RUG'S THE DRUG

The allergy-fog has lifted after two long zomby days and I am raring to go on a magic carpet ride.

First, my rug dealer. There have been very few times in my life where my response to an object has been so strong that I am overcome by an immediate and overwhelming urgency to possess it. I’m too practical and, more often than not, cash-strapped to boot. One of those times involved a Gabbeh rug. If you don’t know what a Gabbeh rug is, check out this site, in particular this screen. Sumak Gabbehs just make me swoon.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I had never seen anything like it, and I've eyed a fair number of rugs over the years. It was hanging outside a neighborhood rug store, a rectangle of color the vibrancy of which I’d never seen outside nature; it made my eyes ache dry. The rug had a deep blue field, with a squared border and dots like colored stars in the center. I was driving by the store, in our old blue 1982 Saab. My son was in the back seat, being his vaccinated-with-a-phonograph-needle, ringlet-headed three-year-old self. My response to this rug was so strong that my memory plays back tires screeching to a near halt. But I decelerated gradually, without making a scene, and looked at the rug, without causing an accident, and finished running whatever errand I was running, I think to get takeout. When I got home, I called the store.

This is how I met my rug dealer. The fellow on the line, my once and future rug dealer, had a very inviting voice, and when I declared my love for said rug hanging outside said store, he told me someone else was interested. This may or may not have been the case, it’s an old sales strategy, but I fell for it. I told him – by now he’d told me his name was Drew -- I simply had to have that rug. I think he flattered me and told me I had good taste, I had an eye. I think I ate it all up. I think I told him, “Yes, champagne taste, beer budget.” He suggested I come by the store. I went over the next day. I bought the rug, in a fit of temporary insanity given my circumstances. My income status had recently changed from a two-earner household to a one-earner household.

This blue rug would be my first of five Gabbehs, all purchased from Drew and his then-employer, whose store, which has since closed, shall remain nameless. Drew came to call me Gabbeh Girl, my second favorite nickname. (My absolute favorite is Barbara Fellini, which was bestowed on me by a college friend, a lovely woman from Tunisia.) Drew and I talked and laughed about my addiction to Gabbehs. I would stop by the store a few times a month, to look at new shipments. We joked about founding a 12-step program for rug addicts, “step” as in stepping on a rug. Five may not sound like a lot, but I did burn through a chunk of my savings for these beauties; if my apartment were larger, I would have bought me.

I haven’t spoken to my rug dealer in a few years. He has his own store now, The Eos Collection. Contemplating a fantasy textile itinerary reminded me that I must pick up the phone and give that man a call. It also reminded me how much I love textiles, and how every item in my modest collection – the Gabbeh rugs, two blue rugs from Teotitlan de Valle, in Oaxaca, Mexico, made by the daughter of renowned rug maker Isaac Vasquez (purchased directly from her on a visit there in 2003), a Pakistani area rug with a tree of life design on it – gives me enormous, active pleasure every single day.

Now, for my Magic Carpet Tour. It’s not the one I originally envisioned. Are they ever?

Marrakesh, Morocco: How could anyone be indifferent to this? Istanbul, Turkey: This is a lovely key to motifs: Iran (various, Tabriz, Farahan): Here’s an overview of Persian rugs.

I know Iran would be dicey right now, but remember, the prize here is not your dream itinerary, it's a trip to London. To enter, start here.