If I Were Your Realtor...{The Space Between Ms. and Mrs.}

Every blog needs a poster girl. If I even think about my other blog, Cayenne Kisses, this Mrs. is mine.

She's married and loves it. Relishes her relationship. Isn't afraid to add a little spice to her sugar. And if I were her realtor, I'd find her a spot in which to celebrate it all. Someplace...what's the word?

I think tryst is the word. A secret hide-away in which to meet her Mister for lunch, where the two of them won't even think about food.

An LV duffle to hold all the necessities. And a tub for two, which is also a necessity. 

If I were her realtor, that is.

Visit the sublimely cute Mrs. right here. And a special thanks for always supporting Cayenne Kisses. It means the world to me. Secret hideaway found among my pins.

If I Were Your Realtor...

Every girl needs a getaway.

A long drive, an even longer footpath, and not a signal for miles, probably. But then, you'd never check for one anyway. Not when you're here.

The first thing you'd do is store your rations. Mostly beverages and still-warm breads just purchased in the market at the bottom of the mountain, perfect to soak up the cherry butter and White Stilton the shop owner convinced you to buy.

It was an easy sell; once you leave the city, you become pretty agreeable.

Your Vanity Fair and New Yorker would be begging to be read, but first things first. Maybe some foam and your man's razor for an old-school shave in the sunshine. 

You'd giggle midway through, feeling like a true pioneer woman, until you stopped, panicked a little, and tried frantically to remember if you'd packed your Molton Brown Gingerlily Bath Oil. 

Okay. Perhaps pioneer woman was a stretch. As was thinking your bath water would be anything near hot. No worries; warmishly-cold water is wonderful for your pores.

At least that's what you'd tell yourself in between shivers. But in the end, you'd have to admit that a bath in the sunshine is one of life's little musts. As is a getaway just for yourself.

As your realtor, I highly recommend it.

And now...on to those magazines, some Ray LaMontagne, and one Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that man at the market must've slipped in your bag. Delicious. 

Gypsy on Wheels via Taverne-Agency.

If I Were Your Realtor...{Bella Wish}

I've always wanted to know a girl whose boy proposed to her under the Eiffel Tower. She would be smart and sweet, stylish and lovely...and best of all, my friend.

I love it when life matches your wishes.

I'm please to introduce to you one of my favorites, Stacy. And here is the home I've found especially for her. I hope you love it, too.

If I were Stacy's realtor, I'd hunt first for an art studio. My friend is an artist, and her daughters are fast following in her footsteps; they need cubbies and clean surfaces and lots of space for clay.

But my friend is also a fabulous mom to her girls, and so her studio must include room for scooters and jump rope contests. It would lead directly out to an ancient garden overflowing with established root systems and ribbon-winning fruits and vegetables, not to mention one old tree the family would name and love for the rest of its life.

The kitchen would be serious, full of all the necessary instruments her husband needs to make his signature dishes. 

We'd all stop and inhale the potential someday aromas from his cheffery, even though that is not necessarily a real word; if you tasted his cooking, you'd invent better words, too.

"There's room for you," he'd whisper to his sweetheart wife, pointing to a well-stocked bright corner.

She'd smile, shrug, and explain, "I'm still trying to master the perfect Martini. It's a pretty fun learning curve."

The bedroom would be a haven, but there would be little time to linger over its serene solitude and ceiling height that takes our gasps away. The girls would be getting antsy.

"Pardon me?" They'd ask politely. They are stellar and very polite girls, my Bella and Mia. "Is there a room for us?"

Is there a room for them? I'd stifle a giggle and put on a worried frown.

"Oh, dear," I'd tell them. "Your room needs some work."

They would hold their collective breath for at least thirty seconds before turning to their parents and begging to sleep over this very night.

But you and I both know that's the way with your perfect home, isn't it? You never want to leave.

All photos found on Pinterest. Please visit my friend at her blog and her Etsy shop, and you can also stop by my pins, too, if you'd like. I hope you'd like.

If I Were Your Realtor...{Earth Empress}

Shakaya is a free spirit who loves all things love. She dances in the moonlight, swims under waterfalls, and follows her butterflies. If you saw her flitting through the forest, I swear you'd think you just saw a fairy.

She is magic, not to mention one year more beautiful this week. I though it would be the perfect time to find my friend a charming weekend getaway; her very own sanctuary of inspiration where she can refill her spirit and replenish her soul. 

Square footage would not be a factor for Shakaya. Soul-shattering views, inside and out, would definitely move her.

"It's bigger than it looks," I'd tell my friend.

"It couldn't be more perfect." she'd tell me back, floating to the porch and leaning against a pillar with a grand sigh. "I could drink this view for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

I imagine she could prepare that view quite nicely in the kitchen, pouring it into vintage cups and serving dishes and mismatched silverware.

And then she could serve it to her visiting friends and family in her outdoor dining area. There would be a huge dining room inside, but Shakaya would want to use that space for meditation.

"I'm sold," she'd sigh once more, to bring the count of perfectly charmed sighs to no less than twelve.

"But you haven't even see the bath!" I'd exclaim.

"And if you just fly up to the third floor..." I'd continue, waving off Shakaya's shock with a "Oh, I told you it was bigger than it looks! Now, come see your bedroom."

And there Shakaya would stop. "Oh," she'd whisper. "Now...I'm souled."

I love it when that happens, don't you?

Happy Birthday to my dear friend, Shakaya. Have a wonderful Wednesday, everyone, and please send me a note if you'd like me to find you a home. Also, if you'd really truly like me to find a home for you and yours, visit me at The Jamie Flannigan Collection. Because I do this whole Souled thing in real life, too! All photos from Pinterest, each one linked to its source.

If I Were Your Realtor...{Crush Party}

I'll be completely honest: I was nervous about this one. I am a very good realtor, but to find a perfect home...the perfect home...for a woman who is known as the Champagne Maker is, to say the least, an impossibility.

I've just spent approximately twenty minutes lost in her blog and her tumblr in a mad attempt to choose my favorite treasure from her impeccably curated collections. It is, to say the least, an impossibility.

Here's one find she's saved to show us all...

I like to imagine this is her life. Onward, then, to her new home. Found first on {frolic}, it has mesmerized me ever since. Definitely a home beyond suitable for a champagne maker, don't you agree?

Do you see that necessary ladder in the back corner? It would make my newest client put her hands on her cheeks and declare something cool like "I have a fabulous collection of vintage French globes just perfect for that tiny nest!" I just know she would be a declarer of cool.

The kitchen might almost seal the deal, from the sunlight, the butcher block, the view from the sink, and even the eggplant. But Crush Party knows kitchens. She finds the best and the brightest, shares them, and then finds more. So on to the dining area.

And then to her study.

"It can't get better than this," she'd whisper. But,  remember: I am a very good realtor. And it always gets better. Because here's her roommate.

I'll bet Crush Party adores show tunes.

If you don't already follow Crush Party's every move, you really should. The same advice goes for {frolic}. All images from Madderlake Designs. Another thanks to {frolic} for this find.

If I Were Your Realtor...

If I were your realtor, I'd find you a home in which you could live an inspired life.

And hope that you always have someone lovely with whom to share it.

Not too much to ask of your realtor, now, is it? Happiest of days to you in our newest year. May it bring nothing but beauty, inspiration, and love. Image here.

If I Were Your Realtor...{Bunny Victorious}

If I were Bunny Victorious' realtor, she would not be my client for long. Truly, there's only one home for a girl like Bunny. And I would be the one to show it to her.

It would be all about the kitchen, so welcome to Bunny's new kitchen. It has space and light and the island slides politely out of the way for impromptu dance parties. Girls like Bunny require impromptu dance parties in the kitchen upon their every whim. Or at least after every dinner.

After the all-important kitchen, it would be all about the view. Girls like Bunny require inspirational views wherever they look. And wouldn't you know that I am a very good realtor who gives very good view. The scenery from her bedroom would look like this, then. 

The view from her Mama's guest room would look like this.

But Puppy's bedroom view would be a little more romantic. Rightly so, as puppies like Bunny's Puppy require  romantic views.

Being Bunny's realtor is fun.

I would show her the library, and she would stand there for five minutes, at least, with her jaw dropped wide open.

When she could finally speak, her voice would shake a little. "All this space for my books," she'd whisper.

Girls like Bunny Victorious have their priorities in perfect order, don't they?

Visit Raleigh-Elizabeth at Bunny Victorious and DC Whip. Kitchen and bedroom via encore une minute. The views and library found on the vast wasteland of Tumblr, their origins long misplaced. My apologies. I am a very good realtor, but not as good at reblogging.

If I Were Your Realtor...{Melissa Loves}

If I were Melissa's realtor, I'd brush my teeth a few extra times after each of our viewings; she is surely that sweet. And, I'd soon learn, the most optimistic, cheerful person in the known universe.

For example, I could show her this bath. Other clients might call it a tight space or cramped or simply too small. Not Melissa. She'd smile at the idea of whispering to her husband around the corner, and declare it perfectly intimate. And so it would be.

Most clients would see this kitchen and never leave. But not Melissa. Oh, she'd be quite complimentary and beyond polite...but, you see, it just wouldn't be her sort of space.

No. It would take a kitchen like this one to make Melissa smile.

I'd quickly learn that it would take spaces that had been clearly and unequivocally loved to sway Melissa. A space where her artistic little girls could be...well...artistic little girls! A swing wouldn't hurt, either.

It would be a space where her beloved guests could put up their feet, rest their weary, revel in all the indie art Melissa's collected. She'd never worry about dirt or doggie messes or spilled reds; to a gem like Melissa, life is messiest when it's most loved.

One thing I'd need to remember, though, is to find her a home with a bright place in which to blog. If you've ever read her cheerful posts or been fortunate enough to earn one of her loving comments, you'll understand why this is integral; the Internet is a brighter place with her in it.

That little spot at the end of the table has a cuppa, a colorful view, and space for her girls' drawings just waiting for her. As it should be.

Visit Melissa here daily, and you must also browse her shop. She makes jewelry! Images, in order, found on Marie Claire Maison, VT Interiors, The Diversion Project, Shannon Fricke, and My Ideal Home.

If I Were Your Realtor, {Goodnight Irene}...

If I were fortunate enough to be Katie's realtor, I'd know exactly what to do: find a home fit for the most beautiful poet in the known universe.

And although I am a very good realtor, mad panic would ensue. Because consider how many poets you know (probably one or two if you're lucky) and then consider how they live (probably messily, as it's very hard to keep track of laundry and dirty dishes when you're stringing together gorgeous words). But Katie is not your average poet. Just look at her.

I think I would know what she would love.

Her space should make her smile, with swings, mini motorbikes, and a skylight big enough to lighten any darkness. It should also be grand in scale because sometimes poets like their own space. Perhaps their mates might, too.

I would also think it important to highlight the private alleyway outside. Because poets like to pace, and this could be convenient.

There would be a master bath that would remind her that sometimes a black and white world is beautiful, even though she most often prefers to live in the silvery gray sections.

She would need a nook in which to hide.

Given a poet's propensity for swooning over beauty, she may also require a chaise or two. Preferably near every mirror or reflective surface. Remember, she looks like this.

To keep her looking like that, she would love a room well-stocked with toys of one of her other trades.

And even though she would protest and turn a brilliant shade of red, I'll insist on a screening room. Because someday soon, she'll need it.

I know all about these things; I live in L.A., remember?

Visit Katie here and here. Images are each linked to their sources, all via 1st-Option and ESNY.

If I Were Your Realtor...

If I were your realtor, I'd study your hair intently while you intently studied master baths and bedrooms.

How do you do that? I'd wonder.

You'd describe your dream home as breezy and airy. I would understand immediately, and set out to find a home that reminded me of your hair.

Simple.

I'd just need an effortless kitchen with a lifetime of style...

A room that breathed with the wind...

And a master bath that matched your eyes...

Of course, you would love everything I showed you. How do you do that? you'd wonder.

Only three days later, you'd make a gorgeous offer on a gorgeous home. You'd make everything supremely easy. Just like your hair.

We wouldn't see each other for a few weeks until the moment we were walking to your closing, whereupon I'd gasp. Not because of your Louboutins. Your hair! You looked totally different!

I'm looking for a holiday property, you'd tell me once I'd picked up my jaw from the floor. I'd like something one-of-a-kind. I would understand immediately, and set out to find a home that reminded me of your hair.

Simple.

Thank goodness you didn't get a perm.

As always, all photos are linked back to the sources where I first spied them. Have a good Wednesday, everyone! And thank you for all the love about my other blog, Cayenne Kisses! Your kindness means the world to me.

If I Were Your Realtor...

If I were your realtor, I would certainly be torn.

While I'd love almost nothing more than to find you your ideal home, I would probably become very accustomed to staring at you and nodding my head in mesmerized agreement when you said things like "What a fantastic view, Jamie." or "This is gorgeous, Jamie."

All professionalism aside, you are a fantastic view. Gorgeous, too. But professionalism always wins, so we would set off to find exactly what you want while I made sure you didn't fall into any of those fantastic views.

You'd tell  me there's just one thing - just one - you need in a home: an aesthetically inspiring kitchen like no other. So I'd show you this one.

"Too colorful," you'd declare while shaking your head. I'd decide not to show you the living room.

Nor the secret passageway.

Weeks and hopefully months would pass before we finally found your perfect kitchen. It would look a lot like this one.

I'd be rather sad we'd found it, but only for a half-second or two. Because then you'd tell me there was just one more thing - just one - you needed in a home: an aesthetically inspiring bath like no other.

It would be months until we found this.

But before we settled, you'd tell me there's just one last thing - just one - you needed in a home: a place to hang your canoe.

I am a very good realtor.

As always, all photos are linked to their original sources, or as close as I could get! Blessings...