I hate curtains

The setting for TV’s most disturbing ending, that of David Lynch’s “Twin Peaks,” is a maze of heavy red curtains.

Are Lynch’s curtains a coincidence? Certainly not.

Curtains – when opaque – radiate an inherent threat. You’re never sure what’s behind it. At least not at Lynch – but also not at home within your own four walls.

Do you think there’s just a boring wall behind it? Quite possible. But are you really sure? Without control?

Maybe there’s a tomato spot, or a hairy spider. But maybe there’s a murderous clown behind it, a portal to hell… or Roger Schawinski.

You can’t be sure without looking.

Moreover, a curtain offers the least possible physical protection against the very dangers it conceals so well. Horror has the ability to strike at any time.

No well-intentioned person has ever needed an opaque curtain…whose castle is full of heavy curtains? Precisely. In Count Dracula’s castle. And who has not only a perversely long table, but also curtains that make it clear that there is some kind of phishing, eavesdropping or poisoning device behind it?

Even.

Curtains are deeply suspicious and clearly complicit in evil.

And then there’s the lame version of ‘not opaque’. Indecision in material form. Really such nonsense.

A curtain like this has never made a room more beautiful or comfortable. Look at photos of the most beautiful houses in the world, Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater, the Steel House in Hollywood or John Lautner’s mansions. There are no curtains. In Hitler’s private home in Berchtesgaden, however…

I could now stretch this rant ad infinitum, extend this argument almost endlessly. But we all know: the best male argument doesn’t help against a female argument: “I don’t want half the neighborhood staring at me!”

The problem is the gender gap. As a boring man over 40 with a BMI of 27, all I know from tradition is yawning and staring. My need for countermeasures is correspondingly limited.

However, for many women, intimidating looks are a daily reality of life. You have to fight it with bigger weapons. And unfortunately you cannot deny curtains a certain functionality.

To make a long story short: that’s why we have curtains in our house. I have come to terms with them. Mainly by ignoring them – I just try not to notice them. That worked quite well. Until yesterday.

Jesus Mary, what do I see?

Some of our curtains are too long. So long that they lie loosely on the parquet. And when you pull them back, they drag across the floor like a stubborn child in the supermarket.

How could I tolerate something so uncomfortable for so long? Chickens have already pooped on the floor where the dust drags. Everything that could come from babies or children was already here on this parquet – piled up. Neighborhood boy F. (7 years old) stumbles through this in his muddy rubber boots when he is playing outside with my son, but now he really has to go to school.

Of course we always clean – but what about the lint and spiders – if they are distinguishable? The germs, microbes, bacteria and pollen? And our fabric zamboni patrols back and forth recording everything like Mother Teresa, offering asylum to everything that has just been invented to torment us humans.

Until now I have been able to avoid an in-depth study of curtains. But for both practical and hygienic reasons, curtains should float just above the floor. Like Tom Cruise from Mission Impossible. Everything else immediately sets off an alarm for me.

I protest loudly.

“Extra length has been back in fashion for a long time,” sounds from the bathroom. As if “trend” is ever a legitimate reason for anything in life.

When it comes to curtain trends, I obviously missed le dernier cri. But unfortunately it turns out once again: if you don’t follow “Know your enemy”, life will punish you. Or Pinterest. There, 80 percent of the curtains lie on the floor as if they were the house dog. They probably smell like that too. With the same number of fleas.

No wonder there are flu waves and epidemics when the leading interior design portal suggests cleaning the floors with curtains. Where is Rigatoni’s protest… Risoletto… you know, the purple narrow-gauge Hagrid who wanted to talk us out of the vaccination.

I decide to catch up on what I missed. I decide to enter enemy territory. Take a deep breath and then type in the browser: “schooner-wohnen.de”.

“The curtain has long since lost its dusty image and can do much more than just obscure things.”that’s where I learn.

BUT NOT BY SLIDING THEM OVER THE GROUND!

«The diamond pattern finds its way from the rustic alcove to our living rooms»It goes on.

NO! NEVER! And stop with the first-person plural nonsense… “This is how we’re wearing our favorite scarves this fall, bububibu.” Fuck you! And I don’t mean the architect. I still wear my scarf like I did in 1987, and certainly no different. Just to stand up to your multiple oppressions in the first person. Group space pressure here, honestly.

«With velvet, satin and the like, the shine returns to our homes. Curtains and curtains shimmer with chrome on surfaces and accessories and give the home a noble touch, possibly with a touch of delight.»

THERE IS NOTHING OF INCREASE! EXCELLENCE MEANS EXCITEMENT, VIOLATION! LOOK AT ME! THIS IS EXALTATION! AND THAT CONTRADICT WITH “ONE TOUCH”!

Take a deep breath… look at Lautner’s villas… I admit I was wrong. Evil does not hide behind a curtain. It lurks on interior design websites.

I turn back to David Lynch. He uses curtains perfectly, he feels what a devil’s work the hanging pieces of fabric are. In ‘Twin Peaks’ he made the curtains float at least an inch above the floor as if they were being drawn by a ruler. He has to know, he’s an independent thinker, you can’t put someone like that down with a first person plural formulation… and here comes the scene.

Fuck me!

There they are.

Like pigs in the mud.

The world is lost. This just doesn’t make any sense.

What’s next? Fake pockets that you can’t even use?

I’m out of here.

I need coffee now.

A damn good coffee.

And then I equip my vacuum robot with razor blades.