misosouper, a shopping blog

By virtue of our house’s directionality and location, it appears perpetually sunny and bright; what better way to infuse some darkness than these fantastically detailed Victorian posters, hand-drawn by Madame Talbot in New Orleans? (Plus, they’re buy three, get one free. Who can resist darkness at a discount?)

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As the Bell Witch says:

Troubled like the restless sea,
Feeble, faint and fearful,
Plagued with every sore disease,
How can I be cheerful?

It’s time for a vacay; the beach cures all ills. Misosouper is taking a much-needed break, and will resume posting on Monday, June 2.

After watching this week’s episode of “The Deadliest Catch,” I’ve become obsessed with the jellyfish that clog the fishermen’s pots: so beautiful, so gross, so unloved. So I’m planning on collecting them (or at least the non-gross, non-cruel version) in my own little pot.

While visiting my best friend in Chicago last summer, I noticed the fun boy/girl lock boxes hanging by the back door, which were, of course, a seasonal Target item they bought around Christmas. I finally found a similar pair, unfortunately only offered in a hetero version. As for boy/boy and girl/girl plates: I’m on the hunt. E-mail me if you know where to look.

Update: observant reader Howard notes that these particular keyholders *are* available in different configurations if you select the drop-down menu in the link above. Thanks, Howard!

This spring, I snagged the last silver Parsons desk from our West Elm’s showroom floor. Sadly, the most fabulous, versatile desk I’ve ever owned is no longer available. But if I didn’t already own one sexy silver piece, I’d snap up this coffee table in an instant, because it won’t be around for long.

(Believe me, I thought about buying the coffee table myself, but then I’d be living in a West Elmed version of Rooms to Go. And that, as we all know, is Just. Not. Cool.)

After three years of staring at grafitti artist Neckface‘s “My Old Lady…loves Neckface” sign across from our apartment in Chelsea, I made sure that I took a farewell Neckface tour before we moved from New York, snapping photos of all his work that I could find. He’s good; I missed some pieces that only Spiderman (and Neckface, apparently) could reach.

So I’m perversely attached to this hoodie, printed with one of Neckface’s signature gory scrawls. The pink tempers the drawing, but you’ll still feel a little eerie walking around playgroup with this on your back. Much love, Neckface, but I think this means you’ve officially gone bougie.