Monday 22 June 2009

touʹəl

Since settling in and having long ago abandoned old linens, like with the pillows, to packing-related missions, I have felt uninspired to order new towels. Towels are some of the most genuinely innovative pieces of handiwork in existence. One can use them far beyond the conventional shower--they can be used as a sling or a brace or a tourniquet, to wipe up all sorts of spills and splashes, be worn as a skirt or a superhero cape or swami turban--and can feel better and more luxuriant than few things. I think that I keep threatening to order some to dampen the rush to buy an expensive set from the boutique. New towels should be things one comes across spontaneously or they fall from the heavens fully-formed and in a gift basket. By myself, however, I find myself also very non-committal and reluctant to buy anything but one patchworked item at a time. We do need to hold some in reserve in order to practice some restraint with the laundry, but there is also the matter of the decor of the bathrooms. One could be decidedly nautical but we are veering away from that style. I like Frog Royalty too well to keep with bleached sea shells and sand dollars. The other bathroom is more modern and industrial, which I like as well, except for the decorative tiles which have little metallic silver accents on every three or four tiles. They are not harsh and glaring but it looks like something that would grace the dressing-room of Jem and the Holograms or if Charlie Sheen's interior decorator trophy-wife in Wall Street had designed it.