Category Archives: interior design

…senses and sensibilities

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Do you watch house hunting shows like Escape to the Country and Location, Location, Location and House Hunters? Do you have a dream house? Do you design and decorate homes in your daydreams? Do you watch Nancy Meyers movies just to see the houses?!

I remember years ago when my former husband and I were house hunting. The realtor was a family friend, and I not only managed to offend him inadvertently (ouch,) but I think he was probably convinced I was nuts by the time we purchased a home. I know my husband thought so.

The criteria I was looking for in a home made no sense whatsoever to these two men, including the experienced professional. What they didn’t know was that I was only sharing out loud the few things I thought would be reasonably acceptable to them. I dared not state all the features I was looking for. Among the things I thought were reasonable (hahahaaaa…) but they were flummoxed about, was a window in the bathroom. That really threw them for a loop. “Why do you need a window in the bathroom?” I’d prefer the fireplace be wood-burning, but there should at least be one. No subdivisions, no tri-levels. I said I wasn’t interested in tri-levels, or anything contemporary for that matter. He kept taking us to tri-levels. One day I just didn’t get out of the car. I wasn’t going to buy it, so why waste everyone’s time? “I don’t understand! It’s a nice house! Why won’t you look at it?!” In my smart ass way, I probably said, “well, I’ll just sit in the car and describe it to you from here. How’s that?”

I was secretly also looking for a front door to face east. I was adding the address numbers in my head and doing the numerology. Having telepathic conversations with the deceased former residents. You know, nuts stuff like that. I was looking for quirky, cosy features and they were all about the open concept. Let’s just say we were not on the same page.

It took years to realize that I belong in a small English cottage in a village, what Britains call “chocolate box.” That isn’t happening, although I’m closer – since I’m the only one making the decisions now. I traded some freedoms for some others, and some stresses for different stresses. I have no qualms about having made the right choice, and that isn’t anything I regret.

But I must tell you, after a decade on my own, I am just beginning to realize how much I compromised my own preferences and even dreams – and the true cost of that. Our sensibilities, our preferences, our dreams – they mean something. Without them, we lose our connection to our true selves, and then we consequently lose everything. The compromises were costing me my health and well-being, both physically and mentally.

If it matters to you never settle for less. Stop explaining yourself to people who are committed to misunderstanding you. Stop trying to justify your place in the world. Your ancestors lived through much harder times than this – so you could be here, now – so you could be you.

Seven years ago now, when I was looking for a home, I didn’t have many to choose from. The houses in my price range and area were selling fast and over asking price. My realtor (a woman, who was listening, just fyi) had told me that she didn’t have anything to show me until new listings became available. My son found this house on Craig’s list, of all places! It was in the middle of being flipped. But it had new mechanicals and windows and roof. I could finish the inside myself. It isn’t my style. In fact, it’s my least favorite style, Mid-century modern. But in actuality most of those features are long gone from previous owner’s remodels. This is a summer resort area, and it was originally built as a summer cottage. There are things about it I don’t like, but more that I love.

My front door faces east. The fireplace burns wood. There are two windows in the bathroom! It’s an old house with a good address in a little village. I have the world’s most colorful sofa, and believe me, it isn’t leather. It’s chenille. I want natural fabrics – cottons, velvets and linens. The art supplies live out in the open in my home. Every room has a little red. And a lot of green.

“…it’s cooker or pictures – and so you go, pictures – and worry about the cooker later.” – Cath Kidston

Tchotchke City here we come…

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The year was 1966. My Mom took me to Macy’s in New York for school clothes and we bought Betsey Johnson paper mini-dresses…I was obsessed. I asked her if she could paint matching flowers on my face for the first day of junior high. About halfway through the day the Vice-Principal grabbed me by the arm with a stern look and nodded me toward his office. I was told in no uncertain terms to walk home for lunch and return without that stuff on my face.

My Mother was quite surprised when I walked in the door just after noon. She wasn’t expecting me. When I told her why I was home she was livid. She marched me right back into the Principal’s office – but I wasn’t in trouble – HE WAS! I wore painted flowers on my cheek every day after that. It wouldn’t be long before I asked my Dad to contribute: he gave up a pair of black socks so I could cut them into strips and hem the edges and my friends and I would wear them around our right upper arms. Black armbands signified our protest of the Vietnam war. My life as troublemaker had begun…and my wild parents sanctioned it.

Gil-Scott Heron told us the revolution would not be televised. Bess Myserson told Mrs. Smith that she didn’t have to buy war. And Betsey Johnson gave us fuchsia pink and lime green mini skirts. I was born this way, baby!

Suffice it to say Betsey Johnson has been a personal icon for over five decades now. I was in my 20’s when a roller skating friend came over to help bake cookies and declared my home “Tchotchke City.” Apparently there was a lot of stuff. Once again, light years ahead of my time (okay, a couple decades) I was a self proclaimed maximalist. I loved it when McDonalds started making Happy Meals. I collected the toys and proudly lined them up on the kitchen windowsill. Like my parents before me, I was a child with a child…in case I needed an excuse.

Betsey did not need an excuse. She never lost her playful spirit through codependency, as far as I can guess, because she didn’t have to. It was another influence, Virginia Woolf, who so wisely said, “Money justifies what would otherwise be frivolous.” I was young and my parents were still quite affluent and I had no idea of hardship. Not consciously, anyway. Life was still a lot of fun.

When did life become not-so-fun? I do know the answer to that question. I would never go back. That’s a saga that would span more than fifty years (so far,) and I am only now beginning to unravel the complexities of my life. I will say, if I have anything worthwhile to share as we venture forth, it’s that we must learn to live in the contradictions.

Last week I asked you to join me on a little adventure, to explore the connection between fashion, storytelling and sleep…and then I had a bout with illness. Seems I have to factor that in to my enthusiastic (and often unrealistic) time goals. Okay. But I am fascinated by the idea of what motivates us, how we treasure our creative spark as long as we live, and why. Do we lose our mojo because we get old, or do we get old because we lose our mojo? You don’t need me to answer that, do you?!

Let’s change sleep to rest and re-visit the concept of rest as conscious resistance, as withdrawal from the culture and our learned dissatisfaction. Let’s re-frame some of this curious exploration and learn to live in the questions – but let’s keep going. We owe this to ourselves, to get to the healing. Let’s honor that inner child and take her out to play…

Betsey Johnson Earrings: https://amzn.to/3KriCFG

Coco Chanel’s Tarot Cards

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What does fashion, storytelling, and sleep all have in common? This week I’m hoping you will join me on a little curiosity journey. I wish to explore some of the homes of artists, beginning today with the New Orleans home of Debra Shriver. I am also going to explore our personal development using our intuition, or psychic abilities. AND THEN, because I cannot separate these things in my own mind – I think we will discover the common denominator here. I believe there is an integral link that creative thinking has with intuition, or psychic awareness. Furthermore, I not only believe they are all part of the same function, but entirely dependent on one another. And, I am also convinced that our very survival depends upon us recognizing this. As it happens, this awareness is also intricately connected to our sense of safety, physically and psychically, and to our ability to rest and relax. They are all components of freedom, and I want more of that.

If you will indulge this exploration with me this week, I believe we will all feel better about ourselves a few days from now. Ready?

Preservation Resource Center…

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WHO isn’t up for some preservation resources?!

I have often felt like my Dad was born in the wrong place and time – for which I’m grateful, of course (because…well…me.) He was gay, for one thing. He confided that to us after my parents 27 year marriage ended in their forties. But that was not something he was safe to disclose as a younger man, born in 1933, working in the factories of Detroit. He and my Mother both were talented beyond measure, both visually and musically. They never had much opportunity to be artists; they nurtured and encouraged it in us children. The expression that could not be contained, or even managed, was their rebellious spirits. You’ve heard me say that my parents were beatniks in the 50’s and became hippies in the 60’s…he did like to sport a colorful bandana around his forehead.

He played the piano, daily. We had a baby grand tucked in the corner of the living room where you would often find him tinkering. He played all the classics, but honky-tonk was his passion, and I suspect his sanity. I’m not exaggerating that his voice sounded like Frank Sinatra, and he was extraordinarily handsome throughout his lifetime. Circumstances being different, he’d certainly have given Sinatra some competition.

My father was not a particularly kind man. In fact, I’ve identified him in my older years of therapy as a narcissist, a sociopath. A man of extremely high intelligence and very low empathy. But I can’t help wondering who he might have been if born in a more tolerant time and culture, were he given even a bit more freedom of expression. Repression forces our personality out sideways in unhealthy choices, into addictions and immature abuses. I’m but one child of that fact. Please, God, may we finally learn that now, if we are to have any chance at all of a healthier future. Preferably before another world war. Preferably before the complete collapse of this empire. We have all suffered the consequences of oppression. Our society, our country, is bereft because of it. Our collective spirit is bound by grief, but we shall each know it personally. It’s our wake-up call.

Yesterday I discovered a fabulous new (to me) YouTube channel. Sorry (not sorry) to report – but I am a YT junkie. And home tours are my guilty pleasure, but I’m ever so picky. I want a lot of visual grist. This channel features restored historical homes of New Orleans, post Katrina. Let’s explore a few of these treats this coming week, beginning with this story, which brought me to tears for obvious reasons. THIS was so much like my childhood. Freeze this video on any frame at all and I will point out at least three things that spark memories. I am an endless fount of story, and I’m done apologizing for that. What awareness does this treasure spark for you?

Romcom happens here…

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Can biophilic design also be dopamine design? Whatever you want to call it, it makes me happy. Many of the fundamentals here come from William Morris. You don’t get any more nature inspired than the father of the arts and crafts movement. This is a different example than we’ve seen previously. For one thing we don’t see the plants everywhere commonly associated with biophilic design, but we do see the color saturation of dopamine design. Throw in a little Wes Anderson meets Grandma Jean and we are talkin.’

the right thing for you to do:

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What if biophilic design is a mirror of our interior reality? What if all design, all art, all expression, is a mirror of our interior reality? Could it be anything else? I don’t think so.

I’ve said here that I do not know how to separate my inner life from the way I live. All interior design is an expression of as within, so without. All art is a natural process. It requires we live in a state of curiosity, of inner exploration. It’s a constant challenge; there are far more questions than answers. If you aren’t living with the questions, how do you know faith?

Faith is not an intellectual commodity. It’s an innate trust in the process of life. What if we give the heart a chance?

“I’m good at being uncomfortable, so I can’t stop changing all the time…” – Fiona Apple

Start here you.

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“Start with the art,” Sophie Ashby tells us. Here is yet another example of the biophilic design elements we saw in the last post, but arranged in a different way. You can almost imagine these two London townhouses next door to each other. Here we see the impact color can make. Notice how this makes you feel. Both homes are owned by artists and used as their personal laboratories. Your home is your creative laboratory.

Nothing is more personal than art. If you choose art that truly evokes emotion, that you are strangely and inexplicably drawn to, you have made a great start. Never mind whether or not it matches anything else. It doesn’t matter if you invested last months salary or spray painted cardboard in the garage. If it’s huge or small. What does matter is that you love it. Not anyone else – YOU.

“nature has always crept in…”

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This is quite a different take on the theme of biophilic design. It certainly exemplifies home as sanctuary for these creative individuals. I confess that when I first began to investigate this design approach, I feared being overtaken by philodendrons hanging in macrame – which made me itch. I did not expect thoughtful elegance on this scale. According to the dictionary, biophilic design is meant to “foster a deeper connection between humans and nature.”

Just last night I came across the study of BIPHASTIC sleep. Apparently until the industrial revolution and shift work in factories, humans slept more like the rest of the mammals on earth – in shorter segmented sleep patterns. It is being studied again with the aging of the population. Retirees are finding themselves reverting to a natural rhythm with sleep that means falling asleep early after dark, sleeping for a few hours and then being awake for hours before returning to bed for another short sleep early morning. I’ve got this! Again, validating to discover that something that has felt natural to me is being recognized as being healthy. Perhaps nature had it right all along.

And here’s the connection in my little mind between this interior cabinet of curiosities and biphastic sleep – healthy design decisions will always incorporate healthy living habits. I would probably like being up during the night here, but I don’t want to face the concrete kitchen before morning coffee. I love many of the natural elements here, and I watch imagining the walls glow a golden amber for me. I’d love to hear your take on this.

Good Art Won’t Match Your Sofa

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It is the dead of winter here at the 45th parallel. I live in a shoebox and God forgot to take the lid off. The skies are flat grey for weeks, sometimes months on end. Daylight struggles to become full; it’s dusk all day. It’s grey on grey on grey. Did you know that along the western shore of Michigan’s lower peninsula we have fewer sunny days than anywhere else in the country? Yep, less sun than Alaska. I did the research.

So this next few weeks we are going to explore the interior styles called Dopamine decor and Biospheric design. You gotta love it when media puts a name to some practice you’ve done all your life. As Frasier Crane so eloquently said, “It’s not that complicated – CATCH UP!”

Dopamine decor is just like it sounds – design that lifts the spirit! And biospheric is a fancy word for nature, for blurring the visual lines between outside and in. That said, I’m not going to paint everything grey…in come the dopamine elements.

Here British designer Sophie Robinson illustrates another of my personal design “rules” – decorate around your favorite artwork – not the other way around.

“Color is my daylong obsession, joy, and torment.” – Claude Monet

“Step out of that beige box.”

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“There are no rules when designing for oneself,” says Marjorie Skouras. Long one of my favorite designers, she certainly isn’t worried about resale value. Like me and my other imaginary friends, she does whatever she wants. I have been painting black chalkboard walls since the early eighties. They are always a delight, and they provide a dramatic and cozy – yes, cozy – background for art. If you are unfamiliar with her work, Marjorie Skouras began incorporating gemstones into furniture and fixtures in a fearless way – and now we all do it. Now where did I put that glue gun?