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The sink has a skirt. The sofa has a skirt. The side table has a skirt. The kitchen island has a skirt. There are pleated curtains hiding open shelving, fabric panels where cabinet doors used to be, and little ruffled hems showing up under bathroom vanities.

After years of exposed legs, hard edges, floating cabinetry, and furniture that seemed determined to use as little material as possible, we suddenly want to cover things up again.

So, why is everything wearing a skirt?

THE SKIRT NEVER REALLY WENT ANYWHERE

Obviously none of this is new.

People have been putting fabric over furniture forever. A lot of it started for practical reasons. It hid storage. It protected things. It covered the parts of a room you did not particularly want to look at.

By the Victorian era, they were putting fabric on basically anything that would stand still long enough.

Tables were covered. Beds had valances. Mantels were draped. Even piano legs got involved.

Then you have decorators like Sister Parish and Mario Buatta, where skirted furniture became part of a very specific, layered way of decorating. Florals, checks, chintz, antiques, upholstery. Rooms where everything did not come from the same place and did not necessarily make sense together.

A skirted table fit right in.

Then came the era of exposed legs, clean lines, and less fabric.

WE SPENT A LONG TIME TAKING THINGS AWAY

Think about the interiors that have dominated the last decade.

Open kitchens. Open shelving. Floating vanities. Leggy furniture. Pale oak. Huge slabs of stone. Bare windows. Minimal hardware.

And I like a lot of those rooms. This is not an indictment of white oak.

But when everyone starts working from roughly the same set of rules, things get same-y very fast.

There are only so many ways to arrange a cream sofa, sculptural chair, marble coffee table, and tasteful branch before you start to wonder if you are sitting in the waiting room of an expensive dermatologist.

At some point, we were going to want stuff again.

FABRIC FIXES A LOT

This is what I like about the skirt. It is so simple. Take an object. Put fabric around it.

Growing up, my mom took a super basic particleboard table and threw burlap over it. It was iconic, and I think my sister still has it at her house now.

That is basically the whole idea.

You can take something pretty unremarkable and give it color, pattern, movement, and texture.

A curtain under a bathroom sink can make the whole room feel less clinical. A skirt around a console can make a boring table feel specific. Fabric under a kitchen counter can soften a room with a lot of stone and cabinetry.

And yes, it also hides your shit.

Which is useful.

I THINK WE WANT HOME TO LOOK TOUCHED AGAIN

This is the bigger thing. It is not really about the skirt.

Look at everything else showing up with it. Pleats. Passementerie. Ruffles. Slipcovers. Delicately patterned wallpaper. Pleated lampshades. Quilts. Painted furniture. Embroidery. Fabric everywhere.

Things that look made. Or altered. Or inherited. Or repaired.

Things that look like someone stood in the room and thought, this corner needs something, and then figured it out.

For a long time, one of the highest compliments you could give a room was that it felt effortless.

Now I want to see some effort.

Not in a try-hard way. I mean evidence that someone cared enough to make a weird little curtain for the sink.

A skirt is decoration. That is it.

We have spent so much time trying to justify design choices through function, resale value, or whether something is “timeless.”

Sometimes you just like the floral sink skirt.

That can be enough.

UNFORTUNATELY, THE INTERNET HAS NOTICED

This is where things can go wrong.

Someone does something that feels specific and personal. Other people notice it. Then designers notice it. Then brands notice it.

Then suddenly you can buy twelve versions of the same thing and every bathroom on Instagram starts looking weirdly familiar.

I like the skirt. A lot.

I just do not want every object in the house wearing one.

A skirt works when it makes sense for the room. Maybe the room needs softness. Maybe you found a great fabric and want an excuse to use it. Maybe the furniture underneath is ugly. Fine.

But if we start putting pleated gingham curtains under every sink because that is what a “collected” house is supposed to look like now, then we are right back where we started.

The point is not to make your house look old. And it is definitely not to make it look like everyone else’s version of old. The point is to make it feel like yours.

SO WHY NOW?

I think we have had enough exposed plumbing.

Enough perfect millwork. Enough rooms where every object is behaving itself.

We want softness. Pattern. Something handmade next to something expensive. Something a little silly next to something serious.

Mostly, I think we want rooms to feel decorated again.

Which, apparently, means putting skirts on everything.

Image Credits:

Group 1 — Left: @constanzeladner. Center: @handelsmannkhaw, @tigmitrading, @joseph_gardner, @aliciataylorphotography. Right: @namdangmitchell, @thebeverly.salon, @modernmetalproductsltdyyc, @colinwayphoto.

Group 2 — @florence.cools

Group 3 — Left: @pinterest. Center: @duogrevan, @sennevanderven. Right: @ashleymontgomerydesign, @lomillerphoto.

Group 4 — Left: @houseofkatzvienna, @thierrymorali, @byjuhi. Center: @_finchstudio_. Right: Care Of Studio.

Group 5 — Left: @casajosephine, @pablucozam. Center: @soanebritain. Right: @handelsmannkhaw, @smartanson, @joseph_gardner.

Group 6 — Left: @soanebritain. Center: @stories_to_gather. Right: Unknown.

Now it is everywhere.

Every time I list a good tramp art piece, it sells fast. That part is not new. What feels different now is how far the look has traveled.

You see it in high-end interiors. You see it in newer furniture and accessory collections. You see versions of it at West Elm. Someone even commented on one of my posts that they had seen a version of it on Amazon.

That was when I thought, okay. We have crossed over.

I am not saying everyone suddenly needs a tramp art mirror. I am more interested in how taste moves.

Something can sit in one corner of the design world for years, then suddenly everyone starts seeing it. Tramp art is a good example.

WHAT ACTUALLY IS TRAMP ART?

Most tramp art dates to the late 1800s and early 1900s.

Makers used inexpensive materials, often cigar boxes and scrap wood, and turned them into frames, mirrors, boxes, furniture and other decorative objects.

The construction is what makes it easy to spot. Small pieces of wood were carved with repeated notches, then layered on top of one another.

Sometimes thousands of cuts went into one piece. And when you get close, that is where it gets good. The carving is a little uneven. You can see tool marks. The corners do not always match. The edges have softened with age.

A person made every part of it.

You can tell.

WE HAVE LOOKED AT ENOUGH PERFECT THINGS

For a long time, so much of what filled our homes was made to look flawless. Smooth finishes. Identical shapes. Furniture that looked exactly like the one next to it.

I like clean things too. But lately, people seem more interested in texture. Patina. Hand carving. Wood grain. Little flaws. Things where you can actually see how they were made.

Tramp art already has all of that. The wear is real. The cuts are real. The irregular parts are real. That is a big part of why it feels good right now.

AND THEN DESIGNERS PICKED IT UP

This is where the look really started moving.

Designers began sourcing antique tramp art pieces for their projects. A mirror over a console. A frame in a gallery wall. A box on a coffee table. You started seeing these pieces in rooms that had nothing to do with folk art or Americana.

That changed the context.

Once tramp art started showing up in polished, high-end interiors, more people began seeing it differently.

It stopped reading as something niche or overly specific. It just looked good in the room.

THEN IT HIT THE MAINSTREAM

The Pierce & Ward collection for West Elm is a really good example. You can see the tramp art influence right away. I mean tramp art is in the name.

But now it is at West Elm. That changes the audience completely.

The look has moved beyond antique shops, dealer accounts and high-end interiors and into a place where almost anyone can come across it.

People do not even need to know what tramp art is. They just know they like the shape.

That is when you know the look has crossed over.

I STILL WANT THE OLD ONES

Personally, I still prefer the originals.

Some of the new versions are great. I just think the age is hard to beat.

Every tiny cut was made by hand. The wood darkened over time. The edges softened because people touched them. The little flaws stayed. You are looking at something made more than a century ago that still feels good in a room now.

I love that.

I also love how basic the materials were. Scrap wood. Cigar boxes. Nothing fancy.

The work is what made the object special.

A FEW GOOD ONES

THIS IS WHERE TRACING TASTE GETS INTERESTING

Tramp art did not suddenly become good. It was already good.

Collectors knew it. Dealers knew it. Designers kept finding ways to use it. Now everyone else is seeing it too. That is the part I care about.

How something old gets pulled back into view. How one reference starts showing up in more places. How something that felt niche suddenly feels familiar.

Tramp art did not change. We just started looking at it again.

Links:

1. https://www.thegaragevintage.com/shop/p/antique-tramp-art-mirror

2. https://www.chairish.com/product/35625937/antique-tramp-art-bank-box

3. https://www.chairish.com/product/29223260/french-1900s-hand-carved-tramp-art-mirror-with-raised-diamond-motifs

4. https://www.chairish.com/product/36411625/vintage-tramp-art-hand-carved-wood-box

5. https://lonefox.com/products/tramp-art-gilt-mirror-united-states-19th-century?_pos=19&_sid=75d2c4f9c&_ss=r

6. https://pierceandward.com/products/vintage-tramp-art-lidded-box-lined-with-velvet?_pos=21&_sid=928b26366&_ss=r

They painted their floors. They painted their furniture. They painted entire walls in circles, scallops, and wildflower motifs. Long before "aesthetic" was a category and "hand-painted details" were a Pinterest tag, the Bloomsbury Group was making homes feel like living, breathing self-portraits.

The Bloomsbury Group — a circle of English artists, writers, and thinkers that included Vanessa Bell, Duncan Grant, Virginia Woolf, Roger Fry, and E.M. Forster — was most active between the early 1900s and the 1940s. Their home base, Charleston House in Sussex, became a living canvas for their radical ideas on art, interiors, and the blurring of domestic life and creativity.

Now, in a world of mass-produced sameness and algorithm-approved minimalism, their messy, layered, wonderfully strange style feels more radical than ever.

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Why the Bloomsbury Look Still Resonates Today

It’s not just the colors (though the colors are good). It’s the intent. Bloomsbury interiors weren’t made to impress — they were made to be lived in. To evolve over time. To feel spontaneous, expressive, and a little unruly.

This is design that resists perfection. That shrugs at trends. That embraces the scuff marks and mismatched moments. It reminds us that a home doesn’t need to be pristine to be beautiful — it needs to feel like you.

This style is a direct counter to:

• Perfectionism

• Fast furniture

• "Investment pieces" with zero soul

• Homes that feel staged instead of lived in

Bloomsbury says: make it personal. Make it weird. And definitely paint on it.

Perfectly Imperfect: The Bloomsbury Ethos

You know that “collected over time” look everyone’s chasing? The Bloomsbury crew actually lived it. Chipped paint, mismatched patterns, brushstrokes on every surface. It wasn’t curated. It was emotional.

These were spaces made by artists, yes, but more importantly: they were made without fear.

The magic of a Bloomsbury home is that it doesn’t perform. There’s no Instagram filter smoothing out the edges. The art is crooked. The table has rings. The colors don’t always match — and that’s exactly the point.

A home should reflect the people in it, not just the trends on the feed. It should feel layered, intimate, real.

A Bloomsbury Bathroom Experiment

So here’s where I come in: I’m on a mission to give my bite-sized bathroom a Bloomsbury-style facelift.

Let me paint the picture (before I actually paint the room): it’s small — like one-person-at-a-time small. There are two doors (yes, two): one that opens into the bedroom and one that connects to the laundry/back door area off the kitchen. The floor is covered in boring gray tile, the shower’s wrapped in white subway tile that feels more rental than intentional, and there’s a shallow open shelf above the toilet pretending to be storage. It’s forgettable. Functional. Flat.

But I’ve been obsessing over Charleston House, over every wonky circle and sun-faded wall. And I keep thinking: what if I treated my bathroom like a canvas?

I’m gathering inspiration. Sketching motifs. Playing with pattern.

The goal? Not perfection. Not getting my security deposit back. Just personality. A little weirdness. And maybe a scalloped border.

Final Thoughts

Bloomsbury style isn’t just a look. It’s a mindset. An invitation to make your home a little weirder, a little more yours. To paint the table. To hang the art. To forget the rules.

And maybe, just maybe, to start in the bathroom.

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This year’s finds have been...a lot. Online auctions, estate sales, the occasional lucky shop stop—and every time I tell myself this one’s for inventory, there’s a voice in the back of my head whispering, but what if it just lives here for a while first?

So here’s everything I thrifted so far this year. Some of it will make its way onto the site. Some of it already lives in my house. And some of it is technically “for sale” but emotionally unavailable.

Pewter Candlesticks

Polished pewter with surreal, Dalí-esque curves. Won at auction while fully imagining a candlelit dinner party I’ll never host.

Lloyd Tensor Lamps (yes, two!)

1960s Japanese lamps that fold like little robots. Compact, heavy, and quietly smug. Basically Pixar if it went to RISD.

Horse Pop Art

My favorite find of the year. Graphic, weird, and wildly me. I saw the listing and sprinted to the estate sale like it was urgent care. No notes.

Architectural Fragment

A literal chunk of L.A. history. Fluted. Faded. Fell off a building downtown and straight into my heart. Learn more.

Takahashi Mini Lamps

Glossy black bases, glowing globes—like tiny pop art sculptures. Statement-y and unapologetic.

Vintage Iron Fish

A shallow, sculptural catchall with fishy charm and a perfectly chalky patina.

Minoan Amphora Replica

Bold petals, black glaze, Crete via someone’s storage unit. Ancient-adjacent and weirdly elegant.

Early American Carpenter’s Box

Bold petals, black glaze, Crete via someone’s storage unit. Ancient-adjacent and weirdly elegant.

Painted Farmhouse Box

Dovetail joints, old oak, and workbench scars. Feels like it once held secrets (and probably still does).

Petit Rustic Oak Chair

Technically a child’s chair, emotionally a vibe. Perfect for corners, plants, or existential crises.

Guatemalan Bowls

Majolica from a designer’s stash. Wavy rims, earthy tones. Took three, wanted seven. Learn more.

Closing Thoughts From the Thrift Spiral

So far, 2025 has been equal parts inventory-building and soul-feeding. Every piece has a story—whether it’s the hunt, the polish, the styling, or the restraint it took to not keep it (which, honestly, is the hardest part).

Some of these pieces are already listed on thegaragevintage.com. Others are still being styled, photographed, or quietly hoarded. And a few are in that classic limbo: technically for sale, emotionally unavailable.

Thanks for reading. I’ll be back soon with more finds, probably a rant about modern folk design, and maybe a few things I didn’t buy but still think about at night.

xo,
claire

At exactly 9:03 PM on a Tuesday, I made a decision my landlord would probably hate—but my dining room has never looked better.

To back up: I have this original built-in cabinet. A little wonky, a little weathered, definitely a victim of the “landlord special” over the years. You know the look—thick layers of mystery-white paint, drawer hardware that hasn’t functioned since 2002, vibes best described as meh. But the bones? Still good. And lately, I’ve been craving more color in my space—something soft, layered, and muted. Like a whisper, not a scream.

I ordered a few Farrow & Ball samples:

• Pink Ground No. 202: dusty blush, zero sugar

• Hay No. 37: warm yellow with a greenish undertone (unexpected, but somehow perfect)

• Oval Room Blue No. 85: dark, moody, and unfortunately, just too much for this little nook

Let me pause here and say: this newsletter is not sponsored by Farrow & Ball—but it absolutely could be. (F&B, call me. I already talk about your paint like it’s an ex I still romanticize.)

Anyway. After some chaotic swatching (read: brushstrokes on every available surface), I landed on a combo that made my serotonin spike: Pink Ground on the shelves, side walls, and back panels—and Hay as a subtle accent along the inner front molding. It's soft. It’s sunny-but-not. It feels like a Wes Anderson film accidentally wandered into a Nancy Meyers house and decided to stay.

Before painting, I’d always tried to style the shelves beautifully—rotating objects, stacking books, doing the whole “quiet luxury tableau” thing. But no matter what I did, it still felt a little... tired. The new color just amps it all up. Now even my most random vintage tchotchkes look intentional. It’s giving curated chaos with a soft glow.

The kicker? I started this whole thing on a whim, fueled by a rogue creative itch and my add-powered conviction that yes, I could absolutely start painting built-ins at 9PM and still make it to bed at a reasonable hour. (I could not. But worth it.)

The result is a cabinet that feels loved again. Like it’s part of the home now, not just something tacked on by a contractor decades ago. The colors don’t punch you in the face, but they do make you pause. And that’s exactly what I wanted.

Would I recommend starting a DIY project after dark with zero plan and only vague color theories rattling around in your brain? Honestly… maybe.

See how I did it below:

A Love Letter to Painted Floors

If there’s one home upgrade that feels both radical and ridiculously simple, it’s painted floors. No, I’m not talking about slapping on a coat of bright white paint as a desperate rental fix (though, sometimes, that does the trick). I’m talking about thoughtful, intentional, unapologetic painted floors—deep, moody hues, checkerboard patterns, trompe l’oeil cubes, and soft pastels that make a room feel both timeless and unexpected.

Because here’s the thing: painted floors aren’t new. Walk into any old farmhouse, European cottage, or stately historic home, and chances are, you’ll find a floor that’s been lovingly coated in pigment for decades. What started as a practical way to protect wood from wear has evolved into an aesthetic choice—a way to add color, charm, and a little bit of irreverence to a space.

Why Painted Floors Just Work

1. They’re a fix for bad flooring.

2. They make a space feel collected.

3. They’re renter-friendly. (If you have a chill landlord.)

4. They work in literally any style.

5. They let you play with pattern.

How I’d Do It

Sure, a large-scale checkerboard floor is the obvious move (and don’t get me wrong, it’s gorgeous). But here are some ways to make a painted floor work:

1. Go Bold with Color:

2. Soft & Subtle:

3. Antique-Inspired Magic:

4. Contrasting Stairs:

5. The Perfect Checkerboard:

Let’s Bring It Back

We spend so much time thinking about walls, ceilings, furniture—why aren’t we giving our floors the same attention? A painted floor adds warmth, character, and the kind of depth that makes a home feel lived-in in the best way.

Would you do it? Have you done it? Let’s talk painted floors.

New York is one of the best places in the world to find secondhand treasures—mainly because everyone’s always moving, downsizing, or suddenly deciding that their old Pierre Paulin chair doesn’t "spark joy."

That means there are design gems lurking in FB Marketplace, Craigslist, and estate sales—you just have to dig through 300 listings of sad futons and questionable mattresses to find them.

Lucky for you, I already did the digging.

This week’s NYC Marketplace Hunt is a mix of sculptural decor, surprisingly chic furniture, and a few wildcards that are too good to ignore.

Let’s get into it.

1. Tiny Ceramic Mirror That Feels Like a Work of Art

Why I Love It: Tiny but mighty. The sculptural shape, the texture—this little ceramic mirror is basically an art piece. It’s a small-scale statement that could elevate an entryway, a bathroom, or even a gallery wall moment. View listing.

2. Hair Lampshade That’s Definitely Not Boring

Why I Love It: I get it—this is deeply unhinged. But lean in. A textural, sculptural moment is always a good idea, and this is giving avant-garde fashion house meets surrealist lighting. View listing.

3. The Magnetic Vintage Sconces That Are Low Commitment (and Very Cute)

Why I Love Them: You can move these little sconces around as often as you rearrange your furniture (which, if you’re like me, is often). They’re magnetic, plug-in, and effortlessly cool. I actually have a few of these in silver that I’m selling in LA at The Garage (listing will go up soon), and I adore them. View listing.

4. The Pink Upholstered Headboard That Should Be Mine

Why I Love It: Soft, romantic, and just structured enough. The blush pink upholstery gives it a luxe, vintage feel, and honestly, if this was in Los Angeles, I would have already bought it for myself. View listing.

5. The Westnofa Siesta Chair That’s a Certified Classic

Why I Love It: This is an actual design icon. The Westnofa Siesta chair is peak Scandinavian cool—low-slung, ergonomic, and perfectly broken-in. These don’t pop up often or at a good price. View listing.

6. The Polish Recessed Face in a Frame (It’s Weird, I Know)

Why I Love It: The frame? Stunning. The little recessed face inside it? Questionable. But listen, if you don’t love the face, you can swap it out and keep the insane frame. View listing.

7. The Vintage Turkish Rug That Will Age Beautifully

Why I Love It: Vintage Turkish rugs always work. The colors are soft but rich, the texture is perfect, and they hide wear beautifully. View listing.

8. The Round Table That’s Begging for a Makeover

Why I Love It: The perfect small-space dining table. It’s just waiting for a high-gloss paint job—I’d go with deep brown and pair it with light rush seat chairs. View listing.

9. The Two Large Paintings That Will Fill an Entire Wall

Why I Love Them: Finding large-scale artwork at an affordable price is rare. The colors are rich, and they’ll make any room feel intentional and layered. View listing.

10. The MCM Pop Art Pipe Lamps That Nail the Unexpected Red Theory

Why I Love Them: If you’ve fallen down the “unexpected red” rabbit hole, these are your lamps. They’re weird in a way that instantly makes a space cooler. View listing.

Final Thoughts

This week’s NYC finds are a little weird, a little classic, and very worth claiming before someone else does.

Would you grab any of these? Which piece is the best/worst/weirdest? Let me know in the comments.

Coined by Pinterest in their 2025 Trend Report, castlecore is the latest interiors movement pulling inspiration from ancient estates, gothic influences, and timeworn grandeur. And honestly? I’m here for it.

At its core, castlecore is about indulging in opulence and embracing history—a counterpoint to the sleek, tech-forward minimalism that’s dominated design for years. Instead of streamlined and sterile, we’re seeing a renewed interest in heavy stone fireplaces, rich tapestries, dark woods, and dramatic chandeliers. Think of it as the interiors equivalent of a Renaissance painting—moody, layered, and full of storytelling.

The Most Obvious Take? Tapestries Are Having a Moment.

If you’ve been paying attention, tapestries have been creeping their way back into interiors for a while now. Once relegated to castles and college dorm rooms, they’ve re-emerged as a statement piece—layered behind beds, draped over furniture, or hung like massive, timeworn murals.

And while a large-scale tapestry is the most obvious way to incorporate the castlecore aesthetic (and don’t get me wrong, they are gorg), I’m more interested in the less expected ways this trend can play out in modern homes. If you want the moody, historic, slightly decadent feel without going full medieval banquet hall, here’s how I’d do it:

Here’s How I Would Incorporate Castlecore

1. Swagged Drape Walls

2. Moody Colors

3. Ornate Lighting

4. Sleep Nooks

5. Stone Details

Final Thoughts

I love homes that feel like they’ve lived a few lives before you got there, and castlecore taps into that in the best way. It’s dramatic without feeling gimmicky, layered without feeling cluttered.

A well-placed swagged drape, a stone detail, or an aged pewter accent can bring a little of that old-world charm into any home. And if you have space for a full-scale tapestry? Even better.

Would you incorporate any of these? Or are you keeping your medieval influence strictly for period dramas? Drop your thoughts below.

I’ve spent years immersed in the world of interior design—scrolling, sourcing, styling, and, let’s be honest, hoarding. I believe the best homes aren’t curated to perfection—they’re collected over time, shaped by FB Marketplace scores, vintage treasures, and a little bit of chaos.

That’s where House Notes comes in.

It’s where I’ll talk about design that feels lived-in, layered, and personal. Expect:

• FB Marketplace deep dives (so you don’t have to scroll for hours).

• Hot takes & design icks (because some trends need to be retired).

• Home tours with actual personality (not just press-ready perfection).

• The thrill of the find—secondhand gems, estate sale scores, and the best of the internet’s weird corners.

If you love a home that tells a story—and maybe have a few too many chairs—House Notes is for you.

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This week’s roundup is a mix of plush, sculptural seating, textural moments, and a few pieces that fall into the “object with a past life” category. All available in Los Angeles—so if you’re local, move fast. Let’s get into it:

1. Oversized Ceramic Head (???!)

Why I Love It: Honestly, I don’t know what’s happening here, but I love it. This oversized ceramic folk-art face feels bizarre in the best way. Use it as a vase for a big floral or branch moment, an umbrella stand, or a home for your beloved monstera plant. View listing

2. Hand-Forged Surrealist Flatware Set

Why I Love It: This looks like something out of a Dali-designed tablescape. The slightly twisted, hand-hammered handles feel equal parts old-world and surrealist dreamscape. It’s giving grotto girl (coined by our fave Schmatta). Your dinner parties deserve this. View listing

3. Post-Modern Peachy Dream Chairs

Why I Love Them: That perfect overstuffed, ruched leather meets a swivel base—very Mario Bellini meets 80s Art Deco revival with a dose of post-modern charm. Soft, sculptural, and totally chic. View listing

4. Original 60s/70s Cocoon Table Lamps

Why I Love Them: Vintage VARRA Cocoon lamps in near-perfect condition? A rare find. The soft, scalloped paper shades give the perfect moody, ambient glow—think 1970s Tokyo apartment meets Hans Agne Jakobsson. View listing

5. Weathered Equine Oil Painting

Why I Love It: Something about vintage horse paintings always gets me. This aged canvas, muted tones, and pastoral setting make it feel timeless in the best way—a little Ralph Lauren, a little country house in France. And honestly, I love an unframed painting—there’s something effortlessly cool about a raw canvas just leaning against a wall. View listing

6. Brutalist Studded Ceramic Lamp

Why I Love It: This one is a statement piece. The chunky ceramic base, the embedded agate stones, the burnished patina—it’s giving brutalist but make it jewelry. Personally, I’d swap out the lampshade for something simpler to let the base be the star. View listing

7. Rope-Wrapped Folding Screen

Why I Love It: A textural dream. This woven slat screen feels like something you’d find in a mid-century resort in Mexico City—the warm ombre effect from the aging just makes it better. View listing

That’s the FB Marketplace haul of the week. Some pieces are dream finds, some are downright weird, and that’s exactly how I like it.

Would you put any of these in your home? Which piece is the best/worst/weirdest? Drop your thoughts in the comments 👇