When I got this 1-bedroom apartment almost 2 years ago, it was my first time living on my own without family, friends or a partner. It was going to be my femmecave, for sure.
I started with my bed, nightstand, dresser, 1950s green recliner from my great-grandmother, an exercise ball, my bookcase and books, my clothes and kitchenware. Through donations from my godmothers, Kijiji, careful shopping and some help from friends, I've fleshed out this place into a shabby chic haven.
I have paper bunting made from vintage books, ribbon and washi tape on the walls. I have a batik scarf framing a print. I have a pinup girls calendar over the fuse panel in the kitchen. I have random posters all over. I have vintage hats on top of my television. I have a 1940s gramophone cabinet which I still try, in vain, to fix. I have my bass either propped up in a corner or lying on the rug after a sweaty, hand-blistery practice session. It is MARVELLOUS.
But now M has moved in. Hy brought no furniture whatsoever, but we had to play closet Tetris to get hys storage stuff in. There is now a bit more laundry (hy's a city bus driver, so all hy wears is uniforms, whereas I am a clothes pig.) I had to get a shoe rack. All minimal changes. Besides... hy brought a Wii.
And despite the overwhelming girliness of the place, I can still walk in after an errand and barely notice hym lying on the couch with a device or book - hy blends in nicely. Maybe the finishing touch on my femmecave was a guy?
