Oh come on dude! At least tidy up a little bit first!
John Waters calls it “hilarious.” David Sedaris says it’s “just perfect.” Lurid Digs is quite possibly the greatest design resource on the entire Internet. This brilliant blog doesn’t deconstruct posh flats or stately mansions—my guess is that they dig through Grindr looking for the worst interiors of the erotic selfie genre. You would be shocked at the settings some of these men find appropriate for their boudoir photography, but Lurid Digs is on a mission to educate the masses—you know, in the name of good taste. Queer eye for the gay guy. Somebody had to do it.
From the website:
Interior design began with the first cave dwellers. Most likely it was a gay caveman who decided to paint pictures of running bison and other frolicking animals on the rough walls and low ceilings of his abode. Not only were these flourishes artistic and decorative, they also served as a way to feel more comfortable while living in a hole in the earth.
But, my how times have changed. Gone is the stereotypical association of gay men with good interior design. The Internet has shattered the gay style myth forever with its slew of nude amateur self-portraits that clog bandwidth from New York to Sydney and back again. These Feng Shui-challenged souls have proven over and over again that male homosexuals can be just as color uncoordinated, sloppy and nasty as their straight brethren. Yes, the gap between what defines gay and straight is slowly beginning to zipper shut.
Below I have carefully curated a few safe-for-work excerpts, cropping or censoring the associated photos for modesty, but whatever you do,do not visit the actual site if you aren’t in a gay-sex-friendly and penis-positive employment environment!
Do you know what drives me crazy about rooms like this? (Warning: this will reveal just how anal I am.)
It’s not the artwork. I mean, yes, the juxtaposition of the vaguely primitivist nude on the right with the large, Thomas Kinkade-y woodland scene (probably entitled “King of the Valley” or “The Forest’s Royal Family” or “Prince Staggerton and His Freaky, Funky Fawns”) is jarring. But at least there’s a theme going on, which is mostly “nature”. Or “naturism”.
It’s not the wallpaper, which is so aggressively neutral, it’s like being mugged in a wheat field by a Sandy Duncan impersonator, wielding a fistful of Triscuits. Plus, my mother had this exact same wallpaper put up in the house that we lived in between my 4th and 9th grade years, so, you know: memories, like the unnecessarily moulded corners of my hallway.
No, it’s the fact that in hanging said artwork upon said papered walls, the decorator didn’t use picture moulding and wire. Instead, s/he punched right through the wallpaper with a couple of lousy nails — possibly several, if there wasn’t a studfinder handy — meaning that s/he is now stuck with this particular arrangement until s/he decides to repaper the place, because patching holes in wallpaper is not for the faint of heart.
And goddess forbid s/he should move out before selling the place. Take down these paintings, and the house will look like the set of The Golden Girls: Sarajevo, 1993. Don’t people think of resale value anymore?
I like lesbianish minimalism. In theory. I like neutral backgrounds. In theory. I like semi-Spartan spaces. In theory.
Then I look at this room. Are they freakin’ kidding me?
This isn’t understated. It’s unfinished.
Do something, already! Hang a painting. Wainscott the tub surround. Put a Scarlett O’Hara toiletpaper cozy on top of the toilet. Optimally place a themed wastebasket. Pick a color, any color, and disperse it anywhere, anywhere.
For the love of Christopher Lowell, just start. And then continue. And then continue some more.
I don’t care how butch you (think you) are, a trashbag is not a design statement. And your panties are not accessories.
And as for those who have the ego to paper the interwebs with naked self-portraits but not the pride to clean the mirror or tidy up the two things in the reflected room?
The Shining ruined a lot of things.
It ruined the idea of winter retreats, proving that anyone dumb enough to lock himself away at a snowbound lodge will eventually start talking to ghost bartenders, taking blood elevators, and slaughtering everyone in sight. It ruined the archetype of the heroic “scream queen”, because for the first time in cinematic history, audiences rooted for the axe-wielding maniac, praying that he would slit Shelley Duvall’s throat so she would JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN. And The Shining ruined Danny Lloyd’s career. Or rather, it prevented Danny Lloyd’s career from ever happening.
The Shining also ruined hallways. Before the movie came out in 1980, many of us had never given hallways much thought. In our 1960s and 1970s ranch homes, hallways were functional, forgettable architectural elements that connected our sunken dens to our rumpus rooms. But The Shining made them something sinister and deadly and full of twins.
So, if you must take a sexpic for Grindr or Growlr or some other app that holds a deep-seated grudge against the letter “e”, please (a) don’t take the photo in a hallway, and (b) if you must do it in a hallway because every other corner of your house is filled with bloodstained corpses, make sure that the hall is wide and attractive and finished and uncluttered. Because seeing vile-colored walls (that merge abruptly into differently hued vile-colored walls), unfinished doorjambs, unpainted plaster, naked lightbulbs, and piles of junk on the floor of a hallway makes viewers feel claustrophobic. Which is fine if you’re looking to pick up spelunkers or Harry Houdini, but otherwise, your axe-wielding right hand may have to do.
The whole site is ridiculously funny, and I strongly suggest you check it out, lest you commit a sexy snapshot Cardinal sin yourself. If you’re already featured on Lurid Digs, you have my deepest sympathy, but maybe consider sending them a revision shot showing what you’ve learned? I’m sure they’d love to know they’re making a difference in the world, one amateur at a time.