oh, flo. for three years now, i have spent every thursday belting out your poetry to the inside of my civic on a weekly drive across the state to site meetings.
the may 2013 vogue graces us with a feature on florence welch’s new house in london. girl’s tastes be crazy. you know this already if you’ve had the pleasure of watching florence and the machine in concert or have seen footage of florence strolling down the red carpet.
true to form, her house showcases little explosions of victorian opulance, english grannydom, vintage orphanhood.
compare these photos of her place to the blinding white spaces that are trending these days. there are no illusions of living rooms flooded with daylight here. her home is dark and english. cozy, dark and english.
when was the last time you saw a daytime interiors shoot with the lamps on?
i first heard of florence on npr in 2010, when i tuned in to melissa block interviewing a softspoken british woman who described her art with intellectual calmness before grabbing a drum and unleashing her lyric, her voice.
her home completes the story.
i am still smitten.