Richard: These are not our usual interiors.
For starters, they're meticulously clean. (The homeowner probably isn't responsible for that.)
They're also a bit grand, in the same way that we'd be "a bit" excited to slobber on Christopher Meloni's pendulous nutsack or gargle with Chris Noth's DNA.
And of course, they're aggressively bland. Sure, there's a lot of baroque bullshit -- the gilt chairs, the inset ceilings, the tops of those completely decorative, not-at-all architecturally significant Corinthian columns. But the monochromatic monsoon of gold and rose-gold and beige makes this the decorative equivalent of a real-housewives hairstyle: tasteful and camera-friendly and utterly devoid of character. That plain, white phalaenopsis at the top looks positively decadent by comparison, that's how goddamn bland this shit is.
Worst of all, these rooms aren't meant for fucking. They're not comfortable or sexy enough for that.
No, these rooms are meant for fucking people over. They're meant to impress. They're built for a person with something to prove. I wouldn't trust anyone I met here further than I could throw him/her across those marble floors.
Which means that this is either the Pope's house or someone with even tinier hands.