Most of you will be reading this while I am on my most favorite airline VIRGIN AMERICA, which I should not say because I fear the secret is out and it is the best way to fly to LA or anywhere except it doesn’t fly everywhere.

GLASS, BOXES, STYLE AND TRASHCANS

Mar 8, 2010by tracey Comments

Most of you will be reading this while I am on my most favorite airline, VIRGIN AMERICA, which I should not say because I fear the secret is out. It is the best way to fly, although it doesn’t fly everywhere.

I am heading off to the home of my birth. This makes it sound like I was born in Mozambique, but, yes, it is the homeland, that cradle of civility and traffic: Los Angeles.

I read somewhere home is where you learned to drive. Only a Californian could have written that.  And actually I learned in Santa Barbara. But I cut my driver’s teeth on the 405, the 10 and the Ventura Freeway.  California is still the place I feel the most comfortable behind the wheel even though it has a tendency to make nervous in a variety of other places. The last time I was there was for Blake’s memorial so this trip has to be a step up from that.

Before I do anything else, I want to warn you all that Jonathan Adler trashcans, while being inconspicuous and high on style are truly weapons of mass destruction.  If George W. could have unearthed a few of these in Iraq he might have been able to plead a better case for his war on terror.

I have just now had my second incident involving one that leads me send out this bulletin.  The fist run in I had was a few weeks ago I happened to drop mine as I was taking it to empty. YES, I EMPTY THE TRASH, thank you very much. So, I was carrying my chic, albeit heavy little JA trash can when I dropped it on the floor. You wouldn’t think much of this but when I picked it up, it had left this massive ding in the wood.

I didn’t know what to do. I rubbed some wood polish on it and that didn’t help, it was a crater. I was hoping no one would notice.

Well, wouldn’t you know the next morning, I was getting dressed and I heard Salva’s voice, “”Traaaacey.” Salva calls and I go running. She was standing over the crater and pointing to it, she often times doesn’t have to say anything, she just puckers her lips and raises her eyebrows.

“You?”  I sort of wanted to blame it on someone else, I thought maybe she would take Jon Stewart away for a week or something. But I couldn’t lie, I said  “Well yeah, I dropped the trash can. It’s heavy.” I felt I had to defend my position.

She looked at me and said “Now what am I going to do?”

“We just have to live with it” I took the high road – Zen approach. Salva was pissed that I wrecked her floor. She takes great pride in everything and when I goof up that makes her life more difficult.

I hate it when she finds me incompetent.

One weekend some towels got in with Glenn’s workout clothes and bled, that was it – she told me no laundry on the weekends. Which is not fair as I do a good job – sometimes.

I don’t think she’s forgotten as the crater is still there.  And every now and then when we both walk by the spot at the same time, she will look down and just shake her head.

But then ten minutes ago I was emptying the trash, good Sunday clean-up girl that I am, and I didn’t know my dog Ramu Gupta was standing behind me.  Which is a fair assumption on my part as he leaves his bed for a grand total of thirty minutes a day, and those minutes involve either the ingestion of food or the evacuation of it. He’s not a stand around kind of guy. But he was behind me, I suppose thinking it was lunchtime and he got wopped in the head with the same corner that dinged the wood.

I feared I had given the guy a concussion. If I had used any back swing I could have knocked his eye out. He kind of stumbled back to bed. And the problem with Ramu is Ramu with a concussion and Ramu without one is going to be hard to differentiate.

And this whole discussion of Jonathan Adler and his stylish yet dangerous trashcans leads me to one of my favorite things, which are boxes. (Ok, I admit it; there was no natural segue so I had to impose a false one.)

Anyway, I love boxes – always have.

Despite the dropping of the trashcan and the one laundry mix up I am the world’s most organized person. My idea of a good time is reading Real Simple and doing everything it says. So boxes and organizers and anything that allows for things to all have a place of their own makes me ecstatic.

And of course there are boxes and then there are boxes.

Lucy takes acting in the Village (another clumsy segue,  but I am going somewhere with this, trust me) anyway, she takes acting lessons on Saturdays. Glenn and I switch off on who takes her. If he takes her he goes to the Strand and buys books, which he in turn can sell as he is bookseller. If I go, I go to a wonderful store called The End Of History, that is one of the best little shops in New York. It is filled with the most amazing mid-century glass and bowls and boxes, and other gorgeous things for your life, all beautifully curated, edited and displayed. It’s run by a great guy called Daniel Petix who will tell you about things in such a way that you are learning yet he doesn’t make you feel like a dummy.

Did you hear that Salva????

An hour there is such fun. And of course I usually leave with something, which unlike Glenn I can’t resell and make money,  since I’m not in retail.

A few weeks ago I went looking for something specific, which of course Daniel had and then I found the this box.
Now you might wonder what makes it so special, it may be a one of a kind and  even if it isn’t it was designed by one Baron Allsessandro Albirzzi,  who was sizzling hot in the sixties and seventies.

Not your average box. An Albrizzi!
Not your average box. An Albrizzi!

Actually when I went and googled him it’s amazing I never went out with him. He was so what I was up to in my early twenties.  He lived in London where he had his shop and did most of his designing. My mother rented a house in London for much of the seventies. How he got past me I have no idea.   He was royalty, which is all my mother wanted me to marry. He was Italian, which during my early twenties was all I wanted to marry.  He was gorgeous, beyond stylish, and bisexual which made him totally  unavailable and trouble which up until my thirties was pretty much all I knew how to date. I think I have shared plenty about that.

When you go on his site, Allessandro’s (I cannot tell you how many guys I dated called Allessandro, it just rolls off my fingers here) when you go on his site you see how responsible he is for so much of what is happening in design today, including, I might add, Jonathan Adler (which means I have not been meandering my way to nowhere in this blog!).  Check out the stacking tables. Check out his site and then go to Jonathan Adler’s site. You see a little influence there? Though I don’t think the Baron did trash cans.

And then go on the site for The End Of History.  Daniel turns out the chicest and most informative and fun blog about style and glass and so much more. After Pioneer Woman it’s one of my faves.

And if you’re ever hanging out on Hudson near 11th in the Village go in and tell him I sent you.

It’s actually worth going down just to hang with him for an hour.

And if you have a Jonathan Adler trashcan – don’t say I didn’t warn you.

http://theendofhistoryshop.blogspot.com/

http://www.albrizzi.com/