I know I’m not alone. There are hundreds of thousands of us who aspire and would even venture to call ourselves “untrained interior designers” because we know we have the “eye”. I think it is wonderful that so many of us share the same passion and the same dream.
Besides wanting to be an astronaut, a teacher, and a detective, one of the dreams of my youth was to be an interior designer. If you read my first post, you know I’m a Realtor. I know, I know. WHY didn’t I become an astronaut? I found out when I was about 10 years old that I had a better chance at being a famous actress than I did at being an astronaut. One of the parts I enjoy of my job is getting to walk through so many houses and seeing some truly amazing pieces. Inspiring furniture. Intriguing Art. Gorgeous finishes. Unique Rooms. Amazing Gardens. I’ll be sharing some of my favorite sightings (with owner’s permission) on this blog from time to time. I have also been able to stage a few of my husband and I’s listings, which is as close to interior design as I’ve gotten. Until recently.
My husband and I just bought our first house together. It was a cosmetic fixer. We painted it, updated all the light switches and plugs and light fixtures. We updated the hall bathroom. We added two bedrooms and a full bathroom, as well as a closet laundry. It still could use a kitchen and master bathroom update, but we have future plans for those (although I have grown attached to my avocado-colored kitchen sink).
I knew the first time I walked through the house I loved it. It had something special. It had some character. But its walls were covered in soot from the many previous fires in the fireplace. I pictured it with bright white walls and ceilings. There was the cheesy, but character-filled paneled wainscoting down the hallway. I pictured that a bright white. The brown brick fireplace that was screaming, “Paint me white!”. To me the bright white walls and ceilings throughout the entire house would help the house feel bright and cheery, as it was shaded by two glorious, old Mulberrys outside. The bright white also spoke of “country freshness” and this house was on a half acre, with a garden area, chicken coop and goat pen. But even more than that, the white would be a FANATSTIC back drop to display all of our cool, very colorful STUFF.
Decorating my own home was absolutely a blast. I know my stuff is not for everyone. And my house doesn’t represent the whole realm of what I find to be beautiful in a home. I think every home, along with the homes “people” that live in it, has its own calling. Its own identity to achieve. What’s your home’s identity?