I was talking to a friend yesterday (and I can prove it, because I was attempting a conference call, and we accidentally recorded 15 minutes' of our conversation on the third party's answering machine. Comedic gold, mind you, so I'm sure she won't be upset. And if she is, well, she should have been home.)
My friend, Man in Kimono (MIK), told me he'd spent the previous evening with a "gaggle of lesbians" (I had a moment's pause there, wondering if "lesbians" should be capitalized, then I decided only if it actually referred to residents of the isle of Lesbos, then I realized the gaggle in question could conceivably have been from Lesbos, but then I thought, why would you leave Lesbos for Toronto in early March? And that's when I settled on small "l" lesbians.). They were in the Laurentian Room (at least, I think it was a room, I know it definitely wasn't the Laurentians, because who would leave a bar in Toronto for the Laurentians in early March?) an old club that has been "restored to its 1930s art-deco glory."
And then I started thinking...(I'm a sucker for this "Sex and the City" format) why can't I be restored to my 1930s art deco glory? You should have seen me, I was something else in the 1930s. Much better than during that embarrassing Soviet Monumentalist period that followed. But I digress...
MIK said although he didn't generally approve of art deco in the home ("I mean, let's face it, if I wanted to live in the Chrysler Building, I would."*) he'd been inspired by his evening in the Laurentian Room to return his bathroom to its 1930s art-deco glory. This, apparently, involved a bottle of wine and some mucking about with the electrical wiring, so, if you're reading this MIK, all I can say is, I'm relieved.
*Note to readers: He would.
(Above: MIK. Left: MIK restored to his 1930s art-deco glory.)
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