Why do my rooms always look like an explosion of absolute madness?
Joyful madness, but still…
Below is my Hollywood bungalow on Sunset and Martel where I loved by myself for 4 years. This photo of me standing on my head was taken in 1997 on my closing night in Eating Raoul The Musical, which I know from all the bouquets of flowers on the floor. Please note my enormous poster of Van Gogh’s sunflowers which I bought in Amsterdam and stuck on all my walls with thumbtacks. I also hung sunhats on my wall and have dolphin windchimes hanging from my ceiling INSIDE! Why? I don’t know. The fireplace has candles, fairies, photos, and twinkle lights draped on it. Someone gave me that old tv which stuck out at least 24 inches in the back and was propped on milk crates. The silk covering the window is hand dyed batik by the Grateful Dead’s Dancing Bear. He gave it to me as a gift. I loved the color and the creativity!
Another shot of me talking on a phone ATTACHED TO THE WALL, sitting on the floor of my bungalow because I did not own a chair! But I did own a lot of cassettes and pink feathers obviously. Kim and I found that crazy fan on teh street and lugged it home together. I called it my “B-52 propeller fan” and it worked AMAZING!
And here’s my room at 16. I had a waterbed that I loved. Please note my super cook 80’s hat, my dramatic poster of a crying girl, a statue of a cat I got at my favorite vintage shop and my Elvis album. Someone gave me the china doll with white marabou. My windowsill is packed with books: fiction, biographies, and poetry of course, there are sequin scarves draped over my window, and I loved the cover of the sheet music for the song “Against All Odds” because I thought it was sexy and romantic.
I’m 52 and my bedroom still looks the same, except more pink and glittery. I still love being surrounded by vibrant color and anything that makes me swoon with delight!
