My additions to make this the perfect bathroom: various mismatched Moroccan market throw rugs, bundles of dried lavender, a pile of Turkish bath towels, an old record player with a stack of records (Spooky Tooth, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, John Williams classics), some drippy melted candles stuck in empty bottles of Veuve next to a full ashtray, and no walls.
[Kate Moss in one of my all-time favorite photographs.]
It’s no secret I have a thing for outdoor bathtubs and showers. My first home ever, off the beach in Ponte Vedra, had an outdoor shower that we used year round. Christmases on Harbor Island meant long, luke-warm showers in the outside stall, in the shade under the deck boards, slants of sunlight filtering down, and we all smelled like the same shampoo for a week. When we’d summer on Block Island, RI, we’d take turns plucking a towel off of the clothesline and going to wash the beach away in the Guerry’s outdoor shower, which was just out of view of the back bedroom window. Or at least, I think it was…
For every stipulation I create for Rob’s and my next home (open-air cabinets! subway tile! a loft music room with walls of vinyl! Mrs. Robinson’s wet bar!), the one that always get a second, third, and 900th mention is the outdoor bathing facility.
Bathing outdoors is… heaven. It’s my Rx for anyone with a stick up their… what? It’s divine. Cool breeze on your bare buns, your soapy water running off into the grass, clouds and birds…
What’s your one requirement for your dream house?