Bedroom Terrors

Charles Rennie Mackintosh Meets Mary Poppins on a Meth Binge

Richard: Whoa, Nellie. There is so much to love about this shot, I hardly know where to begin. Let's start with the ceiling, since guests probably spend a lot of time staring at it. (Tex, too. Or so I've heard.) Unless I'm mistaken, that's some classy-ass beaded molding up there. No one speaks of beaded molding anymore, and that truly saddens me.

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The Little Yellow Room That Could

David: It's sadly rare here, at Lurid Digs, to give out the classic "A for effort" mention when deconstructing and revealing the secrets (and crimes) of the various interiors we showcase for you. And so, with the generous spirit of the holidays approaching, I will institute a new tradition: Acknowledging design tableaux that do 'try harder' -- despite antlers and pelts displayed on the walls.

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Jocelyn Wildenstein Was Here

Richard: Ignore, if you can, the brass festoonery, the faux-rose-and-ivy diorama, and the chutzpah-fueled-but-still-sad DIY valence: they're clumsy distractions from the room's overarching theme.

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Constructing Your Perfect "Esteem Mirror"

Steve: I'm not saying you need one of these, and even if you did need one of these, you might not have to actually consciously construct it — this is the kind of thing that slowly develops on your wall, in stages.

The form yours will take is based on your actual needs and planned usage model, but basic elements are: two kinds of fabric, tassels, hot glue, sconces, votives, and silken greenery. This is so simple, because you can basically combine them however you'd like, in any order.

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The Baroque Rodeo Collection: Now at Walmart!

Richard: Yes. This is what we've been hoping for, ladies and gentlemen: photographic evidence that proves The Gayz can have it all. They can be collectors of fine art reproductions; devoted brass enthusiasts; experienced world travelers (check the Mardi Gras beads swagged across the lampshade and the Aladdin-style lava lamp); purveyors of erotic photography; and proud family men. In fact, if you have the nads, you can be all of those AT THE SAME TIME.

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Stage Set Bedrooms Gone Wild

Shawn: There's a schism of self happening here, as if a Lost Boy were fumbling toward maturity without quite being able to leave callow youth behind him. The burnished wood bureau, dresser, and nightstand are noble attempts -- with the sore-thumb amassment of all manner of clocks insinuating a latent fixation on the inexorable passage of time -- but they're undone by the more puerile elements.

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Sundry Fabrics and the Whiter Shade of Male

Richard: This is not the sort of photo I like to see first thing in the morning. Before the coffee and Cocoa Puffs kick in, I thrive on The Obvious, but this? This is Sublime. It's postmodern mannerism -- like Madonna with the Long Neck, or Madonna with the Long, Ropey Arms. Which is to say, everything's normal at first glance, but look again, and it's all just a tiny bit off.

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Comfy Root Cellar or Communist Lair? You Decide.

David: I'm bothered by the Panda motif that adorns this bedroom. The cluster of stuffed toy Pandas atop the bookshelf and more alarming, the central Panda wall hanging. (Is that a blanket or a mock tapestry -- or both!?) The link between Panda bears and China is undeniable.

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The Smell of Grandma When You're Elbow Deep in Ass

Richard: Okay, it looks like we're faced with two possibilities. Option A: our new friend has attempted to transform one of Los Angeles' ubiquitous, white stuccoed closets/bedrooms (popcorn ceiling mandatory) into a stunning Austrian bordello using naught but a pair of mismatched, full-length mirrors, two sets of undersized, rick-racked drapery, and three reading lamps.

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Boldly Going Where No Interior Should Ever Venture

Shawn: Zachary Quinto excepted, for all my imagination and own self-aware geekery, I just can't make anything connected to Star Trek remotely arousing. To top it all off, I've reached critical mass when it comes to cabals of babies overrunning the world, so all those Enterprise models resemble nothing so much to me as they do rogue uteri complete with laser-blasting fallopian tubes.

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