Dainty Teacups, Trashy Metal

I'm a huge proponent of daily indulgences.

Drinking coffee from your best china, wearing diamonds and ratty jeans to the grocery store, eating steak for breakfast, delighting in trashy 80s Metaledge magazines...

Above, Slayer, 1985.  Below, a Royal Grafton tea cup that I've been reaching for by default, all week. We all need balance in our lives, right?!

Back to the teacup. Who cares that it doesn't have a saucer? I've been rotating it with saucers from another set I have. I like it better this way for a few reasons: 1. This makes for a more interesting morning. Picking out clothes gets boring after a while.  2. This makes for a more interesting tea SET as a whole. 3. This lone teacup buying thing has become an addiction. All cups are fair game! Saucerless loners...ones that belong to prohibitively expensive sets (because, after all, you're only buying the cup and saucer).  Some celebrities never wear the same outfit twice.  What if I never use the same teacup/saucer combo twice?!

I like this combo in particular:

Tell me, what are your daily indulgences? Big hair? Dainty teacups?

Scans from Metaledge, 1985.
Teacup images styled/photographed by (IN)DECOROUS TASTE

DRINKS, ANYONE?

Ever been to a party where the host has entirely overlooked providing tables where you can rest your drink? You know it's bad when you're desperately trying to shove a fancy little hors d'oeuvre into your mouth one-handedly in a manner quick enough so that the skewered shrimp and cherry tomato don't fall out of their embrace and instead embrace your lap— where, incidentally, you happen to have your cocktail precariously clamped between your thighs.

My solution.

This was an old bench that belonged to a vanity that I now use as a desk.  I have almost no use for the lopsided creature as seating, but with the addition of a tray, it makes a convenient table, especially by the side of a sofa, or next to a chair, as a place for a drink or two, or three... These old trays are pretty much everywhere...on eBay, in thriftshops...roadside, in garbage cans...  You just need to prime over whatever was previously on it (because it was likely really atrocious), and attack it anew!

The "BEFORE": Bench (after painting, before upholstering), and tray (after priming):

And "AFTER":

 Styled, painted, and photographed by (IN)DECOROUS TASTE.

The Italians Do It Better

This makes the Titanic look like a toy. I LOATHE cruise liners, but I would travel on this with glee.

In reference to the Salone Colonna of the '30s Italian luxury liner the Conte Di Savoia:

The grand lounge was an explosion of Italian baroque, a floating Villa Borghese.  There was marble everywhere, on the walls, columns and underfoot, save for a heraldic carpet. The ceiling was an enormous vault painted with all the verve of the Sistine Chapel.  Around the room lay bloated fauteils covered in zebra stripes and hideously out of period.

                                                                             John Maxtone Graham, The Only Way To Cross 

Hm, hideously out of period? Those bloated fauteils are actually what made me love this image, as opposed to just liking it.  Of course, I'm as enthusiastic about glorious baroque "explosions" as the next steadfast believer in excess, but it's the juxtaposition with those giant zebra sofas that won me over.

Image of the grand lounge, or Salone Colonna, from The Only Way To Cross, by John Maxtone-Graham. 

Launched on October 28, 1931 for the anniversary of Mussolini's 9th year in power, the Conte di Savoia was only kept in regular service until Italy entered the war in 1940.  During the war, the liner was possibly used to ferry troops to Africa and then disguised as an island (?!!) in a marsh off of Venice, where it was bombed by America and ransacked by Germany.

Below, a photograph of the once cutting-edge 900 ft long enclosed promenade.  This was a giant leap for fashionable women who didn't care for wind-whipped, soot-laden hair. I can empathize.

Image of promenade deck, from Classic Ocean Liners II: Rex And Conte Di Savoia by Frank O. Braynard.  

The Conte Di Savoia was also the first liner to have gyrostabilizers, in front of which this dinner crowd poses.  Incidentally, the gyrostabilizer looks a little like an alien spacecraft.  And what is that mass of glossy black plumage that the lady on the right is holding? I would like one, whatever it is...

Above, passengers posing in front of the ship's stabilizers. Image via New York Social Diary.

Above, the liner takes on passengers. Image via New York Social Diary. 

Above left, a folder issued to first class passengers, and right, a pre-launch brochure for the Conte di Savoia. Images from Classic Ocean Liners II: Rex And Conte Di Savoia by Frank O. Braynard.

The Afterglow

Christmas might be over, but I'm holding onto my Barbie-esque tree baubles for dear life.  To release my grip, the grinch will need to pry them from my cold dead hands.  Morbid, perhaps, but I'm fairly certain that I love them even more when they're stacked and piled into a glistening, succulent mass.

Photography and contents of photo (pillow, textile, chair and bureau) by (IN)DECOROUS TASTE.  

Pineapple Follies

John Murray, 4th Earl of Dunmore, had his pineapple folly...

Above, Dunmore (who was the last governor of colonial Williamsburg, Virginia) built his pineapple folly in 1761, in Dunmore Park, Scotland. A larger scale version of the sailor's tradition of leaving a pineapple on the door stoop to mark a safe return home, Dunmore's pineapple measures 37 feet. Pineapples were indeed grown on the grounds, with heated hot-houses.

And so, I have mine...

Outdone by the Earl of Dunmore? Possibly. Rather unfortunately, my centerpiece is nowhere near 37 feet tall. Nor can I live inside of it. What I can assure you is that the painted mass of artichokes, pineapples, (nude) eggplants, flowers, and beaded ornaments will probably work its way onto the table as a centerpiece at some point during this holiday season!

OH! And before I forget, in a list of links for readers to check out, Eater cited (IN)DECOROUS TASTE'S jacquard chicken as "The nastiest looking (and fanciest) chicken of all time." Nastiest???!?! And the title of the post? I believe it involved the phrase "Ludicrous Chicken."

Image of Dunmore house, via Wikipedia Commons. Centerpiece, including chinoiserie bird motif backdrop and console, created, painted, and photographed by (IN)DECOROUS TASTE.

Louis XV and The Jacquard Chicken

Behold, the HARLEQUIN CHICKEN:

Above, The finished chicken, presented on a faux malachite tray courtesy of my mother.

Originally, I was going to share with you today an image of a chicken from a 1967 House & Garden (reprinted in an issue on "luxury" from September 1998) about a favorite recipe of Louis XV, a truly extravagant chicken that could have passed for op-art, otherwise known as a "Harlequin Chicken."  Despite my intentions, this image never made it into this post, nor even onto my scanner, because at some point while reading, I was suddenly overcome with a feverish NEED to recreate the roaster.

Now, noting that the article offered no guidance for the creation of the bird (other than to say that chefs "hold their breath until the last diamond is put in place"), I can only attribute my infatuation to the odd fact that this struck me as a chicken that LOOKS like a cake, that looks like a chicken.  And what could be splashier at a dinner party than a real bird masquerading as a candy confection mimicking an actual, savory meat dish?!

Louis XV's chefs used boiled and cracked knuckles of veal to create the gelatinous sauce, but (as House & Garden noted in 1967), we now thankfully have lovely packets of gelatin to speed things along.

One Google search for chaudfroid sauce and much experimentation later, I arrived at my own method for making a harlequin chicken, in case you should want to try...

You'll Need:
- 1 small chicken
- 1 3/4 c light cream
- 1 bay leaf
- 8 peppercorns
- 1 TBSP butter
- 2 TBSP flour
- 1 envelope (2 TBSP) gelatin for the sauce
- 1 envelope (2 TBSP) gelatin for the eggplant glaze
- 3 TBSP boiling water
- 1 large eggplant
- salt and pepper to season

What to do:  
1. Roast the chicken in an oven: Pat it dry, remove the innards, truss it, and cook it at 450 degrees for around an hour, uncovered.  Remove, allow to cool, and peel off the skin. Place in refrigerator to chill.

2. Blanche eggplant in a large pot of boiling water, until it's shriveled and soft, around 10 minutes. Set aside to cool. Cut in half lengthwise, scoop out the flesh, scrape the skin clean, and cut the skin (carefully, carefully!!!) into a diamond pattern by scoring with a paring knife. Set pieces aside, discard flesh.

3. Mix the cream, bay leaf, and peppercorns in a small saucepan and heat to boiling, stirring constantly.  Turn off heat and let rest 5 minutes.  Strain liquid into a bowl. In a pan, melt the butter.  Add the flour, stirring into a smooth paste.  Slowly add the cream.  Bring to a boil, reduce heat, simmer 2 minutes.  Put 3 TBSP boiling water in a small bowl and sprinkle with gelatin.  After it's dissolved, stir the gelatin liquid into the cream. Season with salt and pepper.

4. Take out the thoroughly chilled chicken and pour this mixture carefully on top of it.  The goal is to have as thin and even a surface as possible. It might help to have the chicken on the rack and have excess sauce drain into a pan so that it can be reheated. After it's coated, put it back in the refrigerator and chill for around 5-10 minutes, until firm.

5. Repeat this process until the bird is covered in a smooth (or, you know, vaguely smooth) plastic-y layer of aspic béchamel (sounds appetizing, right?). Chill until completely firm. (Side note: does anyone remember those Vivienne Westwood Angolmania banana colored jelly heels with giant black hearts on the toe? For better or worse, the chicken started reminding me of those.)

6. Mix another 3 TBSP boiling water with another packet of gelatin.  Dissolve. Dip the eggplant diamonds into the gelatin mixture (I used a tweezer), coating evenly, and carefully arrange them into a harlequin pattern on the chicken.  At this point, the chicken began to look like it was sporting an argyle sweater:

7.  And finally, fully covered! A word of encouragement- it's not as difficult as you'd think, just leave yourself plenty of time.

All images created, styled, and photographed by (IN)DECOROUS TASTE. Faux malachite serving tray also painted by (IN)DECOROUS TASTE.

Dreaming of a White (and Pink) Christmas

It almost never snows around here on Christmas.  But a girl can dream. 

Most of the ornaments on this tree are vintage; I highly suggest scouring ebay if local thrift shops aren't turning up any gems. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll find the ones that are so worn, you can see right through them.  The pale peachy pinks and aquas are my favorite, but they're so delicate, they tend to get eaten up by the deep green traditional evergreen color.

Enter artificial tree. Thankfully, fakery picks up where nature leaves off!  Is this a holiday heresy? I'll let you in on a secret: THIS year, I resisted the urge to purchase a mini-tree in jelly bean lavender (they also had one in pepto pink).  Next year, you might not be so fortunate!

Let's Play Fumble!

Not only does LIFE have plenty to say about how one should remove their stockings, but they also have a few party tricks up their sleeve.

Take for instance this game of "fumble."

How to play: One person designated "it" leaves the room, the other guests swap clothes to disguise themselves. The lights are turned off. Then "it," eyes closed, gropes her way through the party guests to decipher who's actually who.

LIFE Magazine, Carl Iwasaki, 1952.

Fierce Foos and Festive Follies at Longwood Gardens

Happy December 1st! Yesterday I took a little day trip to Longwood Gardens, the farmhouse outside of Wilmington, Delaware formerly owned by Pierre Dupont (1870-1954), DuPont company and General Motors executive. The home was purchased from the Peirce family in the early 20th century to save the arboretum from ruins.

The gardens and conservatory are open year round, and each year, they put up a pretty extensive holiday display. The most lovely thing about the place is the way that they manage to combine this element of ruination with holiday festivity: the hanging vines, the aged stone, large glass windows- it's all extremely lovely, but not necessarily what you'd expect from an estate formerly owned by the meister of synthetics himself (think laminate flooring, herbicides, Lucite...). Ironic, no?

Highlights included some divine color schemes, highly unconventional cabbage trees (um, YES!), cacti filled Christmas-scapes (check out the bizarre white furry ones that look like little Yetis, please), fierce foos (LIFE-SIZE, no less!), sharply shorn hedges, a hanging succulent (literally) mosaic, and of course, the larger-than-life tree that was so organically situated amongst ruination.  What more could a girl ask for around the holidays?  Now, if only there were some way of replicating this same sort of haphazard vine-ridden delapadation in a living room...

Eat THIS, Martha Stewart!

Happy early Thanksgiving, dear American readers!  Are we all preparing for our feasts tomorrow? Whipping out those yardsticks to ensure even tablecloth overhang? Checking that the place settings are spaced at perfect 16" intervals? Measuring everything from the center of the table for exacting symmetry? What's that you say, you haven't started?! Better get crackin', this could take all night.

Following scans from LIFE magazine, November 5, 1965.  "Exacting Ritual of Preparing for a Party" with Mrs. Marjorie Merriweather Post:

Mix-Match

Surely, you've heard it before, but wholeheartedly, you'd better believe that's it's okay pretty fabulous to mix-match place settings, rather than employ one matching set.  All of these old plates were ones I found in thrift shops, on eBay (search Czech plates, vintage plates, or Bavarian porcelain), or, well, in thrift shops... Seemingly random in nature, but all it takes is a united color scheme, or pattern, or degree of gilding, to pull them together.

Besides, you don't want to look like the sort of person who buys his silver, do you?

Campari and Cope

One of my most insanely gorgeous and exciting purchases was this very old cope (of the ecclesiastical vestment variety). I acquired it on ebay, it shipped from France, and it found me on the hottest day of the summer drinking bitter spritzes.


Anyone who hasn't tried a bitter spritz absolutely needs to. Little bars in Venice serve these drinks by the pitcher, along with salty snacks. Mix: 2 parts prosecco (or other dry sparkling wine), 1 part campari, top with a splash of mineral water and a green olive. For a sweet spritz, replace the Campari with Aperol and add an orange slice instead of an olive. Incidentally, these were probably the reason why it seemed like a good idea to play dress up in the cope, but that's a story for another day.


I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with the cope. My first thought was that the back panel would make a lovely oversized and very Byzantine-inspired pillow complete with fringe, but ultimately, I didn't have the heart to cut it apart.




And then, a eureka moment! The cope fits perfectly on the sofa. It's like it was tailored for it. WHO KNEW.

Crystal Clear

For an unexpectedly delicate table setting, why not pile on the glass and crystal? After setting this, I realized that I was sorely in need of glass plates! Luckily, they're easy to find and extremely cheap: Target, for instance, has a basic set of 12 for 24.99.

The look doesn't need to be extremely costly, either. Use whatever good crystal you have, pair it with cheaper glass where you need to fill in, and keep the silverware simple.

Oh, and for the love of god, no plastic.