REVELATIONS

by Paul Dinello for Nest Magazine

 

The home of a Tennessee gentleman who attained prominence in the music industry and a visitor's misadventures in his decorating past.

 

 

Dear Randy --

I know you are probably surprised to be hearing from me, given that I made it clear I'd never speak to you again, shortly after you told me that you never wanted to hear from me again, but things change. It's obvious how eager you are to know how I'm doing, given the effort you've made ignoring my phone calls. Doth thou protest too much? Well, the answer to your question is: I'm fine.

Yes our breakup was a significant setback, but like a cat that has been blindsided by a cold and callous lover, I've landed squarely on my pads. Surely I don't need to tell you that. As you can infer from the tone of this letter, I am happy and fully functioning. In no way am I any longer held captive by the memories of our on-and-off-again seven-month relationship collapsing and the appalling way you treated me. Being throw out of our condo, the one we shared and you own (you certainly made that clear while you were prying my fingers from the doorjamb), was a much-need boot in the testes. It forced me to take stock of my most important asset, me. I must admit you never made me feel like your condo was my home anyway. Most of my suggestions to spruce up the "ol' homestead" went largely ignored, and I'll never forget your reaction to my idea about displaying my international oven mitt collection about the electric range--you'd think I was attempting to exhibit a cadaver next to the fruit bowl! But I guess you are the final arbiter of taste (sarcasm). Well I'd love to hate to inform you that you are not.

I went on a little house tour the other day, I do things like that now that I am an independent, and I couldn't help thinking about you and how precious you are about your living space. This letter is not meant as an indictment of your styling sensibilities, but rather to open your eyes to the fact that there is much more to life than oatmeal carpet, teak entertainment centers, and treating me poorly.

 

 

We gathered in front of note-adorned metal gates. I could barely help but wonder what song is notated upon these musical steel barriers. Unable to read music, I fantasized that I am able to read music. Our generous host leads us up to the porch, where we are greeted by four giant plaster columns. I feel like a Roman senator on a field trip. Smacking your hand against one of these things produces the same sort of wonderful sound you might get slapping an empty pony keg. Dangling above the porch is what can best be described as a wrought-iron piñata, hanging tantalizingly out of reach as if to torture Mexican children.

Once inside, I am awestruck!

 

 

Let me jump ahead and start with this: Chunks of bold pleated fabric, with what looks to be a scattered foliage pattern, blooms unchecked in vast array, enveloping the entirety of space with splashes of strong, unusual colors trimmed with fringes, tassels, bows and brass nails en-tufted with leather discs of wound thread and buttons! And that's just the poolroom! Are you starting to get the pictures? Can you appreciate the density of decor? This place makes your condo look like a porta-potty!

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just catch our breath and start at the beginning.

 

 

The Living Room

You used to say a great living room is one that happily accommodates the various activities one might wish to undertake while at the same time being aesthetically pleasing in its role as a reception area. Well, in your case, strike one and strike two. The third strike would be hurled by the magnificent throwing arm of this breathtaking parlor! Most of the space is cleverly consumed by yacht-sized cream-of-mushroom-colored couch docked on the port side of the room. This mega-sofa immediately says, "Let's see how many people we could get onto this couch!" Fun! It's reminiscent of the days of frivolity when stuffing fraternity brothers into a phone booth was considered a full afternoon of entertainment. On either side of the living room are floor-to-ceiling crystal panes containing a pair of stained-glass peacocks perched and ready to soar. I imagine them flying high into the sky, and then splintering and raining down shards of sharp color ito the eyes of those unwilling to be open to the idea of adventuresome design.

 

 

The Jungle Room

At first glance, this room looks like nothing so much as he lifework of a gay pygmy. But on a second, more informed glance, the true exuberance of the room begins to emerge. Hawaiian carved Tiki, a playful monkey objet d'art, a reclining snow tiger resplendent in a field of faux foliage and on the horizon, generous plywood paneling as far as the eye can see. Above, like a polyester rain forest, is a rich canopy of green shag carpeting! I'm tempted to take off my shoes and run my toes through the ceiling. And I don't know from which animal the pelts were acquired to cover these chairs, but I'm guessing they got the last two. The overall experience is revitalizingly primal for those of us who don't wallow in rigidity.

 

 

The Poolroom

As I mentioned before, every inch of wall and ceiling is covered in multicolored, multipatterned, multipleated fabric. Who doesn't love a pleat? For some reason, pleats always remind me of you. Either because you always were so hard on them, or perhaps because pleats seem so desperate, being formed by folding a continuous piece of fabric onto itself as if the fabric is feeding on itself to like a rat in a glue trap.

 

 

The "TV" Room

The entire room is laid out in wonderful yellow and black, like a giant bumblebee without a purpose. Painted on the wall are the letters T, C, B, along with a lightning bolt. I am informed that the letters stand for "Taking Care of Business," which this room does in spades! There are mirrors on almost every wall reflecting the room unto itself, and in the center sits a serene white ceramic monkey. It's all very spiritual.

 

 

Well, Randy, there is plenty more, but I think I've made my point. Hopefully this letter will bridge the gap between the chasm that is our collective decorating approach. Oh, one other thing, the kitchen. Not only does this room strike a perfect balance between plywood, funky rust carpeting, and drop-ceiling tile, it also seems unusually accommodating for a certain international oven mitt collection.

 

Best wishes--

Ted

 

 

 

 

written by Paul Dinello photographs by Todd Oldham
Three images taken from Todd Oldham's portfolio site

Please don't redistribute this, I spent a lot of time on it, thanks :)