Please Don't Eat The Daisies

Did you ever notice how you start to become a "collector" of certain crap that you didn't even mean to start collecting but it just sort of happens when you tend to keep buying the same thing even though there's really no need for it? (And could I have made that sentence any longer and harder to understand? And I could I sound any more like Chandler Bing right now?) For instance, for me, I have a thing for vintage lamps and odd furniture (like that circa 1960 cylinder vinyl bar I talked about not too long ago). But you know, if the price is cheap enough, you can't not buy it, right? It's not like an odd piece of 50's furniture comes along too often, so I buy it and then complain that this place has gotten too damn small and there's no room and whine, whine, whine, bitch, bitch, bitch. So that brings me to what I seem to be unintentionally collecting of late, and that is vintage curtains. I have zero need for the ones I buy, in fact, they tend to not even be the right size or colorway to match anything, but I don't care, for they fill me with glee! And I may throw out my victory jazz hands! Huzzah! (Ok, not really, I don't glee over too many things, and who the hell says huzzah anyway, but you get the point.)


So enter my latest curtain "score"? You be the judge. I nabbed 2 different pair for el cheap-o at the antique mall across the street, they match absolutely nothing and are borderline fug. I say they're awesome in their wrong-ness, my Dad took one look at them and said it looked like a Brady exploded in my living room when he saw these:



I love, luv, lurve lime green. I love how the flowers are drawn cartoon-y. I don't love the Brady thing going on with the them and it clashes with the entire rest of my hiz-ouse, which doesn't span much past 1960 in decor. I don't love huge florals because they remind me of the whole shabby chic country house thing and shabby chic, my dear friends, makes me wanna cut a bitch.

And then there's this pair, which regrettably I couldn't get a decent enough full-length picture of, what with their highly reflective and glossy, sharkskin-esque man-made and probably highly flammable material. These are way awesome in an aqua and green color combo and atomic-y doodads.



However there's only one window these fit in and that's in the bathroom, which happens to be done in the original flesh tone-meets-salmon tile:



Since my little mint green ranch was built in the 40's and has mostly all the original fixtures and whatnots, I would never dream of painting over that fugtastically-colored tile! So I guess clash-o-rama will have to resume for now, until I get my decorating shit together. Are these too ugly to live and should I sell 'em instead? Should I give them the old "it's not you, it's me" speech and send them packing? Is my being all hopped up on Zyrtec and Pamprin impairing my judgement?




"Please Don't Eat The Daisies" by Doris Day.