Living Room Wreckage

Coco Says "Choose Buster!"

Richard: If you're gay, you already know Coco Chanel's edict on accessories: before leaving the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off.

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Welcome To The Jumble

Eric: Be warned. I'm a bit crabby from having to go over the basics yet again. Do you have any idea how hard it is to repeat yourself without repeating yourself? Get your pencils and steno pads ready, cuz here we go again.

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Where Modernity Has Been Beaten Back at the Door (Thank God!)

Shawn: Nothing quite says dart the fuck toward the nearest escape route like the winning combination of excessive backwoods religious symbolism and amateur home taxidermy. If this is a family dwelling, then certainly our enigmatic occupant -- who could pass for a wood sprite in Legend -- is the token babe-like son who lures stranded vacationing couples from the main highway to their doom. Either that, or it's time to pay tribute to He Who Walks Behind The Rows again.

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Great Walls of Masonite

Richard: The 1970s were cruel to America: Vietnam. Polyester. The DeFranco Family. On the design front, the country's post-World War II optimism -- embodied by thousands of ranch-style homes littering new suburbs -- had gone the way of the radio drama. Left behind were a bunch of clinically depressed architects who eliminated natural light in the hope of sheltering clients from the awful world beyond their thick, imposing front doors.

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Curios and Curioser

Eric: Do not watch History Channel as porn. That's what CMT is for. With the sound off. And the pants. This room is making me as unfocused as it is itself, so I'm just going to pick a random point and start digging.

I know we've been told to Think Pink, but this tone belongs in a Regency print room, not here in the fifth level of Design Hell. Knock it down a bit with a beige glaze, maybe with a whisk-broom linen texture.

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How to Keep the Hoarders Crew Away From the Door

Richard: When we look at the photos you've submitted to Lurid Digs, we hear music. Occasionally, the tune running through our head is The Carpenters' Close to You, but scanning this pic, all we're getting is a mashup of Ted Nugent's Cat Scratch Fever and Lynyrd Skynyrd's Ooh, That Smell, remixed by Ozzy Osbourne. It's not as good as you'd think.

Our subject has made (at least) two unforgivable faux pas:

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Dances With Tchotchkes

Richard: Hi, Bob. Thanks for having me over. I know that you have a choice in design consultants, and I appreciate the trust you've put in me and in the Lurid Digs team.

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Archie's Bunker

Eric: Vintage is easy. You get some war-era stuff at a thrift store. you get more when your mother's relatives start dying. Your primary and secondary colors (here green, gold and grey) are in place. You think you're set.

You're not.

Vintage is hard. Too much of it and you have Archie Bunker's living room. If you don't optically erase that low ceiling, you have his understocked bomb shelter.

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Border Incident

Richard: When this little number crossed our in-boxes, we shrugged it off with a "meh". Where were the retina-searing color combos, the dizzying collection of sexual accoutrements?

Granted, that resin-framed wall mirror doesn't inspire us with confidence, but given the piping on the sofa upholstery and the lucite side chair, this room seems far more tasteful than our typically lurid digs.

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Home Invasion Alert!

Shawn: Lady In A Cage! Lady In A Cage! Somebody please call the cops STAT! because somewhere in this gilded cage a distinguished lady of a certain age is in mortal peril! I'm often astounded by the visual dissonance between decor and occupant here on Lurid Digs, but this one just has home invasion written all over it.

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