A Room of One's Own

Motherhood, undeniably a beautiful gift, has also challenged my need for order, peace and beauty in my home. I don’t consider myself a perfectionist in a neurotic sense, but I am particular about certain things (and where things go). It’s the blessing and curse of being a designer who loves beautiful, quality and sometimes fragile items. The curse rears it’s ugly head when trying to live with said things amongst two young children and a husband whom I love dearly but can be a bit careless at times.

I am also a believer that a home should be used and loved, so there is not a room in my home that sits untouched like a museum nor where my children are not allowed. I do my best to teach them that we must take care of our things, but that’s a hard lesson to learn when my two year-old sees any surface as a place to create her “art.” I know she will get it one day as I see hope in my 4-year old who now knows not to draw on anything but paper. Until then, I have a kitchen cabinet stocked with Mr. Clean Magic Erasers (although I am scared to know what kinda of “magic” is in those white sponges).

There have been several instances where some of my most loved items have been abused, broken, misplaced, etc. For starters, a few years ago my husband leaned all of his 6’4” frame back on one of our vintage dining chairs taking a Lazy-boy recline while waiting for dessert resulting in the upper back completely snapping in two leaving only the seat intact. My vintage leather chair that I hunted for many months was poked and scribbled on with a pen by my son when he was 3 years old, a favorite lipstick was completely decimated by my 2 year old daughter, and a few pieces of jewelry have gone missing -disappering into the ether of our bedframe as little hands dug through my drawers trying on various pieces. Oh, and then a favorite lamp I had shipped from the US was knocked over via a flying ball crushing the lampshade and knocking the bulb socket loose. My children aren’t feral. I know it’s “an age and a stage” but it’s one that challenges me to the core at times.

Naturally, I find myself daydreaming fairly often about having my own space, room, small getaway. A place where I can house my favorite things and where I know nothing will be lost, broken, misplaced, stolen borrowed, etc and a place I can just have a moment. It’s a completly selfish desire and not reality living in a Parisian apartment, but a girl can dream.

I wistfully think about the apartments and small palaces that various French kings would build for their queens and/or mistresses (minus the infidelity). It was the precursor to the modern day “She-Shed.” Marie Antoinette had her Petit Trianon which included a theater for private performances and a Disneyland-esqe hamlet where she could gather her inner circle and entertain in peace without being oogled by the court. These structures were built to her specifications and often housed her most precious porcelain serverware and other objects that reflected her personal taste, not what was dictated by the court. Then you have the private apartments within Versailles for the myriad of mistresses of Louis XV - Madame du Barry, Madame de Pompadour, and Madame Montespan. Oh to have a room of my own where everything is always in its place, drawers don’t have to be locked and not a stray marker/pen mark on my bedding.

I don’t need a separate building, just a room. What would I include in this personal room of my own you ask? It would certainly be beautifully designed, not extreme in size but enough to host a few friends for a drink and apèro by the fireplace in the sitting area. Of course I’d have a coffee-maker, a fridge stocked with dark chocolate, bottles of Perrier, a few bottles of perfectly chilled Pouilly-fumé, fresh fruit, goat-cheese, and I’d round it out with some delicious carbs - beignets and baguettes.

There would be comfortable seating in fabrics that wouldn’t need fear getting stained by flying spaghetti like this beautiful pair of mid-century armchairs that would be reupholstered in one of my favorite fabrics. I would add a svelte chaise lounge upholstered in a bright olive green linen velvet. I’ll go ahead and throw in a bed topped with crisp poplin Frette sheets and a duvet for much needed beauty sleep and a personal closet that I don’t have share. Oh and how could I forget - a small desk area with bookshelves to house my favorite books, coffee table tomes and the stacks of my design magazines.

Then I’d personalize everything just so everyone knows it’s my space, my stuff. I love these monogramed hangers which would keep a few of these shirts with my initials wrinkle free. I’d keep my favorite French pharmacy products and makeup in these charming cloth bags. To round out my personal bathroom/vanity needs I’d add this personalized hair brush from Buly (I actually have one with my initials on it because my husband kept stealing my brush) along with lip baume, and toothbrush (the ultimate ick when used by someone else). Then I’d lounge around in these sumptous velvet Pjs (monogrammed of course) and a pair of these slippers that are the right amount of “extra.”

Until then, you can find me cozied up in my bed with a crumpled duvet and casual cotton pajamas (probably from Monoprix, which are pretty great by the way) with my two little ones and my darling husband watching a movie, which is actually one of the best indulgences.

À la prochaine,

Kathryn

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