It's disturbing, the way this bizarre fascination crept up on me. Disgust morphed into curiosity, and before I knew it (um, was I sleeping while this transformation took place?) I found myself, glazed over like a zombie, eyeballs blue from the computer-glow, researching antique taxidermy at 3 in the morning.
Sometimes, I want what I want. And evidently, I wanted my own piece of the trophy room pie. Have I mentioned that I'm not really much of a hunter?
Enter the (other) problem. In my mind, beat up, antique skins (or otherwise fabrics that closely replicate them) are the only way to go, but tiger and zebra are notoriously difficult to find in this form. Part of what makes these rooms so appealing to me is the dusty, smoky atmosphere and romance of a story, and the common cotton tiger (zebra, leopard, whatever) print just doesn't suffice. Neither does acrylic "fur." Not to mention that most prints are so uniformly intense in color and pattern. They just don't hit bullseye, so to speak.

Anyway, since I'm pretty damn certain that no trophy room ever involved a "Naugahyde," we temporarily deep ditched the sofa in favor of this chair, which has become, as you can clearly see, an experiment in, well... animal.
And now, my life is complete. I can live out my latent imperialist fantasies while drinking Christmas whiskey, smoking a cigar (or is a pipe more fitting?) and reading Rudyard Kipling in my own trophy chair. All upon return from safari, of course.
Above, Teddy Roosevelt (check out that fringe), and his very own trophy room. Images from theodore-roosevelt.com.
All other images photographed and created by (IN)DECOROUS TASTE.