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.

The 'Air Multiplier' - Overhyped & Overpriced

I previously mentioned my disapproval with smug inventor James Dyson's bladeless fan. Now the temperatures in London are pushing 30+ smug Dyson types are rushing out to buy them. Here's what I have against them.

The big selling point is that it stops "buffeting"; a problem that doesn't actually exist; well done marketing department. It doesn't need to be in the shape of an 'O' - it's an inefficient footprint and again, exists as a marketing gimmick; look a 'fan' without the middle bit! If you're going to draw influence from a traditional design, give the product character, not better-than-thou arrogance.

Plywood Roedeer by Vlaemsch

A postmodern take on the traditional icon, I picked up this beechtriplex deer head in New York. Originally mounted on an oval base, I had it framed which gives it a new dimension. Designed by Augustin Scott de Martinville for Vlaemsch.

Nambé Twist Coasters - Acacia and Alloy

It's not often that the coaster that you rest your drink on will cost more than the drink itself. These twist coasters designed by Lou Henry for American design house Nambé are examples of such coasters.

At $130 for the set of six, these acacia wood and alloy rectangles are quite something. Nambé justify the price by saying that the "witty design suggests a spirited style and dapper elegance". I think the spiraling design better suggests debaucherous excess and all-round Mancave goodness.

Devil in the Detail - The Delta Door Handle

The second 'devil in the detail' observation, the door handle is something which we interact with every day but have a tendency to largely ignore. But it's not for want of manufacturers trying; there are plenty of crazy handle designs available online.

Far from being crazy, these 'Delta' handles from Heritage Brass are made in Wales and caught my eye because of their solid simplicity. Chunky yet refined polished chrome, 90 degree angles and, most importantly, hidden screwless fixings. Flawless.

The Luxury of Inconvenience

This week I spent considerable time considering whether to purchase two of these nickel wall-mounted lights/scones for candles. I planned to put them in the bathroom; on each side of the mirror; and liked the idea of legitimising candlelight as a source of lighting by giving them 'fixed' hardware.

In the end, I decided that I didn't have the room, but it got me thinking about luxury and practicality. The fixed wall candle fitting, is clearly high-end, but also horrendously inconvenient- I couldn't see myself lighting candles when nipping into the w/c in the middle of the night! But I think it is for that reason, that they are high end. The sheer impracticality of them makes them uncommon and therefore desirable.

Could the same be said for other luxury items like log burning fires, ink-drawing fountain pens and my utterly impractical Japanese phone? Absolutely. High-end items, as mentioned before, can effortlessly improve our quality of life but also sometimes take us a step backwards.

Saville Row your Home

Saville Row represents a home from home for the well-heeled City gent. Similarly, inside the many a discreet doorways of designer boutiques in Milan lie rows of meticulously regimented suits. Over time the professional male will acquire a collection of fine cloth worth a considerable amount.

Short of displaying them in walk in wardrobes which remain uncommon in Europe, they will often be hidden away in closed cupboards and wardrobes - You don't store your art collection a cupboard so why should your suits live out of sight? The open rail is a easy way to display your finest weekday uniforms and give a subtle nod to your home from home in W1.

Blackboard Bistro

These days, man is very much at home in the kitchen. We have moved away from hunting and gathering and toward roasting, braising and blow-torching. And even then, hunting for us involves a quick trip to Waitrose to pick up some £10 single estate olive oil and a handful of hand dived scallops.

So we all think we're Gordon Ramsay. And what better way to make your kitchen a Michelin starred gastropub than with a tin of blackboard paint and some chalk. I like the simplicity of chalk on a wall, and this may be stretching it, but there is something cave-like about drawing on walls. Add a refined twist with a classic typeface.

American Power by Mich Epstein

The best thing about a coffee table is its ability to host some great coffee table books. Also due to the fact the mancave has few feature walls for displaying paintings, fine art photography books have a perfect home in the coffee table.

American Power is a collection of power stations, oil refineries, motorway junctions and juxtaposed landscapes breathtakingly shot over 5 years by Mitch Epstein. Read about this book in the Guardian while on the tube one weekend and picked up a signed copy in New York at the famous Strand Books.

Graham the Springbok Bathmat

Meet Graham. He lives in the locker-room bathroom of the Mancave and serves to dry wet feet after exiting the bath or shower. Named by me after the shop where he was purchased, Graham & Greene, he was an African springbok; a type of gazelle; in a previous life. Now he wasn't sold as a bathmat, but I figure if a springbok is waterproof when it's running around the watering holes, then there shouldn't be any problems with using him to dry feet. Indeed, springbok is excellent at absorbing water and dries very quickly.

I am certain that back in the day, cavemen would have used something just like Graham when leaving the hot spring after a long day of hunting. And before you organic fairtrade vegans start to complain, using a Graham is far more environmentally friendly than using a synthetic, mass produced Chinese rug. So there.

The Man Cushion - It Does Exist

Generally speaking, soft furnishings have no place in the Mancave. At best, a comfortable sofa or armchair is permissible. However there are exceptions. These monogrammed cushions from Cape Henley feature a club-like logo that lend a Drones style sartorial elegance to any room. The fabric is a grey herringbone and definitely has something of the Saville Row about it.