The name of our shop is often confused with the words I painted on the outside of our black awnings. In a fit of inspiration one day I decided to add the words, “Beautiful Things” to our storefront. While the Apartment 46 logo is on the front door, it’s the white-on-black phrase that catches people’s eye. I’m okay with that. Our little space is lovingly curated with all manner of things we find interesting and lovely, thought-provoking, and humorous. I have a deep-seated belief that a home isn’t worth living in if it’s not made up of things you really love. Of course, as I’ve blogged about before, there is a definite difference between hoarding, clutter, and well-curated things.
I believe the arrangement of things is critical to how they are perceived. Creating vignettes is something I am obsessed with doing. I’ll let you in on a secret, when I go vintage shopping I will often create little tableaus using things I’m not going to buy, just so someone else can see how amazing they look when grouped properly. I have no idea if it’s ever helped anyone, but it makes me feel better. There are individuals who need to see something in context in order to realize its potential. I see potential in almost everything. That can be a sickness sometimes. The collection, display and re-organizing, of precious objects in my world comforts me and helps me feel creative. The world created in our shop is a magical one. People stop and examine every little vignette as if it’s a wholly separate space – and that is my intention.
I believe that objects can create the feeling or mood of a space, and because of that they truly are magical. Think of a cathedral. It’s not holy because of the building itself – although the building is meant to take your breath away – it’s holy because of the atmosphere created by the objects; whether it’s the intricate gilded candle holders or the meticulously rendered portraits of the Saints. Silk vestments and velvet liturgical banners mixed with carved angels and of course, the Crucifix, create a place which you instinctively know is scared to those that rest their belief there. The same can be said of precious objects in your home. You create a distinct atmosphere in the mere arrangement and assortment of your things.
There is no one that practices the religion of lovely things better than Federico de Vera. Possessing a singular love of gorgeous objects, no matter their condition or original intended use, he is set apart in the safe and homongenous world of high-end interior design. The careful way in which he displays everything in his two amazing New York shops allows people to experience an object’s true magic and potential. He can elevate the broken hand of a doll to rarefied status by surrounding it with a few rubies and a silver belt buckle. There are few people I admire more when it comes to creating the weird and wonderful.
Everything tells a story and I am crazy about helping objects tell theirs. I don’t believe in the solo piece. I think things need to be kept in context with the room they occupy. I may group a vintage glass jar full of billiard balls (above) with a framed picture of a child’s drawing, complemented with a stone statue of a squirrel. That would create a fun, whimsical, and carefree moment. Mixing that same jar of billiard balls with an unframed still life of fruit on a black background and a pair of silver birds, tells the story of someone more serious, with history, that may be well-traveled and well-read. It’s visual storytelling on your mantel or table top.
If you aren’t sure where to start, I suggest gathering some of your things in a central place so that you can take stock of your “inventory.” Play with different combinations together to see what best honors the narrative of your life. Commit to editing out the things you find no place for or that don’t evoke any special feelings or memories. They will serve someone else much better. While design principles are useful to remember – like grouped objects feel best in sets of 3, 5 and 7 – there really isn’t a “wrong” way to do it. It’s a creative process that can continue to evolve as you do. My favorite mantra is to “live with it for a week.” If you still like the way it looks after 7 days, it’s probably how it was supposed to be.
Be well!
Melisa
Back to Main Site
