If I were global dictator, I would institute a policy that required every bathroom to have some sort of nautical theme. It just makes sense for bathrooms to evoke tropical beach vacation vibes. To meet my policyâs minimum requirements, citizens of the world would have to procure a piece of seashell art. The highest tier of seashell art is the kind that depicts a wacky scenario. For example, you could have a pelican with an auger shell beak playing the ukulele in a straw hat (he must have googly eyes haphazardly hot glued onto his face). Or, you could have an owl made of clam shells playing golf in crooked wire-rimmed glasses (also haphazardly hot-glued). A second-tier option would be a clam shell soap dish. When you get a clam shell soap dish, your bathroom is no longer a bathroom, itâs a powder room. Seashell art in your bathroom is the epitome of class, and I wish the world understood this.
My grandmother lives in one of the last blocks in her Jersey shore town that hasnt been torn down and made into condos. Her bathroom has a seashell border painted around the wall and the whole room is covered in a layer of 40 year old sand. the laundry room walls are a mural of kids holding hands and jumping on the beach. So nostalgic... I can smell it.... I agree with this decree.
theyre so beautiful and pretty and like kinda crazy to imagine that some soul in the most natural part of the earth made it as a little hermit for themselves.. and if u want u can paint the edges with gold paint and it looks gorg! and if u, like most of us, happen to not live near a glorious bed of sand and waterđ˘, u can heal ur inner child by putting your ear into like shower water or in a bowl of water, and pretend like youâre hearing the ocean on your seashell like ariel
This smells like costume jewelry, like dime store romance novels, like a slim-fitting pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. Formulated by the unbelievably raunchy Edouard FlĂŠchier, Poison is a guttural, putrefied tuberose that hits you like a freight train running. Itâs a mollified plum, thick as molasses. This smells like the death of Elizabeth Taylor. Do not wear it in the daytime.
Iâm quite famous for these. Theyâre not very long lasting, and I am no cobbler, I am no mender, so I go through around 3 pairs per year. Think of them as leather socks: they make your feet look small and strange, like Lord Farquaadâs. Wearing them daily has helped me cultivate the heart of a dancer. Jazz shoes are very similar to Lululemon leggings, theyâre appealing because it makes some part of your body look like itâs been dipped in an obsidian lacquer. The clean-girl version of sensual footwear. The soles of your feet will be very close to the ground in these, and I hear being close to the ground is Buddhist.
A premier haunt in the corniest part of San Antonio (near the Riverwalk, next door to the Alamo), The Menger Hotel is the only place on earth where you could encounter the ghost of Davy Crockett and Teddy Roosevelt in the same room. Other ghosts include murdered maids, the Alamo martyrs, and almost every historical figure that has set foot in its quarters. I highly recommend booking the Oscar Wilde suite in the Victorian Wing. It smells like bleach, but you can literally feel the luxe gay energy emanating from the walls. If an overnight stay at the most haunted hotel in Texas is not to your liking, you can always grab a post-Alamo Lonestar at the Menger Bar. Sit on the stool where Carrie Nation (famous historical crone) smashed the bar with a hatchet to further the cause of the temperance movement. Or, you can sit at one of the tables where Teddy Roosevelt recruited his Rough Riders. When youâve gobbled that Lonestar down, make sure to tour the lobby, where you can find Frank Lewis Van Nessâs âVenting Cattle on the Frisco Systemâ, a massive Western painting featured in the 1956 epic âGiantâ (James Deanâs last film). Finally, you can grab a mango ice cream at the Colonial Room Restaurant. As Bill Clinton said, âmango ice cream at the Menger Hotel is one of the greatest treasures of American life.â