Dasdritteauge
Visual food !
Dasdritteauge
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homebuildlife:

Fun food typography by Tommy Perez and his 2 year old daughter Zoe.
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rustybreak:

Olafur Eliasson
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cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Floating in the Sky - Manhattan’s Secret Pools and Gardens | via
High above the sweaty streets lies Manhattan’s most hidden luxury: the rooftop pool.
In New York City, it’s always about numbers. The Department of Environmental Protection has picked some 1,700 municipal-owned properties — 500 schools, 600 comfort stations, 10 housing projects, 400 spray showers and 87 parks among them — to help the city cut back on water use. For locals nobly struggling to conserve resources, there is also this number to make them steam: $7.5 million. That’s the asking price for a four-bedroom apartment in Franklin Place, a luxury condo development in TriBeCa with a rooftop pool.
You wouldn’t know it, but they’re up there — those turquoise oases, invisible to those of us who cope each day with sour summer smells, sweltering subway platforms and scorching sidewalks. More than any other city, New York converts the graph of its income inequality into a vertical urban plan, with most people spread out at street level — conniving to linger for just one extra second before an air-conditioned storefront when its door swings open — and the lucky few in their secret aeries and tiny triangle bikinis, lolling poolside.
Once upon a time, relief from summer in the city meant a vandalized fire hydrant or a snooze on the fire escape. When I was growing up in New York, the closest thing to a rooftop pool was dropping water balloons onto friends from my second-story window, before trading places so they could drop them on me. Rooftops were deserts of sticky blacktop, the last places to which any sane New Yorker would retreat. And rooftop pools were as exotic as soccer fans. But now they’re proliferating as come-ons for condos and hotels — whose developers, truth be told, would probably prefer erecting more lucrative penthouses but must occasionally meet bothersome green requirements. Landscaped pools help turn those requirements to their advantage.
Are we jealous? The pools are utilitarian, occasionally clumsy architecture, mostly devised to maintain an aura of exclusivity. The real estate market thrives on amenity envy. And yet, envy aside, there is something deliciously voyeuristic about helicopter photographs of a suddenly unfamiliar, upturned cityscape dotted with David Hockney bathers in dappled water and lounge chairs. Those chairs come with their own numbers. The Dream Downtown, a hotel in the Meatpacking District, charges $175 a day to use the pool, Monday through Thursday. A cabana on the weekend will set you back at least $2,500.
Text: Michael Kimmelman Photography: George Steinmetz
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
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cjwho:

Interior design and decor for & by Atelier Karasinski
A 150 squaremeter studio apartment located at the heart of Vienna, Austria.
This whole apartment was refurnished on our own. The kitchen was covered with new white ‘Metro’ tiles. The bathroom sink is an unique self-made designer piece, build out of an old Singer sewing machine and a marble basin from Cooke & Lewis London. Stuccowork and colors have been done additionally, wooden floor was polished professionally. Almost the whole furniture & decor is second hand or vintage, carfully collected over 8 months all over Vienna, Paris, Barcelona, San Francisco, parts of Poland & New York. We also bought some designer pieces into place like some Eames lounge chairs, a Nisse Strinning ‘String’ shelf, an Acapulco chair from mexico and some Egon Eiermann tables. Never done, still in the making.
Text and Photography: Laura Karasinski
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Interior design and decor for & by Atelier Karasinski
A 150 squaremeter studio apartment located at the heart of Vienna, Austria.
This whole apartment was refurnished on our own. The kitchen was covered with new white ‘Metro’ tiles. The bathroom sink is an unique self-made designer piece, build out of an old Singer sewing machine and a marble basin from Cooke & Lewis London. Stuccowork and colors have been done additionally, wooden floor was polished professionally. Almost the whole furniture & decor is second hand or vintage, carfully collected over 8 months all over Vienna, Paris, Barcelona, San Francisco, parts of Poland & New York. We also bought some designer pieces into place like some Eames lounge chairs, a Nisse Strinning ‘String’ shelf, an Acapulco chair from mexico and some Egon Eiermann tables. Never done, still in the making.
Text and Photography: Laura Karasinski
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Interior design and decor for & by Atelier Karasinski
A 150 squaremeter studio apartment located at the heart of Vienna, Austria.
This whole apartment was refurnished on our own. The kitchen was covered with new white ‘Metro’ tiles. The bathroom sink is an unique self-made designer piece, build out of an old Singer sewing machine and a marble basin from Cooke & Lewis London. Stuccowork and colors have been done additionally, wooden floor was polished professionally. Almost the whole furniture & decor is second hand or vintage, carfully collected over 8 months all over Vienna, Paris, Barcelona, San Francisco, parts of Poland & New York. We also bought some designer pieces into place like some Eames lounge chairs, a Nisse Strinning ‘String’ shelf, an Acapulco chair from mexico and some Egon Eiermann tables. Never done, still in the making.
Text and Photography: Laura Karasinski
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Interior design and decor for & by Atelier Karasinski
A 150 squaremeter studio apartment located at the heart of Vienna, Austria.
This whole apartment was refurnished on our own. The kitchen was covered with new white ‘Metro’ tiles. The bathroom sink is an unique self-made designer piece, build out of an old Singer sewing machine and a marble basin from Cooke & Lewis London. Stuccowork and colors have been done additionally, wooden floor was polished professionally. Almost the whole furniture & decor is second hand or vintage, carfully collected over 8 months all over Vienna, Paris, Barcelona, San Francisco, parts of Poland & New York. We also bought some designer pieces into place like some Eames lounge chairs, a Nisse Strinning ‘String’ shelf, an Acapulco chair from mexico and some Egon Eiermann tables. Never done, still in the making.
Text and Photography: Laura Karasinski
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Interior design and decor for & by Atelier Karasinski
A 150 squaremeter studio apartment located at the heart of Vienna, Austria.
This whole apartment was refurnished on our own. The kitchen was covered with new white ‘Metro’ tiles. The bathroom sink is an unique self-made designer piece, build out of an old Singer sewing machine and a marble basin from Cooke & Lewis London. Stuccowork and colors have been done additionally, wooden floor was polished professionally. Almost the whole furniture & decor is second hand or vintage, carfully collected over 8 months all over Vienna, Paris, Barcelona, San Francisco, parts of Poland & New York. We also bought some designer pieces into place like some Eames lounge chairs, a Nisse Strinning ‘String’ shelf, an Acapulco chair from mexico and some Egon Eiermann tables. Never done, still in the making.
Text and Photography: Laura Karasinski
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Interior design and decor for & by Atelier Karasinski
A 150 squaremeter studio apartment located at the heart of Vienna, Austria.
This whole apartment was refurnished on our own. The kitchen was covered with new white ‘Metro’ tiles. The bathroom sink is an unique self-made designer piece, build out of an old Singer sewing machine and a marble basin from Cooke & Lewis London. Stuccowork and colors have been done additionally, wooden floor was polished professionally. Almost the whole furniture & decor is second hand or vintage, carfully collected over 8 months all over Vienna, Paris, Barcelona, San Francisco, parts of Poland & New York. We also bought some designer pieces into place like some Eames lounge chairs, a Nisse Strinning ‘String’ shelf, an Acapulco chair from mexico and some Egon Eiermann tables. Never done, still in the making.
Text and Photography: Laura Karasinski
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
cjwho:

Interior design and decor for & by Atelier Karasinski
A 150 squaremeter studio apartment located at the heart of Vienna, Austria.
This whole apartment was refurnished on our own. The kitchen was covered with new white ‘Metro’ tiles. The bathroom sink is an unique self-made designer piece, build out of an old Singer sewing machine and a marble basin from Cooke & Lewis London. Stuccowork and colors have been done additionally, wooden floor was polished professionally. Almost the whole furniture & decor is second hand or vintage, carfully collected over 8 months all over Vienna, Paris, Barcelona, San Francisco, parts of Poland & New York. We also bought some designer pieces into place like some Eames lounge chairs, a Nisse Strinning ‘String’ shelf, an Acapulco chair from mexico and some Egon Eiermann tables. Never done, still in the making.
Text and Photography: Laura Karasinski
CJWHO:  facebook  |  instagram | twitter  |  pinterest  |  subscribe
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volatiledesign:

What a gorgeous piece of furniture. I love the mix between an extremely traditional mid century modern cushion with a butterfly wings type base to lift the weight of that leather off the floor effortlessly. This is the Chillax Low Chair by Stellar Works, Shanghai.
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xombiedirge:

Big Trouble in Little China #1 Variant by Tyler Stout / Blog
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fuckyeahchinesefashion:

摄影/后期:sherlock少东        妆发:jeahny & oliver
模特:陈雪颖                          服装:张嘉雯
fuckyeahchinesefashion:

摄影/后期:sherlock少东        妆发:jeahny & oliver
模特:陈雪颖                          服装:张嘉雯
fuckyeahchinesefashion:

摄影/后期:sherlock少东        妆发:jeahny & oliver
模特:陈雪颖                          服装:张嘉雯
fuckyeahchinesefashion:

摄影/后期:sherlock少东        妆发:jeahny & oliver
模特:陈雪颖                          服装:张嘉雯
fuckyeahchinesefashion:

摄影/后期:sherlock少东        妆发:jeahny & oliver
模特:陈雪颖                          服装:张嘉雯
fuckyeahchinesefashion:

摄影/后期:sherlock少东        妆发:jeahny & oliver
模特:陈雪颖                          服装:张嘉雯
+
arkitekcher:

Poly International Plaza T2 / SOM
Location: Beijing, China
+
mingsonjia:

Chinese Windows by Tomi Chiu
mingsonjia:

Chinese Windows by Tomi Chiu
mingsonjia:

Chinese Windows by Tomi Chiu
mingsonjia:

Chinese Windows by Tomi Chiu
mingsonjia:

Chinese Windows by Tomi Chiu
mingsonjia:

Chinese Windows by Tomi Chiu
mingsonjia:

Chinese Windows by Tomi Chiu