(*Yep, I made up that term myself. It means to make one's stuff elegant - a transitive verb that can be capitalized for extra sparkle should the occasion call for it.)
Yes, let's elegantize our domiciles, shall we? (Note: using a word like "domicile" in place of the coarse and common "house" fancifies the crap out of your writing.)
"But, Anna," you softly mew, "elegantizing sounds expensive. It's not in the budget this month to buy a Lucite baby-grand piano and gold-plated floor chandeliers."
I couldn't agree more, especially with today's Lucite market being what it is.
So, friends, fear not, for we're gonna start small.
Or, more specifically, orchids.
Everywhere I turn these days, whether it's waiting in line at a fashionable car-rental agency, selling entertainment books to chic oral surgeon receptionists or relaxing at home while thumbing through my latest copy of Mortuary Management Magazine, I see one of these babies:
Right? Have you noticed them, too? And then it occurred to me:
This is no ordinary houseplant.
This is the Town Car of houseplants.
This is the Town Car of houseplants.
What better place to start if you're looking to break off a piece of uber-swank awesomeness for your own pad?
Here's How I Did It
Let's begin in the powder room.
Everyone knows the powder room is ground zero for elegantizing because that's where total strangers who visit you will hide when they need a private moment to:
- adjust their Spanx
- text for back-up
- hork up a Swedish meatball that wasn't properly defrosted
Anyway, here's how the look comes together in my personal Reum du Powdeur:
I know, right? Tres classy and you're welcome for the bitchin' interlude!
Now, On To The Bedroom*
*(Or - even better - "the boudoir")
We used to have a big potted plant in our bedroom and that worked fine for a while until it got a little bushy and out of hand. Turns out there was a colony of shaggy, reddish spiders living in these webs that looked like hillbilly beards hanging from the leaves.
Long story short: we had to set the whole thing on fire, then repair the water damage and repaint but THEN we were ready to bring another plant into our den d'amour caliente:
Pretty neat, huh? Can you feel the elegance blasting out of your screen right now?
And, check this out:
Advanced Tip: a dead blossom can be used as an accent piece on the side of the pot. Suh-weet.
And, Lastly, Le Bath
For an extra round of kick-ass class, try parking one of these babies next to your bubble tub. That way, while you play with your floaty-boats, you can pretend you're a sailor on shore leave in an exotic San Diego port (or whatever tropical fantasy works for you).
Here's how we get it done at Casa de Lefler:
Who wouldn't want to linger under those lustrous stems and do a little desert island daydreaming, huh? You betcha.
I hope you're inspired now to get your mitts on some righteous orchids and wedge them into strategic locations throughout your home of choice. If you do, I guarantee that - with no care at all - they can look just like mine in only a few weeks.
In our next session, we'll discuss weaving your own Renaissance-scene tapestry to hang in your breakfast nook. In the meantime, though, have fun reveling in your new, super-swank vegetation! (BTW, if you see any hillbilly-beard-like things hanging from the leaves, drag that pot outside and douse it with lighter fluid. I mean right away.)
Thanks so much to the folks at Awarding the Web for naming Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder as one of the Top 45 Humor Blogs of 2010! Wow - I'm honored!
And thank you to the lovely Beth at Blissful Blunders for the Versatile Blogger Award!