Happy Labor Day design friends! I hope you’re all enjoy the last remnants of summer, whether at the beach, the park or your own backyard. Vive le long weekend!

Today, I’d like to pay homage to someone who has become a fascinating figure to me: Simon Doonan. If that name is unfamiliar, he is the creative force of Barney’s New York, and also happens to be the other half of power couple Jonathon Adler, a home design genius with an unmistakable playful style.

This is my love letter to Simon Doonan:

Dear Simon Doonan:

You don’t know me, but I love you. I love you in the gushy, teenybopper way 10-year old girls adore Taylor Swift. I love you as much as caramel corn. Which is A LOT.

Why do I love you? You are about YES. And about JOY. And about DECADENCE. I imagine you eating brightly colored macaroons and champagne for breakfast. Dancing until dawn in Ibiza wearing the plunging caftan J Lo wore to the Grammys. Wearing white well after Labor Day and not giving a damn.

For the most part, I’ve spent my life being careful. Or, if I do take risks, it’s with a healthy dose of self-judgment. I know I’m not alone in this. Many of us censor our own thoughts, embrace self-limiting beliefs and keep ourselves small for no good reason. And I’m tired of it.

But not you, oh Simon my Simon. You are daring, reckless and a little nuts. It’s not about mixing stripes and plaids with abandon, or about donning tight capris with a chunky sweater and kitten heels. It’s about saying YES to your inner voice, trusting your instincts and doing whatever pleases you. It’s awe-inspiring to see someone so wholly embrace indulgence. I’m intoxicated by you. I’m $@!&-faced on Simon Doonan.

And combined with your long-time love, Jonathan Adler, your collective creativity and joie de vivre is almost too much for me to handle. But I love it. Jonathan, you are my design inspiration. And your ceramics are AMAZING. This little guy is one of my favorite things in my collection:

Simon Doonan, we may never meet. But I fantasize about running into you in St. Tropez, or at the Tate Modern. And if that happens I’ll be giddy and tongue-tied and goofy as hell. But I’ll be 100% sincere in my adoration and effusive praise. I imagine we’ll have a good laugh, and before parting you’ll wrap a bright scarf embroidered with plaid terriers around my neck, give me a sly wink and say “Darling, ?&$@ it and just own your fabulous.”

And I will.

XOXO,
Stephanie