...necks in it. By 'it' I mean timber off cuts, sawdust, chunks of concrete and plaster dust. No sooner had we wandered wearily in and dumped our bags post summer holiday, than our builders had arrived with sledgehammers and destruction on their minds to begin our long awaited renovation.
With all this deconstruction and reconstruction has come some serious fit out contemplation. I've got a head full of bathroom units, tiles, light fittings, paint samples and floorings. They taunt me while I try to sleep and greet me when consciousness dawns on me in the morning. Every blank space in every day is filled with house magazine flipping, book pondering and www.pinterest.com, home decor 'pinning'. Yes, obsessive personality, I know.
Being the over thinking, over analyser that I am, I've compiled this research into a theory on what makes a great interior. In a word, authenticity. The housey pictures I love the most are those which tell the story of the people who live there. Those which don't hide their lives. Those which work because they are real, beautiful and clever. The ones which don't often demonstrate variations on the following...
1- Children's room fakery. If there is no plastic junk and no evidence of where it is stored, then it's unlikely a child inhabits the room. The absence of bits of scavenged cardboard, Lightening Mc Queen doona covers and delicate displays of vintage, collectible toys further suggest that if a child does exist, they are probably not allowed to play in their room. Not real, not clever, not cool. Give me a picture of a room with half finished Lego and clever storage for the ugly stuff and I'm far more impressed.
2- Artificial distressing. If the coffee table has been in existence for over fifty years, has been repainted and dragged several times across several states and shows signs of this, it's probably beautiful. It's called a patina and it tells a story. If, on the other hand, the coffee table in question was picked up at the local Fantastic Furniture shop, painted in various coats of paint out of carefully curated selection of sample pots, then relentlessly sanded on it's edges before being coated in a "protective" coat of varnish, then i smell poo from a boy cow and instantly feel uncomfortable. Not authentic, again.
3- Shameless display of wealth for the purposes of impressing others. Examples of this in interiors magazines are rife and the owners of these pretentious abodes must revel in the publication of the prices for their lovely fittings. $3000 bath anyone? How about a kitchen tap sourced from some obscure overseas designer for a tidy sum of $2500? I get cutting edge design, it pushes boundaries and is often very beautiful (and sometimes quite ugly, too!) but I can't grapple and grasp the purpose of it in a home. I spotted a real zebra skin rug in a mag recently. Really? Are you serious? These houses are just houses. Houses for housing fancy things. I'm sure no one really lives I them, they are all too busy working to pay for the fancy bits! Give me pictures of modest homes filled with interesting, personal treasures arranged artfully. The fittings should do the job without the tosser factor, functional and not too conspicuous. If they're pretty? Bonus.
4- The last one is a minefield for someone such as myself with a penchant for vintage kitsch and the stylings of bygone eras. It's the authentic, snapshot in time fit out. Have you heard of these people who choose to live their day to day lives in the comfort of a home from another era? These people don't lower themselves to technologies or conveniences of these modern times. If it doesn't fit the house, it doesn't come in the door. So, if you're doing the 1950's thing, you lucky thing, you CAN have a telly! But black and white and tiny, thanks. If you are rockin' the 1970's, put your CD's in storage. Hope you like the charms of vintage vinyl for your listening pleasure. What a lot of piffle! These ones are cuties, with their baby pink kitchens and uncomfortable couches, but are they authentic? Not if you live in the twenty first century.
So, I'm all about keeping it real in the hood (yes, I am also a gangster). I'm putting in the things I love, the things which make my home life easier or better. I'm letting it grow organically, I'm trying hard not to style the life out of our home by being hoodwinked by all the matchy-matchy propaganda peddled by hardware and house shops. It's not a house and land package, and I'm desperately fighting the raging torrent of such gack. Beige on beige is not for me. Don't let me forget it...it's clashing maximalism for this little black duck...and when I remember this, golly gee this reno thing is fun!
Poor old buntyandsars is feeling the neglect. But as she complains about my straying interests, I remind her that all this house planning renovate action will benefit her in the long run, because soon there will be a generous, dedicated space for her and I to get reacquainted.
I did this little mind map at the end of last year in a flurry of excited enthusiasm for the future of my little brand. I haven't even found time to sit and ponder it. But when I do, I envisage the occasion being set it a room lined with shelves. A room with a large drawing desk and a permanently set up easel. A room with a sewing machine which is plugged in and switched on always. A room in which I can work furiously, then walk away, knowing the products of my labour will be safe from little fingers until I return. It's all so very exciting. Now excuse me while I toddle off and sweep up some dust, then get some things ready for my first born's first day at kinder...
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