Monday, December 14, 2009

Know your colors, know your fabrics.

Tonight, I'm sitting on my couch. In sweatpants. With not one, but two, two doxies on my lap. Obviously, this is heaven.

In the last four days, I attended four Christmas parties. Two were super fun. One was hideous. And one ... well, it made me feel like complete and total trailer trash.

Remember last week, when I was all, "Hey, look at my Christmas decorations?" That post where I exposed my soul by showing my Patti LaBelle Christmas ornament and its careful placement next to the Ewoks?

Yeah. The next night? I went to a fete at a home that has been featured in House Beautiful.

I'm not even kidding.

I was my friend L.'s plus one for a gathering of The Fabulous People. I was wearing my black pants that used to drape so well but that now dig into my gut. And the host of The Fabulous People was wearing a bow tie. And he invited us to explore every nook and cranny of his five-bedroom, six-fireplace, heated-floors-in-the-bathroom, scented-with-quince-candles-that-he-buys-in-Paris home.

It was lovely.

Absolutely nothing was out of place. Not a thing. It must be exhausting to live that way. No piles of mail. No Rubbermaid containers, even in the basement. Nothing in the fridge ...

Well, that part was wholly disturbing. Three dishwashers, but nothing in the fridge seems morally wrong.

I was sort of glad to go home to my little post-war ranch and Swiffer up the dog hair. But I felt decidedly unfabulous.

If you're looking for a happy medium between my shack and the 5,500 square foot perfection I visited last week, take a gander at the holiday house tours offered by some bloggy friends:

Magic27
Giving Up On Perfect
Unfabulousness

4 comments:

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

I LOVE going to those houses for parties. I mean, they'll never know I don't fit in, right? And goggling at the rich and famous is such a thrill. A couple weekends ago Greg was invited to a bday party for a buddy from school. I pulled up to a MANSION. Double-checked and then triple-checked the address. This place was MONEY. It was the right house, and I made Greg vow to not TOUCH ANYTHING. Found out later that the kid's dad is a retired NFL player. OH!

Mary @ Giving Up On Perfect said...

Thanks for the link! And I LOVE that you looked in the fridge. :)

Tumble Fish Studio said...

I'm not sure when he invited you to look around he meant looking in the fridge. But I'm so glad you did. Did you look in the junk drawer or in the trash can under the sink - wait I mean trash compactor disguised as a cabinet? Maybe he doesn't actually live there since there's no food. Maybe he just rents out the place now and then (like a time share sort of deal) to keep up appearances and actually lives in a trailer somewhere. You never know. Did you look under the beds too? Any dust bunnies? Tacky luggage?

dsmcaron said...

I remain convinced that they have a room with a bunch of crap in it, they just have the square footage to put it all behind a closed door. If I had a house like that, that's what I would do. totally. Love seeing those houses!