I don't know about the brass fixtures part (prefer wood, steel and brick), but I certainly have always had a room sort of like the one I sit now: filled to the brim, and beyond, with books, music (complete with as good as speakers as I can afford, natch), maps, photos, and in more recent editions, including a DVD player and monitor. In a perfect edition of 'my room', I'd have some sound-proofing as well, so as to be able to noodle on my guitar without neighbors and co-conspirators complaining about the racket. Who knew it was a Y-chromosome trait?
Men have always had personal retreats — antiseptic or wood-paneled — filled with concert mementos, career trophies and esoteric collectibles. And women have always been mystified by them. After all, they lack the red-currant candles and yoga paraphernalia associated with true Me Time. The classic male hideout is a musty captain’s quarters, all brass and wood polish, featuring billiards, tobacco, brandy, books and maps. [From Virginia Heffernan - The Medium - Television - Internet Video - Media - New York Times]
I'd also prefer if I had a sunlit room permanently equipped to splash colors on a canvas as the mood struck, but that isn't quite as important.
