I love velvet. 

I always wanted a Weimaraner dog mainly because they look and feel like the most luxurious silver-grey hammered velvet.

I only gave up on my dream of having one when I realized they need 6 hours of running about a day, and chase deer and – long story short - I settled for a pup that looks more like the slut-wool that gathers under the kitchen cabinets but is happy just to trot round the block now and again.

But I still adore velvet in its many forms.

Lustrous crushed velvet, sheer, floating devore velvet, thick pile-on-pile patterned velvet that you can sink into like a warm bath. Colour shimmers and glows in velvet and no other fabric compares to how delightful it is to touch.    

Of course these days it can also be hard-wearing and practical – you can buy washable, ironable, uncrushable, neat velvet that repels marks and always look pristine. 

But oh, the sheer gorgeousness of velvet that crushes, bruises, reflects the light in a million tiny disturbances in the fabric. 

The most beautiful velvet is deeply impractical.

You have to smooth and pamper it like a long-haired Persian cat but just look.

Glorious blue velvet sofa

Image credit: Glorious Velvet Sofa

It says something about my priorities that I can’t commit to a high-maintenance dog, but will willingly put effort into a sofa in return for such uncompromising beauty!

Victoria x


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