Wall St. Martini by Michael Godard

A recent visitor to the mancave commented on my 'nice olives' - while I admit, the aforementioned steel Malteser dispenser would probably dispense olives equally as well, alas I was not serving olives that evening. Instead my visitor was refering  to the painting which takes centre stage in the living area. I thought it was about time I unmasked it.

Called Wall St. Martini, it personifies a handfull of olives running round the trading floor of the NYSE, buying and selling and larking around by the giant martini glass trading post. A bit of fun, but relevant as I picked it up in Miami weeks before embarking on my first job in the City of London. By the American self proclaimed 'rockstar of the art world' Michael Godard, it wasnt the Martini's, but rather the Mojito's I was on when I stumbled in to the Godard gallery in Key West. Bespoke frame by Village Framing.

Argentine Malteser Dispenser

Picked up this shiny dish in the Buenos Aires Design shopping centre in the Recoleta district of Buenos Aires, Argentina. Firstly, I'd like to comment on the brilliant idea of a shopping centre featuring only design and independent furniture stores; would definitely like to see the format more widely rolled out.

The dish is made from cast steel and doubles up neatly as a Malteser dispenser when friends are visiting (although I haven't tried it for size with Ferrero Rocher's yet - clearly the Argentinian Ambassador hasn't been round). Really like the streamline form which is far superior to the clumsy equivalent from Dwell.

The Harbour Master Telescope

Asides from lashings of shiny chrome hardware, black stitched leather and elegant wooden tripod, there is a very good reason why this Harbour Master Telescope found it's way into the apartment. And there's no mancave link to keeping an eye on your pet T-Rex as it wreaks havoc in the neighbouring village.

The reason is twofold. The first being that I saw one in the private library of the $20,000 a night Ty Warner Penthouse at the Four Seasons New York (that's another story). The second is suggestive, and touches on my previous post of furniture as metaphor. A telescope implies there is something to look at outside; which implies the apartment is a) penthouse-high, b) perched on a cliff-face, c) is actually a yacht... or d) is a rather less auspicious sounding 'yacht-perched-on-top-of-a-really-tall-cliff-face'.

Furniture as Metaphor

You may want to sit down for this one, the concept is a little abstract I admit. This sideboard, isn't actually a sideboard. It's a grand piano. No, it doesn't fold out in a spectacular origami display like the Boxetti Television either. I wanted a grand piano, but that didn't fit. Neither did a normal upright piano. So I chose a piece of furniture in a similar shape to an upright piano, finished in a piano-black lacquer and with similar chrome hardware.

It's not a bookshelf; it's contents are hidden just like a piano and when placed in an environment where a piano wouldn't look out of place, metaphorically speaking, I think it creates a similar visual effect. That, and how many pianos do you know that can house a fully stocked bar?

Flint - Mancave for Knife

They say you don't realise what you've got until it's gone. I think it also works the other way around - Sometimes you don't know what you're missing until you have it. Despite my earlier comments about modern man in the kitchen, I've been looking for a decent set of kitchen knives for about a year now.

We all want to chop our carrots like a Samurai but with top Japanese knife sets pushing £1,500 I'd rather buy a fleet of Wagyu livestock and set about making tatare with a plastic airline utensil. Luckily however I stumbled across these achingly smart blades in Habitat (not literally you understand). I've never seen such a magnificent combination of angles, shiny metal and earthly stone - perfectly summed up by the name of the series from which they're from - Flint.