I have heard the blues. They are a-callin’. But this time it’s not tossed salads or scrambled eggs. It’s lighting from Amazon and Swedish knock-offs.
Those who know me know that I am a true Frasier fan. I spent hundred of dollars on the above cast and crew jacket that is too big for me and once belonged to a post-production supervisor named Tony. I own the cookbook. I would gladly name a boy Niles.
When the show aired in the ‘90s and early 2000s, I didn’t quite get it. But my parents, classical musician aesthetes, downright cackled at every episode, relishing the quips and references that belonged only to the opera-loving, sherry-sipping elite.
While Frasier may not seem like the recipe for a mass, network audience what with all its references to Puccini and Jungian psychiatry, its success is rooted in the hilarity of class clash — and ultimately the aristocracy is always the butt of the joke, the mere commoner coming out on top. It’s Petrus vs. Ballantine beer. Armani suits vs. sharkskin suits. Modernist chairs vs. deteriorating La-Z-Boys.
Which brings me to the meat of this post. As you have probably heard, Frasier is coming back to TV. (I know. It is sure to be a mockery.) In this sequel, Frasier moves back to Boston to be close to his son, Freddy — in fact it appears that Frasier occupies the apartment across the hall from him. Paramount has been releasing sneak peeks, and this of course means we need to dissect Frasier’s new home. Fair warning, I do not have good things to say about it, but hopefully this will offend no one. After all, Frasier himself has said he “can handle criticism”:
Take it in: The new Frasier Crane apartment.
I shall distill my thoughts thusly:
There are far too many seating options for such a petite living room.
For under his piano, Frasier has chosen a rug that seems to emulate the gray vinyl flooring of bad flips.
The wood cabinet tries to play off of some of the art deco motifs of Frasier’s old Seattle apartment. But it seems to be a rip-off of a 1940s collection by a Swedish designer named Oscar Nilsson.
The marble side table reeks of Eau de Wayfair.
The wallpaper, in a Rorschach test pattern, can be purchased at Spoonflower for $74 per roll or 4 interest-free installments with Afterpay. It is far too on the nose for a Freudian psychiatrist obsessed with subtext.
If you have seen the new teaser trailer, you know that those couch pillows are Christian Lacroix (and, at about $200 each, apparently very precious to Frasier). Again, these pieces have ink blot-like patterns and motifs that seem to reference “the mind” way too obviously.
That is most definitely a plug-in sconce from Amazon above the piano.
The couch is a mystery; no one can seem to identify it. (I even messaged the For Scale guy; he didn’t have an answer either.)
This is all in stark contrast to the OG Frasier crane apartment, which was filled with classic pieces and all the blond burl wood one’s heart may desire.
For furnishings, he had an Eames lounge chair, Breuer’s Wassily chair, and a lamp by “Corbu,” as he calls him. Hell, the man had an original Rauschenberg hanging in the hall. (Of course, there’s also the matter of Frasier’s tribal art collection, including the “exceedingly rare fertility symbol from a small nomadic tribe in Ghana" — but that’s something I can’t even get into right now.)
Frasier: So, what do you think of what I've done with the place, huh? You know, every item here was carefully selected. This lamp by Corbu. The chair by Eames. And this couch is an exact replica of the one Coco Chanel had in her Paris atelier.
Martin: Nothing matches.
Frasier: It's a style of decorating. It's called eclectic. Well, the theory behind it is if you've got really fine pieces of furniture, it doesn't matter if they match. They will go together.
Martin: It's your money.
But above all, Frasier was most proud of his couch — an exact replica of the one Coco Chanel had in her Paris atelier.
This is all to say that ‘90s Frasier was a decor snob who was very vocal about his choices — and the obviously inferior choices of Martin (his devotion to that beat-up recliner) or the mundane thoughts of Daphne:
Daphne: [trying to solve the problem of a scratch on the floor] We could put a rug over it.
Frasier: A rug...where a rug doesn’t belong. Why don't we just throw down a Twister mat and have a few rounds between vintages?
The reality, to no one’s surprise, is that this comes down to budgets. Network shows these days are cheap. The cable cash cows of the ‘90s had more to work with. And so we are left with a HomeGoods-level interpretation, with nary an Eames chair in sight.
What is a boy to do?
At least hope there’s a better story behind the mystery sofa.