As you all know, I am a girl of color. That came out weirdly
inappropriate, but you know what I mean. While I appreciate white in design, I
am more partial to pops of color and even saturated color. I feel more
comfortable with color. Otherwise, it seems like you’re living in a mental
institute, which I very well may be a candidate for. I have even completely
black lacquered my bedroom walls before in Santa Barbara. After I finished, I
crawled into my bed, and thought, “Ahh, peace.” So, I would never ever dress a
dinner table with solid white plates (unless they had a colorful trim or gold
trim). White plates are boring and borderline psychotic. However, I am also a
girl of great contradictions and I love ironstone. Pure milky white antique
ironstone. How could you not?
My love of ironstone has its origins at my grandmother’s
house. You may be wondering why I talk about my grandmother all the time. It’s
because she was a huge part of my life and very influential to my style. My
siblings and I with my mother actually even lived at my grandparent’s house for
a while because my parents got a divorce…but didn’t tell us. Our questions of, “Why
are we living at grandma’s?” were left unanswered. They got remarried later so
they never thought it was it was of any importance to mention it to their own
children. But the good news is that we lived in ignorant bliss at my
grandmother’s big fat house and had cucumber sandwiches and iced tea every day in
the “downstairs screened in porch.” (She also had an “upstairs screened in porch”
where all the grandchildren slept in the summertime in little twin beds covered
in her handmade quilts. There were big steamer trunks at the end of each bed
and we played make-believe that we were on the Queen Mary traveling overseas.) My
grandmother’s housekeeper, Parthenia, would serve us our cucumber sandwiches on
white bread with the crust cut off on Red Cliff ironstone plates. It was my
grandmother’s everyday china. Around the edges was a raised grape and leaf
pattern. They were thick and heavy and nearly indestructible… Such is the case
with all ironstone.
There is a time and place for everything and I think ironstone
has its place in certain households. Hamptons
house, Carmel beach house, wintery Maine shingled cottage, French farmhouse… all
are conducive to ironstone but I think
it would look ridiculous if you used ironstone in a modern Parisian
pied-à-terre, or anywhere in downtown Hong Kong. :-) Just doesn’t work. I also
think that ironstone works best as a collection. Additionally, it’s really
important (Is this starting to sound like The World According to Ellie? Pardonnez-moi,
if it is.) to NOT use ironstone with “shabby chic” (shoddy chic, according to me).
That would just be too contrived and obvious. Remember, good design is about a slight
juxtaposition. I think I just contradicted myself again. What I mean is that
you need to mix your crap with the good stuff but subtly and in the right
context. It’s called originality… Look it up. :-) Do I sound drunk today?
I have two more days, no, three more days of my ramblings
about dishes and then I will “fermer la bouche.” Stay tuned for tomorrow’s
dishes. Hint: “swirl.”
A toute!
