Each end of the room is covered in a pair of white curtains that looks exactly like king-sized bedsheets hanging on the wall. They span the width with almost no gathering or fullness whatsoever -- probably less than a third of what it should be. So of course, it just looks chintzy as hell. Frink says they look like someone should be projecting 8mm home movies on them in a basement somewhere. Can't argue with that. The wall opposite the cabinet has those horrible tacky metal screens hung on it at equal intervals. They've been spraypainted silver. The table is Radioactive Canary Yellow, a colour I believe you have to apply for a special license to use. I'm pretty sure the table's smaller than what they had, and how on earth Hildi thinks this table is going to seat nine, I have no clue. The twig fabric looks nice on the chairs, and I can't help thinking they would have looked pretty good in black with that fabric. The table itself is too small for the room, especially now that everything but the table and chairs are gone. The extra chairs are placed around the walls. There's a fat, squat clear glass vase full of eggs and forsythia in the middle of the table, and the table is set with black plates and white napkins and glasses of...milk. Yes, milk. Because apparently there wasn't any antifreeze around to pour into the glasses, though it would have coordinated nicely. I think the heat from the light fixture may have turned those into tall glasses of curdled ick by now, though. It's a good things those eggs are hard-boiled or they would have already hatched in this incubator.
On the black floating shelf on the wall where the cabinet was, there are now two tall vases of eggs and forsythia, and the boring round mirror in between. Above it all is that fugly, tacky, horrible light fixture, which must have a minimum of 500 watts coming out of it -- I don't think those bulbs can possibly come in less than ten watts, and assuming there were fifty-some bulbs, as were alluded to. Also, the intense concentration of warm, incandescent light really fights with the burst of cold, hostile yellow in the middle of the room. How can yellow be this cold? I don't know, but I can tell you that police caution tape is a warmer yellow than this. Apart from completely lacking aesthetic appeal, let's examine some of the potential problems with this craptastic light-fixture project. Has anyone checked to verify that the electrical system can handle the load? Hildi later mentions a dimmer, and I believe these also have load limits; anyone bothered to look into that? On the other hand, I suppose if it blows itself out, the room might look a little better. There's probably a pretty good glow coming off the table as it is. How about the cost of running this damn thing? Who has five hundred watts of light in any room in which they're not making films or performing surgery? On the other hand, I guess they could just heat the room -- and much of the house -- this way. Also, not that a "designer" who'd put a wine rack above a stove would know any better, but doesn't it seem like having so much light and heat blasting down on you from above would be uncomfortable, unappetizing, and even a little sickening? On the other hand, you could just put the food on the table raw and watch it cook before your very eyes. That's all the rage in some restaurants, isn't it? So maybe it really is six of one and half a dozen of the other. I will confess that I personally really, intensely dislike central overhead lighting, and I further find exposed, utilitarian bulbs quite wretched. I know people consider these bulbs "decorative," but sell it somewhere else because I'm not buying it. I have a special hate on for this monstrosity, which is one of the most relentless ugly and pointlessly excessive things I've ever seen. It looks like it should be somewhere in A Clockwork Orange.