Yesterday was dark, moody, with occasional downpours, a perfect backdrop for a trip to check out one of the strangest buildings I’ve ever stumbled upon in Boston. Squeezed between the Fenway and the turnpike is a creaky, century-old edifice built specifically for artists during the gilded age, called Fenway Studios.

Stepping in from the rain, I was greeted by a terra cotta tile floor, a wrought iron pendant lamp, and deep wood paneling. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see the elevator ahead—one of those expanding metal grate kinds that you can lose a finger in. All of which felt vaguely foreboding.

Once on a floor (there are four), the long hallway hosts an endless number of wooden doors, each with a unique knocker, some brass, so wood, which give a glimpse at the artist working within. Every unit has 14-foot high ceilings, a loft for sleeping, and boatloads of windows, all facing north for that perfect indirect light that artists adore. And each artist, some of whom have lived here for more than four decades, presents his or her own interpretation of what it means to be an esthete. (more…)

Sophomore year of college, I lived downstairs from a bunch of football players. Every Sunday, the boys would venture off campus to a teammate’s house to play a game they devised called “Can You Fry It?” in which they’d batter various items, most but not all of them edible, toss into a fryer, and see what happened. They’d return in the afternoon to report their findings: Doritos — you can fry it! Cat food — you can fry it! Cupcake frosting — you can’t fry it. And so on. This lasted an entire year. It never got old.

Today, I received as a gift the Breville Juice Fountain Plus, which juices whole fruits and vegetables, no cutting or chopping or peeling required, in five seconds or less. I’ve wanted a juicer since my month-long experiment eating raw (currently on hold during fried clam season), but I also despise any sort of kitchen work, and juicers are notoriously messy. But apparently, I can toss whole cantaloupes into this thing. Or so it seems. (more…)

Like many apartment-dwellers, we’re oh-so-nostalgic for the fireplaces and campfires of our youth. But we’re also the owners of a mild fire phobia—not a three-chimney Wellesley Colonial.

What to do?

We’ve heard of flueless fireplaces—contraptions that require neither wood nor a chimney nor complicated installations—but the only one we’d seen resembled a flat-screen TV. Cool, but not quite conducive to gathering ’round.

On a recent trip to the Design Center, however, we discovered another flueless design we could definitely live with. Australian company EcoSmart has created a flueless, freestanding, and gorgeously chic fireplace that runs on ethanol. (more…)

I’m the daughter of a proud neat freak. (Mom’s screen name is HooverHoney.) And while I may stray from Mrs. Clean every once in a while to make a temporary mess, I’m at the mercy of genetics when immediate cleanup is required.

I’m also into tricks of the trade. So when we here at Bostonista got a new vacuum to try out, I was first up for a test run.

The newest addition to the Transformer-like line of appliances is the Dyson Ball, named after the tangerine sphere at its base around which the vacuum pivots. Although it looks like something you’d find a hamster in, this innovative ball-in-socket joint (your shoulder), is much more versatile than the standard hinge joint (your knee). (more…)

I once had a boyfriend who loved to brag that he knew what ‘decoupage’ was — and, he’d add, he wasn’t even gay! (At the time, that is. In retrospect, I should’ve known. First, decoupage. Second, no man folds a swan napkin with such ease or willingness.) But the kid knew cool, and decoupage — the art of decorating an object by gluing colored pieces of paper onto it, once the territory of crafts classes and Martha Stewart — has never been chicer than in the capable hands of John Derian. (more…)

The sun is blaring and the humidity is high. While you’re in the office, who cares? At home, though, battling the heat has economic and global implications. Sure, you could crank up the A.C. (or hold the freezer door open and insert your head), but that’s a tad impractical. Try out these 7 tricks to combat the heat without maxing out energy-hogging appliances. (more…)

Bear with us as we sneak in one last SATC post. Today we’re analyzing the wardrobe of a minor player: Carrie’s apartment.

Much has been made of Carrie’s ridiculously fabulous lifestyle, supposedly on a quasi-employed-freelancer budget. Yeah, she owned $40 grand worth of heels. Yeah, she took endless four-block cabs while wearing said heels. And yeah, there were the drinks, the daily shopping, and the seemingly hourly catch-up meals with the girls.

But at least the television set designers kept Carrie’s apartment somewhat average (…if you consider a rent-controlled Upper East Side one-bedroom “average”). We took comfort in the fact that Carrie’s bedroom and bathroom sort of resembled our own less-than-posh digs.

If you’ve seen the movie, though, you know that Carrie’s pad gets a major makeover. And even though her new place drives us crazy in a “is sex columnist actually code for hedge fund manager?” kind of way, we still like to ogle.

Here’s what happened: (more…)

Every April, Europe throws a huge furniture party in Milan (Salone del Mobile) where 348,000 design junkies gather to find out what’s hot, and what’s not. One month later, New York answers in kind with its own smaller version, the International Contemporary Furniture Fair (ICFF).

We’ll cover the Milan show in our fall issue of Boston Home, but below we give you the upshot of New York right here, right now, even before the New York Times. Bottom line: color is out unless it’s “green,” and wallpaper is hot, hot, hot. So here’s our new, improved, post-ICFF wish list (with a wink): (more…)

I consider myself somewhat of an artsy person. I like art, art museums, art house films, art-rock, Art Garfunkel. Posters and prints and one or two original paintings, which were given to me as housewarming presents, hang in my apartment. My mother is a brilliant watercolor artist (with her big spring show coming up tomorrow. Go Mom!). And I’ve been known to clean out a jewelry booth or two at craft fairs like the South End Open Market (which kicks off for the season this weekend!).

Yet, until last weekend, I had never actually bought original art myself. When I did experience original art buying for the first time on Saturday, in true Bostonista fashion, I went all the way, buying not one, not two, but three fabulous pieces.

Carolyn Marsden—a friend, coworker, talented painter, kickass photographer, and all-around great gal—invited Bostonista to her show, part of Somerville Open Studios. I was sure her art would be cool. I’d seen it online and I commissioned her to make a hand-painted t-shirt for my mom’s Christmas gift. But to be completely honest, I went mainly for the camaraderie. And, because I heard there would be cupcakes. (more…)

Our lives simply are not poignant enough to make millions of people tear up in unison. That’s why we’re not waiting by the door for Oprah or that spiky-haired dude from ABC to come knocking and “extreme makeover” our homes.

Instead, we’re left to fend for ourselves when it comes to decorating our house. What we’ve discovered is that choosing the right furniture is often a battle between what’s practical (this cement table is tragically unattractive, but it’ll last forever!) and what makes you swoon (so what if you can’t walk on it, a white alpaca fur rug is so chic!). That’s why we were thrilled to discover the ultra-versatile yet utterly stylish Tripolina Chair at Diseño—a local design store which, unlike some national chains (ahem, Design Within Reach) is more interested in filling our homes than emptying our wallets. (more…)