J'aime beaucoup le mobilier métallique Tolix

Last week, I wrote a piece about the Tolix tabouret avec dossier. Tolix makes a counter stool that I can't get out of my head. My post started off complaining about seeing prices listed in Euros on American websites and how that gets on my nerves because it strikes me as a pose, an affectation. Unlike American bloggers who write headlines in French of course. For the record, I write headlines in French because I'm worldly, not because I'm striking a pose. Hah!

Anyhow, in that post, I mentioned Melissa Adelman's great Antiquaire, a Chicago-area purveyor of fine European antiques and imports. Antiquaire's a distributor of all things Tolix and Melissa and I traded a couple of e-mails after that original post appeared on the 13th. She's an interesting woman and based on the photos of her shop on Antiquaire's website, I feel a sudden urge to fly to Chicago. Seriously, look over her website. I can't imagine a more thorough inventory than hers.

In the course of my correspondence with Melissa and in getting familiar with her site, I

 have really fallen for the entire collection of Tolix metal furniture (that's mobilier métallique to my fellow world travelers). In addition to the counter stools I mentioned last week, Tolix manufactures a full line of chairs, tables and lockers. Everything they make shares the same blend of utility and whimsy and I can't get enough of it.

Tolix was started in 1907 by Xavier Pauchard, who brought the art of galvanizing steel to France. By 1927, Pauchard started making his now iconic metal cafe chairs and tables. Tolix chairs graced the decks of the Normandie and still crowd the sidewalks of Paris. All Tolix metal furniture is still made in the same Burgundian town where it all began, Autun.

At a loss for some counter stools or some patio chairs? Look through Melissa's collection of new and vintage Tolix furniture. It's beautiful, timeless and indestructible stuff.

Give me some of that house love

A friend of mine sent me this video the other day and it has to be the most heartwarming thing I've seen in ages. This short film is a loving tribute to a restoration of a Queen Anne home in Cincinnati. From the mere act of watching, my mind conjures quite a story of who these restorers are. Clearly, they love one another deeply, almost as deeply as they love this house.

I was looking at another friend's photographs the other day and she had a number of shots of her dog reclining on a Duncan Phyfe-style sofa in her living room. It made me laugh and it got me thinking about how easy it is for me to forget that real people have to live out their real lives in the spaces I design for a living. Queen Anne reproductions just aren't my style, but I like to think that the sentiment so present in the video above is. It's an honor really, to be asked to inject a little of that house love into somebody else's life. I can plot and plan all I want but I'm not doing my job very well if the kids can't do their homework at the dining table or if the dog can't climb up on the couch.

Dirty, turdy, birdy feet

In honor of the Great Backyard Bird Count that's still underway, I had these lovelies pointed out to me from the great website Rare Device.

I have an allergic reaction to cuteness I swear, so these things are safe for me to be around. I get it that I have some ideas about what constitutes an objet d'art that are specific to me. I get it. With that said I can't think of a cooler objet to set on the corner of my living room bookcase. I love birds so that's covered, I love cast metal and that's covered too. They're perfect!

Rare Device has scores of other one-of-a-kind artistically minded pieces. Think of it as Etsy without all of the cheesy, crafty stuff. You should check them out.

Cheap fixes: fast, fat shelves

Check this out:

I love the look of what's usually called a chunky shelf, but the prices charged for most of them border on the criminal. Here's a cheap do-it-yourself project I found on Reader's Digest's website of all places. All you need is some basic tools, a couple of hours and an appreciation for cheap fixes that don't look cheap.

1. Pick up an 18" or 24" wide hollow core door or two.

2. Mark the studs on the wall where you want your shelf to go.

3. Using either a table saw or a circular saw (use a fence or some kind of straight edge if you're going the circular saw route), and cut the door in half.

4. Hollow core doors are actually not hollow. They have a corrugated cardboard core. Take a wood chisel (or a steak knife) and remove the corrugated cardboard center.

5. Measure the inside dimension of the thickness of the door. Round the number down to the nearest eighth inch.

6. Cut a 2x4 to the thickness of the inside dimension of the door's hollow core. This 2x4 is the cleat that will hold up your shelf and make it appear to float.

7. Draw a straight line across the studs you've already marked on the wall. This straight line will be the line where you set the bottom of the cleat.

8. Screw or bolt the cleat to the studs through the wall.

9. Apply carpenter's glue to the top of the cleat and the lower inside of the back of the shelf. Slide the shelf onto the cleat.

10. Fasten the shelf to the cleat with 1" brad nails space 8" apart.

11. Allow the glue to cure and paint your heart out. Paint them any color but the blue in these photos, please.

Oh, it's Valentine's Day too