Knock knock.

Knock knock.

door-knocker

Technology. Does anyone really like technology? Clapping three times to turn on your bathroom light is LAZY. You will be cool for 2.5 seconds. This beautiful door knocker, on the other hand, is timeless. Painstakingly crafted, three hundred years ago by a blacksmith, who slaved away for forty days and forty nights, fingers gnarled, beard covered in sweat and soot, and now I’m fantasizing about my imaginary blacksmith.

Back to technology. If you plan on replacing something once the novelty wears off, go ahead and splurge on a robotic couch. Just realize you threw away two paychecks and no one’s going to want to sit on that thing in five years. My rule. When buying furniture, look for things that are as old as your great-great-great grandmother. You can’t go wrong.

Last weekend, Pepito and I were wandering around Marché à la Brocante, and I stumbled across a trove of door knockers that had come from the Hotel Lutetia in Paris. Of course, I immediately purchased every last one of them. I’m obsessed and can’t stop knocking my beautiful doors. Giselle loves it.

When it comes to the things you place in your home, forget the latest technology. Respect history and embrace authenticity. Garden statuary should be impossible to move. Tubs should have claw feet. Doors should have knockers. Amen.

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