I often get anxiety if people are coming to my home for the first time. The label, Interior Designer, is often thrown around, mistakenly attached to my name, and I worry that people will be woefully disappointed when they step inside. Someone even asked me once if they could just come and look around my house, to see what it was like and how I decorated; they didn't even pretend to invite themselves over for a cup of tea, they just wanted to see my house.
The thought terrified me, especially when I knew that their home looked like a page out of a decorating catalog, and mine just looked like, well, it looked like me. The day before she came over I cleaned my home like a mad woman (something I rarely do) and while I would never want my home to look like something from a catalog (well, maybe a small page in "Shabby Couture" or something) my confidence plummeted at the thought of being judged.
Ten minutes before she arrived I tripped over the cat, knocked the plant off the wall, and burst into tears. Unfortunately, the plant was actually in a frame, with water, in a terracotta pot, so there was water, terracotta and aquarium gravel all over me and all over my Living Room floor. Ironically, that was exactly what I needed, and the next minute found me answered the ringing doorbell with no apology, just a wet towel, an angry cat, and an overflowing dustpan.
Almost every single client I see apologizes for something when I walk through the door, when really, I find a perfect home far more disturbing than one with an untidy kitchen and a less than new sofa.
Sometimes, we fall into the trap of creating a perfect room, one that is kept aside for special occasions, holidays and 'company". We want it to look so nice that as soon as we have achieved that niceness we back away slowly, almost closing the door quietly, wanting to preserve it until later. Once we're done, we breathe a sigh of relief, turn around and find our way back to the comfy sofa in the other room, where we can eat ice cream on our belly and tuck our tired, dirty feet into our favorite, old blanket.
With most homes, regardless of our budget or style, being in the middle is usually the best place to be - it shouldn't feel precisely composed, but it also shouldn't require a compass and a tetanus shot to walk around. Actually, a home is a bit like a person; it should never be so perfect that we are afraid to approach, and when we do we usually like them so much more if they are just a little undone....
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