Do you care much about design? I have a sordid past (read obsession) that I have spent years overcoming, and can now say that I love good design, but don’t really participate in obsessing over my home any more. I can’t afford my taste anyway and I realized at some point that an entire life might go by and all I’ve really determined is that Benjamin Moore’s ‘White Dove’ is a safe move for the 12 inch, reclaimed, circa 1890’s, crown molding in the service kitchen. Which is to say, blah blah blah. Sorry if I have offended. I come from a line of people with beautiful homes and discerning taste and I am obsessed with the teepee. I’m not sure how it happened really.
So the fact of the matter is this. I know lots about good design. I know the rules. I cringe at faux reproductions. I would make an excellent interior designer. Deep inside I’m a true snob. However. Along the way, my mother made the mistake of sharing this little morsel of wisdom....
“Once you know the rules, you can break them.”
If she had known my odd potential, she would have played it closer to the chest, I bet.
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| Not my house, but we were abducted by the same aliens. Belongs to these folks. Does this make your eyes weary? not mine! |
She saw to it that I knew the ins and outs of architecture and design, but I stepped out of the building when the experts were stressing that it is always important to have a place in each room ‘where the eye can rest.’ I stepped out and had a triple shot mocha latte and some heroin. And maybe a lobotomy, I can’t remember.
Rest the eye.
You’ve heard that, right? You should have. It’s true really. There should be at least one neutralizing factor in every room. A solid couch or neutral window treatment. A clean line or surface. Get it?
Not everything should be patterned or colorful or textured or strung with twinkling lights. Not every surface covered with bones and rocks and branches and candles. Not every wall slathered in thrift store portraits and pom pom garlands. You don’t paint your walls just because your six year old says that she loves turquoise. Because she’s going to say that she loves red on Wednesday and you’ll feel compelled to go with it.
You don’t go to a Mexican grocery store in Albuquerque and come home and try to replicate the produce aisle with plastic flags and chili peppers. Just because you find a rotting deer carcass while mountain biking doesn’t mean the skull should go above your bed.
Albert Hadley did not have a putting green down his hall replete with astro turf....{actually, Matt did that, not me.} A touch of leopard is always good. Zebra and Tiger make it better. Yard art? If it’s not working inside then set it in the garden and put some lights on it or spray paint it gold.
If you see a broken chair in a pile of trash on the street, it might
not be a sign from the universe to get creative. It might be..... trash. (But I’m always looking for a sign, so don’t consult me.)
You can’t love every era. On that note, I don’t much like Bauhaus or Craftsman or Victorian. All three give off a hinky vibe to me. But let’s combine the rest and draw out of a sombrero, for Christ’s sake. Modern, vintage, retro, English, Asian, earthy, 70’s, mid-century log cabin? Bring it, sister.
If you have evolved to the highest life form and truly don’t give a rat’s you-know-what about design, then I apologize for wasting your time and am right behind you. I’m trying at least.
An ethereal white canvas cone has been calling my name since birth (’nother story) and soon I will listen.
