They say that a house is the manifestation of its owner. Donna’s apartment is quite a character like her. The walls have a flock of photo frames, souvenirs from all the places she has voyaged and titbits from the all the flea markets she has visited around the world. She is quite a shopper and a compulsive hoarder of all things flamboyant and lurid. She has gathered more furniture she can perhaps use and would still purchase a bean bag if it was turquoise in color. The pin cushioned chair she  bought from the home center never got a chance to be a seat for somebody since it was bought for its pretty print, a year ago.

Donna’s apartment is a comprehensive shiny beacon of a singleton’s pad. She is quite proud of it and to be honest, it does give a lighthearted cozy vibe. A place where you just remove your shoes and throw yourself on the sofa like a dog and play dead. Unlike the ambiance which might make anyone think that Donna is a nomad drifter who would not shave her legs in winters and probably won’t comb her hair on weekends, she is quite the contradictory. She is always tastefully dressed for all occasions. Neat, sleek and smartly casual for the day and gorgeously proper for the evenings. She is immaculately dressed for the bedtime too.

She and her house are both misleading. Haha, trust me! Nonetheless, the room that intrigues me the most is her powder room. Impeccably neat, uncluttered and peaceful little place to put on your lipstick right before you leave the house. On a second thought, I feel this is the zone that narrates her the most. A place where my butterfly prepares her wings of flight before stepping out of her pad …. with a hint of mascara and a tint of red.

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Love, Muscari Lane