I've been wanting to experiment with felting for a long time now, but I've hesitated because it seemed like... well, like a lot of work, frankly. All that poking and knotting. All the necessary felting accoutrement. But I was recently alerted to a potential felting shortcut and I just had to try it. Here's what you do: - Get something made of wool (like an old hat).
- Wash the heck out of it in hot water and soap (in the washing machine).
- What comes out? Felt! Mold it to the shape you want and let dry.
Here, let me show you.First, we have the initial object: a crochet woolen hat, which I got from Goodwill. I meant to wear it. It was lovely. Warm. And itchy as all get out.So, I decided to say goodbye.
Into the washing machine it went. Wash wash wash. Dry dry dry. I ran it through a good five times. (I didn't want to waste water or power by running washes exclusively for this project, so I waited until I had light loads of regular laundry to do. So the whole washing process ended up taking awhile. But obviously, if you were feeling impatient, you could speed things up a bit.)
The result? Felt!
I cut the rim/brim off with plain kitchen shears and voila - a bowl.
Fabulous for fall, if you ask me (which you didn't, but let's pretend you did).
I'm pretty proud of this project. Easy and highly satisfying. Just my style. You like?
So remember when I posted about my rug dilemma? I was trying to decide between a few different options from Structube. The whole debate turned out to be moot because Nate decided to buy me a hide rug (which I've long longed for) for my birthday. It's funny, in a way. Just when I finally abandoned the idea of having a hide rug (after years and years of wanting one, but hesitating because of the price, the ethics of it, and my resistance to all thing trendy AND "on trend"), AFTER all that, a hide came into my life.It's tri-colour (that is to say, brown, black, and cream). I'd always imagined I'd end up with something black and white. Or perhaps mottled grey. But tri-colour, it turns out, it just right. The brown (which is sort of stripey, like a tabby cat), feels warm, and despite the pattern, it reads almost like a neutral. It's soft underfoot and doesn't slide around.
I really, REALLY like it. Makes me feel a little guilty, actually.
Here it is on a typically untidy weekend morning at my apartment:
What say you? Hidey hidey hidey ho!
Usually, I'm not much of a Structube person. (Structube, for those who haven't heard of it, is 35+ year old retailer of contemporary/modern furniture and accessories.) It's relatively affordable, but often too cold for my tastes. I like modern, but not TOO modern, if you know what I mean. That said, I recently came across a few Structube rugs that are really speaking to me. For example, this $349, 5x8' wool rug (available in both black and white):I'm not sure why I like it so much, I just know that I do.
Another option is this zebra patterned wool rug, also 5x8', also $349, which would be a great upgrade from the polyester runner I currently have in my living room:
I've long wanted a hide rug for the space, but the more I think about it, the more I feel it would be a bit off-putting (especially for my vegan friends). With that in mind, I'm considering all three of the rugs above. Which do you think would work best? The light one would probably get too dirty... And remember, my living room currently looks like this:
The runner I have isn't so bad, especially as far as $20 solutions go, but I'm itching for a change.
Is Structube the answer? Any thoughts?
EDITED TO ADD:
Check out this quick mock up my friend Patty did. Neat right?
 I know it's slightly annoying of me to keep posting and boasting about my awesome thrift store finds. But I just can't help it! I find some of the neatest stuff at Goodwill and the like. (I'm no Rashon Carraway - a.k.a. Mr. Goodwill Hunting, but I'm no slouch.) So it's impossible to "keep shut" about it (as my moms used to say). Anyway.
My latest find came from my local Sally Anne. I popped in for a quick tool around in order to see if the store had any refurbishable pieces in the furniture department for the Pete Project. They didn't. What they DID have was a set of bedding. Natural linen (sort of a light sand shade), embroidered with seemingly African-inspired animals. The set was in perfect condition, free of stains and clearly never used. I paid $14.99 for the duvet cover and $2 for the pillow cases. So all in all, it cost less than $20. initially, I thought the bedding might suit Pete, since it's relatively tribal and manly. However, once I got it home, I started to do a bit of research and now that I know what I've got, I selfishly want to keep it for myself. It's House of Anin (Casa Anin) bedding, hand-embroidered in Namibia. The company calls itself a "bespoke" operation. I wonder if that means they're fair trade? Regardless, it looks like you can only buy it directly, so I'm gusssing someone who went on holiday to Africa must have brought this bedding home in their suitcase, which is pretty neat. While initially, I just liked it, as the days pass, I fall more and more in love. Instead of giving it to Pete, I might box it up and save it for my someday cottage. What do you think? You like? * Images of different Casa Anin embroidery motifs from the company website.
I have a new obsession: granny square afghans. It's completely bizarre. Every time I see one kicking around at Goodwill or the Sally Anne, I think... 'Wow. That is SO granny!'
And then I buy it.
It's a sickness! It's like I've caught some sort of extremely robust granny blanket bug.
I bring the blankets home, Nathan looks at me like I've lost my mind, then I box them up and put them away. Because at the moment, there's really no place for granny blankets in my house.
I have no idea why I'm doing this. In the back of my mind, there's some vague notion of a future cottage, nursery, etc., but in the real world - the world of today - granny blankets don't suit me at all.
And really... do they suit ANYBODY? Anybody who's NOT actually a granny?
So my question to you is this: is there room in a chic life for the granny blanket?
You tell me.
Last week, while doing my usual "why don't I live THERE?" envy-soaked web trawling, I came across this Design*Sponge sneak peek of the home of Kimberly and John Canale. This is their bathroom: Image from Design*Sponge. Photo taken Jen Huang. I saw this image and immediately thought, "I need that shower curtain. Like, NOW." It's a feeling Design*Sponge gives me almost every day, frankly. (Watch out for that site, guys. It's addictive.) But still... I felt it more acutely than usual in this case. Thomas Paul stuff can be found at a lot of different places. At Anthropologie, for example, and via Design Public. Know where it can't be found? At MY house. I seriously have to remedy this. I'm full of a rather unusual (for me, anyway) desire to buy buy buy! Spend spend spend! I see Thomas Paul, and I can't help it, I feel... greedy. In addition to the octopus shower curtain, I want... This melamine whale plate:This black and white botanical print rug:
This fish scarf (blanket/towel thing):
Want want want. Now now now.
I have to get a hold of myself. Seriously.
* Final three product photos from the Thomas Paul website.
Hey friends. I'm contemplating a little DIY I wanted to tell you about.
Back in the fall, Nate and I went to NYC for a holiday. It was great. And while there, I bought a bunch of tee shirts from a street vendor (5 for $10 thankyouverymuch) with the intention of making a couple of throw pillows.
We've been back for months, and once I get the darn Christmas tree down, I think I'll be ready to begin. I have no sewing machine or skills, so I'll be doing this by hand, but I've made pillows before. It's not hard.
Still, now that the time has come, I'm beginning to wonder if this is actually a good idea.
I know my idea isn't very original. Would "I Heart NY" throw pillows be cute and graphic or generic and trendy? Can you think of any other fun uses for the tees that I might not have thought of? Should I just go for it? Lemme know.
 If you read the site regularly, you've probably noticed my bed/bedroom obsession. Last October, I made my first duvet cover, and attempted to mix and match patterns. This summer, I made an attempt to brighten the room by switching out my throw and flipping my pillows. I wasn't always like this. I used to be a hardcore advocate of white, white, and more white. Now, all I want is colour. And the colour I like best changes all the time. It's a bit of a problem.
Anyway, this weekend, I made an attempt to autumn-ize my bedding with yet another injection of colour (to go along with the butterflies I told you about on Monday). What do you think? I even sewed new throw pillow colours (by hand, thankyouverymuch). Though, to be fair, my hand-sewing isn't really impressive since the only reason I sew by hand is the fact that I don't own a sewing machine. And actually, even if I did, I wouldn't know how to use it, because in Grade 7 and 8 Home Economics class I got a boy named Filippo to do my sewing for me and I didn't learn a thing. But anyway. The whole thing came together quickly. After sewing up the pillows, I just added a burgundy sheet set (which you can see only a bit of on the back pillow cases). Then, I threw on a satin throw (which is actually a vintage bedspread from Value Village).
Like? No like? I'm into it. I think it's one of those small change, big impact kind of things.
Does your rental apartment suck?
I've been there. But the truth is, you may be part of the problem. Why accept what you've been given when you can make it better? (Cheaply and easily.)
With that in mind, here's the third installment in my wee series about how to fix up your rental in a single weekend on a VERY limited budget.
Part 3: Your Apartment Sucks - Throw Some Textiles At It
Venetian blinds. Oh, how I hate thee. You are made of plastic, metal or molding wood. You are disgustingly dusty. Sometimes sticky too. You are impossible to clean. You have been in my horrible rental since the beginning of time. You are often broken. I hate you, venetian blinds. I hate you.
Solution? Drapes! You don't even have to remove your venitians to make them work. In fact, it might be a good idea to keep them (especially if you can manage to get them reasonably clean.)
Drapery panels are inexpensive at big box stores and the like. However, I like to make my own curtains/drapes when I move into a new place. It's easy. I swear.
Here's how you do it: - Measure from the top of your windows to your floor. Write these numbers down.
- Head to a discount fabric store. Pick out what you like. Any fabric will do for a rental, frankly. I've even used inner lining for suits ($0.99 a yard). You could also consider sheets. Really. They have built-in hems. Any fabric that's long enough and that you like.
- Have the pieces cut AT the fabric store to the right length (2 pieces per window, at the measurement or as close as possible to the measurement noted above. A little more (say a half yard) over that measurement is necessary, not less.
- At home, using iron-on hemming tape to hem the bottom and sides of your panels. If the fabric is thick enough, you could also use a glue gun. OR, if you can sew, you can do the hems that way.
- Now, make a big fat hem at the top of the panels, leaving some space through which you can thread a curtain rod.
- Buy and install curtain rods of your choice. (Shown above l-r: an inexpensive craft rod, a bit of wood dowling, an IKEA rod that costs $9.99 and another IKEA rod that I am using in my current apartment, which only cost about $2). They are ALL inexpensive and all you need to install them is about 4 screws and possible some anchors, which will probably come with the rods. If you use a heavy fabric, however, you will need a more substantial rod that won't bend. These ones are only good for lightweight curtains.
- Thread the panels into rods and voila. No need for "real" drapes. These work just fine. And even if you never close the, they create depth and visual interest that improves even the worst venetians.
Here's what my current living room curtains look like using this method, the cheapest IKEA rod and fabric from Goodwill. I'm into it. I didn't hem the bottoms. I just let them pool on the floor. We didn't have venetians, luckily, so I installed these inexpensive bamboo blinds instead.
And finally, going back to my very first singles apartment (the one with the teal stove) here is my first attempt at DIY curtains, made from polyester suit lining and hung on two cheapo craft rods (gold finish). Aw. Sad and sort of adorably pathetic, right? I was poor and this was nine years ago. But so what? I was trying and I was learning. And now, I'm glad I made the effort. You will be too.
 People in the design business (or rather, the design magazine business) just can't seem to shut up about Suzanis. This has been going on for awhile and it's endlessly irritating. I get it. "Ethnic" fabrics are in. (And don't get me started on the word ethnic as an adjective. We're all have ethnicity, thankyouverymuch. Even white people. You heard it here first. But I digress.)
Suzanis. Along with Ikat, they're everywhere. Lynda Reeves of Canadian House and Home even admitted as much in an online TV episode earlier this year. She knows we're getting annoyed. Nonetheless, the designers aren't letting it drop and frankly, they've worn me down. I'm converted. I'm brainwashed. I want one. I can't help it.  Suzani textiles ARE beautiful. (Though, not more beautiful than, say, Hawaiian quilts, but were I to get into every beautiful textile in the world we'd be here forever.)
My point is, how did this happen? A year ago, I was irritated by the mere whiff of a suzani mention. Now, I'm filled with a near-overwhelming craving. I used to WORK in media. I can't believe I fell victim to this. Nonetheless, here we are.
There are, in my mind at least, so many things to dislike about Suzani textiles. Their historic association with the dowry, for example. The incredibly high prices they sell for in North America (prices which often don't even result in basic financial security for the actual craftspeople -- women). Sigh.
 I keep trying to talk myself out of wanting one, but I'm not having much luck. There's one bright spot in all this: I am poor (with a lower-case p) and by the time I manage to gather together enough cash to get an authentic imported Suzani of my very own, (or to afford a trip to one of the 'stans to buy one from the source) they'll probably we woefully out of style, and thus, much less appealing. That's how these things tend to go. * All Creative Commons images in this post from Anne Laure PY of the Silk Road Project from her Flickr page.
P.S. Love Suzanis? The blog Design Ties does too. Back in February, they collected many pretty images.
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