Are you kidding? Another beloved casualty of this shaky--no, horrible--economy, Domino magazine is no more.
Growing up, I despised the white stark walls of my room. I begged my parents to let me paint the walls any vivid color. They said no. (Later, when I would visit home during undergrad, I would find the walls painted burnt crimson. What?) So, I painted everything else and rearranged, rearranged, rearranged my furniture.
Peering through Domino made me happy -- rooms of unabashed color, texture, print, all mismatched, layered on top of, and against, each other. Love.