I’m always obsessed with other people’s space. It’s usually the best way to judge someone’s character. I’ve spent ages filling up my space with weird shit and decorating it almost pathologically.

So here’s mine.

I have the oldest hairbrush out of anyone I’ve met. It was my Great Great Grandmother’s and was handed down, I’m the weirdo who actually uses it. It’s over 100 years old.

I love artwork that has been given to me by my artist friends/relatives, it’s probably the second thing I’d try and save in a fire, after the cat. Sophie Webb did most of these.

Sketch by Faris Batwing. The painting next to it is my favorite possession, I found it in an abandoned asylum propped up against a window.

 

A dream catcher from a stall in Venice Beach

My favorite leather jacket which is actually my only horcrux. My spirit will live on forever in this jacket.

During one of my ‘episodes’ I was convinced that my room was full of bad energy and read somewhere that running water is great Feng Shui in the bedroom, so I bought this fountain on ebay thinking it would fit on a small table. It’s fucking enormous.

I eventually went bankrupt after borrowing a shitload of money to pay for a course that I never used in my life. And name dropping Harvard makes you sound like the biggest douchebag ever, so it’s even a dud for bragging rights. I sometimes like to remember that I have lots of weird secrets.

I’m not a people person, this should be totally clear by now.