I don’t think I made it perfectly clear earlier that not only am I in New Orleans, but I am actually living in my house here, the house with which I have been struggling to renovate for the last year and a half and which seemed like would be the death of me.
The fabulous blue guest room which Secret Agent Fred and Diane von Austinberg each refer to as “My room.” I’m staying out of it.
Towards the rear
And towards the front. Sometimes I just turn around and take pictures.
Obviously, the kitchen. The cabinet maker tried really hard to talk me out of red, which he kept referring to as “RED.” Sometimes it’s best just to ignore people. Often, in fact.
The cabinet doors are all recycled from long gone houses.
These are all living room featuring the Wall O’ Windows.
Cause every house needs a blackamoor.
The great big clock started out life in one of the big department stores down on Canal Street, at least that’s what the antique store hawking it said.
My bedroom. I call the lovely taupe “Expensive Mud.” And yes, I’m using the fireplace as a headboard. You got something to say about that?