DE-LUXE

Once every few months, I receive a glossy magazine called Luxe. Bedrooms in Luxe open onto swimming pools. Living rooms melt into terraces that overlook lakes and ravines.

Midway through this luxury magazine, a page details the life, from 10 am to 7.30 pm, of a San Francisco designer. She begins her day at Chloe Cafe; around 11, she’s browsing boutiques at Filmore District. By 1.30 pm, she’s glowing after a facial at the International Orange Spa. At 4.30 pm, she hops into an Uber while following a self-guided tour of the city on her iPhone. In the time the designer has lived her life of luxe, I’ve merely thumbed through Luxe.

The homes in Luxe receive no mail. They receive no junk mail either. Its dining tables seat 16. One of them cradles a vase the size of Coit tower. My dated dining table seats six people elbow to elbow — quite comfortably, in fact, if one ignores the fraying coir threads in the chairs that poke the rears of those fortunate enough to visit my home.

A Porsche hums outside the endless driveway of a home in the Luxe world. In my real world of families with real boys who drive their parents’ cars, a real-life, low-luxe Mercedes now wears black scotch tapes in right front and rear left in the hope that repairs will happen as if by magic.

One of the homes featured in Luxe claims to be perch perfect: “Anchored to its rocky site, a San Francisco home is re-envisioned with a light-catching interior that frames sweeping city vistas.” While its two balconies hang over two rocks, my home life hangs precipitously over two questions: What is my next argument with my partner going to be about? How shall I gird up with statistics so my arguments trump his?

In a Luxe kitchen, the stove tops show nothing cooking on their tops. The cast irons, the stainless steels, the enamels, they’re washed and stacked up inside shiny cabinets. A stylish housewife poses — glass of Merlot in hand — by her clean sink.

In real life, my kitchen sink is filling up fast. I’m standing by it, brush in hand. Me and my copper bottom.