Still in use by a private collector
]
Don’t adhere too closely to periods. If you have acquired a few _good_
pieces of Egyptian furniture of the Shepherd King Period for your
living-room, they may be easily combined with Sheraton or Eastlake
by placing a Ming vase or an old French fowling-piece between the
two groups; or you may cover the transition by a light scattering of
Mexican pottery, or some Java wine-jars.
Don’t hang your Boucher pastels on the same wall with your stuffed
moose-head. The proper place for the moose-head is over the
shower-bath, where it can be fitted by any good plumber with a nozzle
and used as a fixture.
Don’t attempt to do too much in the boudoir. The boudoir is a place
for restful repose and should be kept quiet. A few simple hangings,
a coquettish rosette or two of bright-colored ribbon attached to the
shutters, a _pince-nez_ over the mantelpiece, a couple of Waterford
crystal chandeliers with a light rod of dull brass between them from
which to suspend either a samovar or an old ship model—these touches
will be found sufficient to combine the charm of an intimate interior
with the lure that intrigues.
Don’t attempt to use alfalfa as a decoration for mirror- and
picture-frames. I know that this has been widely attempted, but the
effect is never good. Alfalfa has no place in the best interiors. Its
place is out-of-doors and it should be kept there. This is a point
upon which I have the strongest convictions, and what I usually say
to beginning decorators who insist upon using alfalfa in the home is
answer sufficient, I am sure. “Do you expect your client to entertain
horses?” I inquire. “If not, then the place for alfalfa is where it
will be convenient for the horse, but not in the living-room and not in
the reception-room. No, not even in the _entresol_.” I admit that there
was a charm in the customs of our ancestors under Garfield and Arthur,
when cat-tails and sumach were thus employed, and I find the tendency
to return to them rather intriguing; but alfalfa produces an effect too
stringy and tends to clutter. Let us have no more of it.
Finally, don’t paint your front hall water-cooler with floral scenes.
Go to some good marine painter and instruct him to make a decoration
in keeping with the purpose of the cooler. There is water inside the
vessel, is there not? Then let him paint water outside. Better still,
coat your cooler with mucilage and lightly spray powdered mica upon it.
But _don’t_, whatever you do, attempt to ornament your cooler with
festoons of gilt tassels. Your cooler is not the place for tassels. I
know it is done, but my last and only word on the subject is, Don’t.
Tassels of _any_ kind are absolutely out of key on your cooler. They
should be kept for your umbrella, where they will give that personal
touch that is distinctive.
These constitute most of what dear old General X used frolicsomely to
call my “little Don’ties,” and if they prove of some inspiration to the
beginning decorator or even to the commencing householder, this work
will not have been written in vain.
[Illustration]
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OTHER BOOKS FOR THE
ANTIQUE-LOVER