Here we are, extremely happy with our new home. It’s still a mess, I can’t find my underwear and there are a few ‘various’ boxes to unpack, but who cares. We have a house, a serious one. You know? With hardwood floors, a staircase, a bathtub, a sink especially for brushing your teeth, a workspace, a kitchen big enough to walk from one side to another and a patio. Badass serious if you ask me.
And now I want everything to be more serious. Out with the junk, in with the masterpieces. I mean we have brown floors. Brown worn wood floors and dark grey deep-pile carpet upstairs. That just doesn’t match with my very old 5-euro pink table. The mix and never match glasses and mugs don’t fit our pretty white shelves. And the list goes on.
I always knew my stuff isn’t the best, the prettiest or the newest, but that was fine. Now it’s not anymore. Suddenly I feel grown-up and my decorating style needs a little grow up shot too. I want greens, big plants to fill my grown up air with good stuff. I want original wall art, even in the toilet (and Aesop handwash). I want natural and durable materials. I want design. I want quality over quantity (you know I’m trying to live more simple and failing it). I want people to come inside and say “wow I love your refined taste”.
I also want my own tropical island in the Mediterranean Sea, a hot date with Ryan Gosling and a sack of money to come with him.
In a nutshell: lots to wish for and we’ll see how it all works out. We’re checking out Ikea for the third time this weekend and that pink table has no intentions to move out yet. In the meantime I bought myself some smokin’ shoes to start off my work next week. How’s that for serious?!
PS. About brown floors… damn is that convenient or what. No stains, no hairs, no dust, at least not visible. And it kind of looks grown up too. I think I love it (“I’m sorry utmost desired white floors, it’s not you, it’s me and my manic episodes”).