A Mother I Cannot Find Again: Memoir --- Robert Day | Numéro Cinq
My mother always wanted to live in a French Provincial house--but the house she imagined was in Fairway Manor, Kansas not in rural France. And her idea of “French Provincial” was not a southwest peasant Perigord but a Midwest suburban ranch. A shake shingle roof, wide soffits, and something called “weeping mortar” could turn a Frank Lloyd Wright Prairie House into a domesticated Mansard. Decorate the inside in late fifties chartreuse drapes and upholstery, put identical lamps on identical tables on either side of a three cushion couch (with a matching “coffee table” in front--on which you never had coffee, and in a living room in which you did not live), and you were in my mother’s Midi.
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