When I was ten years old, my parents let me have a voice in re-decorating my childhood bedroom.
My father, the decorator of the family, loved color – deep, rich, saturated color. Our cavernous family room was painted Canyon Coral. The gallery back to my parents’ room was Wedgewood Blue. The foyer was a color whose name I do not know, but was a tomato-y Chinese red.
So what did I do? Like any quasi-rebellious tween, I elected to slather my room in white. White walls. White area rug. White shutters for my windows. White wicker day bed.
My father was not amused.
When I got my first apartment, my parents offered to give me their bedside tables, which were painted a deep avocado green, with antique brass ring pulls.
So what did I do? I painted those suckers white (I was clearly Too Clever for sanding, or priming), and swapped the brass hardware for satin nickel.
The pair of tables was separated in 2007 (some people interpret the “division of property” part of a divorce quite literally, it turns out). My bedside table has survived six moves – eight, if you count the removal and replacement after the fire.
It was looking…. a little sad, actually.
Up close, the paint was starting to chip (see the left side of the bottom drawer?) and because I hadn’t sanded or used primer, the original green was showing through:
It didn’t look “rustic” or “distressed,” it just looked “bad” and “kind of nasty.”
It was time for a change.
It was time for…… COLOR.
One of the most awesome things I have learned as an adult is that color is not scary. Color is great! Color goes POP! My father was right all along!
I wanted to use Behr’s French Pale Gold (inspired by The Pleated Poppy’s dresser), but it looked too brown in the space – the darkest corner of my bedroom. Instead, I chose Glidden’s Vintage Yellow, which looks great with the gray walls and white furniture. And voila!
I still like the knobs I picked a decade ago:
And this time, I sanded. And used primer. Learning!
There’s some deeper lesson here about growing up and realizing that your parents are possibly not as dumb as you thought they were when you were a sullen middle schooler. Possibly.