My mom always tried to pawn her goods from the Middle East onto me and I rejected everything because I thought it was cooler to shop at Pottery Barn. Now I clutch my belly in pain as I think of the authentic kilim, silk and hand embroidered stuff I turned away. I think it’s time to ransack the Parents’ house and pray there are some leftover scraps.
Rooms with ethnic flair that make me want to murder myself for turning down good shit:
Moral: listen to your mother.
Happy Friday and learn from my mistakes.