Category Archives: interior design

the true fact of everything

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Yesterday I talked about overcoming my defensiveness, because it is oppressive and debilitating. It keeps a contrived distance between you and life, between you and everything you want and need to feel safe.

Turns out grief is the key. The only authentic, meaningful way we are going to experience life is to spend it preparing for death. Our culture taught us to think that is obscene. That we deserve to be “happy” all the time. Suffering is optional. It isn’t.

There is a new shift in interior design language (remember, ultimately it will be the artists who save us) – which replaces the term “age in place” with “die in place.” The ultimate goal of all good design is not that you can age in your own home. It’s that you can die there.

We are going to have to include death and loss and grief in our common language. We are going to have to talk about it. Normalize the subject. Befriend that demon. It has to happen. Turns out, it’s the only dance in town. Step right up.

Only now, fast approaching 72, am I realizing that I have carried grief since early in childhood. There were many losses, and none of them were addressed, or “processed,” whatever that means. I acutely remember waking during the night as a child, maybe 6 or 7. I came down the stairs into the living room looking for help. I was afraid and sad. Mimi, my grandmother, was sitting on the sofa, and I ran to her and burst into tears. “What’s wrong, honey?” “I miss Blackie!” Blackie was my Cocker Spaniel who had simply disappeared one day. I was 5 or 6 when I named her, so, don’t judge.

Blackie and I had been sitting on the floor playing fetch. I was rolling the ball to her and teaching her to return it to me. She dropped it near my feet and it rolled under the sofa, and when I bent over to reach for it, she bit me on the face. I doubt she did it out of any malice. She was also reaching for the ball. I just got in the way. She was gone shortly after that. I can look back now, of course, and realize that my parents weren’t going to let that happen again, so she had to go. Where she went I will never know. I don’t remember the story I was told, but I was devastated. And it would never be spoken of again.

Neither would Mimi’s death years later. There was no funeral. Was she cremated? Is she buried somewhere? I’ll never know. The subject was forbidden. Certainly my dear Mother spent her lifetime grieving. Among so many losses, she lost her sister, her closest friend, in a car accident on my 23rd birthday. I never wanted to celebrate my birthday again, but my Mother wasn’t having it. She showed up wherever I was in my life, presents and cake in hand. By God, we were having a party. And Barb was never spoken of. She was my loss, too.

There are too many stories like that to tell. Just in my life alone. I’m sure there are in your life also. How did we get this so wrong? And we wonder why we’re a culture of addicts?!

home is a many-layered thing…

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First journal? Scrapbook? We were kids when we started, eh? With a diary in grade school. So, for me that was the 1950’s. Although I was drawing as soon as I could hold a pencil (per my mother), magazine tear sheets wouldn’t come into being until I was in high school in the 60’s. But once I discovered magazines a whole new world opened up, quite literally. The world became a much smaller place once it was delivered to the mailbox.

It began with Seventeen. Barbie grew up and dressed in Betsy Johnson. But it wasn’t long before art and shelter magazines like Metamorphosis and Architectural Digest and Rolling Stone broadened my horizons. And then The Sun.

Suddenly my life was too small. I couldn’t wait to leave the boring suburbs for real life in the city. Little did I know…I wouldn’t get too far too fast, probably a good thing. Family kept me close and I set aside the acceptance letters to RISD and Parsons and New York School of Design for Wayne State and Center for Creative Studies, known then as Arts and Crafts. It was across the street from the fabulous and inspiring DIA, to this day one of the best art museums in the country. It was my familiar stomping ground as I would often skip high school (I still got A’s & B’s) to spend the day roaming the galleries, dreaming and sketching. Other days you’d find me on the 13th floor of the J.L. Hudson Company, moving from vignette to vignette in the furniture and design department, imagining what I would do with that room.

It had never occurred to me that I would be anything but an artist or a writer. It wasn’t what I did; it was who I was. Fast forward five+ decades and I look back, longingly some days. At the life I sidestepped somehow, too young married and mothering and clambering for survival. The demons were lurking in the shadows, fighting amongst themselves for attention. They were not to be ignored. In retrospect, I wouldn’t trade any of it – but that realization happened just the other day. It’s a process, like me. I’ll have to keep you posted as to when I solidify.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (has that euphemism become old?!) some things have not changed much. I’m still obsessed with art and music and design. As I said, it is who I am. I was born this way. That’s why I keep insisting that you cannot miss your purpose. You don’t need to search for it; God hardwired it in. You can miss the option of different vocations – but your purpose is not a job. It’s who you are. It’s your calling. And spirit – your spirit – will nudge you toward happiness and fulfillment ceaselessly. Every day every day every day. You will realize yourself one way or another, sooner or later. And you will relax into being. You are whole. And holy. Right here, right now. Try to enjoy yourself already.

“you’re messy & you talk too much…”

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Terribly neglected, Catlips woke me at 4:30. His bowl was empty. I gave him a quick little spit of his soft food, hit the loo, and headed back to bed. His highness let me sleep until after nine. That felt luxurious. I love waking naturally when my body has decided it is done dreaming for the night. That is one of the greatest pleasures of no longer getting up for work every morning, and I do not take it for granted.

Another of life’s greatest pleasures is coffee. Admittedly, I am an addict. I began drinking coffee around the age of 4 or 5, when I would beg my parents to share this magic elixir. Watered down with lots of cream and sugar I suppose, I was immediately hooked. Anyone who knows me knows that I wish everything tasted like strong coffee…maybe with some milk, hold the sugar. As I used to order it, “blonde and bitter – like me.” Since my hair is white now I can no longer get away with that.

But lately, ill with pancreatitis after passing gallstones, I have not been able to enjoy coffee. I haven’t been able to enjoy much actually. This morning I am feeling better and I am having a cup of coffee. The morning is sunny and cool, the cat sleepy, and life is good. Splendid, in fact.

And I am going to enjoy my coffee while indulging in my not-so-secret guilty pleasure of watching house tours. Bed ridden and searching for entertainment this past month, I’ve been down the interior design rabbit hole. Three weeks ago one of my favorite YT channels featured a writer’s home. I love anything to do with books and writers. Enter the bestselling author, Mary Kay Andrews, “Queen of the Beach read”, as she’s known. She doesn’t drink coffee, but I guess I like her anyway.

I’ve now read 3 of her novels in the past couple of weeks. She is not a literary giant like my favorite authors, Joan Didion and Toni Morrison. But she isn’t trying to be like them; and admirably, she’s a savvy businesswoman. Her stories contain some history and mystery, yes, but are also given to include romance. Romance doesn’t interest me, but we’ll forgive her that also, shall we? They are quick, easy reads, well written and enjoyable when I’m unable to concentrate and need short increments of distraction. But her home, well…that is another story. I’m obsessed.

Now I follow her on IG also. Of course she is a thinking woman, which to my mind means politically liberal. Outspoken and so creative. She reminds me of my southern Mimi, my maternal grandmother, who had a fabulous sense of style. And also of my Mom who had a great wit, such a warm smile, and curly red hair all her life. Mary Kay Andrews and I are the same age. Both animal lovers. Jesus wants her to have nice things. She’s been told she’s messy and she talks too much. Ditto. Let’s not even talk about our china hoarding issues. She speaks my language; we have a lot in common. And I am enchanted by her humor, taste and charm. Unbeknownst to her, she just might be my new best friend.

Find Mary Kay on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/marykayandrews/

And we both have a problem with aunts. Those darn judgey aunts…I don’t usually like commercials – but this one is hilarious!

Facing East…

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So, I’m home. And I am wanting to experience the full meaning of that. Whoever said, “Home is heaven for beginners” got it. It means the world to me. It is truly my sanctuary. Please allow me a little artistic indulgence today as I am still resting up…

I remember house hunting years ago with my then husband, and our realtor was a long-time friend of his. Which meant they were a) men, and b) a generation older than me. Anyway, I could list a thousand reasons why we weren’t on the same page. My criteria was like science fiction to them. For starters, the front door needs to face east. What kind of trees are on the property? Don’t show me another house without windows in the bathrooms. Not skylights – operable windows. “It’s an energy thing.” That’s also why the kitchen sink is under a window, always. Nothing contemporary, thank you. Nope; no tri-levels (that was a real stumbling block…) Needless to say I usually ended up doing some remodeling. It was far more important to me than to him.

The home I’m in now is my very least favorite style, MCM (mid-century modern.) Maybe because I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s. It was just everywhere. I have no use for it whatsoever. But this was the right house, at the right price, in the right place at the right time. Most of the original features had already been stripped out here, but the basic architecture is still apparent. I can live with the wide prow of the roof overhang and the expansive glass window walls. I won’t remove any of the remaining features; I’m decidedly against bastardizing a homes’ original architecture unless you have the means to take it to the studs and rebuild in another style altogether. No hybrid architecture for the most part. So I will also live with the open floor plan and the sandstone fireplace wall for now, although I did paint it.

It means that my beloved crystal chandelier remains in it’s packing, and my traditional English country decor gets thrown into an eclectic mix of old and new, at least for now. I do have a lot of avocado and chartreuse, my favorite colors. Actually, I like any color. As long as it’s green.

Butter Wakefield’s London townhouse is my inspiration. Black, white, green all day long, please. With some bright red-orange scattered about…how delightful! Although, I wouldn’t have the grey walls of the sitting room. I’m about to paint my interior walls my go-to favorite of the last few decades: Benjamin Moore’s Mystical Powers. It’s a soft off-white that reads a warm blush pink in certain light. Pink is the forgotten neutral. I’ve been waiting all winter to be able to open the windows and have fresh air and a fresh palette.

Gloria!

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“If we are lucky not to be displaced by war or poverty, the places we live are like bird’s nests.” – Gloria Steinem

I have long since lost count of how many times I have moved. Here’s a confession few know about me: I have been married four times. Three husbands, four marriages. All four ended in divorce. My first husband was a high school boyfriend. My parents had agreed to send me to boarding school after I threatened to run away – and I did so one summer. I managed to hide out for a couple of weeks in friend’s basements before a friend’s mother agreed to intervene on my behalf. By the age of 15 I couldn’t live at home any longer. I instinctively knew the situation was abusive, although it would be decades before I even began to unravel that situation.

I was 18 the first time I got married, and it only took a few months to figure out that my husband had a drug problem, and a few more months to realize there was nothing I could do about it. So I went “back home” to my parents, but only for a few awful days before finding a girlfriend I could rent a room from. And I never looked back, although I did go back again and again to pack up my younger siblings one by one and move them out. Not soon enough, of course, as the damage was done. Scrambling for survival myself, a safe place to sleep was all I had to offer.

By the third time I got married in my forties, I was no longer enduring physical or sexual abuse. That marriage would also prove intolerable, and not once, but twice. To this day we are still friends, and to this day he yet fails to comprehend any responsibility in it’s failing. As he so often said, we didn’t have a problem. I had a problem. As it happened, he was right, and my problem had a name.

The first fifty years of childhood are the hardest. I survived them by being scrappy. For the first 3 decades of living on my own I was able to find decent work, and when an emergency or large expense threatened my housing and independence, I would supplement my meager income by selling off family heirlooms, primarily beautiful antique furniture. I wish I could have kept it. Only a few small momentos still exist.

But this way of life (which I am only grateful for) leaves it’s scars. One of mine seems to be a deep, simmering grief for the home – THE home – that I have never known. It is truly all I’ve ever wanted for. A home of my own. Safe. Clean. Beautiful. A nest. Perhaps that is why I have always been fascinated by bird nests?!

In October of 1990, House and Garden magazine published an article by Gloria Steinem about her newly decorated NYC apartment, ‘Ms. Steinem on the Home Front.’ I still have that magazine. Somehow weird items have survived all the relocations…but in truth, this article made my heart sing. It has continued to inspire me all these years.

This morning, the 12th of December, 2024, I opened my YouTube feed and found this story. Gloria Steinem talking about her home of 58 years. I am watching through tears. If I had no other inspiration at all, Gloria would be enough.

“Everything I have is yours.”

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It’s looking like this week’s posts might jump all over the place…because, mine. This has turned into the Cliff Note version of my Morning Pages journal and I’m all over the place this week.

Linda says “there’s not a style,” but I disagree. There is her style. She literally dreamed about the house before she ever saw it. And like her collection of hares – not bunny rabbits! – she is fierce. And gracious. This is one of the longest videos I will ever post. I’m always looking for short videos to illustrate my writing. But this home tour is irresistible. I like irresistible. Follow along with me here and we will pick this apart and see what exciting, creative tips and solutions we can apply in our own sacred spaces. Because this space is sacred. This is home as altar.

There are collections all over the house – and every one of the pieces hold meaning. Many of them started early in her life, and began with her parents. As one Linda says to the other Linda, “you are a seeker,” and oh, what a lovely response: “I’m curious about other ways to live in this world.” Well that says it all to me – how this home is the rich expression of a life lived with curiosity. This is what home is for.

Home is to act as a daily reminder that we are “in the cage, or out of the cage…” in our attitude and action. That speaks volumes about this curious woman, homemaker and gardener. She is in the world but not of it. Where am I today? Where are you?

When asked what she is looking for in her travels, she says, “I’m looking for an experience, and the things find me.” Don’t put your things on display – put your experiences out as daily reminders of your memories. Let your memories serve you, as reminders of days when you were out of the cage, winged & free. When your curiosity got the better of you and led you to places and people unknown. And I’m here to tell you that those places can be where you sit this minute. Like when I used to dance at Detroit Roller Wheels, and we’d yell “where’s the party at?!” and be answered, “right here under my shoes!” (Where did you think Michael learned to dance like that?)

You will see that this home itself hasn’t changed much since the 90’s…and yet it would show beautifully in any of today’s publications. It’s beautiful and functional. Have you noticed me turning green?! Oh how envious I am of that kitchen. Saltillo tiles, big window over the sink, storage, counter space into next week. That and the Josef Frank wallpaper in the guest bath…my heart is fluttering. Here she tells us that she has 1800 square feet and she lives in the entire house. Yep. I get it. First of all, that’s just about the perfect square footage, 1600 – 1800 (for me…alone) and yes, we all ought to live fully in our entire space. There is no moss growing under her feet.

an artist lives here

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She’s the Colour Curator of Farrow and Ball. There’s my dream job sorted. She doesn’t tell you what colors to use – she invents them. A friend recently asked me the color of my bathroom walls…uh…I dunno. I had 3 partial gallons of leftover paint and I mixed them until I got something I sorta liked. I will often do that. Not because I think I’m going to come up with anything better than I could buy, but because I hate wasting paint. Never mind the environmental damage of disposing of it. I go through a lot of paint. Are you familiar with Fordite?! Fordite (or Detroit agate) is what was created in the Ford Motor Company painting facilities when the many layers of automobile paint would build up thickly on the factory walls. Now they “mine” it – chip it off the walls and make jewelry from it. My house is going to be like that soon. Years ago another friend once commented that I would be losing square footage if I kept repainting. It’s what I do…I make no excuses for it.

Joa Studholme tells us that color will “completely change the spirit of a home.” Did you know your house has a spirit all it’s own? It does. Here Joa walks us through her own home, where she takes her inspiration from the countryside around her. The color of the cows were the choice for the window frames. I love it. She wanted it to be a treat; job done.

Like in her kitchen, painting the inside of a window jamb a sunny gold or yellow is an age-old design trick that will brighten any room on a gloomy day. Who says it can’t be a different color than the room? Wasn’t me. We are artists, people! What color will you treat yourself with in your home this week? Paint a fun stripe somewhere, or even just a door. Go ahead, try it. I dare you.

vernacular, vernacular, vernacular

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Renowned American architect and best selling author Gil Shafer takes us along to his vacation retreat in Maine. Shafer is known for his reverence to the historical beauty of traditional east coast style. I grew up in a Cape Cod cottage on water, and it would be decades before I acknowledged it’s profound effect on my psyche. I agree with Gil Shafer when he says, “you live differently in different places.”

Here he took the existing building, which he bought for the setting itself, and worked with it’s less than ideal structure by embracing it’s strengths. I relate to this approach as I, too, live in a mid-century cottage which I bought because of it’s location and setting, known as the vernacular. Mid-mod, as it’s called for short, is my least favorite style of architecture. It’s right up there in my book with overhead lighting and open concept floor plans – which is to say that I have absolutely no use for it at all. In my book it’s in the chapter titled What Were They Thinking?

Mid-Mod is experiencing a huge revival. But then, ya know, America is simultaneously experiencing the dumbing down of our culture and the fall of our empire. I’ll leave you to draw the obvious parallels. You might have heard me say “meanwhile, back at the ranch…” because, let’s face it, mid-mod IS a form of ranch, neither offering much architectural interest. They sprung up in the building boom of post war industrial America for a reason, mainly that it was fast and cheap to build. Think plywood. That’s one of the reasons it was popular in the deserts of the southwest – it’s termite resistant. Then all of a sudden some opportunist decided it’s a “style” and set about convincing us that it’s desirable.

That said, my little home is well built. It was constructed of brick and concrete in the year 1955. The scoundrel I bought it from (NOT Gil Shafer) was in the process of flipping it, and buying it unfinished made it affordable to me. However, he had purchased it from the estate of the builder’s deceased wife and proceeded to gut it, taking out most of the original features. Now it’s a sad no-style-at-all house. And I absolutely love it, albeit primarily for the views. Though much smaller and humbler than the home in the video I do appreciate that my home has large picture windows from which to enjoy nature. I have coyotes and wild turkeys peering in at me from the deck, as if to say, “whatcha got to eat?” An occasional bobcat racing through the backyard, a meandering bear, huge flocks of birds migrating up the coastline, and of course, families of deer all year round. I’ve been intimidated right backwards in the door by a startled buck huffing and stomping it’s hooves, and been eyeballed too closely by a pair of hunting bald eagles on the roof.

My roofline also extends out further at the top, mimicking the look of a ship’s prow. Although almost a mile from a port town and the water, I am perched high on a hill near the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. And almost completely surrounded by water that includes Lake Michigan, inland Crystal Lake, and Betsie Bay. I live between two historic lighthouses. The summers are heaven on earth and the winters are…daunting. But quiet. Thankfully my sturdy cottage is a formidable fortress against the elements. I can adapt the architecture. The 45 degree driveway pitch, not so much…you’ll need 4 wheel drive to visit.

Watching this video gives me so many new ideas. I’ll be going out for a can of paint tomorrow. But I especially love the suggestion of writing my house a love letter. How about you? Let’s write love letters to our homes, and let’s begin with gratitude.

Gil Shafer is one of my favorite design authors. His books, gorgeously published by Rizzoli, are available here through my Amazon Affiliate link: Home At Last, https://amzn.to/3B5PUZw; The Great American House, https://amzn.to/4gtBMd4; A Place to Call Home, https://amzn.to/3XCej1K

And here are some budget friendly ideas taken from Gil Shafer’s inspiration in this video. How about those bed curtains? For a fraction of the price of curtains, I would make them from painter’s dropcloths: https://amzn.to/4gftrJR. I love the sisal rugs throughout this home. Here is one example in a 4′ X 6′ size: https://amzn.to/3TqDqSH. I have an antique bottle that I’m making into a lamp, but it isn’t costing much less than this beauty: https://amzn.to/4d4Phge. But I am smitten with the mercury glass lamp we see in the bedroom. Here is a similar lamp I’m coveting:https://amzn.to/3Tob5wt. And you can never have too many wooden trays: https://amzn.to/3zkBfcr, or storage baskets: https://amzn.to/3MEXqx4. Have fun!

for under a tenner

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Scottish artist Jane Lindsay exemplifies what I have talked about in recent posts – making your home uniquely yours, and that it doesn’t need to cost much at all. Look at her beautiful things that delight and amuse her, even when broken and glued together. Maybe moreso broken and glued together, because as she says, she loves things that mean something.

Never mind Jane obviously won the lottery in heaven when they were passing out good skin. She talks about when she turned 50 during her children’s teen years, and now they’re grown…she defies age. Does living the life of an artist in the Scottish countryside have something to do with that? As I’ve been following her for a few short months now, I know that she, too, lives with chronic disease. She sure doesn’t show it. She is gracious and delightful.

Her home is chock full of creative ideas. I’m going to steal some of her quirky sign ideas and make my own. And yes, Jane…we will “s’cuse the mess.”

I went to Amazon and was able to custom order a vintage-style metal sign like the one on her wall. Link here: https://amzn.to/3A91liS Remember that as an affiliate I may earn a small commission on anything you purchase through my blog, and thank you. Here is the book Jane references, The Not So Big House: https://amzn.to/3YueVax If you’re nearby, I’d be glad to lend you my copy. I’ve referenced it for years. I love the bright yellow reading lamp she has in her alcove. I couldn’t find us a yellow one, but I did find a great one with coppery accents, here: https://amzn.to/4d4KhZL. And last but not least, how about those stick on letters under paint with a favorite song or poem line?! https://amzn.to/46ve7UQ Thanks for the inspiration, Jane!

a buxom barmaid in a former life

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Let’s go to school with color expert, designer and self-proclaimed hoarder Patrick O’Donnell. Here he shows us his enchanting home, a “typical 70’s ranch” he transformed into a country retreat with paint and wallpaper. He walks us through his 10 Design Rules, including essentials like How to Hide Your Jackie Collins. And Perk Up Your Pelmet. Betcha didn’t know you needed this!

Let’s recreate some of these design elements on a budget! I will be finding a place in my home for this beautiful peel & stick wallpaper: https://amzn.to/4cfIoYV Remember, as an Amazon Affiliate I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. And Thank you for using the links here. Now let’s hang this green majolica leaf plate (my favorite) on that wallpaper: https://amzn.to/4fwLdYO. I’ve also hung paper plates and even used them in the back of a shelf to highlight the dishes in front of them. My new favorite are these Caspari paper placemat hung on the wall: https://amzn.to/3YuvBif, layered under white cabbage ware plates: https://amzn.to/4fvhwr2. Now we’re getting there!

Wheat Sheaf, the style of chandelier he has, was popular during the 70’s and usually paired with Duncan Fife or Colonial style furnishings. I’d actually prefer this in our room: https://amzn.to/4d6n35G. That will get us a big impact for a modest investment. If you don’t have an upholstered headboard, treat yourself. They’re great for sitting up in bed reading, which I love to do. And they’ve become much more affordable, like this one: https://amzn.to/4c8gNZW. Again, a great deal of comfort and style for a reasonable investment. And now, you can easily change out your look seasonally with the new stretchy slipcovers: https://amzn.to/3LL1Kuq. We need a good reading lamp and we’re ready for guests. I have this one and I love it: https://amzn.to/46uExpK…Paddy, your room is ready!