everything white, if only her husband would allow. “He argues that it’s impossible to keep it up with a baby and a dog. I would still do it if I could!”
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n one particular instance, Simpson’s husband may have had a point – eager to dress the family room in black and white, she insisted on covering her Mitchell Gold sofas (hand-me-downs from her father) in white slipcovers, accented with black piping. He scoffed at the danger of white sofas, but she pressed on, reminding him that slipcovers can easily be washed if anything were to spill. When that dreaded stain finally showed face, Simpson, as predicted, threw the slipcovers in the wash, only to be greeted with an unappreciated surprise post-cycle. “Word to the wise; think twice about getting a contrasting pipe color if you plan to wash the slipcovers,” advises Simpson, who pulled the slipcovers from the wash, only to find the black piping had bled all over the white fabric. To avoid that stuffy, assembled, pg. 24 catalogue feel, Simpson cleverly mixed and matched pieces of different genres throughout her home. One of the many valuable lessons she learned from
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he faux topiaries were a gift from Simpson’s mom. “She knows I can’t keep a plant alive for more than five minutes,” she laughs. “I have the worst luck!”
premiere issue
Lonny
46