Latest news with #midcenturydesign
Irish Times
3 days ago
- Business
- Irish Times
‘I am Alan f***ing Sugar': I marvel at my business acumen on DoneDeal
We cope with stress in all different ways. Some are healthy, like binge watching reality shows about Mormon wives and their hair extensions. Some are less healthy, like running a marathon instead of going to therapy. But as long as our chosen outlet of emotion isn't hurting anybody else, who are we to judge? My partner would argue my outlet does hurt him. It's not drinking or gambling or live-action medieval role-play. I'm not forcing him to look at my run times on Strava. Instead, he merely has to sit in the car and make sure I don't get murdered while I pick up my latest Facebook Marketplace purchase. You can correlate how much external stress I'm facing in my life to my time spent scouring mid-century furniture on DoneDeal . At my lowest I was convincing my partner to drive to a random person's shed in Monaghan for a €50 piece of furniture that once might have been a dresser that 'just needed to be sanded back'. When things got really bad I was digitally scouring the Waterford Crystal collections of other people's dead grannies, trying to complete my set. 'I'm so sorry to hear about your granny, do you have two of the Champagne flutes in the Lismore pattern?' I would fire off, as if they would actually be used for Champagne and not Aldi sparkling wine. READ MORE I don't even like sparkling wine and I really love using the dishwasher so chances are they would never even make it out of the cupboard. But that's the joy of buying second-hand stuff - there's no need for rational thought. The stakes are too low to think about being practical. What if the President or someone equally important like, I dunno, Twink, suddenly knocked in and I couldn't serve them sparkling wine in crystal flutes (never mind the fact that when the Australian ambassador actually did pop over for dinner, he was happy enough to eat and drink off our mismatched collection of Ikea and Dunnes finest homewares). Now that moving countries from Ireland to Australia has robbed me of access to my beloved Adverts and DoneDeal, I now rely on Facebook Marketplace as my sole trading platform. We're in something of a trade deficit as I'm only buying. In my defence, I had to refurnish an entire house. Rentals in Australia don't come with furniture, so I assumed my natural role as a hunter and gatherer. It's only me and my sniper-like Facebook Marketplace skills in securing an as-new Ikea couch for €350 less RRP that stands between our bums and the cold, hard floor. It can be a treacherous but mostly annoying pursuit. The problem is everyone wants to score a bargain, or make a decent amount of money selling off an item. But we can't all be cute hoors simultaneously. There are people trying to flog 'lightly used' Nars bronzers and La Roche Posay sunscreen. I don't know about you, but when buying products that go on my face, I'd prefer if a stranger's fingers hadn't been in them. [ Sizible: Making sure to get the perfect fit when clothes shopping online Opens in new window ] I blame Dragons' Den reruns for people trying to sell the free coat hangers you get at the dry cleaners for €1 each. Facebook Marketplace really needs an 'Are you well?' button for these types of ads. But in fairness, buyers can be melts too. Like the time I was asked repeatedly if I would drop items I was giving away for free to the other side of Ireland, at my own expense. I was sweaty with anticipation as I messaged a seller last week. She was offering two GHD hair tools, like new. The ones I'd been eyeing up, that retail for more than €150 each new. She was willing to part with them for €30 each. I pounced. I marvelled at my business acumen with that margin. 'I am Alan f***ing Sugar,' I thought to myself as I queued for the ATM on the way to the goods exchange location. [ Yes, will give Irish shoppers choice. But no, it's not 'good news for all' Opens in new window ] It was only in the car as we waited in the pitch black and rainy night did I question if the prices were too good to be true. Her profile looked legit - had been up since the 2010s. But she was selling loads of GHDs. Maybe it was a trap designed exclusively to ensnare millennial women. 'Are you going to get us killed?' my boyfriend asked with a tone that suggested he'd welcome this event over doing any more Facebook Marketplace pickups. No, it turns out she just worked for the company and was doing a spring clean. Behind her lurked her bodyguard boyfriend who met the eyes of mine and gave him the weary nod of marketplace veterans who had seen too much.
TTG
23-05-2025
- TTG
Why this Dutch city should be on every agent's radar
What's the first place that comes to mind when you think of a Dutch city? Probably Amsterdam, right? But with that city straining under the weight of mass tourism, it could be time to point clients in the direction of one of the country's more under-the-radar destinations. And with the opening of stylish new hotel De Plesman, there's never been a better time to visit The Hague. Located in the former headquarters of Dutch airline KLM, this 103-bedroom hotel is named after KLM founder and Dutch aviator Albert Plesman – a statue of him gazing up to the sky graces the hotel's entrance as you arrive. Plesman wanted to connect the world and bring people together – a legacy that continues today with the grand reimagining of this iconic Dutch institution. Found in Scheveningen, equidistant from the city centre and the beach, the hotel is a masterpiece in mid-century design. Under the guise of the dynamic interior design team at Amsterdam-based Nicemakers, interiors have been meticulously restored to pay homage to the building's Art Deco origins when it was built by Dirk Roosenburg in 1939. Modern art collections featuring photographs of the Dutch coastline adorn the walls, while bedrooms are designed for comfort and functionality with kitchenettes and muted brown, cream and burgundy soft furnishings. The building's skeleton is a work of art in itself with intricate spiral staircases, curved white ceilings and light fittings that simulate the tip of an aeroplane propellor. Albert Plesman's office has been transformed into the Plesman Suite and showcases original wood panelling, silks on the beds and retro furnishings. Dining with a twist Downstairs, the vast rectangular-shaped communal space houses the reception, lounge and bar area. It's here that the impressive design really comes to life and it feels like no detail has been forgotten during the refurbishment. Equally so in Suss, the hotel's buzzing restaurant, which was full every night of my stay. The locals have embraced the new kid on the block with aplomb and it's easy to see why. Named after Plesman's wife and located in the former KLM staff canteen, Suss is warm and welcoming – a nod to Suss herself who reportedly appeased a group of disgruntled pilots visiting the house for a difficult meeting with Plesman. They were so wowed by her dishes and hospitality that the issue was settled never to be mentioned again. Food is excellent and well-priced. Under the watchful eye of managing director, Willem van Emden, formerly of Gleneagles Townhouse in Edinburgh, staff are welcoming and service runs smoothly.
Globe and Mail
09-05-2025
- General
- Globe and Mail
Building a summer home from scratch isn't for the faint of heart
We already had a perfectly adorable and lovingly restored log cabin with a postcard view of our favourite lake. But my husband and I left it all behind to pay way too much for a falling-down 1970s nightmare nearby. Since our adult kids had moved back to Canada, the one-room cabin was feeling a little tight and this new folly had some other advantages. Unlike the little cabin, where we were chockablock with our neighbours, its selling point was two acres of mature gardens just down the beach from our friends. Though you could barely glimpse it through a tangle of overgrown cedars, it was also sunset-facing. In order to catch it, we had to peer through a tiny office window that offered the only view onto the lake. After moving in, however, it quickly became clear how unlivable the new house was. A quick fluff with some mid-century finds and beachy indigos gave the living space a certain boho flair. But no amount of cleaning or air purifiers or scented candles could address the house's unique fragrance of decay that permeated our clothes and hair within hours. Our son simply refused to visit. 'This place is toxic,' he said after one night's stay. 'I don't know how you can stand it.' A new house was clearly in order, but having grown up in old houses and living in them our entire lives, the idea of tearing it all down and building something brand new was off-putting. Renovation is my comfort zone; the more old quirks given new life, the better. Would I even like a new house, without any of the character that gives old houses their charm? And yet, the opportunity to design and build something from scratch – a bucket list item if there ever was one – was the pearl in this fit of madness. As grateful as I was for the creative challenge, I knew we were headed into unmarked territory. In any home reno, you inherit a set of design limitations. Whatever improvements you choose to make to the original house, if not exactly determined by what's already in place, end up being informed by it. So much so that the measure of a good renovation is often how well the designer makes the most of what is already there. The conundrum of a new build is the complete opposite. Starting from a blank slate means there's literally nothing to work with – or against. Other than the inescapable concerns of budget and timing, the sky is your limit. Tile the foyer in hand-pressed bricks from Belgium? Sure. Turn the shower into a living wall? Why not! What's more, even if you hire a team of professionals, the responsibility for every single choice made along the way is on you. It is hard to anticipate just how many decisions you make in the process of building an entire house but, trust me, the sheer volume involved is intimidating. And woe betide you if you fail to sweat the small stuff because, if you're like me, you will regret the bad placement of a light switch or air return forevermore. Apart from building code-mandated ugliness, every single awkward finish or insufficiently thought-out solution will be your fault forever. And, after inevitably spending way more than you had hoped, you get to live with the results. Thankfully, we survived this gauntlet and I'm relieved to report that we are thrilled with the result. The house may be new, but it is far from soulless. The eight-inch thick beams that form our walls are like a beautiful woven basket and the views of the turquoise lake from almost every angle are maximized by a 15-foot high wall of wood-framed glass. The pale grey of the tiled floors echoes the river rocks on our beach while the bright, open kitchen with its curvy 10-foot island is ideal for entertaining. Even some of the decisions we were forced to make – to scale down our dream of a stone fireplace wall to a freestanding contemporary stove, for instance – actually turned out better than I could have imagined. Now that the saws and hammers have been packed away and we've moved ourselves in, the garden around the house, which was entirely flattened in the building process, looms. It's ironic that the landscaping that first attracted us to the site is now another blank slate. When it comes to design, the work is never really done.
