Have you ever looked around your living space and thought, ‘I’m so tired of this…’? It was probably just fine five years ago when you moved in or the kids were little or you were going through that orange phase. But now…meh. Or even…ick.
You know what you need? A redesign. Not a remodel—too expensive, too irritating and, possibly, too risky. A redesign leaves the walls, windows, electrical and floors right where they are. They just get a little “tweak.” For this concept, you’ll need a cohort in design. Do you have a friend whose living space always looks crisp, up-to-date, and in need of zero alteration? That’s the person you’ll want to ask for help. If you’re tired of your stale space, that friend is most certainly tired of it, too! In fact, this may be just the opportunity they’ve been waiting for. Once you’ve chosen the space (living room, master bedroom, office are great options) and you’ve lined up your redesign cohort, you’re ready for these next five steps: Step 1: Clear out everything from the room. Yes, everything—the furniture, the rugs, the drapes, any art or knickknacks on the walls. Every single part of that room should look like someone is about to move in. Because after this redesign, you will! Set aside any item you absolutely must have in that room—like family portraits, seating, and heirloom pieces. Everything else should be boxed up for storage or donation. You must, as that irritating song reminds us, “let it go.” Step 2: Clean, clean, clean. You want every surface—walls, baseboards, floors mantles—to be squeaky clean before you make another move. At this point, the space will look and smell so fresh you might just decide to set up a tent for some overnight glamping. Step 3: Paint. If your funds are extremely limited, paint just one wall. If you have a discount option near you (like Habitat for Humanity‘s Restore), you can often buy unopened surplus paint for a pittance. If you’re not dead set on a specific color, this option is for you. And then you can afford to paint every wall! Step 4: Release the space to your design cohort. And “release” in this scenario means you leave the house for a determined amount of time and cut your designer friend loose. This sounds risky, but a trusted friend knows your style and what you won’t accept or find outrageous. Bonus: Hand over $100 for your friend to use however they wish—window coverings, open shelving, paint, design bits and bobs. Provide no limitations on what this designer wants to do! Then go drown your nervousness in a cup of overpriced coffee. Go ahead and get the pastry. Step 5: Revel in the reveal! Yes, the reveal feels and looks just like those moments on TV. You walk in a little nervous about the space and squeal with joy when you see it all reimagined. You might actually be shocked with furniture and art placement. You’ll find yourself saying, over and over, “I never would have thought to do that!” Keep in mind: If you’re a bit of a knickknack hoarder, the new space might look a little empty. Live with it for a week before you add back some clutter. If the windows feel naked without drapes, try low-level lighting to soften the sudden brightness. If the furniture arrangement feels completely unfamiliar, use the room in different ways, for different purposes. Not only is a redesign affordable, it drags you out of a design rut. In as little as two days, you and your space can be refreshed and ready for the next adventure. Now, about that patio…
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Christmas has officially “left the building” and, boy, does my house look…blah. This happens every year, so I shouldn’t be surprised by the end result. But every January when the last container gets hauled up to the attic, I look around and think, ‘this is boring.’ Now, keep in mind that my level of “boring” may not be yours. I have vintage photos resting on bookshelves and hanging on walls, dried hydrangeas in vases and bowls, ceramic/pewter/stone birds on tables and windowsills, and yet…boring. I think the mind game involves the muted colors of winter design. Once the bold Christmas hues of rich reds and green plaid and metallic golds are stored away, I’m left with wood and cream and perhaps a spot of blue. *yawn* But then I look outside, and guess what? Winter is rife with leafless wood-toned branches, a sprinkling of evergreens, spots of tan hydrangea blooms. And that bland landscape makes it easier for me to delight in spotting a shockingly red cardinal, an orange holly berry, the purple-white blooms of a winter hellebore. So, I’ll take it a little easier on the blah of winter interior. It’s rather peaceful, now that I’m settling into it. And when spring erupts in late-February, and visions of Easter dance across my mind, I’ll delight in those pastels…maybe bring some inside. And the interior landscape will change anew. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Why? Because it’s all about family and food. Even if your “family” is a diverse collection of friends with vastly different traditions, the food takes center stage. How I serve that food, however, is what really interests me. Growing up, we could easily have up to 30 people—family and guests—seated at several tables for Thanksgiving. The adults claimed the formal dining table, some kids claimed the kitchen table, and other kids gathered ‘round a collection of card tables and TV trays. We ate on real plates with real silverware and actual glassware. The Detroit Lions played softly on every TV. The house was filled with laughter. Looking back, I don’t know how my grandmother, mother and aunts pulled it off every year. But they did. Spectacularly. I find myself wanting desperately to recreate that setting every fall. It’s not always possible now—family is scattered, in-laws make plans, children go out of town—but even on a small scale, the Thanksgiving setting can be stunning. I start with a tablecloth. It doesn’t have to be seasonal or orange or feature pumpkins…it just needs to be cloth. If it’s a party of four, we go for cloth placemats. Then I add multiple plates. Yes, plates, plural. A salad plate also doubles as a bread plate and looks great perched atop the dinner plate. Silverware, glassware and napkins complete the settings. Then, I add serving bowls, platters and tea lights. If the bowls coordinate with the dishes, great. If not, still fine. Once they’re filled with comfort food, no one will notice their design. A spoonful of buttery mashed potatoes needs no artifice. After that, I like to go wild. I don’t favor that Thanksgiving centerpiece staple: the cornucopia. My mother and grandmother had one filled with the obligatory plastic fruit, but I’ve yet to find one that skews trendy and artsy. So I’m more likely to go with brass and candlesticks and all manner of dried flowers, felt pumpkins and pinecones. Overall, the table setting should look like harvest. Fall. Bounty. It should glow, like chilly November evenings. It should whisper, “Welcome. Sit. Indulge.” If your guests feel that whisper, they’ll linger. And if they linger, you’ll hear all manner of stories and ideas and dreams. And then the pies will come out. And the groans will commence. And you’ll know: This bounty, this beautiful, thankful bounty was indulged. My Grandma Schaub was what we called an “everyday” grandma. She was part of her grandchildren’s near-daily lives—card game player, Jiffy muffin mix overseer, Bugle snack supplier, S&H stamp collector, raspberry/blueberry/strawberry picker...and tea party planner. That’s me in the photo above with cousins Kelly and Tina, and three lucky barn cats. Grandma loved to have just the right dish for every occasion, which is probably where I inherited my dish obsession. She collected all kinds of glassware during winter garage sales in Florida. She never met a large vase she couldn’t fill from her own gardens. And if eBay had been a thing during her lifetime, she would have cleaned up. She wasn’t precious about her nice things. When the extended family gathered each Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, we ate on bone china—multiple sets of it with matching serving pieces. She never said, “Now be careful with that…it’s expensive.” She just expected us to respect her things. And we did. So I suppose that’s why I so enjoy using and loaning out my vast stockpile of beautiful tableware. Years ago, a local middle school wanted to put on a High Tea, so I packed up every fancy cup, saucer and plate in my cabinets. The moms were nervous, but I assured them, “These kids will elevate their behavior to the beauty of the occasion.” And they did. My wedding reception went old-school with cake, olives, nuts and a wine buffet. We used every glass luncheon plate I owned. The guests loved it! Not one piece was damaged. Recently, friends decided to throw a bridal tea for their sister. I volunteered my entire glass, china and linen collection. The ladies stopped by, thoughtfully selected every item they might need, and left with a carload of beauties. Every piece came back in pristine condition. Now, raise your hand if you were ever the guest or host of a childhood tea party. I see those hands! Weren’t they fun? Didn’t you feel special? Maybe even elegant? Your delicate lovelies are meant to be enjoyed. Sure, they look great in the cabinets, but why have them if we’re not gonna use them? Yes, that china belonged to your beloved grandmother. I assure you, she wants you to actively enjoy it. I believe that tea set cost a fortune on eBay. Why did you pay that if no one gets to party with it? Steep the tea! Fill the creamer! Set out the plates! Then call up some people who might need a little dose of loveliness in their lives. They’ll never forget your thoughtfulness and generosity. I’m not a particularly picky eater. Seriously. The food could be patio-grilled. It could be straight from the crockpot. It could be gourmet or even takeout. But if you serve it on paper plates with plastic forks and a paper towel for a napkin, you’re gonna lose me. My husband Jimmy realized this the very first time he asked me over for dinner. We hadn’t been dating long. His place was squeaky clean, fragrant candles glowed invitingly, soft 80s music played…and then he offered me wine in a red Solo cup. I’ll pause as you imagine my internal scream. “Ohhhh…” I murmured in a squeaky voice. “Do you have a glass? Of any kind? Even a juice glass?” He dug around and found a heavy beer glass that may or may not have been cleaned in the previous year. I took it. The next time I was invited to dinner, actual wine glasses stood proudly on the counter. And that’s when I knew he was a keeper. See—anyone who’s special to you deserves the real things at a meal: non-disposable plates, metal utensils, serving bowls, glassware, not-paper-towels napkins. Note that I didn’t list bone China or sterling silver or lead crystal or fine linen. If you have those—great! Use them! But if you don’t, just go with your everyday dishes…that are actual dishes. They don’t even have to match! And don’t forget the placemats. Everybody deserves a placemat. Yes—even the kids! My brothers and I ate off laminated placemats of Michigan landmarks. There was often a battle for the Mackinac Bridge mat. So fun…and educational! Mom just wiped them clean after meals. If you’re feeling particularly bold—or if your guest is particularly special—add some flowers and candles. Put your condiments in little bowls or cups. Get completely ridiculous and add a centerpiece. Lose your mind with wine glasses. Voila! Beauty abounds! Your table doesn’t have to be gorgeous every time, but it’s a great habit to form, educational for kids, and a step up in social dining skills. So, explore your cabinets, assemble the elements, and try it tonight! My husband Jimmy and I have an ongoing battle over the dining table centerpiece. Meaning: I want one, he doesn’t. I adore a dramatic bowl or vase or jar of eclectic, conversational items. He doesn’t. I like to layer a base, then a vessel, then an assortment of interesting flowers or items. He—wait for it—doesn’t. If it were up to him, the dining table would be starkly, sadly naked. Now, he has a point sometimes. If the table is loaded with dishes and food, and all sides are packed with laughing people, a three-foot vase of gladiolus just gets in the way. But if it’s a small gathering—three or four people—a low bowl of hydrangea blooms or pinecones adds a sophisticated touch. If you struggle with dreaming up a table centerpiece, you are not alone. They were commonplace with our parents and grandparents (I give you: the cornucopia), and still take center stage during business luncheons and fancy parties. But a centerpiece doesn’t have to be expensive or complicated or even floral. It just needs to be interesting. If you have a cutting board, you have a base. If you have an artsy bowl, you have a vessel. If you have a collection of anything—marbles, dried flowers, copper utensils, artificial fruit or vegetables—you have a filler. You can skip the vessel entirely and put a houseplant on the cutting board. Voila! Centerpiece. Let’s give it a try: Choose a board, put it on the table, then look around your house. Bring some odds and ends over. Try different combinations. Grab a glass bowl, fill it with water, then float some candles or mature blooms from your own gardens in the center. Lovely! And you know what? You don’t have to throw a dinner party to showcase your table creations. They can be just for you and your family. Before long, every decorative item in your home will have centerpiece potential. And then my work will be done. Do you ever look at your most-used room in the house and think, ‘I’m so tired of this stuff’? I know I do. Most often, it’s not entirely the “stuff” I dislike…it’s the arrangement. And that’s when a redesign happens.
I’m blessed to have three college buddies who have mad interior design skills. They look at a room and just know. They know what needs to be moved. They know what colors aren’t working. They know where the furniture should be. They know what’s missing. They just know. So when I need a change, I call one of them over and cut them loose. College roommate Deb helped me out of my doily phase. I had a shocking collection of doilies—many of them handmade by church ladies from my childhood. I thought a doily needed to be under every lamp, vase, photo frame and candleholder. Turns out, they don’t. My style was changing, so the doilies went into storage. New look! College roommate Ann helped me with my Christmas decorations. After a few years, those stored-away ornaments, ribbons, pine cones and candleholders seemed so blah. When I cut her loose, she had new and creative ways to use those decorations that delighted me instantly! It was so much fun rediscovering those old friends within her design ideas. College buddy Hank specializes in redesign and sarcasm. When he walks into the room, he points at things and says, “Get rid of that. [points] What is that—plastic? I never want to see it again. [points] Hideous. [points] Was that a gift? It’s not your style.” It’s hilarious. He then takes everything out of the room and puts it back in a different arrangement. I give him a small amount of cash—less than $100—for “bits and bobs” to bring the look together. He may spend it on paint or curtains or a rug or throw pillows or shelves. His choice. I’m not allowed to see the room until he’s done, and the reveal is always exciting. I may or may not actually squeal when I see his handiwork. Good times. So, maybe you’re over your wild kingdom phase or orange phase or floral phase. Maybe your knickknacks have taken over too many shelves. Maybe your afghan collection isn’t working for you anymore. Maybe you’re having trouble pulling the trigger on a new paint color or rug. You probably have a friend with great design instincts who will just know what you need to do. Pick up the phone today. Throw out an invitation for coffee, tea, brunch, lunch. Use the good dishes. Mention your design dilemma. I guarantee you, that creative friend has already done a mental redesign of your space and was just waiting for an invitation. Let the squealing begin. |
Christine SchaubA Michigan farm girl transplanted to the South offering hospitality hacks. Categories
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