Okay, I’m trying to get hip to the loud patterns people are whipping out lately, but this one is making several of my senses want to go on strike.

There are a lot of MOODS happening. The top part is a prickly flower arrangement that you send to someone you don’t particularly LIKE, but whom you are obligated to suck up to because they are your boss/you need their kidney/they have recently gotten engaged but to someone really douchey. Then there’s a cheerful throw-pillow you’d put on a pale, solid-colored couch, especially if you are one of those people who can get away with a white living room because you have never spilled anything in your life and also you don’t actually live in your house. Next is a strip of trim that matches like half the dishtowels and placemats Williams-Sonoma sells, because they’re always trying to make your kitchen look like people imagine Italian country villa kitchens are. And then there’s a piece of fabric from Satan’s boudoir, like bloody devil serpents aching to wring you like a towel (which I suspect is also his signature carnal move). By the time you’re done with all that, the shoes are a relief, a cold glass of limeade and some aloe to combat a dress that’s giving your retinas a sunburn. In fairness, they totally have their place with another outfit, on another day, and I give her full marks for deciding she should use them here to go big or go home. But that’s the thing about fabric samples — you can stick them all in there for consultation purposes, but you would never use them all in your kitchen together, or else you never WOULD go home.