so you wannabee a Domestik Goddess?

Once I had a lovely bromeliad — “air plant” — that grew in a seashell on my bathroom vanity and flourished on total neglect.

You’d think a bromeliad would be the perfect houseplant for one who kills any houseplant just by owning it, wouldn’t you?

That’s what my mother thought, when she gave it to me.

And she was right. The lovely delicate plant grew without soil or fertilizer, with just the occasional misting of water — hardly any care or attention at all — and looked nothing less than fabulously healthy even when the power went out in a January storm and the temperature in my north-facing bathroom dropped nearly to freezing. (We could only wish that the water pipes had managed so well, but that’s another story.)

So why do I say that I had, in the past tense, a bromeliad?

For some reason, one of the cats was profoundly attached to this plant. The minute my back was turned, he would scamper upstairs to the bathroom and sit in the vanity sink, batting at the bromeliad with one sharp-clawed paw. I’d go up later to find pieces of plant strewn about the bathmat.

And yet, it survived!

…right up until the ill-fated summer day when that dratted cat patted and pawed the bromeliad, graceful seashell and all, over to the open window. I can almost see him, drawing back one paw and taking careful aim, sighting a line out over the back shed roof and into the middle of the neighbour’s lethal-thorned rose bush.

I loved that bromeliad.

I hunted high and low for it.

And when the leaves fell off the rose bush in the late fall, I finally caught a glimpse of the perky little plant — still green and prospering — buried deep in the heart of a thorny thicket that even Sleeping Beauty’s charming prince would think twice about wading into.

I moved away from that neighbourhood over 12 years ago… and if it weren’t for the harshness of Canadian winters, it wouldn’t surprise me if my tough and pretty little bromeliad was still there.

• Magical Shell Garden: bromeliads in a porcelain seashell: Viva Terra
• Live Bromeliad in a Nautilus Shell: Hirt’s Gardens via Amazon

When I discovered Natalya Sot’s Mad Hatter Tea Pot — and this is the absolute truth — I literally yelled out loud with delight. And promptly dashed off a mash note to Natalya, asking for permission to share her exciting work with you.

She was good enough to say yes, and to let me to use her photos — so scroll on down the page for a sampling of some of the most wonderfully whimsical ceramics creations you’d ever hope to see…

But first, here’s what you need to know about the artist:

Natalya Sots, a native of Kazakhstan, moved to the United States in 2002 and has been dazzling OOAK fans with her wildly distinctive colourful ceramics at Chicago-area art festivals (and at her online Etsy shop) ever since.

A day-brightener?
Trust me, this could brighten your whole week!

Don’t miss Natalya Sots on Flickr, for more of that wonderful mad imagination and her photos of works-in-progress.

What is it the Fin de siècle again already?

Windows and shelves and cabinetry and whatnot have no excuse to be jealous of those glorious attention-getting over-the-top crystal-dangling chandeliers, when they can be trimmed out with such decadent hardware.

This Antoinette collection at The Saturday Decor is just the beginning, too — their bejewelled Aelan line, for example, is like frankly-fun high-end costume jewellery for your home.

Less is more, however. Avoid that fatal Victorian Bordello overstatement by going in with a light touch and a monochromatic colour scheme. Pair up the decorative window hardware — look, it’s a metal valance! — with a sleek simple rich fabric like linen or a dull slubbed silk… Just think twice about the red velvet drapes and carved Japan dressing screens, that’s all I’m suggesting. Let the hardware bling be the room’s signature accent, not its theme.

[Hat tip to Kay Ellen]