Cookie Elf 2007, Urban Edition ...
Nick once referred to my abode as a Laura Ashley house.
In my home's defense, allow me to say that there is no calico to be seen, and while I do like the occasional floral print, every inch of my house isn't dripping with it like some Shabby Chic experiment gone horribly awry.
But yes, I do tend toward cottage when it comes to my decorating, "cottage" as in an eclectic mix of stuff all peacefully coexisting in one room. If we stood in my living room, I could point to each thing and tell you its story about how I came to own it and I wouldn't mention the same place more than twice. Well, maybe three times. (I just realized two of my lamps are from Marshall Field's.) I don't walk into a furniture store and buy a "living room set." Nope. My loveseat is from Jennifer Convertibles. My chair is from Marshall Field's. My rug is from Pier 1. My coffee table (which is really a steamer trunk) is from an antique store in some Indiana town, the name of which I can't remember, but Gemma and I managed to get it into the back seat of her rental coupe. It was a very little red car. Getting that trunk in there was a feat of genius.
But I digress. The point is, a long time ago, back before I had a place of my own, back when I thought about what it would be like to live in the city, I had visions of black leather furniture and chrome and glass. Apparently, I thought I was a bachelor. But when I moved into my first place and started buying pieces, I never looked at anything modern. Then again, my studio wasn't a white box in a high-rise. It was in an older building with beautiful wood doors and moldings and modern furniture just would have looked weird.
So I have the taste I have, and I like it. It's comfortable. It's mine. And I'm sure I've been heavily influenced by my mom's decorating sense, too. My parents' house isn't matchy-matchy either.
What does all of this have to do with cookies, you ask?
Just this. Today is the Day 1 of playing Cookie Elf, and this year's packaging for the cookies is decidedly sleek. I found very cool matte silver bags at Hallmark with a simple grosgrain ribbon handle (which can be taken out of the way – for filling the bag – by putting the toggled end of the ribbon through a grommet in the bag). A bit of tissue paper went in the bottom of each bag, just for a bit of cushion, but the cellophane bundles (tied with pewter-colored ribbon to match the bags) are the only thing peeking out of the top. No tissue in sight. And the notes are affixed to the bags with binder clips because I love binder clips.
All of which makes for a decidedly urbane presentation of my tasty treats.
No calico in sight.