A King and a Coat Hanger.

I’m a modern-day Archimedes. Sexy, right? I was melting down candles last weekend, and doesn’t everyone do that? In the process, I forgot that wax is super flammable.  When I instinctively threw water on that cauldron, it was like Backdraft in my kitchen, but, guess what. I just invented a fabulous, new technique for adding patina to your ceiling.

I think I’m getting sidetracked. What I really want to tell you is that my torero and I were in Paris on Monday, wandering around Galerie Vivienne, and look what I found! A marble relief of some dead king. The bullfighter thought it was Louis XVIII, but he’s not fat enough. I thought it was his brother, but that nose is way too small. Who cares. It’s gorgeous. And it weighs a TON. It probably is fatty the 18th. We chucked it in the back of our Bugatti and headed home, where I found the perfect spot for him in the hallway leading to my spiral staircase which, thank God, is finally finished.

Unfortunately, the walls here are plaster, so the minute you drive anything into them (picture hangers, motorcycles), they crumble. Fortunately, I have a brain. And coat hangers, some dog fence wire, a knack for serious swearing, and guess what. I figured out how to hang that whelaphant from the ceiling. Doesn’t he look ROYAL? Added a couple of pewter candlesticks, a soup tureen, and crystal glasses that we’re about to raise as a toast to my inner-inventor. Scene complete.

Love, Madeline