I picked up the Fornasetti tables today and absolutely adore them. It’s funny how your taste adapts. The black tops with the seashell decoupage were sure to be a hit, but I have never liked shiny brass. And yet, on these tables, they are just the right thing.
I see the one under the tulip watercolors that I bought in Boca Grande on vacation with my boys, next to the French chair of my husband’s grandmother, and it all seems just right. Coming down the stairs to let Rosie out in the morning the reflection from the sun coming in through the South window sends out a bit of a sparkle. Yes, perfection.
Except. Except that I have a strong predilection toward symmetry and pairing and now it looks like we are stock piling furniture for Noah. Three pairs of chairs, check. Two pairs of tables, check. A pair of lamps, a pair of planters, a pair of cream ware dishes, check, check, check. The black chairs flanking the windows – recently given to me by a dear friend who just moved to San Francisco – might need to move. They are charming, and handy for a party, but it is starting to look a smidge manic.
But for now we will just say, “Welcome to the Ark, Piero” and hope he feels how much he’s adored here.