A Love that dare not speak its Name

Until yesterday, I never believed it was possible to be sexually attracted to furniture.

But then, my new lounge suite arrived...

Oooh.... so red. So sexy. So reminiscent of a 1920s Parisian bordello.

Of course I picked it out in the shop, so I knew what it looked like, but that was six weeks ago, and actually seeing it in my living room in all of its red suede glory is like taking a bath in chocolate while eating chocolate and dreaming about chocolate.

To add to the saloon-like feel, I today had my DIY-lovin' Dad round to help put up my Paris-themed art prints in a 3X3 fashion...

The prints themselves were bought Seine-side while in Gay Paris last October, but the frames are $2.99 jobs from "The Warehouse". The prints include a couple of Toulouse-Lautrec's popular paintings of the Montmatre/bohemian life, as well as some turn-of-the-century advertisements and my favourite, a from-behind portrait of the famous cabaret dancer (and French Resistance fighter) Josephine Baker. My grandmother Pat, who's down from Vanuatu at the moment, saw that print, and told me that my late grandfather Maciej actually SAW Baker perform live when he was a 17-year-old naval cadet on R&R in the French capital. Apparently he never forgot Josephine Baker and her bananas. So there you go - a sweet, if somewhat bizarre, link with my Grandad.

The roses on the table and the gorgeous crystal vase they're in are courtesy of my Gran. I also had a visit from my mentor Robyn, who very kindly gave me a set of gorgeous tumblers and a wok as a house-warming gift. My mother has also chipped in (again) with a bucket-and-sticks arrangement for the front entrance. With all these things, my previously messy bit of space is now becoming more like a home, albeit with a slightly brothel-y feel!