Much has been written about the man cave. It’s the ultimate in what used to be called a den, a room with a television and comfortable couches where the fellows would unite in avid sports viewing or shooting a game of pool. It’s been transformed in recent years to an extravagant exhibition of acquired technology—in other words, an extension of male sexuality manifested as power toys.
I wondered if women, too, had their caves, a version of collective tribal delight in buddying up over an event. But when I Googled woman cave, I got this:
As frequent blog commentator Iris told me, women don’t do caves. Their designs of sharing a good time start with going out on the town. They have a moveable cave.
The more I looked into it, I came to the following conclusion: men need caves for collective activities and women prefer caves that act as solitary retreats where they can enjoy their pursuits alone without distractions of he-man whoops and giggles. To wit, a sewing room:
A room of one’s own
It cost $4,569 to create this woman’s cave in Wisconsin. It’s a great notion for interiors and includes a Rowe sofa, Samsung 42” plasma TV, cane chairs, IKEA curtains, a Crate and Barrel rug, Overstock light, frames from Pier 1, and a mirror salvaged from the Goodwill store. Read how Sara created her own TV room at her Russet Street Reno blog.
Pinky and the brain
In this pink salon, created by Bee Line Homes, you can read anything you want–from Virginia Woof to a gushy Linda Howard romance–and be alone with your thoughts.
All you need is a frame, good ambient lighting, and cheery companions to hoist a quilt while the boys are gnawing on cigars and hoisting sloppy brewskies in the man cave.
Tea and sympathy
In many Middle Eastern countries, women simply eat meals and drink tea separately from the men. They even have loom rooms where they weave together. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that in Bamyan Province, Afghanistan, women enjoy their tea and company away from the men gnawing on hookas and hoisting their cups of strong black coffee.
(I’ve suddenly realized that with this post, I might be leading with my chin. Forget I said anything about it: put on your black dress and go dancing! Here are the keys to the Hummer.)