Patio-cation!

My normal blogging "schedule" has been jacked up this week because I've been out in the real world doing the shit I actually blog about.  

HUH?!  What the hell kind of fucked up shit is that?  

I know.  It feels weird to me too.  Like I'm in the Twilight Zone of Pinterest or some shit.  But Friday night is the official soft opening of the patio!  *fist pump* 

It looks a lot like this:

A hotel in Thailand that I can't pronounce.  More here.  It's really good.

Maybe a little less rock.  More dead trees and IKEA furniture.

I've been sweeping and planting and cooking and watching my gay husband hang cafe string lights for me.  Busy, busy.  After all my hard work I decided to take some vacation.  Patio squee!  So I'm saying sayonara to the job and buy-bye to the interwebz for the next week or so.  This bitch gonna slum it patio style.

But at the end of my vacation is the PREMIER PATIO EVENT!  The gays are coming.  That's right - TWO parties in a week.  Hell, I already cleaned the bathroom and swept the floors so might as well.  Let's do this shit.

When I return I promise a full on photo spread of such outdoor splendor that it'll do funny things to your panties.  

Happy internetting without me!

You had me at thoughtful design solutions and material selections...

Oh hello there, sexy. I don't believe we've met.  I'm Madame Lacy Sunday Sauce aka Mouth of the South aka Keeper of Internet Dreams and Unicorns Memes.  But you can call me the person who's just been reduced to a pile of lady goo on account of those ceiling beams and slick cabinets for short.

You can try to be sly and shift angles on me but I'm slyier.  Slyer...?  Ever more sly...?  I'm a stalker is what I'm trying to say and I've already googled all over your biznasty (that sounds like sexual harassment but I assure you it's legal in 27 states) and found out that you are the kitchen of a West Village townhouse designed and built by MADE.

Design AND build?  That's an architecture firm that has just made me forget about you, kitchen.  They have bigger and more satisfying things to offer.

Like this nice warm office.

And this bathroom that's so inviting I'm completely ignoring the wood floors that I will totally ruin within 6 months.  I'm splashy.  It's like being saucy but way full of destruction.  Actually, I think that's what saucy really does mean...

Whether or not MADE intended it this way, I'm feeling extra squee happy about the photography of these rooms.  Maybe it's just because I'm a champion of boring mediocrity but nothing here is too shiny or saturated like spaces that are in magazines. Everyone knows those aren't real spaces - only photoshopped figments of Lonny and Elle Decor's fanciful imaginations. 

Oh look!  MADE also does patios!

Gawddamn them.

I want to set my newly decorated patio on fire now.  But I only have access to some lighter fluid and a hole I can dig in the backyard - nothing like this fire.  I can't even destroy something in a pretty way.

patio from the South Village townhouse

And I certainly don't have the smarts to paint secret shelves cobalt.  Oh these guys are extra sly.  Way slyer than I had originally thought.  I've got to watch out for their super slyishness.

Boerum Hill Townhouse

Super slyish like the fact that I don't even care about barn doors and yet I can't look away from this lace metal barn door.  That's like bringing out your best push-up bra on the first date.  It's unfair.

Central Park West Apartment

And is that a Brutalist-looking concrete column?  I think the hunter has become the huntee.  Well-played, MADE.  Seems you have been doing some stalking of my interests as well.  I'm flattered .  Also, not wearing panties...  Just putting that out there...

2000 Broadway

I really hate to tell you that this image of the most genius bar/countertop ever designed by human persons is gratuitous to your cause of making me love you.  You already had me at your thoughtful design solutions and material selections about eleveteen images ago.


You, me, a box of Chattanooga's finest box wine and that bar/countertop for 5 minutes.


Well 7 if we actually want to finish the whole box but it's up to you.

The Sunday Set inspired by Dr. Bronner's gift of the firecrotch.

To round out this week's unintentional theme, here's an image dump of all my secret hobo hippie dreams so you too can layer on all your best jewelry and spend your Friday twirling like Stevie Nicks.  I'll let you borrow a gauze skirt if yours is in the laundry.  


Obviously that's a self portrait in the first picture...

The New Gypsies from Iain McKell

here

[MS sidebar: if I haven't told you, I have a weakness for '70s landscape photography.  If you ever see a vintage book on ebay about America's amber waves of grain or grizzly mountain shots that a poor man's National Geographic would publish, alert a Madame immediately.]

here

here

here

real source?

Iain McKell again

here

here

here

here

here

here

here

here

here

Penabranca

here

I think I've officially turned into this lady now:

here

I might actually have that scarf...  I definitely have those earrings.  I do not have that tummy.


But I am going to stop now before these images land me in some expose as an example of white people and cultural misappropriation along with Urban Outfitters and every editorial magazine shoot of the last two years.


Next week I promise no more hippies.  We'll be back to whatever it is that I normally blog about around here.  But for now I TWIRL!

I refuse to entertain the idea of Dr. Bronner's shaving cream.

Now that I've reclaimed my affection for comfortably-hobo chic, let's just venture into full on hippie territory this week.  Let's also pretend that didn't rhyme.

originally from Apartment Therapy

I saw this little house on Pink Shirts and Car Wrecks recently and for some reason it plucked the hemp strings in my heart.  Also, I was a little jealous of the blue seat pad in their Bertoia chair...

Honestly, I think a lot of it has to do with the photography.

It's actual eye candy.  When in doubt, jack up that saturation like it ain't nothin.


Makes me want to get out my camera that doesn't have a phone in it...

And make some pottery.  

And really try to make my Bertoia be friends with some of my closeted textiles.

Those windows would have a permanent greasy imprint of me rubbing myself on them.  Fuck those weird hamburger-looking footstool poufs, though.  I don't want my furniture to look like it should come with a Happy Meal toy.  Unless the toy is a royal blue Bertoia chair pad.

I should stop trying to fight my hippie roots and just accept that sometimes I rather enjoy places that look like stylish, thrift-happy hobos squat (squatted? squaat?) there for the night.  I was raised by heathen hippies but being the first born nerd child, I rebelled by turning my nose up at recreational drugs, doing lame studious things and just generally avoiding encounters with the law.  

Except for some grunge years in high school and that winter where I didn't shave my legs on principle (possibly also grunge-related), I keep the hippie mostly tucked away into the box I keep my incense in.

But every now and then my roots unearth themselves and force me to admire some macrame, take a stroll through a head shop or buy some Dr. Bronner's body wash. 

Inevitably I'll get tangled in some yarn crafts or have the clerk at the head shop grunt uncomfortably in my direction or accidentally get some Dr. Bronner's peppermint body wash too close to my yes yes parts and THAT SHIT AIN'T FUN, Y'ALL.

It's like shampoo in your eye times 1000.  

So I say 'no thanks, man' to fully committing myself to the hippie lifestyle and instead look at some pictures of young kids doing their hippie modern thing.  This way I can get out all my gypsy sensibilities without having to foray into the wild and indefatigable world of jam bands.

Or set fire to my vulva.

Back to my dreamworld roots: interior porn!

Despite all the wonderful essays I read about how the internet and sites like Pinterest are ruining us and making us create virtual dreamworlds instead of a world that actually exists where we accomplish the things we see on said internet rather than just sit around all day reading blogs, pinning things and eating leftover Thai food watching Sherlock Holmes because that life sounds really really (not) awful...


Wait, where was I going with this?  I can't remember.  I got lost in the Matrix there...

via Designed for Life

But I'd like to get lost in here for a while... HEY OOOOOO!


Aaaanysauce, I think I was thinking about how all I see lately are super traditional rooms with lots of glamorous clutter and expensive furniture where you can see the hand of the designer in every. single. corner. and I was creating this dreamworld that wasn't even a dreamworld that I wanted.  


I was blinded by the shiny things.   It happens. (a lot)


Or it was probably the whole New Traditionalist movement that's kinda taken over.  I'm not immune to playing in fantasy worlds that aren't my own from time to time.   I'M ONLY HUMAN!

original pin but no source

And because I pin on instinct, I just knew that my Pinterest Interiors board were going to be overrun with burled walnut sideboards and teacups and ascots and whatever else people with lots of money and traditional style surround themselves with.

via Head Over Heels

But after glancing at my own Interiors pinboard where all this lovely junk came from, I was satisfied to know that those kinds of fancy things hadn't infected my hobo brain! 

Jennifer Ament's apartment via A Diary of Lovely

I'm still the same old saucy gal who likes some natural cave-like materials, awkward arrangements and bohemian sweat lodge-meets-vintage modern fortress of solitude.

from Fine Home Building but not sure where. Original pin here...

And hobbit fireplaces!!!!!!!!!!!!!

via The Gifts of Life

And definitely headboards like that.

Mickey Muenning's house via Design Boom

And whatever the hell is going on here.

via You Are the River

via The Aestate

Apparently my dreamworld involves lots of gnarly fireplaces.  

via Fox on the Run

Oh dreamworld, we still got it.  Don't you worry about those mean people on the internet or slick antique furniture.  It's just you and me and some gnarly fireplaces and Thai food.