Gay Men to the Rescue!
Ever try to decorate a house with your spouse? You put up something you think is beautiful and the next time you see it, it is in a box in the garage?
It’s one thing when you are in college, and every one has some eclectic item they want hoisted somewhere, like a favorite street sign stolen on a drunken night or a goofy lamp your aunt sent you. No one cares because you are only going to live there a semester, maybe two. Not to mention part of the beauty of college living is horrifying your parents with a dump in the worst part of the city. So what if there are enough cockroaches to make the building reek of garlic? You got it for a song.
I know my mother’s help in decorating was a mop, a bucket and some Mr. Clean.
But as we get older, it’s time for some nicer things in our homes. The goofy lamp ends up in the basement and you actually begin to consider whether the sofa matches, not just that it was free, off the curb.
You start to groove, on your own, get an idea of the things you like- modern, contemporary, arts and craft, deco, traditional, country- are words you know and understand. You become someone who likes everything to match exactly, or someone who wants each piece to be different but of the same kind of wood. You go to friend’s houses and notice the way they have pictures on a mantle, or hung in a cluster on the wall.
You consider buying the Benjamin Moore Color Wheel instead of returning it for the deposit.
When you get married or move in with someone, and you’re past the stacked beer bottle motifs, things start to get dicey. You love arts and crafts but she is a contemporary queen who can’t even imagine anything made of wood. She’s dreaming chrome and glass when you are stuck on an original Stickley rocker, promising that of course it can fit into your tiny 8 by 8 living room.
You’ll just have to get rid of that ugly IKEA couch she brought home and assembled last week.
And then there are the friends that come to your rescue. Or so they think. My wife and I have our two co-parents, and fabulous men, Walter and Allan.
Jeanine and I are… well… clueless lesbians. We still, regardless of our income bracket, save Stonyfield Yogurt containers for Tupperware. We have some very nice things and some things that the kids are allowed near. Rarely do we agree on styles so we end up not getting anything new.
It’s easier.
In walk Walter and Allan. Did I mention Walter and Allan actually have the design gene? Not all gay men do, clearly. I know it's a stereotype and I'm not thrilled about adding to it but... my house looks great and it's not because of me.
Gay men to the rescue!
Imagine coming home one night and finding your entire house rearranged. Everything is in a different place and many things have found their way to the basement. Now, I’m the first to admit, I do not have great vision when it comes to space, area, furniture size but my wife? Thinks she does.
And she really doesn’t.
Your best friends have swooped in to save you from tacky lesbianville and the smile on your face is going to get you in trouble.
Big trouble.
They claim the children cannot be subject to such… bad taste and disorganization.
You know you don’t have great taste, and your wife has much worse taste, but… still. The little black bear statue on the birch stool is a family heirloom. It came from a diner in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The five-dollar price tag is still on the bottom.
Why is it in the basement?
Decorating evolves over time. What is great when you’re twenty is unacceptable when you thirty and then when you hit forty, all your friends have known you long enough to start rearranging the furniture.
Or maybe that’s just my friends.
I highly recommend keeping the numbers down in major decisions- paint colors, and couch fabric. There are things you can over think.
And always remember, even chrome can live with Stickley. It’s not always pretty but you’ll still be married.
It’s one thing when you are in college, and every one has some eclectic item they want hoisted somewhere, like a favorite street sign stolen on a drunken night or a goofy lamp your aunt sent you. No one cares because you are only going to live there a semester, maybe two. Not to mention part of the beauty of college living is horrifying your parents with a dump in the worst part of the city. So what if there are enough cockroaches to make the building reek of garlic? You got it for a song.
I know my mother’s help in decorating was a mop, a bucket and some Mr. Clean.
But as we get older, it’s time for some nicer things in our homes. The goofy lamp ends up in the basement and you actually begin to consider whether the sofa matches, not just that it was free, off the curb.
You start to groove, on your own, get an idea of the things you like- modern, contemporary, arts and craft, deco, traditional, country- are words you know and understand. You become someone who likes everything to match exactly, or someone who wants each piece to be different but of the same kind of wood. You go to friend’s houses and notice the way they have pictures on a mantle, or hung in a cluster on the wall.
You consider buying the Benjamin Moore Color Wheel instead of returning it for the deposit.
When you get married or move in with someone, and you’re past the stacked beer bottle motifs, things start to get dicey. You love arts and crafts but she is a contemporary queen who can’t even imagine anything made of wood. She’s dreaming chrome and glass when you are stuck on an original Stickley rocker, promising that of course it can fit into your tiny 8 by 8 living room.
You’ll just have to get rid of that ugly IKEA couch she brought home and assembled last week.
And then there are the friends that come to your rescue. Or so they think. My wife and I have our two co-parents, and fabulous men, Walter and Allan.
Jeanine and I are… well… clueless lesbians. We still, regardless of our income bracket, save Stonyfield Yogurt containers for Tupperware. We have some very nice things and some things that the kids are allowed near. Rarely do we agree on styles so we end up not getting anything new.
It’s easier.
In walk Walter and Allan. Did I mention Walter and Allan actually have the design gene? Not all gay men do, clearly. I know it's a stereotype and I'm not thrilled about adding to it but... my house looks great and it's not because of me.
Gay men to the rescue!
Imagine coming home one night and finding your entire house rearranged. Everything is in a different place and many things have found their way to the basement. Now, I’m the first to admit, I do not have great vision when it comes to space, area, furniture size but my wife? Thinks she does.
And she really doesn’t.
Your best friends have swooped in to save you from tacky lesbianville and the smile on your face is going to get you in trouble.
Big trouble.
They claim the children cannot be subject to such… bad taste and disorganization.
You know you don’t have great taste, and your wife has much worse taste, but… still. The little black bear statue on the birch stool is a family heirloom. It came from a diner in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The five-dollar price tag is still on the bottom.
Why is it in the basement?
Decorating evolves over time. What is great when you’re twenty is unacceptable when you thirty and then when you hit forty, all your friends have known you long enough to start rearranging the furniture.
Or maybe that’s just my friends.
I highly recommend keeping the numbers down in major decisions- paint colors, and couch fabric. There are things you can over think.
And always remember, even chrome can live with Stickley. It’s not always pretty but you’ll still be married.
posted by Sara at 11:12 AM
3 Comments:
phew, Im lucky in this instance.
Deb has NO clue how to decorate and wants nothing to do with it...besides, she might break a nail and THEN there will be hell to pay.
I do it all - and people seem to like it (or at least they say so while Im in the room - who knows!)
Leaves us time to argue about other things! lol
Hey there is nothing wrong with hand me down couches and curb treasures. And of course a sister that redecorates her house every 5 years lol. I found out that my hubby has pretty good taste during our mad remodel/cosmetic makeover.Well at least when it comes to bathroom mirrors.
ttfn
some of your posts are obnoxious to the 95% of people that can't afford to consider these decisions.
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