It would go perfectly in the coffin room: 40,440 words

I believe that my true calling in life is writing fashion and interior design satire. And perhaps cheese satire. Or cheese reality. The jury is still out.

I hope you enjoy reading this excerpt where Evelyn, Serena and Gordon are making interior design decisions for Jackie's Place as much as I loved writing it.

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The re-designed floor plan made the worst possible use of space, making it feel more cramped than it was. Windows had been covered over, creating a dank, airless effect. Evelyn had asked the construction crews to start collecting any dust that they made in bags and keeping it in storage for her to use later on as a design element.

“The bar top should be butcher block,” Evelyn said. “Is there a varnish or epoxy that we can use so that it always feels sticky, even when it is clean?”

“I’ll ask the contractor,” I replied, jotting it down in my notebook.

Just then, Gordon strolled in. He and I had had a field day selecting ‘Jackie’s Place’ appropriate decor items for Evelyn to sift through. Gordon, in particular, took to this task with a gusto that I had not seen before. He kept insisting that a coffin in the backroom would be the design feature that set everything off. Despite everyone telling him ‘no’ many times, last week I saw him ordering a custom coffin online with rush next-day delivery. I’m not sure what he did with that.

“I’m sure that sticky feeling will be possible, Evelyn,” Gordon said smoothly, a small smile creeping across his face. I couldn’t help but notice that he looked particularly pale and iridescent lavender today. And were his upper incisors bigger than they were yesterday? I blinked to clear my vision, and he looked like normal Gordon again. “Were you thinking the same thing for the tables? And floor?”

“That was what I thought initially,” Evelyn started. “But a key feature of a good design is having a variety of textures. If everything is ‘sticky’ as it’s texture, that’s pretty one note. Any ideas for the textures that would fit the design?”

Gordon jumped in immediately. “I think the table tops should have a cold, wet feel to them, as if a drink has been freshly spilled or a very cold drink has been sweating on the table for awhile and no one has wiped it up.”

“I like it,” Evelyn said, nodding. “What about the floors.”

“We could throw the kitchen sink at the floors. Not literally, though perhaps that would give it a rustic, lived-in feel. I mean the proverbial kitchen sink. Grimy, dusty, damp, and sticky. Or is that too much?”

“If we have too many design and texture elements in one feature I think that might overwhelm, don’t you?” I asked, trying to bring reason back to this conversation. “I would just stick with ‘dirty’ as the texture of the floor. The builders could use some of that dust they have been storing and sprinkle that over the floor, then apply a layer of varnish or sealant or whatever they use for that type of thing and seal it all in. That way it always has a feel of being dirty, without actually being dirty.”

I looked over to see both Evelyn and Gordon looking at me with matching looks of approval.

As Evelyn perused the light fixture samples that I had chosen that I thought might suit her design tastes, she pointed to one which was matte black and ancient-looking. It looked as though it would throw off almost no light, leaving the room gloomy and dark.

“That one will be perfect,” Gordon said approvingly. “I would add a fine layer of cobwebs. Subtle, not in-your-face. And it would go perfectly in the coffin room.”

“For the last time, Gordon, there is no coffin room!” I shouted.

Gordon huffed, irritated. “Fine!” he replied. Then under his breath he whispered: “I’ll just have to keep it for myself.”