Last month I ordered a piece of pleasantly priced art for my office from 20x200. Once again, the Internet did not steer me wrong.
For those of you who are less interested in the Hostess Cake truck and are instead drawn to the inquisitive kitten, I picked her up in Portland at a vintage shop. Portland never steers me wrong.
At first glance I thought the squirrel was holding a gun. Everything about that situation screams both no and yes simultaneously.
During a break in work I browse endless poster sites, as if I don’t have enough screenshots in my “inspiration” folder labeled ohyesplease and dreamlifeyumyums. I click, click, click, landing on a print that looks strangely familiar. I’d forgotten that I bought it for a boy about three years ago before everything turned out wrong.
It lives in a tube in the back of my closet, along with some lithographs from college and cards I can’t seem to toss.
Just when I think the Internet is endless, I loop back around again. Is it time to stop and ask for directions?
Buy your own here.
Dear people with offspring,
Would you put this in your child’s room? I remember Maggie Mason’s story of plans to tie her son’s sea-themed nursery together with a vintage diver’s helmet turned lamp until she realized it may be nightmare inducing. Personally, I think it’s just creepy enough.
I have fond memories of a molded plastic goose lamp from my childhood bedroom, sadly extinct now due to the close of Union Products, the same company that manufactured all those iconic pink flamingos for fifty years. Something tells me my parents did not shell out $89 for my goose, yet I’m willing to for the sake of nostalgia. Not like a grown woman should feature a glowing avian light source in her boudoir.
But when has that ever stopped me?
