are people who “can’t use tools,” I think we’re just used to living in a world where we aren’t required to make things and therefore think we can’t. I’d never call myself somebody with “carpentry skills,” but I’m not afraid of trying things out…and I kind of love power tools and making things. I really don’t have a lot of technical expertise or experience—the most time I ever spent around tools was a few seasons of theater tech stuff in high school—so most of what I’ve shown on the blog is really me just trying stuff for the first time. I didn’t grow up in a house where anybody did a lot of fixing or building (though my mother, she would like everyone to know, is quite a handy lady). So for me, it’s really just been about deciding what I want to do and trying to make it happen—nothing I’ve made is very difficult to accomplish, I swear! The internet really is a great resource for learning how to do almost anything, too, and I think a lot of what I know I learned from blogs! But I also know there are places to take classes (Home Depot offers some I know, but I’m sure there are plenty of other resources) to learn certain skills. Personally, I’m DYING to learn to weld. Think of all the crazy shit I’d be building then! Yeehaw, fire! Molten steel!

What sort of freedom do you have to decorate your apartment (for example we can’t paint here)? Does the landlord give any money towards costs of updating? Do you need the landlord’s permission?

I work under a strict “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy with my landlord. My lease states that I can paint the walls so long as they’re all “back to white” when I move, which I intend to do (which will just involve repainting the kitchen and bathroom). Beyond that, I’m not supposed to make irreversible changes to the apartment. I’ve largely obeyed that rule, with the exception of the bathroom vanity re-vamp. I think it’s a little silly when people talk about how they aren’t allowed to paint or hang art, or pretend like they can’t do anything to their apartments. A nail hole is always patchable, a wall is always re-paintable, and light fixtures can just as easily be switched back as they can be replaced in the first place. I’ve never asked my landlord for money to fix the place up, but I’ve been told that landlords sometimes do that. It’s just a can of worms I’d rather leave closed.

Did you ever get a new roommate? If not, how cheap is your rent?

I haven’t gotten a new roommate. There are a few personal reasons for this that I won’t get into, but I actually enjoy living alone and it’s still semi-affordable, for now. I don’t really feel comfortable divulging the exact amount I pay in rent in such a public forum, but I will point out that even living alone, I still pay less than it costs to live in an NYU dorm (yes, my two bedroom apartment with a kitchen and a living room costs less than splitting a small room with a stranger!).

Do you keep all of your books and files on your shelf? Where do you keep your printer?

All of my normal books do fit on the shelf I built, but larger format books just become coffee table books that float around the apartment on any available flat surfaces. My school binders are in constant use, so when they aren’t in my bag they just sit on my desk. Files? I’m 21, I don’t play that game. And my printer is under my bed! It stays folded up until I need to use it—I try not to print at home very often unless I need to.

How’s that lovely woolen headboard you made holding up?

Great! I definitely wouldn’t recommend cheap wool army blankets for any sort of high-use upholstery (like a couch or a chair, for instance), but it’s great for the bed and headboard since it’s not the sort of surface that gets a lot of wear and tear. The blankets are a very sturdy material, but they aren’t an upholstery-grade fabric and probably shouldn’t be treated that way.

Apartment Therapy is doing their Small Cool contest, and I believe your gorgeous apartment would be eligible?

Yes, the square footage of my apartment definitely makes it eligible for Apartment Therapy’s Small Cool Contest. Maybe I’ll enter! I don’t know, I hadn’t really thought about it!

What did you do with the vintage flashcards?

Nothing yet! I know, pathetic. I’ve been busy. Sue me. When I know, you’ll know.

What is the name and breed of your imaginary dog?

His name is Hillbilly. He’s a mutt, found roaming the mean streets of Washington, DC a couple years ago. He’s absolutely MASSIVE, totally hogs the bed at night and tends to be a real pain in the ass.  But he’s a real sweetheart and since he doesn’t eat, drink, or poop, he’s very low-maintenance.

Favorite ice cream flavor?

Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie is a true delicacy.

Favorite movie?

TOUGH ONE. I don’t have one favorite! But The Wizard of Oz has stuck by me for about 18 years, and I still love it.

Which do your prefer: laces or velcro?

Velcro in theory, laces in practice.

What is the most perfect thing you have ever eaten?

Oreos.

What’s your favorite thing to eat cold out of a can?

Tuna fish? What else comes in cans?

Boxer, briefs, thongs, jock straps or nude—which one are you?

All of the above, at the same time. Layering is, like, so in this season.

Life
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