A Treasury Of… Minneapolis Fashion and Interior Design Blog

Elements of my domain’s design, present and future…

Curated junk that’s been sitting real still atop a wooden plank on my stairway radiator. A tablescape but minus the table.

And a new (but old) photograph of the ZR1/US Shenandoah drifting above the Lakehurst Hangar, December 1923. Currently awaiting a wall to land on. Probably in my office or the larger one across the hall.

Sometimes I’ll see an old black & white photograph of soldiers and think about taking it home and tacking it up on my wall. But it seems slightly insensitive, turning their wartime tasks and troubles into trend-ified decor.

Photographs of rugby or rowing jocks seem safer and equally as stylish, but, really have no place padding the walls of anywhere I live – there’s nothing about me that’s ever been slightly sportsman-like.

So it was such a score to come upon this American Legion Chorus image. Former soldiers singing on stage, dressed up to the nines – that sits with me just fine.

I’m really hypnotized by the regal pomp of the image. It has such a magical mood to it that today is all but extinct, I think.

If directors of Jenny Lewis or The National music videos don’t read this and cop the concept themselves, I’m gonna dress one of my gal pals up in a Lady Liberty look and set her on stage with some white-tuxed tenors and baritones and shoot something similar myself.

So inspiring…

Made from .375 H & M Magnum shells these beauties are mighty on many, many levels. A round of five, standing at attention in a glass jar would be bad (in the good way) on any gent’s desk.

I framed these two Bissier prints to place somewhere in my bedroom that I’m currently re-decorating in a theme I’ve dubbed “Under The Cherry Moon.”

Haven’t found just the perfect place for them yet, however.

I come from a family filled with “Bill-for-short” Williams.

When my mother was a child, for some silly reason, she craved crazily this miniature horse-shoe that hung on her brother Bill’s bedroom door.

Careful and cunning, my mother patiently waited five long decades before secretly confiscating her prize during a summer trip to her hometown of Detroit.

She handed it over to me immediately, and although I’m always a William or a Will and never quite a Bill, I’m still excited to pound a nail above my clothes closet and hang up this highly coveted horse-shoe.

I had to take down a 1940s-era photograph of my German Grandmother to make room for this gun print in my first floor hallway.

Don’t worry, Grandma. I’ll find someplace better for you – I promise.