Surviving a crisis of design conscience…Has your historic house ever intimidated you?
When I was young, one of my favorite places to go was my
grandparents’ old Victorian house just outside of Boston. Even though their German Shepherd scared the
tar out of my brothers and I and there was no cable, I loved just being in
their house–running my hand over the smooth, swirly handrail of their incredibly
steep staircase, tap dancing on the aged black and white checkerboard linoleum
tile floor in the kitchen, even sitting in the front room they referred to as
the parlor–everything about their home was, to me, imperfectly perfect. And
those visits solidified in me that one day, I wanted to live in a home like
theirs.
Fast forward 30 years, and all of a sudden I found myself
standing on the threshold of another house with the same type of longevity and
history, except that this time it belonged to the adult me and my family. After a series of nondescript dwellings that
we went on to make our own, this was a whole new adventure in decorating and
design. No more trying to inject
character into the molding-less 70’s colonial, or attempting to create useable,
aesthetically pleasing space in the rented cape cod or cookie cutter townhouse…
our Saratoga house had the character already in place, and the uniquely perfect
imperfections that come with years of existence. In a nutshell, it was the house I had always
dreamed of.
And once enough boxes were unpacked for basic life to
resume, I was ready to decorate. The fan
of paint colors came out, the fabric swatches were unearthed, the Pottery Barn
catalog was dog-eared in anticipation, yet something stood in the way of any
progress. At first, I thought it was simply the chaos of an interstate move
getting in the way, but soon I realized that for the first time, my own house
was intimidating me.
No longer were four walls simply a room, but they were a
collection of someone else’s memories and moments that I was afraid I might screw
up if I painted the wrong color or removed the wrong feature. The space felt sacred, as if a ghost might
come out of closet and yell at me if I made a choice that didn’t align with the
history of a house that existed long
before I ever stepped foot inside.
The first crisis of conscience was over the two sets of French
doors in the living room…keep them and have a room that was constantly cut off
from the rest of the house (and doors
that were just waiting for a child or puppy to slam into or through), open them
permanently behind furniture and never be able to reach the thermostat (it does
usually get cold here in the winter, so that could be a problem), or take a
deep breath and remove them…it sounds so simple, but doesn’t that break some
sort of old house rule? Would the Preservation Police show up at my door and
demand the deed?
In the end, after much contemplation, I got out the
screwdriver (and no, the Preservation Police did not stage a raid). It was a little painful at first, but once I
saw my 6-year old and his new neighborhood friend use the downstairs of our
house as a race track for his remote control car, I knew that this was no place
for a glass door, much less four. I also
have to admit that although the “parlor” still has a seductive allure for me,
open rooms and combined spaces makes sense for us, and create a sense of unity
that really works, both in form and function, for our young family of five.
We all love our old houses with their beautiful
architectural features and imperfectly perfect eccentricities, but we still
need to live in them, so sometimes, thoughtful change is good. The key to a
space being your home is that it is truly yours, at least for now, and you are
the one who gets to decide what works and what doesn’t. It is still important
to have a design conscience, especially when it comes to a home with character
and integrity, but you probably already have that innately inside if you chose
this type of home, so trust yourself. And,
oh yes, we were careful to put the doors in a safe place for future use,
whether it be back on the doorway or as the new desktop for the home office. J
So join me on a voyage of sorts…as I work to make this new
old house a home, with stories, ideas, and experiences that you can hopefully
take and utilize in your own Saratoga house, no matter where it might be . I am sure there will be ups (the total transformation
in my son’s room) and downs (the 2 foot wide wasp nest found in the wall of the
back porch) but I promise it will never be boring!
