We might never know whether Monica Geller really did use too much garlic in her culinary concoctions as Phoebe once alleged, but we “Friends” fans can all agree that her taste palate on the decorative front was way off, can’t we?
For a woman who got her underoos — no, not the ones she left hanging outside after a balcony romp with Fun Bobby — in a twist over Rachel trying to bring home Mr. Heckles’ hideous mermaid lamp, practically declared WWIII over the green ottoman being relocated from its inexplicable place by the coffee table, and had Chandler and Ross dangerously close to stroking out over not knowing exactly where to put the couch back, her home style was actually kind of a clusterfuck.
Because, first of all, her wall art made Phoebe’s Gladys and Glynnis look like the Mona Lisa.
Seriously, how do you justify this atrocity?
Forget the fact that it clashed with the much-too-much jewel tones of her apartment’s paint job — we’ll give her the benefit of the doubt that the colors might have been held over from back when her grandmother lived there, probably in her final stages of senility. Unlike the somewhat defensible Jouets poster she kept over her TV set, this thing was nothing short of a nightmare. It looks like someone crossed a portrait of Napoleon with Pennywise the Clown, then birthed something that belongs in a creepy haze dream from Nickelodeon’s “Are You Afraid of the Dark?”
Kill it. Kill it now.
And let’s not forget her blind eye to non-complementary patterns.
Look, I’m not saying I don’t have a healthy level of appreciation for putting together contrasting fabrics, but if you’re going to do that, don’t have them be hideous variants of the same exact geometrical animus and tell me it works. It’s as much a visual blunder as when people used to cross cheetah spots with zebra stripes back in the animal print heyday. It hurts my eyes to even look at this mess, it really does.
Somehow she managed to find the four stupidest chairs in the history of chairdom to put in her kitchen.
Whatever dumpster fire she dragged them out of ... I don’t even want to know.
But let’s just be real here and admit that standing alone, each of these chairs could easily substitute as Oscar the Grouch’s backup throne and together, well, wrong is not strong enough a word.
Meanwhile, her accessory game was also lowkey terrible.
Chances are, you didn’t pay attention to what lurked beneath all the fun, chatty friend action that was happening there in Apartment 5-turned-20. But if you go back and look closely at all the random junk Monica hoarded and scattered around her place, you’ll notice that it’s a particular form of mis-matched chaos that defies logic and ornamental sensibility.
I might be able to forgive the yellow cat cookie jar, were it not in the same open floor-planned space as those off-brand drama masks, and whatever you call that 3-D ancient goddess on a cat thing. My mind is melting trying to picture her buying any of these things.
And let’s not forget how her “beautiful guest room” looked like a damp motel room.
The bedding looks like something you’d be wise to scan with a glow light before touching, and the wicker wall art looks like someone ripped a piece of the hull off a decaying boat and just threw it up there. Combined with those puke green walls, it’s no wonder Phoebe and Rachel fought over who’d get to live at Joey’s instead of at Monica's when their apartment caught fire. And to think, she turned down Chandler’s brilliant idea to make it a game room, even after they’d already scored a Ms. Pacman machine.
Haha, remember when she was all precious about Chandler’s placement of the refrigerator magnets?
Every inch of her place was honestly just covered in clutter.
She seemed to be competing with herself over how much stuff could possibly be squeezed into a single square foot of space.
She even managed to turn Joey’s place into a total crone zone.
To be fair, it was still better than the canoe-and-patio furniture set-up that the boys once had going on.
Even so, everyone still let Monica do her Monica thing, because between Phoebe’s mermaid table and Joey’s ceramic dog sculpture, they really didn’t have any room to talk.
Still love ya to the moon, Mon.