Oh, gosh, I used to be sooo obsessed with Rachel Ashwell's Shabby Chic. I can still hear her crackly voice talking about the beauty of an old, weathered bookend or how a lace table runner can change an entire room. It's every girl's dream and my husband's worst nightmare: overstuffed bedding, heirloom cutlery, cracked paint, French country interiors, crystal chandeliers, and slipcovers for everything.
Me: "But, G, it's shabby chic!"
Husband: "Whut the hell is shabby chic?!"
I guess if your whole house looked like this it could drive one nuts. I can imagine Rachel's husband kind of like Rodger, Rachel Zoe's husband, whose wife has run amuck and taken over everything. And all the hubby can do is sit in his 18th century-inspired daybed reading the newspaper because logging on to the New York Times app on his Ipad is so NOT shabby chic.
Isn't it so lovely, though?