The Cost of Expensive Taste
“Do you think there’s too much beige?” she asked, cocking her head and staring at the newly hung paintings in her front room.
“Oh god no, darling, it’s chic. It’s very chic. Besides, we offset it with the muted claret. It’s all the rage, you’ll see, but don’t get me wrong, you are unique. No one has a home like you, I promise you that,” the designer trailed off, chuckling nervously.
“And, is that wrought iron?”
“Well,” he guffawed, “with Brazilian Rosewood accent!” He whispered conspiratorially and leaned in. “You can’t even get that legally anymore,” then looked in her eyes with a knowing look.
She slit her eyes and stared back at him in silence, appraising what he had just said.
“Hm,” she said.
They both turned and looked again at the room.
“You know, it’s important to me to be…understated,” she started.
“The rosewood accent. I like that. I was afraid it was all a little…overdone.”
He held his chin, intent on her words. He looked down, shook his head, “No, no. It’s not overdone. I know you have superior taste. I have been sure to –“
“That’s enough. Send me the bill and I’ll have Jaques take care of it.” She turned on her heel and left the room.
The assistant approached the designer.
“Yes, of course.”
“I don’t believe you. How do you think of this stuff?”
“Come on, let’s go celebrate and have dinner at Terzo Piano. I hear they are showcasing some new beige art!”
They walked out and just laughed.