May 5th 2018: Last night I was perusing one of those decor coffee table books that makes you feel really inspired and wondering why you haven't got the budget for Designer's Guild wall paper let alone a house.
I got the book for about five dollars from an Op Shop and it's a New Zealand offering. This brand of NZ is all Marimekko fabric stretched onto a massive canvas hanging over the fireplace. Of course I like it, but as I pored over each page to get a bit of inspiration I noticed something I've tried to ignore for many years.
It must be like a man realising he has a Pornography addiction. I'm going to run with 'he' on this one which isn't to say that there aren't woman logging on and getting off regularly, but serious Porn addiction seems to be more of an issue for men. I'm sure that when such a man indulges there's not a lot of room to question why it's so gratifying or why those images work so well for him - it just does. He's been sold an idea of what sex is and he's buying into it.
My Decor Porn realisation hit me like a cowhide rug on a well varnished concrete floor in an reburbished factory somewhere in Auckland (owned by a designer and a lawyer no doubt).
It was so obvious, so incredibly obvious. It was as apparent as fake breasts or a woman pretending to orgasm while a man slaps her face (or whatever it is they're doing in Porn these days). I felt like a detective who had been given a fat envelope full of 'solved' 25 years ago and didn't open it until now.
Every single person featured in the book I was poring over was in a couple, save for one (her sister owned it), and at least one of them had a job that screamed 'stupidly rich'.
Stupidly rich people get off on emulating people who are even more stupidly rich than they are. This whole book is a massive jerk circle of white, upper class, affluent people and almost every single couple featured includes a designer of some kind. The icing on the cake: the names of the children are indistinguishable from the names of the dogs, and almost every dog mentioned is a fancy breed.
Well, I'm a fine one to talk. No one else was called Candice when I was growing up, and my name had always been shortened to Candy which meant I shared my name with prostitutes, horses and the occasional dog. I didn't really mind. I was fairly confident. I was Candy after all.
Of the following, guess which ones are dog names (these are all real):
Cisco, Poppy, Byron, Billy, Daisy, Fox, Oskar, Zigi, Indie, Porter, Buster, Theodore, Prudy, Bentley, Mercedes, Bebe Blossom, Bruno, Ryder, Monte, Coco ... and on and on it goes. *Dog names at the end of this article in case you really want to know.
I suddenly got it. It was like reading half of The Beauty Myth when I was about 21 and suddenly feeling really good about how I looked because I knew that what was being sold to me regarding appearance was mostly bullshit. It didn't stop me wanting to look good, but it did stop be from obsessing so much about what people thought.
I am a messy, creative person living in a small space with a limited budget. I am single. I am not married to an Engineer, a C E O or someone in advertising. The jobs these people have make you wonder when they have time to be at home to enjoy it.
A real sample: Lawyer, Sales and Marketing, Furniture Importer, Property Developer, Designer and Owner of a Shop that sells you Designery things (there's a clue), Managing Director of XXX, Property Valuer, Artist, Business consultant, Manager of a chain of stores. I'm noticing a trend here. If you have any of these jobs you must call your child something like Velour and your dog Pixie Moon Cake; you've got it made!
I realise I'm being picky and a little mean spirited - but I assure you it's in the name of wake-the-fuck- up. That's me. Not you. You can do whatever you like; paint that chair pink and call your Spoodle Minty by all means, but remember that if you don't have a two income family (and likely the support of other people in your life) you may not reach Decor Porn level. That's okay. It really is. Some might even say preferable. It's like a man falling in love with a real woman.
I fell in love with my flawed, messy, creative and sometimes clumsy self a little bit more last night. Of course I love luxury and adore Marimekko as much as the next design slut. I was more than happy when I found a discarded red velvet chair last year. I spend way too much on sheets. I have too many blankets and a deliciously comfortable bed. I am incredibly lucky and I love my life; I don't need to live like I'm going to be in a book though.
Will I stop indulging in Decor Porn? Of course not - but I will stop taking it seriously.
*Dog names are Poppy, Indie, Buster, Bentley, Coco, Billy, Daisy. Yes folks, that's all. I have to admit I am a fan of a slightly unusual name and quite like Zigi, only if Zigi had a sibling I'd be tempted to call it Stardust. Wouldn't you?
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