Mustard, brown and a bit of orange

If I was the proprietor of a Kindy now-a-days, there'd be a strict dress code. Kids could only come to Kindy if they were wearing horizontal stripes, brown sandals, mustard yellow t-shirts and either denim or corduroy.

Who else is into One Direction? We are. In a Big Way. Catchy, cute little buggers.

I can't shake my fixation for brown crockery aka the 'Ruska' range by Arabia of Finland.  I mentioned this to one of my friends the other day, and she thrust this piece of brown Wedgwood into my unexpectant arms and told me she wasn't going to take 'No, I couldn't possibly' for an answer.

Part of my packing to move requires an unflinching dedication to culling. I've been throwing away piles of magazines, but have been tearing out the good bits. I'm somewhat influenced by this eclectic Spanish-type apartment in New York. There's a red Bitossi bull, with nostrils flared, up there ...

And check-out that copper table. Really. Martha and I'd be dragging that out of there under the pretense we had to leave all-of-a-sudden due to someone we didn't know suddenly calling our names from Central Park across the way ...

(Images from Vogue Living Mar/Apr 09)

Terracotta planter. I know. It's akin to a brown-toned heaven.

Inspired, I have begun my own Spanish-styled arrangement which is a work-in-progress. I salvaged the table from the garage. The Landlord told me that Grandad bought it from a service station in the mid-70s. It used to have cow-hide stools, which we used to sit at, but they're now gone.

Do you like this Danish vase? I do.

And because you're all desperate to know where my true design yearnings lean, well it's towards the brown brickedness of the 60s and 70s.

(Images Houses Issue 82)

 Earthenware, bricks, brown tiles, brown crockery and the occasional perspex monkey. 

That's where it's at.

Questions?