If Seraph was crowned king of the underworld (sorry folks, despite what you read in the papers, it hasn’t happened yet), as his queen & royal consort I would adorn his obsidian halls in all manner of finery. Although, come to think of it our front studio is looking a bit hellish of late, so we already have a bit of head start… There are blood red upholstered walls, mirrors of dubious origins draped in shrouds, and frames shedding their layers of gold like some gilded serpent. Pillows gathered in corners, slowly moldering away to a pile of sequins and dust. (That is why around here we worship the ‘Parton Saint of Vacuums’, and maintain shine in the hall closet. In fact Seraph could be considered a High Priest of the order, ever vigilant against filth, dirt & religious hypocrisy… oh wait, you can’t vacuum that up…yet …) Upon the windows and casements are heavy brocade drapes blocking out any hint of light, sky or air. These are, of course, crowned with winged valances, every watchful for intruders and assorted interlopers. The floor is a garden of evil carpets that entwine around your feet, the foliage as wicked and blood thirsty as a Baudelaire verse. (There is a reason that we wear tall steel toed boots and it’s not just because it is fashionable). So if you happen to visit, just watch your step and keep your hands to yourself and everything should be fine. Otherwise, enjoy these dark inspirations that we have gathered for you… This is what happens when you don’t clean out your closets & trunks at least once a year. (Getting out the smell of ghouls can be dreadful.) Black chalices worthy of Lord Azhrarn himself. Oriel Harwood’s fabulously gloomy dining room. The blending of charcoal, pewter and red is truly sensuous. This is one of our favorite rooms designed by Renzo Mongiardino. With its brooding and gothic flair, it would make the perfect place plot your next endeavor. An austere, yet sinister bedroom, complete with a chained raven. Slave - the shackles are off Act - Do it your way Horns - the abyss ascends Now gather the earth It's the coming of the Dark Lord All tribes unite This is the rite of our cross (‘The Rite of Our Cross’ by Satyricon)