“Fuck your bookshelf with the books arranged by colour.”
Rant time. Okay. I sometimes get this feeling around other people. It’s not a sad feeling, or a nervous feeling–it’s a bit like envy, a bit like anger, but sort of sympathetic too. It’s that rush you get when your boss tells you they “like this, but change that,” and you know that “that” is better as it is. Or when you serve a friend a recipe you’re proud of (because you usually only cook frozen brusselsprouts), and she puts the food to her mouth and says “ohhhh, this is great, but I have this other really great risotto recipe you’ve got to try!”
It happened recently in a more intolerable way. I walked into a girl’s apartment and commented on her couch. It was nice: comfy-looking and vaguely patterned. But she response puzzled me: “Well, my dad is an obsessive vintage picker, and we got it for literally $20 at some antiques market up north. Don’t you love its faded Navajo print? I threw the Pendleton blanket on for some ‘native american’ contrast. Hehe! I love interior decorating!”
And just like that, I wanted to put my shoes on quickly, run down her wonky wooden stairs (because it’s “an old building”), escape onto stupid King Street and never talk to her again. Which is sort of what I did, but much less offensively.“Fuck your Keep Calm and Carry On poster.”
From now on when I find myself in one of these positions, I’ll just say this three times, slowly, in my mind: Fuck Your Noguchi Coffee Table. It feels good, right? Fuck Your Noguchi Coffee Table. Fuck Your Noguchi Coffee Table. Outfitted with visual accompanyment, FYNCT is a blog dedicated to those cheeky angry moments, tailored specifically to home design nerds. They touch on a bit of everything: antler wall hangings, vintage mirrors, fancy pillowcases, and many others.
The beauty of FYNCT is that its torment goes full circle. Sure, it’s fun to make fun of the people who love played-out home design objects but, hey: the only way to laugh at a joke about a Barcelona chair is to know a Barcelona chair… And there’s a part of me that thinks that maybe if stumble upon a faded Navajo-print loveseat in an antiques market in Northern Ontario for $20, I might take it.“Fuck your Eames rocking chair.”
Jessica Carroll is the Toronto Standard’s editorial assistant. Follow her on Twitter at @jssckr.