I'm a little over the prettiness of boho and running through fields of grass. It's time to take stock and shock. Let's get pierced, pinned, studded and bound. Run some serious scaffolding gel through our hair, get wrapped in leather, crawl across a plaid sofa and slam whiskey down our gravelly throats. It's time for anarchy.
We'll start by trying to reconcile your anti-capitalist record collection with this gleaming (1) Brutalist faceted armoire, stuffed full of posh punk goodies like this (9) Alexander McQueen ensemble. If sitting on your (2) plaid armchair and pondering about the mother country has you shaking your head, hold off on the painkillers and channel the painstaking work on your (3) androgynous metallic sculpture. Your (4) Reinaldo Sanguino mixed media crown is as glorious and conflicted as the zine collection (5) resting on your gold tone resin Brutalist coffee table. It’s enough to make you feel sick. Maybe it’s time to leave the (10) Tom Greene Brutalist chandelier behind and join all the authentic suburban kids rocking out in their garages. While you’re there you might as well exploit the hardware. Knock up something like this (6) Rinaldo Frattolillo bronze sculpture , “Two Hearts Held Together by a Good Screw” or get nailed on the (7) Dada-style chair. Hmm. Very conceptual. All that’s left to do is go record hunting like Patti Smith in this (8) Danny Clinch photograph, and mosh the night away on a (11) Edward Wormley plaid sofa.