|a lifestyle-rich airer, or should I say lifestyle-riche? from here|
This airer looks very appealing, doesn't it? If employed in real life, however, I suspect my ditsy tea towels would fall into the copper pans of richly bubbling sugo di pomodoro and I'd soon be needing a restorative swig of whatever those intriguing little bottles contain.
This one is more practical, if not quite as Louis Quinze as I'd aspire to. Socks might get snagged by gilt curlicues, so one must be sensible. Otherwise, all it lacks is folding feet...
... which this one has, but is it a bit ho-hum or merely channeling the ho-humness of the tiles and microwave oven?
I shyly revealed my Aga airer aspirations to Clarissa, a fellow aesthete, at the school gate today after she had admired my hair and I'd admired hers and we'd touched on Goya's later middle period. Clarissa pointed out that using things for their intended purpose is very déclassé, so I'd have to be sure to air the clothes furtively or repurpose the airer as a stand for swallows, hoisted on a high rusting pole in the middle of the south lawn so that the birds could congregate in the darkening evenings, a bucolic vignette to distract me from the discomfort of my slightly damp clothing.
Already the whole airer thing is fraught with hidden difficulty. Do you think I should buy these Ugg Noira sheepskin-lined boots?
|Ugg Noira boots from Schuh|