You know, until recently, I wasn't big into 'furniture stores.' Why buy furniture, I asked, when fruit crates fall off the back of trucks all the time, and you hardly ever run into trouble collecting cardboard boxes? Well, times is changed and Tex has seen the light.
That light is Su Casa.
As those of you who read last week already know, Coda and I entered Su Casa's Test It/Blog It/Win It contest on a
In fact, we showed up at the Su Casa store championship-style: a week late, a little bit drunk, and 15 minutes before closing. The very sweet woman at the desk greeted us happily nonetheless, in that tolerant-amused-jaded way that only Baltimoreans can manage, and welcomed us with open arms into her store.
It was f***ing awesome.
Before we get to the real meat of the review (that comes in Part III, kids), I want to take you on a delightful photographic journey through the maze of wonder and happiness that is the Su Casa store.
It's simultaneously Towson prep and Hampden hon; Ashburton buppie and Cherry Hill local; Canton penthouse and Pigtown rowhouse. It's the comfortable couch at your best friend's house and the swanky bar set at your boss's place. It's aspirational and accessible and personal but structured. It's global and local; it's pink flamingos beside Louis XIV couches; it's ravens by the register and blue crabs by the windows; it's monogrammed koozies and baretta-shaped ice trays. It's wildly and deliciously home.
Tex has found her furniture Xanadu.