Those who know me may be surprised to learn that I long for a dressing table in my bedroom. Yes, me, the city girl character secretly yearns for a special spot in my sleeping quarters for the sole purposes of combing my hair and agonizing over mascara application. And, it’s not that I actually need one either. I have a perfectly fine bathroom equipped with sufficient and flattering lighting and easy access to all necessary grooming apparatus. But, it’s not quite as romantic to put yourself together while perched on the edge of your porcelain throne, eyeballing the peeling grout you’re sure will spontaneously re-groutify itself some day.
It’s a pretty indulgent piece of furniture, isn’t it? As if you’re some sort of European courtesan of a bygone era when women actually had hours to spend grooming (and servants to help them with it). Or, maybe it’s just a little too campy, like a 1960s housewife caricature-type, complete with maribou-topped mule slippers placed beneath the chair. It could be because I don’t own a dresser (I’ve owned them before and never used them, so why get one now? I don’t fold you see, I hang everything or toss clothes into wicker baskets), so I’m sorely missing out on that all-purpose display area/accessories landing zone. I want to line up my perfume bottles and hang my funky costume jewellery and stick performance pamphlets into the creases of a gorgeous mirror and to sit and stare and think, oh god, am I too young for crow’s feet!
What say you dear readers, do you own a dressing table? Are they even necessary or am I just giving in to my wild decor imagination again?