Livable home decor
My husband likes to tell the story of his mother’s all-white living room. In his childhood home, this room stood as a sparkling symbol of his mother’s ability to keep a room clean through sheer force of will. No food was allowed in this room, nor shoes, nor excessive flatulence. One held one’s breath while passing this room in case one’s exhalation fogged the glass coffee table.
He speaks of this room with a combination of admiration and resentment. As an adult, he loves nothing more than a neat space, and I’m sure he wishes our living room were a bit more pristine. But I can also hear the perspective of the kid who was kept out of part of his own home in case he “messed it up.”
Now I’m all for adult spaces in a home. I would hate for my kids to miss out on the experience of eating off of the “grown up” china, or of maintaining the sitting room as a place to relax together, but not necessarily spread out all of the toys. I also appreciate thoughtful decor. But I want the entire family to feel comfortable in our home. Our house doesn’t look like a Pottery Barn catalog picture, and I wouldn’t want it to feel that way, either.
I’m finding, as the years go by, our favorite decor and furniture either came as a result of our travels, or is worn enough to look comfortable without looking shabby. I’ve never been one who could walk into an home store (or browse an Etsy shop) and find that “just right” piece for a particular room. I have a motley collection of furniture and accessories I’ve collected as hand-me-downs, one-offs, and bargains (with a few impulse buys thrown in for fun), and I just keep rearranging them every few years. The idea of creating (or maintaining) anything as cohesive as an all-white room just doesn’t compute.
I admire the pride my mother in-law took in her home. (While it’s much more relaxed today, it continues to be spotless. Even in the presence of grandkids. Amazing.) But I’m also perfectly okay with a less-than-perfect home. I prefer to see the scratched tables and the scattered belongings as evidence of a living, breathing — comfortable — family.
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