Burnt Orange Sofa Pillows for a Room With Some Nerve
The sofa came home on a Tuesday, hauled up two flights by a mover named Reggie who told me, flatly, that burnt orange velvet was “a choice.” I laughed it…
The sofa came home on a Tuesday, hauled up two flights by a mover named Reggie who told me, flatly, that burnt orange velvet was “a choice.” I laughed it…
Corinne stood in my doorway with her coat still on, looked at my new sofa, and said, “Oh no. It looks like it’s mid argument with itself.” I’d just had…
My sister walked into my condo in December, looked at the gray sofa with its brand new blush pink pillows on it, picked one up, turned it over like she…
I count throw pillows the way some people count steps on a fitness tracker. Four on the sofa most of the year, six around the holidays because my mother gives…
I own eleven mustard pillows. ELEVEN. I counted them last week while doing a deep clean under the couch, found three I forgot existed, and had a full sit down…
I ran the numbers on this once, out of genuine curiosity rather than any need to justify it to anyone, and worked out that I reach for a throw pillow…
I bought a blue velvet sofa in a fit of confidence about eighteen months ago, cobalt, jewel toned, the kind of blue that looks incredible in a showroom and slightly…
I was on my knees in the bedroom on a Sunday night, phone flashlight in my teeth, trying to figure out why I could not find my glasses on the…
I was sanding down a nightstand in my kitchen on a Saturday in February because the porch was eleven degrees and my “workshop” is really just wherever the radiator happens…
I’ve got nine nightstands right now. Nine. Not in my house, thank God, four of those are living in my sister’s garage under a paint-splattered drop cloth, waiting for a…