Yes indeed, that is a hand-bejewled dresser. I would show you what the room looked like in its full regalia but I immediately started stripping things from the walls.
The artifacts (once on the walls, now in the closet):
(Yup, that's a trampoline underneath that stitched heart, which I must say, is pretty effin cool.)
In context to the rest of the house:
The living room. (The pinata was apparently leftover from a birthday party and now serves as candy dish and sculpture.)
The tutu light fixture in the bathroom.
Okay, so you ask why or how I managed to overlook all of this when I agreed to sublet here for the next few months. Let me try to explain.
At the time, I was living in a loft without a window in my room, and even the drapes in the living room were constantly drawn because my roommate, who exclusively wears black, usually laid on the couch watching cable from the moment she got off of work on Friday evening to when she went to bed Sunday night. And my other roommate usually slept past noon or whenever she had to get up for work or felt the need to discuss her chemical dependency problems with the goth roommate. These were nice girls but they were in a dark place. Literally.
However, as of yesterday, the Portland doom-and-gloom in me suddenly made a case for the solace of gray. (Should I buy black tarps to throw down on everything? Like an idiot, I did buy brown sheets, which next to the pink night stand, now makes the room look like Neapolitan ice cream, which I guess isn't so bad really.)
After stepping away for a few hours, I came back to find my new roommate home. She was quick to mention her plan to de-colorize the place now that her former roommate took off. I was happy I didn't have to hide my sunny aversions; she's from San Francisco.
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