Rococo Read Online Free PDF Page B

home for Aurelia, the leading art collector in New Jersey, who can afford the Monet and Cy Twombly paintings that adorn her walls, and has the space and light to display them properly.
    I survey the rooms as we pass them. Damn, I’m good. Pastel colors wash through this house like brushstrokes on a Degas. As far as the eye can see, it’s a celebration of all things
français;
they are cleverly tucked in corners or displayed boldly front and center.
    There is a delicate hand-painted
armoire de mariage
in the sitting room, filled with glorious linens embroidered with the Mandelbaum family crest. In the kitchen a set of hand-carved cherrywood
buffet a deux corps
is filled with pottery from Marseille.
    The taffeta window treatments are so chic you could wear them to a fancy dress ball. Room to room you will find Austrian-style shades, floor-length balloon draperies in shimmering silks of pewter gray, soft rose, and mauve. I sewed panels of off-white silk onto either end of the draperies; these mirror the window panes, giving a crisp look and definition to the billowing silk. The draperies look like fluted ribbon candy when they’re down and become jazzy ruffles when raised to let the sun in.
    The mantels throughout the house are carved white marble, and we hunted down oversized antique mirrors to place over them. One of the most delightful pieces I found was from the going-out-of-business sale at Hess’s department store in Philadelphia. If you look closely at the smoky blond glass, you can see the words “Milady Chapeaux” written in swirly letters. How lovely the mirror looks as it reflects Aurelia’s grand
lit à l’impériale,
with the handmade lace canopy and matching duvet. Sy was claustrophobic, so there were no canopy beds allowed prior to his death; Aurelia enjoys this one now without guilt.
    What fun we had placing the
objets artisanaux:
lovely miniature botanical prints displayed on wooden easels on the mantels, and glistening ceramic urns, most from Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, with quirky French sayings on them. My favorite?
Une poule qui marche de travers ne pondra jamais d’oeufs,
which means “A chicken that walks sideways has no eggs.”
    Going French is all about regal touches set against antique wood grains and fabrics. Touches of gold leaf and polished silver are used sparingly but with great effect throughout the house. We placed the occasional silver flask with a silk tassel dangling from the handle on a side table. A silver bookmark denotes a favorite poem in a leather-bound collection by Rimbaud. It’s the small details that bring warmth and not simply ornamentation to a room: a
salière
filled with pungent lavender seeds or a
verrier
full of Renaissance pie plates provides elegance and whimsy.
    The kitchen is done in cherrywood (the farm table and chairs were imported) with a tile-lined hearth that is deep enough to bake bread in—Aurelia loves to cook pizza in it. When there’s a party, we always wind up in the kitchen. Aurelia stands at the sink. She turns and smiles when we enter the kitchen.
    “B, sit down and put your feet up. Capri, please toss the salad.”
    “Your favorite,” I say, handing Aurelia the pie.
    “You’re a doll,” she replies, greeting me with a big hug.
    Aurelia Castone Mandelbaum has all the stature her daughter does not. She is around five feet eight with an hourglass figure that is holding firm—a feat for a woman in her seventies, she will be the first to tell you. Her red hair (which used to be chestnut brown) also keeps her looking youthful. She has been the organist at the Fatima church since she was a girl; her size-eleven feet come in handy when she pumps the giant pedals to send sound through the bellows.
    Aurelia is the richest woman in the state of New Jersey. By the end of his life, Sy owned a string of banks, which Aurelia eventually sold to Chase Manhattan, retaining control as a major stockholder. Folks were skeptical, but Aurelia proved that she