Walking about town the other day, I allowed myself to veer in the direction of Society, a bedding store that I’ve only ever let myself admire from outside. I usually salivate a bit at the beautiful linens just out of my wallet’s reach, and opt instead for a more reasonably priced espresso. But this time, it was not so simple to walk away. The window display was outdoing itself. There was just too much luscious stuff to take in: texture, color, softness, roughness…dyed, natural, deep, light…carmine, slate, ecru, cerulean…



In fact, the window was full of 30 or so miniature iron beds (custom made), each accompanied with a magnifying glass, so that you could observe not only the finer points of the “bed linens” arranged upon them but the mission statement behind the effort. Embroidered on tiny tags, tucked into the edges of the bedspreads, were the words, “Details never sleep.” (The following two images are from the store’s site.)



Half the store space was dedicated to this unusual showroom, which had been created for the Salone del Mobile back in April. The back half of the store had absolutely nothing on display. Just shelves full of the actual-sized blankets and linens waiting to be purchased.


The “vision” belongs to stylist Beatrice Rossetti. If I ever have a chance to work with her, I will. I think she’s a genius. Maybe it’s because I agree with her obsessive nature when it comes to one’s profession, art or craft. Or maybe it’s because I can’t resist all that reality translated into a scale too small to accomodate a Barbie doll.


The amazing thing was how effective the display was at actually selling the merchandise. I’ve walked by the store many times and, as I said above, moved on. But this time, I couldn’t. The tininess of the merchandise forced you into an interactive and deeply imaginary role with it. You were sucked into a minuscule world of comfort, of ideal homey-ness. And there, the imagination went wild. I fell for it and bought a bed spread. There you have it: desire created out of scraps of fabric too small to line a pocket. Gazing at Lilliputian luxury from my Gulliver-world of cars and cobblestones, I couldn’t resist. As Tiny Fey said on “30 Rock,” “I want to go to there.” And so I did.


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7 Responses to Small

  1. cecilia says:

    wow, what a truly thrilling idea. Imagine working on that, making those tiny tiny blankets and iddy biddy pillows.. how adorable! I can see what you could not walk past. and such earthy tones.. c

    • I would never have the patience to do that myself…but I used to. I loved tiny things. Tiny houses. Tiny rooms. My daughters both inherited that love. Their drawers and cabinets are full of hidden worlds for small people and animals instead of the things they’re supposed to hold like books and toys.

  2. Gerlinde says:

    Perfection at its best. I love to be there and touch the different materials .

  3. Yes! Touching is good!

  4. dayphoto says:

    WOW! That was very interesting and fun and exciting all rolled into one great store! What a cool idea! They could attract attention, show off many more items, than they could have with normal sized furnishing…really neat! Thank you for showing us!


  5. janette gross says:

    As a weaver, I can imagine making these out of a little bit of left over fabric at the end of the warp. But, to sew them! Tiny fingers, I guess. They are lovely and what a great idea to draw one into the shop. Really fun, thanks for posting.

  6. teresa elliott says:

    so love this. i’m a bedding enthusiast myself.

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