Welcome home.

By request, some shots of our new home. And for the record, we couldn’t bear to show the before’s; they were pretty sad.

Typical of Fan apartments: tall ceilings, glass transoms, outlets of much trickery (I don’t work! I’m only big enough for appliances made in 1957!), creaky floors, and pure awesomeness.

[I spy, with my little eye: a WWII helmet, a 1960s leather U.S. Mail carrier bag, an antique flag, a too-ample collection of corks.]

Bookshelf, with naked lady whose boobs are removable salt and pepper shakers. The salt comes out too fast, so we stopped using them.

Beav skull, finally bleached + antique copies of Hemingway book purchased by the Seine:

Wine bar:

Antique parade flags. As Carrie so aptly put it, there’s enough Americana in this apartment to make your head explode.

A stack of choice caftans:

Our purple-eyed, God-fearing, elephantine armed, fishing boy watercolor. I was so impressed when I found this on ebay I had to get it for Carey. She loves it of course.

Some of Carey’s favorite books + a mirror from her travelling grandparents that says, “Bought in MOROCCO. With love, Granny and Grandpa.”

This gentleman will open your beer bottles with his crowns:

My fireman’s jacket. Perfect for bad weather and rescuing cats from trees.

Of course, come visit anytime.

-C+R