Patience is a virtue, but not a virtue I possess. I understand that I should take my time decorating the new house. In an ideal world, I would work with the junk I already own and then spend the next decade accumulating one-of-a-kind pieces at thrift stores and garage sales — a distressed leather chair in the perfect shade of camel! an art deco brass floor lamp! And then, voila!, my house would be fit for a Design Sponge tour in 2024. But that’s not how I roll.
In other words, I had to buy some shit. I couldn’t not. And while our living/dining area is far from done, I no longer want to cry every time I look at it. For instance, I had to buy a rug. The one we had in Brooklyn looked so tiny and pathetic and wan in our spacious new living room. See?
It was terrible!
Here’s the new one.
I entered my green dining room in Apartment Therapy’s Room for Color contest in the “cool” category. (Cool as in color). I’m not gunning to win or anything — my room is not the cutest contestant. But it has been so gratifying to read the nice comments. If you’d like to vote for me, go here.
PS. I totally agree with commenter kwhit9tl. This room is crying for a rug.
PSS. People have some mad talent for using color. This room makes my heart melt. And how fun is this one? I freaking adore that mustard bench. And Natasha’s porch has me green with envy.
When we moved into our apartment, the dining room had just been painted light green. A few months later, I recovered the dining room chairs with green fabric. I didn’t go looking for green, it was just serendipity. But it sparked a trend. I moved a green chair into the corner of the room. Then I sewed a green curtain to hide the litter box and our bikes. And then I bought some green lamps and rewired them. The dining room has officially become the green room.
Compulsively reading design blogs has a downside. You begin to spot design trends. And then, when you like a trend, you start to second guess yourself. Do I like XXX because I actually like it, or because it’s trendy? Your new love of XXX becomes something mildly shameful, a symbol of your sheep-like tendencies. Why can’t I have my OWN sense of style? Why must I love what everyone else loves?
But I’m here to say eff it! You love what you love. And who cares if it’s trendy. Case in point: I have fallen head over heels for air plants. Continue reading