world war apartment 2
I used to live in a hi-rise poolhouse. Then I immigrated to the US. About two weeks ago, I got an apartment. This is what I've done with it.
The couch and rug are from Walmart. The coffee table is Thonet from a lady who was selling it to make space. I've always wanted a coffee table that shape but didn't care for a Noguchi. The pharmacy lamp is from Target and the dimmable uplighter is secondhand. (Did you know they make dimmable CFLs now? I didn't.) Theatrical lobby card from the touring show. Throw pillows from Ross.
On the walls you'll find printouts of pictures from the war; this one is particularly special to me, because I'm making a novel about it.
That Steelcase tank desk weighs over 250 pounds. I live on the third floor. I made a former Mexican bodybuilder turned moving service owner cry. (It contains a spring-loaded platform that pulls out and up and I've put my printer-scanner on it. Also, in case of earthquake, I may hide under it.) Good Form aluminum chair secondhand from Craigslist. Someone once criticized my previous place for looking like an MCM museum. I thought that was a fantastic idea.
So I moved in here with a suitcase containing the black-and-white orientalesque rug my aunt gave me, a 26" flatscreen TV, and my brown satin comforter from Ross, as well as a box of books and knick-knacks and a PlayStation. (The basics.) Also, a baseball bat and a rubber prop rifle from HBO's The Pacific. Wall clock, plastic recreation of MCM metal office clocks, found at Ross. Photo printout of this, which pretty much sums up my life.
This dresser was a featured find on Apartment Therapy's SF Scavenger. I didn't find it there, I found it where they found it, on Craigslist. I went to Dan (the man who collects and sells all this old stuff with his brother) and ended up with not just this dresser, but a big black dresser that's now my dresser, and this one, I turned into a Rube Goldberg contraption designed to entertain me. I am very proud of the vintage Quadraflex receiver and Fisher speakers, which cost a grand total of sixty bucks from Goodwill. They're hooked up to the little AirPort Express brick so I stream my iTunes to it. Usually KCEA.
I also got the painting from Dan. Nothing remarkable, but I once took a photograph a lot like it and oil paintings are a lot nicer to me than prints.
The kitchen. It was delivered with major appliances and already charming, so I haven't done much with it. Kettle from Bloomingdale's. Where I also got outfitted with Calphalon up the wazoo when the saleslady was appalled I was considering getting my pots n pans n knives from a Chinese hardware store.
I did assemble this goddamn nook thingy. Arrived in seventeen heavy boxes. Okay, five. Four. Has a clever underseat storage mechanism that you have to assemble along with everything else. Traumatic. But, charming. Walmart.
Bedroom. Memory foam mattress found on Overstock.com. Platform bed from Walmart. Wood and metal sidetable secondhand (from Dan. I had a shopping spree in his garage-o-stuff.) Blue sateen sheets, comforter, and "green sheep" pillow as my 2-year-old niece likes to say, all from Ross. Canteen from Amazon. Bear from a trip to Tahoe. He inspired the palette.
Other side. You know where the two white drawers of the 40s-vintage open-frame dresser went? They became a night table. Lamp from Target. Rug set from Walmart. Picture in printout here at Shorpy. Far side, Crosley clock radio from Urban Outfitters.
And the big ol' sign is my ode to my new country of residence and something I first saw at Target but ended up finding at Ross. Oh, Ross. That is the big black dresser I got when I was shopping for the vintage 1940s dresser. It's probably vintage too, or just used, but it's big and about four of its drawers are empty since I don't have very many clothes. I need clothes. socks.
Other side of the bedroom. The gas heater crosses the wall into the living room. It freaks me out and I can't wait to have the gas line turned off. It's the only gas thing in the apartment (believe me, I'd rather have a gas range) and it's hella inefficient and just plain scary. I mean, it's a gas flame that vents hot air.
This side could be considered minimalist. It could also be considered unfinished, but I can't conceive of going out and buying a whole nuther piece of furniture when I already can't fill my dresser.
Vornado fan on the floor, a model based on a 1940s fan. My uncle's old desk chair in the corner with a straw pillow my aunt gave me for having a pain in the neck. Tim Lincecum poster obtained at a game in 2009. (The short hair gives it away.) All frames by Cheap Pete's.
The bathroom is a bathroom with pink tile and a mint-green bathtub. You don't need to see that. What you do need to see, and what pushed me over the edge about this apartment (this and the walk-through closet) is the skylight. Sure, there's a draft, but this is California.
And that's it. I suppose I should still make a landing strip in the entrance hall, but, like the bedroom wall, any other additions to this place will develop over time, and I don't want to wait until the end of my lease to show a "completed" domicile that really can never be finished anyway, not as long as I'm looking and there's money in my pocket. Or nice weather for people to leave things on the sidewalk.
I'm kind of proud of having furnished this place in two weeks with used, vintage, and discount retailer stuff.
Except for one piece. Which I think everybody can pick out. :)
The little telephone nook-turned-altar waves goodbye.
The couch and rug are from Walmart. The coffee table is Thonet from a lady who was selling it to make space. I've always wanted a coffee table that shape but didn't care for a Noguchi. The pharmacy lamp is from Target and the dimmable uplighter is secondhand. (Did you know they make dimmable CFLs now? I didn't.) Theatrical lobby card from the touring show. Throw pillows from Ross.
On the walls you'll find printouts of pictures from the war; this one is particularly special to me, because I'm making a novel about it.
That Steelcase tank desk weighs over 250 pounds. I live on the third floor. I made a former Mexican bodybuilder turned moving service owner cry. (It contains a spring-loaded platform that pulls out and up and I've put my printer-scanner on it. Also, in case of earthquake, I may hide under it.) Good Form aluminum chair secondhand from Craigslist. Someone once criticized my previous place for looking like an MCM museum. I thought that was a fantastic idea.
So I moved in here with a suitcase containing the black-and-white orientalesque rug my aunt gave me, a 26" flatscreen TV, and my brown satin comforter from Ross, as well as a box of books and knick-knacks and a PlayStation. (The basics.) Also, a baseball bat and a rubber prop rifle from HBO's The Pacific. Wall clock, plastic recreation of MCM metal office clocks, found at Ross. Photo printout of this, which pretty much sums up my life.
This dresser was a featured find on Apartment Therapy's SF Scavenger. I didn't find it there, I found it where they found it, on Craigslist. I went to Dan (the man who collects and sells all this old stuff with his brother) and ended up with not just this dresser, but a big black dresser that's now my dresser, and this one, I turned into a Rube Goldberg contraption designed to entertain me. I am very proud of the vintage Quadraflex receiver and Fisher speakers, which cost a grand total of sixty bucks from Goodwill. They're hooked up to the little AirPort Express brick so I stream my iTunes to it. Usually KCEA.
I also got the painting from Dan. Nothing remarkable, but I once took a photograph a lot like it and oil paintings are a lot nicer to me than prints.
The kitchen. It was delivered with major appliances and already charming, so I haven't done much with it. Kettle from Bloomingdale's. Where I also got outfitted with Calphalon up the wazoo when the saleslady was appalled I was considering getting my pots n pans n knives from a Chinese hardware store.
I did assemble this goddamn nook thingy. Arrived in seventeen heavy boxes. Okay, five. Four. Has a clever underseat storage mechanism that you have to assemble along with everything else. Traumatic. But, charming. Walmart.
Bedroom. Memory foam mattress found on Overstock.com. Platform bed from Walmart. Wood and metal sidetable secondhand (from Dan. I had a shopping spree in his garage-o-stuff.) Blue sateen sheets, comforter, and "green sheep" pillow as my 2-year-old niece likes to say, all from Ross. Canteen from Amazon. Bear from a trip to Tahoe. He inspired the palette.
Other side. You know where the two white drawers of the 40s-vintage open-frame dresser went? They became a night table. Lamp from Target. Rug set from Walmart. Picture in printout here at Shorpy. Far side, Crosley clock radio from Urban Outfitters.
And the big ol' sign is my ode to my new country of residence and something I first saw at Target but ended up finding at Ross. Oh, Ross. That is the big black dresser I got when I was shopping for the vintage 1940s dresser. It's probably vintage too, or just used, but it's big and about four of its drawers are empty since I don't have very many clothes. I need clothes. socks.
Other side of the bedroom. The gas heater crosses the wall into the living room. It freaks me out and I can't wait to have the gas line turned off. It's the only gas thing in the apartment (believe me, I'd rather have a gas range) and it's hella inefficient and just plain scary. I mean, it's a gas flame that vents hot air.
This side could be considered minimalist. It could also be considered unfinished, but I can't conceive of going out and buying a whole nuther piece of furniture when I already can't fill my dresser.
Vornado fan on the floor, a model based on a 1940s fan. My uncle's old desk chair in the corner with a straw pillow my aunt gave me for having a pain in the neck. Tim Lincecum poster obtained at a game in 2009. (The short hair gives it away.) All frames by Cheap Pete's.
The bathroom is a bathroom with pink tile and a mint-green bathtub. You don't need to see that. What you do need to see, and what pushed me over the edge about this apartment (this and the walk-through closet) is the skylight. Sure, there's a draft, but this is California.
And that's it. I suppose I should still make a landing strip in the entrance hall, but, like the bedroom wall, any other additions to this place will develop over time, and I don't want to wait until the end of my lease to show a "completed" domicile that really can never be finished anyway, not as long as I'm looking and there's money in my pocket. Or nice weather for people to leave things on the sidewalk.
I'm kind of proud of having furnished this place in two weeks with used, vintage, and discount retailer stuff.
Except for one piece. Which I think everybody can pick out. :)
The little telephone nook-turned-altar waves goodbye.