Yastik? Bluddy fantastic!

While 'fashion' carries on weeping from the loss of - no not McQueen silly - but Ozek leaving the industry, the world of interiors can start running through giant daisy covered fields of joy to have him entering their cosmos.

I know this is crude but there's simply no way to describe these other than...
                                                                                                                'orgasms in cushion form'.

There, i said it. I know, I know, you're trying to swallow down the vomit I just induced but truly, all other words have escaped me. You can report abuse to blogspot or un-follow once you've been to the shop and decided i'm wrong. It's just off Kensington Church Street.

SEE?

I suppose when you find out that Rifat Ozbek is the seamstress behind them, their unadulterated loveliness is just not that surprising, but still the concept (and correct me if i'm wrong) - a cushion shop (how did no one think of that one before?) is completely original. Now, when can you say that nowadays - eh? Eh?

They make me think of India, Africa, Peru, (and considering the designer's roots, they would prob. make me think of Turkey had I been), the 60s, the 70s, my mother (I suppose the 'orgasm in cushion form' reference gains its inappropriateness right about now... ), my great grannny who wore leapard print raincoasts and drank Dubonet, beautiful old curtains we used to have at The Ferry House, my old nursery - everything I love really.

I could genuinely sit and gaze longingly at them for hours, never really needing to move, eat or satisfy any other need, until my little hunched cross-legged figure is whittled down and finally turns into buttermilk,

                                              just like the tigers from Little Black Sambo.

Not sure Rifat wants buttermilk all over his shop floor though, so I'll stick to a standing ovation instead.