I’m A Restoration Hardware Catalog And I’ve Clearly Arrived At This House By Mistake
By: Liz Reuss
Tags: Satire, Funny, Comedy, Home Decor, Humor

I’m A Restoration Hardware Catalog And I’ve Clearly Arrived At This House By Mistake

When I passed through that mail slot I traveled through a wormhole and landed in Dante’s 10th circle of hell. Liz Reuss Follow Sep 2 · 4 min read

Photo by Kaboompics .com from Pexels

Is this 2928 Brookhill Road? It isn’t at all how I remembered it. This

used to be a place of distinction and elegance. Now it looks as if

Kohl’s and HomeGoods had a baby and that baby has horrible style.

And you are not “David Sommers,” so I fear you might be “Or Current

Homeowner.” Where is David? Where is David’s mid-century credenza? His

gilded bar cart with frosted decanters? What is that? A plastic

shelving unit INSIDE THE HOUSE?!?! Clearly, when I passed through that

mail slot I traveled through a wormhole and landed in Dante’s 10th

circle of hell.

What happened to David? Did you stuff him under this mattress sitting

on the floor, sans bed frame? He would not have moved without giving me

his forwarding address. I remember how we used to sit on his

cream-colored Maddox Sectional with a glass of Cabernet, because David

was the type of man who could drink red wine on a white sofa with

complete confidence. He’d ask, “What if I got a marble plinth coffee

table?” And I’d say, “David, I defer to your excellent judgment.” And

we’d laugh and think about all the poor saps who don’t have what we

have — taste.

I beg your pardon, but do you plan to leave me on the floor — THE

FLOOR — like a common piece of junk mail?! Madam — have you heard of a console table? I know you likely won’t purchase anything from my

pages, but perhaps you could buy something from one of my more

quotidian colleagues — a rustic bench from Pottery Barn, perhaps? And

yes, Pottery Barn catalog, I see you giving me the side eye. But you

and I both know you’re only here because David’s mom ordered you when

she was here for six weeks, recovering from hip replacement surgery.

I see the rest of the gang is here. Is that you J. Crew? I haven’t

seen you since David and Sabine spent that summer boating in Newport!

Remember how devastated David was when he returned, sans Sabine, and

for days all he could do was stuff his face with imported Belgian

chocolates and watch reruns of Bull? It was a dark time, but we got

through it.

Nice to see you again Crate & Barrel. I wish I could say you are

looking well. But the layers of dust on your cover tell me you’ve been

here awhile — Fall 2018?! Good heavens, has David been gone that long?

But now I see that my predecessor, RH Ski House, is being used to

steady the leg of that garish coffee table. And his predecessor, RH

Beach House — Good God! — is in the kitchen working as a CUTTING

BOARD?!

MOTHER OF PEARL! Madam, you have ripped out my pages that feature the most stunning collection of textiles ever woven by artisans! And you

further insult me by using them to line the cage of your bird. These

pages are meant to inspire people to be better versions of themselves,

not to be used to soak up avian excrement.

Wait, where are we going? I’ve changed my mind, I want to return to

the floor, it’s kind of nice actually. Not bad if you use a little

Resolve to take out those pet stains. Perhaps we got off on the wrong

foot. If you take a minute, flip through me, I’m sure we can find

something to make your house more livable. Perhaps this $15,000

Fulcrum Chandelier to illuminate your lovely Ikea couch? That’s what

credit cards are for, right?

Friends, we’re going outside! The sun is so bright! I’ll fade and then

an accent chair that is Graphite Gray will instead look Nickel Gray

and it will be chaos!

The sensation of falling! I’ve hit something wet and sticky. I see

blue sky, the terra cotta of the red brick exterior … oh god. SHE’S

THROWN US IN THE GARBAGE! Exposed to the elements until Trash Day,

when two hulking men of blue collar economic status will take us to a

New Jersey landfill.

I see a plane overhead. Its white exhaust veins the sky like the

Carrara marble of David’s bedside table where I would sit and watch

him dream. David, wherever you are, know I wish you all the happiness

this wretched life can give. Whether I exist on this earthly plane or

inside a flawless mood board, I will always be your faithful servant.