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Color Wheel in the Sky

Our associate editor ponders shoes as art, Willy Wonka, and speaking and eating with the dead.

Hello my little Herbs de Provence. How goes it?

This week we find Mr. JAM and Ross attempting to enjoy a nice leisurely dinner, when Ross gives Jeffrey a small assignment -- lighting the grill.


I love you, but don't ever make me do that again.

JAM has some issues. He's not much of a chef. He says he pretty much starved before Ross came along (Thank you so much for saving our malnourished decorator Ross. We imagine a courtship filled with you setting small plates out and Jeffrey tentatively eating from them, like a deer). But Ross' birthday is coming up and Jeffrey wants to "Jamie Oliver up" -- and we don't mean fixing America's school lunch problem. So, JAM does what any of us would do when we want to cook for our loved one's birthday: he orders takeout from a place Ross has never been to before and throws out the boxes he hires James Beard award winning chef Suzanne Goin to teach him make an onion tart.

After learning the ropes of doubling a recipe (cook it twice and stack the tarts together) Jeffrey enlists sweet Demetra to help him create the dish at the beach house he's using for the fete. Whilst Blackberrying the pair struggles with cut onions and oven temperatures (to have been on the receiving end of that phone call, I probably would have said crank it to 600 degrees but I am very cruel, mostly because I was not invited). in the end the tart is perfect and Ross is floored -- though that might have been for Ireland's white frock. Success! Happy birthday Ross!

Can everyone agree that Mary nearly met her match this week. Fashion designer Jill Roberts was exactly the opinionated client that could give our girl the gumption most people wouldn't dare. She's spinning the color wheel. We're doing colors a go-go.

Their collaboration seems to work thus far, as a tour through the home reveals a Technicolor wonderland (seriously, take a gander). This time the gals are taking on a tiny office (Mary calls it a closet, Tamara Mellon would call it a cabinet). Jill has a lot of ideas, which ultimately she hates. "Of course Jill doesn't want the thing that she said she wanted," Mary says.


"This, you want this"

Mary convinces her a $8000 painted floor is the way to go, and after discussing zig-zags with her project manager and Leonardo, the job is underway. Jill, of course, hates it. Mary is stressed, but undaunted. She will like it if she can just finish the job -- which is a problem because she can't get the last framed piece of art in time, her mother is reaching to her from beyond the grave, etc., etc. 

In the end, the job is phenomenal. Truly this is one of my favorite looks thus far on the show. The floors are signature McDonald, paired with the amazing horizontal curtains, the strict color palette with the pops of coral (which, yes, is "a rich person's word for orange"), the gallery wall. I really loved it. I would live in that closet with glee.

Amist all the board delivering and fabric swatches Kathryn has suffered another lose -- her beloved pooch. Unfortunately for Greta, her current final resting place is a canister eerily similar to those used for spices at the Ireland compound, making her likely seasoning for whatever Jacqueline is having with her wine. Hence this frantic phone call:

I believe this is the first time Bravo or any network has really dealt with the issue of accidental canine consumption head on. We are trailblazers that way.

Martyn jaunts seemingly straight from Mexico to NYC to deal with the apartment of Jimmy Choo founder Tamara Mellon. Did I say apartment, because I meant mall compound of Tamara Mellon. The patio could basically hold every New York apartment I've ever lived in seven times.

Martyn decides to display the shoes from the ladies Choo campaign as pieces of art -- and rightly so -- they're covered in solid gold (which is now all over Martyn's fingers). So he gets some acrylic boxes made and . . . .


Please G-d, get in there. . .

I could watch the scene with Martyn trying to put the box over the shoe for hours and hours. It is perhaps a great metaphor for some days in life. Sometimes you in the sex pit with Tamara Mellon -- and some days the 10 cent acrylic shoe shadowbox you bought doesn't come in in the right size.

In the end Martyn gets the properly sized boxes and Tamara gets the pleasure of looking upon her Midas touched shoes and bags before wandering to her veranda and laughing at what a giant success she is. Frankly I'd just display them on the veranda to really show the sun who is boss. Look upon the shinny greatness that is my Marilyn Minter collabo, sun! What now?

Sweet Nathan is barely with us this week, except to exchange chairs with Mary. Those black, French armchairs with the stencil back are worth a life servitude for me. As a matter of fact if you'll excuse me I've got to get to chain gang detail now. . .

What did you guys think? Were the floors too Willy Wonka? Did you need an everlasting gobstopper to calm you down after? Do these snozberries taste like snozberries? Who's your favorite decorator? Why don't you tweet about it?

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