Fuck Your Noguchi Coffee Table
Sorry for cursing but that’s the name of my new favorite Tumblr. If you don’t know what a Noguchi Coffee table is, then you’re in good (and handsome) company because neither did I.
Despite working in a very aesthetic field and growing up with a mother who changed the “theme” of our living room mantel every month, my eye for personal home design did not carry over. I can appreciate a beautifully decorated apartment and I understand when I’m in the presence of “original wood floors.” I know all about the art of sanding because all my mom ever did was sand, and I very much enjoy judging other people’s decor. “That couch is a little tacky, don’t you think?” I’ve been known to whisper to my bachelor dad about his very own couch.
Usually he tells me, “Don’t sit on it, then.”
The disconnect is when it comes to my own apartment. The walls are white. I have one thing framed. It took me three years to get a living room carpet, and three and a half years to replace the shower curtain that my roommate and I bought as a joke when first moving in. (It’s a map of the world and I can locate Uzbekistan with my eyes closed, so all in all, a win.)
A huge part of me wishes I’d spend my money on decorative disco balls and mid-century modern chairs, or at the very least that instead of taking a nap I would color-code my bookshelves or find a pile of firewood to paint.
But I don’t. And I probably never will, and for that I say, “Fuck your Noguchi coffee table.” Because deep down, I wish I had one.