I floated down to a block of flats today through some heavy rain, where they curated a design showroom. The flat is located in Tai Tam in an apartment complex called Parkview. For some reason, as soon as I stepped into that lusciously furnished flat, I couldn’t help but feel a little nauseas.

Ye gods! There was so much stuff!

How can anyone live in a house with this much variety? The products are all alive! Otherwordly strangers that dine with you and watch you as you sleep. Though I have to admit, the study with the airstream metal plated desk would be cool to work in.

The flat has an estimated value of 40 million Hong Kong dollars excluding the furniture and other pieces of hoohah. I can’t imagine wasting money on this flat (and risking an outbreak of chroma-phobia), but that’s probably because I don’t have gazillion simoleons to spend on a fully furnished designer apartment.

After the visit to the showroom, I had a think about shelter back in my own room. Creatures have been making homes for a long long time. Since shelter offers protection from predators and the elements. Part of the way they ‘make’ a home is by leaving behind their scent. Cats and dogs do this, and so do many other living things, pheromones mark that creatures identity in a particular spot, as their attempt to claim it.

So maybe the idea of ‘style’ for us humans, is just another system of marking our own space, and not just for peaking our senses, but for identifying a place in the world of ideas. You can glean a few of the interests on a person’s mind from how they dress their home, no solid evidence of course, but something to start with. Sam Gosling, a professor of psychology, dedicated his book ‘Snoop‘ to the art of deciphering someone’s personality out of benign details, like how one arranges their bookcase, or their desk. A friend of mine said the book was a fun novelty read, but ultimately lacked accuracy, so i’de think twice before going on a witch hunt with ‘Snoop’ in your hand.

I remember visiting an ex-girlfriend who never left my heart a few years back, who told me a week later that she’s unsure about the ‘decorating‘ i’ve been doing in her house. I had habitually placed bits of stuff that I would buy or pick up from arty gift stores or from pages of art magazines (such as the High Fructose magazine) on shelves, or anywhere that looked a bit bare. Reminiscent of the life we shared when we were still together, but you could also say it’s another form of territorial marking. Perhaps, to make forgetting me a little harder.

So, all this stuff I saw earlier today. Was it just a bunch of designer objects? People say that possessing things is a meaningless endeavor, that to find meaning is in the spiritual rather than the material. But decorating your house must have some purpose, even if it is the same as rubbing your own scent on the blank empty walls.

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