This post was inspired by Laura, a friend of mine, the owner of the restored Art Deco boudoir set. She used to say that she pictured Madam T. owning that furniture. So I recalled the book “Prokrustes Bed” (Patul lui Procust), which I’ve read long time ago in high school, and remembered being fascinated about the perfume of a lady’s life style, living in Bucharest at the dawn of the 20th century.
“Ti-am spus, de altfel, ca in odaia de dormit, varuita alb si cu vreo doua dungi aurii, nu e decat divanul alb, scazut si vast, tabloul de Luchian, ceasornicul si, la capatai, o masuta alba pentru becul cu abajur de faianta ca sa pot citi seara. Incolo nimic. Nici covoare pe parchetul lucios ca o oglinda de stejar, nicio mobila de-a lungul peretilor goi de se vede sipca de stejar care masoara lungimea podelei jos, nici draperii la fereastra – nu e nici un pericol de vecini – de poate navali lumina prin amandoua ferestrele, asa ca, dimineata, inainte de a trece in camera de baie, iau mai intai respirand puternic, o adevarata baie de lumina.”
“I told you, moreover, that in the whitewashed with a couple of golden stripes bedchamber, is nothing else but the low and vast daybed, the Luchian painting, the clock and besides the bed, a white table for the ceramic shaded bulb serving me at night when reading. Neither carpets on the oak floor, shiny as a mirror, no furniture along the naked walls, so one can see the oak slat framing them on the lower side, no curtains at the window – there’s no danger of neighbors – letting the light break in through both windows, so in the morning, before stepping to the bathroom, I take first, breathing heavily, a real bath of light.”