What's strewn across the top of someone's dresser is an intimate statement about the person's inner workings. The smooth surface of a bureau, trumped only by the contents of our nightstands (a little too intimate even for me to divulge), is the tableau over which our most personal belongings find their resting places. It is close to where we sleep, nearby when we are snuggled under our blankets, when we are more ourselves than at any other time in our busy lives.
Or maybe that's just me trying to sound all Real Simpley.
This is my come-as-you-are dressertop. I nudged one little thing over to the side, so you could see it better, but otherwise performed no art direction trickery (as I was wont to do in my old job as an inflight magazine's graphic designer).
So. On the upper right corner is a photo of my great grandmother, Lillian, whom I never met. She died a few days after giving birth to her second child, of, and I quote, "blood poisoning". She's very pretty and looks so exactly like my mom that it gives me the shivers.
Over to the left is a Debbie Boone cassette I've had since I was in third grade. Yes, really. Why it's on my dresser thirty years after my big crush is an enigma, even to me. But, there it is.
See that little red, white and blue button? Yeah. On top of the pretty silver box (with absolutely nothing inside). That says Nixon Now! Nope, I am not a republican. Nor have I ever been a Nixon fan. I bought that button at an art fair's antiques booth when I was in high school. I thought it was retro rebellious. Over the years, I haven't been able to throw it away. Clearly it's sitting there, just waiting to be released into the wilds of a Seattle landfill. Someday, perhaps.
Then you'll note my cable collection. And my exquisite necklace caddy (some cheapo rack from Ikea) that I need to hang on the wall.
There it is. Thrilling, no?
What's on top of YOUR dresser?
Thanks, Apathy Lounge, for the inspiration.
