DISCLAIMER: have you ever been to the beauty salon for a wax and you can’t fully trust the waxer because, frankly, her upper lip is looking a little too fuzzy-peach for your liking? I have, and I felt extremely uncomfortable, until I saw the exceptionally professional and thorough job she was able to perform despite her own questionable facial hair preferences.
I am the metaphorical wooly waxer: if my style does not appeal to you, please don’t lose faith, I swear, I know what I’m taking about. Kind of.
This is my bedroom. Love it. Embrace it. Hate it. Be completely disinterested by it. It’s your life.
Just…stay with me.
I moved into our specky little flat January this year, and I’ve finally gotten the bedroom to the stage where I’m ready to take photos of it. It’s not done though. It’ll never be done, as is the way with design and preference, constantly changing. For the time being though, this is my style.
Thinking about getting some artwork, because apparently painting a 6 foot venetian style mural of me and my flat mates as cherubs is frowned upon when you’re renting.
Stay tuned, I might post some photos of the rest of the house too. If ya lucky.