I'm painting these days. Making my home mine again. I live in a rather worn-out apartment, where the heat flies through the roof and the water pours in. I've got this old cupboard, I refinished years and years ago - Probably 10 years ago. It's beautiful, but it was dark grey inside and cherry red on the outside. I loved the cherry, but it needed a fresh coat of paint and I have no money, so I opted for samples I already had in store. I need to make things pink. Pink is about me. Pink is me choosing my own life, me doing what I want. Not compromising. I'm not gonna compromise no more. I want everything pink. This is a metaphor.
This blog is becoming very personal.
I have only a few pieces of furniture in my "living room"(=the part of the one big room, that should be assigned to a couch if I had one). This little wheel-y is from my mother's childhood home. It needs to be painted a couple of times a year. It demands attention. It holds favorite books, beautiful coffee table books. It also holds random fiction that I'll never read. Like Stephen King. I'm still betting on that Mother of Pearl.
Apart from this, I have one arm chair and the above mentioned cupboard. And a lamp.
I bought this skirt the other day. It's from H&Ms Conscious Collection, which is released this week. It's absolutely beautiful. I'm probably never gonna wear it, since I can't seem to figure out 1) What to pair it with 2) Where to go. It doesn't matter. I like it right there, being pink.